A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 110

Chapter 110
Comprehension


"The fool!"  Quick snarled when Hargrave told him the news.

"I was part of the scheme all 'long.  Wasn't it, Parson?"  Hargrave asked.

"Well, yes, of course it was!"  Quick scowled.  "Later!  It's too soon.  Just as it was too soon with William.  We can't use William now, and we can't use Charlotte!"

"Can't we just keep 'em both nice and cool?"  Hargrave shrugged.  "Not as if they're gonna turn in the next few hours.  We got William and Lottie tucked away where neither will spoil.""

"It's not a matter of..."  Quick shook his head.  "It's not a matter of spoilage."  He grunted.  "It's a matter of spirituality.  By the time we begin the ritual tonight, they'll both have been dead too long."

Hargrave shrugged again.  "I can't pretend to understand any o' this."

"I don't expect you to understand."  Quick lowered his brows.  "I only expect you to follow orders."

"I didn't kill the woman!"  Hargrave argued.  "I were right fond o' her, myself.  I don't quite figure why we didn't use one o' the other ones.  Ain't like we need the head, and, they all got nice-lookin' bodies."

"Because Charlotte was the right age, and, furthermore, she's the one that Her Grace picked."

The estate agent couldn't help but look at Quick as he was completely mad. 

"Don't think, Hargrave, that I don't see your expression."  Quick snapped.  "You are in no position to cast judgment on me."

"Again, Parson, I ain't the one that killed Lottie!"  Hargrave barked.  "That were all Mr. Jackson and Miss Blessum.  They had their reasons, and now it's done.  So, ain't no use in goin' on about it."

"Where are they?"  Quick asked.  "Jackson and Ivy..."

"I got 'em tucked away, too."

"I gather they're quite anxious?"  Quick smirked.  "Knowing that I will be quite upset with them..."

"I don't think they much care, Parson Quick."  Hargrave laughed.  "Look, mate, they came in to find Charlotte had loosened the Lobster Woman's bindings.  They had warned her not to be taken in by Morgana.  They killed the woman, and, I'm sure they took great delight in it, too.  Favorite o' mine though she was, I can't blame Jackson and Miss Blessum for it.  They'd warned her!  What's more, by killin' her, they showed them other girls that they'd best keep their gobs shut."

"It's done now."  Quick sighed.  "I'm going to need another woman.  See if you can't find me one."

"Don't see why we don't just use Charlotte."  Hargrave muttered.

"You've already expressed your utter lack of comprehension of the situation."  Quick growled.  "Here's Causer..."  the parson pointed toward the door to his parlor.  "Let's have the two of you go out and..."

"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Quick, Mr. Hargrave, only we got trouble."  Causer intoned.

"What now?"  Quick asked angrily.

"His Grace the Duke is headed this way with his man and some other aristocrat-type.  Spotted 'em as I was in the kitchen.  They're chargin' right up to your door."

"Very well, Causer."  Quick frowned.  "I shall deal with them."

"You don't seem too bothered."  Hargrave chuckled.

"I expected this when George ran off.  In fact, I'm rather surprised it's taken this long.  The two of you--get out of sight.  I shall speak with the Duke."

"As you wish."  Hargrave nodded.  

"Wait!"  Quick called out.  "Assure me you've taken Her Grace and...the others...somewhere they won't be found."

"I promise ya, Parson."  Hargrave winked.  "Ain't no way that strange little fella's gonna find 'is mum nor even William and Charlotte."

"Fine."  Quick answered.  "Now, leave me."

Causer and Hargrave headed out of the room.  

"What will ya tell 'em, Parson?"  Causer asked as they left.

"I shall tell them the God's honest truth,"  Quick grinned.



Did you miss Chapters 1-109 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 111.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 110

Chapter 110: 

The Valets 



"Maybe we shoulda worn costumes, Chum." Mr. Punch sighed as he studied his reflection in the glass.

"We're wearing kilts with formal white tie." Robert chuckled. "I think that counts as a costume."

"Not here, Chum." Punch shook his head. "This is just regular evening attire here. It don't count as fancy dress."

"Maybe so, but it's fancy enough for me." Robert teased.

"I shoulda brought our disguises what we wore to the New Year's ball. We coulda been Mr. Punch and the Doctor."

"We’re already Mr. Punch and the Doctor.”

“You know what I mean.” Mr. Punch snorted. “From the puppet show. They was fine costumes, they was.”

“Yes, they were. However, we don't have them anymore, my dear." Robert smiled. “Remember?”

"Oh...that's right, it is. All our things was burned up on the ship. What a pity. Least we had to forethought to save me jewelry case."

"I lost my favorite long coat in that blaze. I've never found another which fit as well."

"All your coats fit beautifully, Chum."

"I think you're a bit biased, but, thank you."

"See, ain't the coat what makes it fit well, it's you underneath it." Punch winked.

"And, I like you, too." Robert grinned. He reached over and adjusted Punch's tie. “I must say, you look quite handsome. I’m glad that we’re not in fancy dress. It gives me a chance to see you as you are. Besides, it was you who suggested that we not dress up so that the servants can be the focus of the ball.”

“True.” Mr. Punch smiled. “They’re gonna have a good time, they are. I just know it.”

“I’m sure they are.” Robert nodded.

“Just before I come up here, I seen Charles and Gerry carryin’ their clothes to their rooms. I think Charlie felt funny not doin’ his job this evenin’.”

“Gerard seemed hesitant to leave us to our own devices as well.” Robert chuckled.

"But, you know, Chum, I think we done quite well dressin' ourselves tonight." Punch smiled.

"I concur." Robert nodded. "Isn't it funny? Until I met you, I had to dress myself without the aid of a valet for my entire life. Suddenly, after a year of having a man, I've become almost unable to groom myself without assistance."

"That's what happens," Punch nodded. "Keeps us a bit like infants. The most powerful and influential men and women in Britain don't know now to take a bath on their own." He giggled. "I think we should be most proud of ourselves for doin' it on our own."

"Well, there is some satisfaction affixing one’s own collar. Frankly, I don’t know how Charles and Gerard can stand us sometimes. They both deserve more than this evening off."

"I know they do." Punch agreed. "When we get back to London, we gotta be better 'bout givin' them their afternoons out. Still, I think tis is gonna be a grand evenin' for 'em both. Gerry's sure excited and I think Charles is, too."

"Yes. He's just a tad more inscrutable than Gerard. You know, Gerard confessed to me that he was nearly bursting with anticipation to put on his fancy dress. They agreed to valet for each other--as Gerard said, 'like proper gentlemen.' I think it's quite nice how they get on now."

"It is." Punch replied. "And, Gerry wasn't still upset 'bout Gamilla?"

"Concerned, I think. Not upset. But, he's been checking on her all day. I have a feeling that everyone has decided to put all of their troubles out of their respective heads tonight and enjoy themselves."

"I hope so." Punch grinned. "Coo! I gotta say that I'm excited me-self."

"You're most excited about the grand cake that Mrs. Pepper and Jenny made."

"Well, yes." Punch blushed. "But, I'm also excited that our boy is gonna get to go to a fine party, and that our chums is gonna have a break and get to enjoy themselves. And, one more thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm gonna dance with you."

Robert smiled sweetly. "We couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just not..."

"Listen, Chum, this is our house. And it's our ball. We can do what we want."

"I haven't gotten used to that concept yet." Robert sighed. “I’ve never really been able to just do whatever I wanted before.”

“Now you can.” Punch replied, “That's what tonight is for. You just better get used to it, My Robert. As far as I am concerned, you may do anything you wish."

"I already am. Just spending each day with you." Robert answered.

Mr. Punch whooped. “That’s the way to do it.” He looked at his feet and giggled. “But, first, you’d best help me with them shoes.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-109 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you may read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 111.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 110

After awhile, the steady rhythm of Toby’s breathing soothed Mr. Punch to sleep. As soon as Robert had retired to his own room, Punch had crawled into the bed next to his puppet and the slumbering dog. His mind began to wander as he considered everything that Robert had just told him. Would their plan really work? Would it put Adrienne in too much danger? Could they really defeat Iolanthe Evangeline? What about the undoubted presence of Julian’s mother? Mr. Punch was certain that the Duchess of Fallbridge had arrived in New Orleans. With all of these thoughts racing through his mind just above the usual chatter and noise which always plagued him, his exhausted body shut down.


That night, Mr. Punch dreamed vividly and clearly. The images which played behind his eyes were so sharp and clear that they could not have come solely from Mr. Punch. No—somewhere deep within the body that they shared, Julian, too, was asleep. And, he, too, was dreaming.

At first the dream wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was rather a warm scene—filled with delicious food and laughter. Sausages and eggs and bread and cheese with no crocodiles in sight to snatch any of it away. Punch dreamt that he and Toby and Robert enjoyed a feast. They were sitting on a grand, deep-green lawn. Was it a park? No. It was the land near Fallbridge Hall. The realization made Julian’s body shiver, and suddenly made the dream go dark. In his vision, Toby was suddenly gone. So was Robert. Punch heard a baby cry. Was it Fuller? Or was it Barbara’s child—the one that the Cages had named, “Holt?” Or was it Barbara herself—once again, in this dream-world, returned to a child so that Julian could have had some influence on her. As the dream baby wailed, the skies above Fallbridge Hall grew dark and heavy with clouds. Suddenly, Mr. Punch became aware that his body had changed. He was once again shaped like a puppet—only, he was the size of a man. He couldn’t see very well past his hooked nose, a nose so bent that it touched his equally distorted chin. But, his costume wasn’t that of Mr. Punch. No, he was dressed in the armor of St. George. And, there was the dragon.

A hideous beast swelled behind the Hall. It rose on its monstrous legs and roared—three heads. Three awful heads. One—the face of Iolanthe Evangeline. Another—the face of Ulrika Rittenhouse. The middle—the largest and most horrible—the face of the Duchess herself.

In the Duchess’ teeth hung the limp body of Barbara Allen. From Ulrika’s mouth, the blood of Arthur and Agnes Rittenhouse dripped like water from a fountain. From the mouth of the ogress, Adrienne and Cecil dangled—screaming for help.

“Robert!” Punch called in his sleep. “Chum? I need you!”

Suddenly, the dark sky exploded in a wash of fire as if the sun itself had burst open like a rotten fruit. From the center of it, Naasir floated freely out. He was followed by two others—people with skin as dark as his own. Mr. Punch didn’t know them. But, he heard Marjani’s voice. He could not see her, but he heard her voice. “This is my daughter. This is her husband. They’ve gone to the sky, Mr. Punch. They’ve gone to the sky.”

The three-headed dragon roared again, spewing fire from six nostrils. Yet, Naasir and his companions walked right through it—untouched. Just as they reached the earth, they disappeared.

The monster drew nearer to Mr. Punch. Again, the baby cried.

“I beat the Devil!” Mr. Punch shouted to the beast. “I could beat you, I could!”

Fire shot from the heads of the foul creature.

Mr. Punch awoke with a start. The burns on his legs itched horribly. He grunted.

Toby rolled over and licked Julian’s cheek before drifting back to sleep.

“I can beat the Devil.” Mr. Punch muttered to himself. He put a protective arm around Toby and glanced up to make sure his puppet was still in bed next to them. “I can.”

At that very moment, at her bawdy house, Iolanthe Evangeline was holding the Duchess by her arm. She growled in the woman’s face. Pauline’s usual iciness had melted and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Let me go,” The duchess pleaded.

“Never.” Iolanthe hissed cruelly. “I’ll ask you again. Will you be my partner in this or will you not?”

“If I say that I won’t?”

“Then, I’ll make sure you never say another word as long as you live. The memory that the world will have of you will be the one that I create for you.” Iolanthe whispered.

“I’ll join you.” Pauline said breathlessly.

“Good.” Iolanthe released the woman from her grasp. “We’ll start now.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-109? If so, you can read them here.