A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 107

Chapter 107
Bring Her Back


"Do something!"  Gerard demanded of Robert.

"I am trying, Gerard."  Robert replied, checking Gamilla's pulse again.  "However, I don't know what to do.  Medically, there's no reason why she shouldn't be responding.  At least we know that Lennie has been drugged or poisoned--that's why we can't make her awaken.  With Gamilla, however, there's...well, there's nothing to prevent her from opening her eyes.  Nothing scientific."

Gerard's hands balled-up into fists.

"Her body is strong, Gerard."  Robert continued.  "I simply do not have an idea what to do next."  He took Gerard by the shoulder.  "The room is quiet now that everyone else has left.  Perhaps you should try talking to her."

Gerard nodded, rubbing his eyes.

"Ask her to come back."  Robert nodded.  "Hearing your voice may be just the thing."

Tears began to stream down Gerard's face.  "I can't lose her, Sir."

"I know."  Robert answered.

"I...I apologize for...for the way I've been behavin'."

"We all understand.  You're frightened.  I am, too.  Yet, you must be feeling all manner of things which the rest of us aren't.  You are, after all, her husband.  If anything happened to Punch..."  Robert paused.  "You've all seen how I can behave when Punch or Colin are in danger.  Gerard, there's no need to apologize."

"Do you think His Grace will forgive me?  I spoke to 'im so terribly."

"I promise you, Gerard, he understands."  Robert replied.  "Now, speak with your wife.  Let her hear your voice.  I'm going to leave you alone for just a few minutes.  I will return shortly."

Gerard nodded, bending down and taking Gamilla's hand.  He began to whisper to her as Robert slipped out of the room.

In the passage, he found Punch talking with Georgie as Mrs. Pepper, Charles, Violet and the Earl of Cleaversworth looked on.

"Chum,"  Punch reached out for Robert.  "This poor lad...coo!  He's survived a terrible ordeal he has.  He's shown true bravery, our George has, and seen some awful things.  William is dead.  Matthew's man, Perkins, is still missing.  And..."  He shook his head.  "My auntie--she's in terrible trouble."

"To what end?"  Robert asked.  "Jackson, Blessum and the others--why have they done this?"

"They want to..."  George began.  He coughed a bit.  "They are trying to give new life to His Grace's mother."

"It's impossible!"  Robert spat.  "No one can reanimate the dead--especially someone who has been dead for over a year!"

"George says that the Reverend Quick believes he has a means o' doin' so."  Mrs. Pepper spoke up.

"Preposterous!"  Matthew roared.  He looked to Robert.  "How is Lennie?"

"There's no response from Lennie yet.  Neither her nor Gamilla."  Robert answered.  

"You must do something..."  Matthew continued.

"I know."  Robert answered, trying to keep his exasperation quiet.

"The whole household is at sixes and sevens."  Punch interrupted.  "George, do you think you can guide us back to where my aunt and Perkins are being kept?"

"Yes, Your Grace.  There's a passage beneath the Reverend Quick's house."  George replied.

"I will go with you."  Punch nodded.

"As will I, Sir."  Charles volunteered.

"Thank you, Charles."  Punch responded.  "Robert, I think, it best you stay here, I do.  So, you can take care o' Lennie and Gamilla."

"I should, but, I don't like the idea of the three of you going off alone."  Robert answered.

"I shall go."  Matthew intoned.  

"Really?"  Punch asked.

"Yes.  I'm doing no one any good here.  If I can help the family, I shall.  Furthermore, Perkins is my man, and my responsibility.  I should see to it that he's safe."  Matthew answered.

"Thank you,"  Robert nodded.

"I say,"  Matthew sighed.  "I may not be able to do anything to help Lennie, but, perhaps knowing that her aunt is safe will somehow help to bring her back to us."



Did you miss Chapters 1-106 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 108.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 107

Chapter 107: 

Without Him 

Robert strode casually into the nursery, expecting to see Mr. Punch with the baby. At first glance, however, the room appeared empty. Had it not been for Dog Toby’s tail, Robert might have left the room in search of his companion and their son.

The doctor had spied the terrier’s tail poking out from behind the screen at the farthest end of the nursery. Wagging slightly, the tail beckoned Robert toward the screen like a crooked finger.

“Punch?” Robert said softly as he approached the screen.

“Here, Chum!” Mr. Punch chirped. “We’re back here, we are.”

Robert peered around the screen to see Mr. Punch seated on the floor with Colin in his lap. Dog Toby sat nearby as did Mr. Punch’s two puppets (the one of himself and the one of Dog Toby). Well, technically, the puppets lie lifeless and slumped on the floor—their wooden faces angled toward the vaulted ceiling.

“Am I interrupting?” Robert smiled.

“No.” Punch shook his head. “We’re just havin’ a chat, we are.”

“You and Colin?”

“And Dog Toby and the puppets.” Mr. Punch nodded.

“What are you discussing?” Robert asked as he sat down on the floor next to them. He sat cross-legged with his back against the screen.

“What just happened with Gamilla.” Punch sighed.

“Ah.” Robert nodded.

“Did ya get her settled in?”

“Yes, we did.” Robert replied. “I think, actually, she’s already feeling better.”

“That were strange, Chum.” Mr. Punch continued. “Weren’t it?”

“Yes, I would concur.” Robert nodded. “However, it’s quite clear what happened.”

Mr. Punch squinted. “I s’pose. Only why did Gamilla say that Gerard gave her the whiskey?”

“I asked her about that when we carried her to her room. She said that she was confused and that, as she put it, ‘I ain’t confused no more, Dr. Halifax.’” Robert answered thoughtfully. “I imagine in her intoxicated state she was trying to tell us that she’s taken the drink from Gerard’s beaker.”

Mr. Punch sniffed. “I guess.” He studied Robert’s face. “Chum?”

“Yes, dear.”

“You drink whiskey and spirits and such.”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t they make you go all to sleep like it done Gamilla?”

“Well, dear Punch, I’m older than Gamilla and I’m a man. I’m used to spirits whereas Gamilla isn’t. By the time I was Gamilla’s age, I’d already been drinking spirits for almost ten years. Where Cecil and I come from, if a young man can’t hold his whiskey, he’s considered weak. So, I built up a tolerance.”

“Oh. Them mean streets of Wimbledon.” Punch nodded slowly.

“Not Wimbledon per se.” Robert laughed. “But, when my father was taken to prison and my mother…went away…you know, Cecil and I had to make so with no money. For a time, we relied on other families and…for a time we had no real home. We were forced to try to act ‘manly.’ Otherwise, people would take advantage of us—on our own as we were. One of the ways we had to do that was by drinking. We had to show we were men.”

Mr. Punch frowned. “I hate that you had to live that way. Ain’t right for a boy to have to fight like that.”

“Julian—and you—you had your own fights and struggles which were equally serious, if not more so.” Robert sighed. “We both had to be scrappy, didn’t we? Just in different surroundings. While your battles took place on marble floors between gilded walls, mine took place on cobblestones. But, they were battles none the less. I had Cecil and Julian had you, at least.”

“I s’pose.” Punch nodded. “Never thought of me-self like Julian’s brother, but in a way, I am. Like a brother in his mind, I ‘magine. But, you’re right. We all did have to fight. Least I could help Julian. Ain’t it funny? Julian never did drink spirits. You’d think he would have—just to escape a bit.”

“Julian’s upbringing was considerably different than mine.”

“Wealthy folk drink—quite a lot.” Punch chuckled. “The duchess alone could put away a bottle a day.”

“That was just out of pure meanness.”

“I reckon.” Punch sighed. “How much did you drink when you was a boy?”

“Not a bottle a day, certainly. But, from time to time, I did certainly swallow more than was good for me.”



“Did you ever get sick like Gamilla done?”

“Oh, yes. When I was about fourteen years of age, Cecil gave me far too much and…well, let’s just say that it wasn’t pretty.”

“So, it ain’t gonna make Gamilla sick for a long time?”

“No.” Robert shook her head. “In a couple of hours, she’ll be quite well. She’s resting now. Mrs. North is with her. Poor Gamilla, she’s so apologetic. Her main concern was that no one would be able to look after Colin.”

“We got ‘im.” Mr. Punch grinned. “It’s a treat, it is. He can spend the whole day with us and, then, later, we’ll go to the ball.” Punch squinted. “Gamilla will be able to go to the ball, yes?”

“Certainly,” Robert smiled. “She’ll be quite well by then. I assure you.”

“Good!” Punch cooed. “I’d hate for her to miss it. She does so much for us. Dunno what we’d do without her.”

“I trust we’ll never have to know. I think it’s rather sweet that you worry about her as you do.” Robert smiled. He looked affectionately at Mr. Punch. “I see you’ve already gotten dressed. You look quite handsome.”

“Thank you!” Mr. Punch nodded. “When I come up here to get Colin, Charles dressed me.”

“I suppose I should do the same.”

“Dunno.” Mr. Punch shrugged. “I rather like your dressin’ gown, I do.”

“Well, I think maybe I should change since the house is full of strangers today.” Robert winked.

“Maybe so.” Mr. Punch sighed. “Still, we oughta have one day where we just stay in our nightshirts all day. That’d be a lark, it would.”

Robert chuckled as he stood up. “We’ll have to plan for it.” He tousled Mr. Punch’s hair. “Now, I trust you’ll still be here by the time I’ve finished.”

“Sure,” Punch nodded. “When you’re ready, we can take Colin to go look at all the decorations and such and see how everyone’s doin’ to get ready for tonight.”

“Of course.” Robert nodded. “I’d like that.”

“After breakfast!” Punch added quickly. “Don’t forget, Mrs. Pepper’s makin’ up breakfast trays for us to take in here.”

“I’ve not forgotten.”

“I almost did. Coo!” Punch giggled. “I must be excited today.”

“You must be if you’ve forgotten a meal.” Robert winked. “I say, I do like that cravat.”

“You should. It’s yours.” Punch smiled.

“Ah…” Robert laughed.

“I’m bored with my own. I left a bunch in London and I’m tired of the ones I brought here.”

“I’ll have to charge you for the use of mine.” Robert joked.

“How much?” Mr. Punch’s eyes brightened.

“We can work something out.” Robert nodded.

Punch sighed. “Do you gotta get dressed? Maybe—maybe, you stay here, Chum. We can play with the puppets…”

“Tempting,” Robert smiled, petting Punch’s head again. “But, I’d best get dressed. I’ll be quick.”

“Fine.” Punch shrugged. “But, if breakfast comes before you get back, I’m eatin’ your beans.”

“You’re welcome to them.” Robert chuckled.

“And your eggs!” Punch joked as Robert walked out. “So, you best be quick.”

“I promise.” Robert said as he exited the nursery.

“Your Papa Robert,” Mr. Punch whispered to Colin. “I dunno…he’s a silly bloke, ain’t he? He loves us, he does. It’s a terrible shame his boyhood were so sad. Ours was, too, mine and…well, Julian’s. You don’t know Julian, I know. He looks like me. Or, I look like him. He knows you! I don’t think you’ll ever meet him though.”

Punch took a deep breath. “But, least we had wealth. Our Robert didn’t have nothin’. Yet, I don’t think he’s as worried ‘bout gettin’ ‘is meals as we are. Still,” Punch smiled at the baby. “We’re awful lucky to have ‘im.”

The baby looked up at Punch with loving eyes.

“Papa Robert an’ me—we’re gonna make sure your life ain’t sad like ours was. First off, you got two people what love ya. Me and Robert—we love ya a lot, an awful lot! And, we love each other, too. See…I understand now when folk say that another person is somehow part of ‘em. Robert’s part of me, he is. And, part of you. Were I not to have ‘im, well…it’s be like losin’ me arm.” Punch’s eyes widened. “That’s it. Our Robert is like me arm. Better still…he’s my heart. Without him, I’d die. You see?”

“Punch!” Colin muttered happily.

“Sure, that’s me. That’s the puppet, too. “Oh! I almost forgot ‘bout the puppets. We gotta tell ‘em all ‘bout the ball…”

Meanwhile, in his room, Robert had rung for Gerard. He set about washing his face while he waited for his valet. Having removed his dressing gown, Robert stood in his nightshirt—his bare feet on the cold stone floor. He bent over the washstand, splashing cold water on his face.

When the door to Robert’s room scraped open, Robert’s eyes were burning from the strong soap which Mrs. North had installed with each basin.

“I think I’ll wear my dove gray today.” Robert said, rubbing his eyes with a towel. “His Grace has borrowed my azure cravat so, let’s use the burgundy today.”

Removing the towel from his face, Robert looked up and smiled, expecting to see Gerard. Instead, however, he was greeted by the grinning visage of Finlay.

Robert’s smile faded. “Where’s Gerard?”

“He’s occupied, Sir.” Finlay responded. “I think he’s still with Gamilla.”

“No, he’s not.” Robert shook his head. “Gerard left Gamilla’s room when I did—just when Mrs. North arrived.”

“Well, Sir, all I know is that the bell rang for your room and Gerard wasn’t around. We didn’t think it would be right for you to have to wait.”

Robert frowned.

“Your gray, then, Sir?” Finlay smiled, going to the wardrobe.

“Finlay?” Robert said abruptly. “I…I think I can dress myself this morning.”

“Sir?”

“You may leave.”

“I don’t want to leave, Sir.” Finlay stepped forward. “And, I don’t think you really want me to leave either.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-106 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 108.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 107

The Royal Street mansion was quiet. Cecil and Adrienne had long gone to sleep. Fuller slumbered peacefully in his borrowed crib. In the servant’s hall at the back of the house, Naasir slept fitfully in the room Meridian had given him—dreaming vividly about his mother and the stories she had told him when he was a child in Africa.


Upstairs in the house, Robert lay awake in his bed. Across the hall, Mr. Punch sat in the chair by the fireplace and watched as Toby snored gentle dog-snores in the bed, curled up next to the puppet which Punch had tucked under the covers long before.

“Nothin’ to play with.” Mr. Punch muttered as he watched the firelight flicker. He grumbled to himself. “Gonna dress me lady chum up like that monster. Can’t be a good thing, it can’t. Still,” he thought, “Can’t see as Robert and Cecil would put her in danger. They must know what they’re doin’. They must.”

Mr. Punch rose and began to pace the floor until his attention was caught by the costume that Adrienne and Gamilla had sewed for him. Draped across the back of the desk chair, the costume looked inviting to Punch—lying there with its bright red sleeves and shockingly white ruffles. The slouching curve of the hat which sat on the desk beckoned to him and he walked slowly to the desk. He put the hat on Julian’s head and studied himself in the wardrobe mirror—grinning at his own reflection in the dim firelight.

“Can you see this, Master?” Julian asked aloud. “Can you see what I’m seein’ through your eyes or are you asleep, too?”

Mr. Punch listened. He was used to hearing the other voices which kept him company in Julian’s body. None of them were speaking to him at that moment.

“All’s quiet,”’ Punch muttered as he took off the hat and returned it to the desk. He walked over to the bed and petted Toby’s warm furry body—gently, so as not to awaken the sleeping terrier.

“That’s good.” Punch whispered. “You sleep. Can’t think of why you wouldn’t. Ain’t got no troubles to keep you awake. Just as long as you got food and a warm place to sleep, you’re happy. And, you should be, you should. What must it be like to be a dog? Wonder if you’re dreamin’ o’ things. Dog things like what you see when your eyes are open. I dream, I do. Sometimes, I wonder if all o’ this is just some kind of dream and that when I wake up I’ll still be a puppet in a cabinet with wooden hands and a smile that don’t ever frown.”

Punch looked around the room again. “But, no, this is real. I can smell it and feel it, and I know in me heart—me master’s heart—that somethin’ terrible is waitin’ for us outside of this house. I know that this must be the thing that me master feels each and every moment. What’s he call it? His dread. Yes, his dread. Now, I know what it means to dread. Somethin’ awful, it is.”

Punch jumped when he heard a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he said softly.

Robert came into the room. “I had a feeling you’d be awake.”

“I am.” Mr. Punch nodded. “You should be sleepin’ though. What’s it you’re always sayin’ ‘bout needin’ sleep?”

“You need to sleep, too.” Robert said quietly.

“I’m used to not sleepin’. Me master never sleeps. I’m just doin’ what he does.”

“You know that Cecil and I will make sure that nothing happens to Adrienne. Don’t you?”

“Think you’ll try.” Mr. Punch said. “But, I don’t think you can make sure nothin’ happens. You don’t know what them women will do. They’re no good those three. The Duchess, The Ogress and that wicked Ulrika. Let’s not forget his sister. Barbara Allen don’t call herself that cuz of her kindness, she don’t. Hers is not a story that will end in the ‘red rose and the briar.’ Hers is a story that will go on for a long, long time. And, Arthur… And, the nanny…Agnes.”

“Let’s not forget what strength we do have. Isn’t the power of our strength greater than theirs?”

“Is it?” Mr. Punch asked.

“You’re the one that always beats the devil. Don’t forget.” Robert smiled.

“One devil.” Mr. Punch said. “One at a time. Not a whole army o’ ‘em at once.”

“Now isn’t the time for doubt.” Robert replied.

“’Spose not. But, now’s as good a time as any to think about the truth o’ things.” Mr. Punch grumbled.

“We must trust in our own abilities.”

“Trust?” Mr. Punch shook his head. “I understand what the word means, but…”

“Dear Punch, don’t you know that I’d give my life before I let anything happen to any of you?”

“That’s what scares me the most.”

Meanwhile, the Duchess of Fallbridge was complaining loudly to Iolanthe Evangeline. “If you think I’m going to stay here—in this…this…house of ill-repute…”

“You don’t have a choice, Your Grace.” Iolanthe said firmly. “Would you prefer to stay in a hotel where your presence would immediately be known?”

“But, this…” The Duchess moaned.

“Being here doesn’t make you a whore.” Iolanthe laughed.

The Duchess’ cheeks turned bright red.

“Shocked?” Iolanthe continued to laugh.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” The Duchess asked.

“You’re just the same as me, honey. I don’t want you thinkin’ that you’re not. This bed is just as good as any other.”

“But, my maid. She’ll talk.”

“Your maid seems quite happy here. Maybe I’ll keep her. I think she’d bring in quite a lot of business.”

“You’re wicked.” The Duchess spat.

“You’re lookin’ in a mirror, Your Grace. You’re lookin’ in a mirror…”

Mala burst into the room without knocking. The Duchess gasped at the sight of the homely woman with her stooped back and expression of crooked cruelty.

“How many times have I told you to knock?” Iolanthe growled.

“Sorry, Miss Iolanthe.” Mala nodded. “But, you gotta come downstairs. There’s someone here for to see ya.”

“I’m not receiving guests tonight. Give him to one of the girls.” Iolanthe said sharply.

“Ain’t a man.” Mala smiled. “It’s Miss Allen.”

“Well, well…” Iolanthe grinned. “She’s finally come back.” She turned to the Duchess. “Are you ready for a family reunion, Your Grace?”

“What does this Miss Allen have to do with me?” The duchess hissed. “I don’t want to see one of your…girls.”

“You’ll want to see this one.” Iolanthe chuckled. “She’s your daughter.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-106? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday, November 29, for Chapter 107 of Punch’s Cousin.