A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 111

Chapter 111
In Motion



"Where is my aunt?"  Mr. Punch asked the moment Quick opened the Parsonage door.  

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace?  Your aunt?"  Quick smiled.

"Yes, the woman with the hunchback and pincers."  Punch growled.  "My mother's sister.  The woman you held captive in a tunnel beneath this very house.  Captive--along with young William, now dead, and Lord Cleaversworth's man, Perkins."

As upset as he was, Punch tried his best to maintain an aristocratic manner of speech so that Quick would take him more seriously than he would had Punch spoken in his preferred way.

"Ah, yes."  Quick nodded.  "I'd rather guessed that George would have made it to you  by now."

"So, you don't deny that you've held them captive?"  Matthew spoke up.

"No, not at all."  Quick answered.

Rather startled, Punch blinked quickly.  

"I'm a man of God,"  Quick continued.  "I shan't lie to you."

"You won't lie, but you have no trouble taking another person's life?"  Punch sniffed contemptuously.  

"I haven't taken anyone's life.  Nor will I.  Now, of course, I can't control what the others do, but, I can follow my own mind.  It wasn't I who killed young William.  Did George say that it was I?"

"No."  Punch shook his head.  "That's not really of great importance at the moment.  Does it much matter who spilled the boy's blood?  He's dead.  Where have you put his remains?"

"I've not put them anywhere."  Quick replied.

Punch pushed the parson to one side and gestured for Charles and Matthew to follow him into the Parsonage.

"Take me to the tunnel."  Punch insisted.

"If I must."  Quick answered.  "Still, I'm surprised that George didn't tell you precisely where it was...or, to be sure, I'm shocked that he didn't lead you here himself."

"George is safely at the Hall.  We will not expose him to you again."  Mr. Punch hissed.  "Now...take me to the tunnel!"

"You won't find anything there.  Of course, you're welcome to look, Your Grace."

Punch raised his hand as if he intended to grab the parson by the wrist, but he stopped himself.

"Do not be coy with me."  Punch glowered.  "Tell me where my aunt, and Perkins are!"

"They're nowhere near here."  Quick answered.

"We are going to search every corner of this house."  Matthew intoned.

"Be my guest."  Quick nodded.

Punch pointed to the rear of the house and Charles, understanding, headed in that direction to search.

"I'm being quite honest with you, Your Grace."  Quick began.  "What you seek is no longer here.  Not even William's body.  You can't stop this.  You can't.  It's already begun.  You shan't prevent your mother's resurrection.  I won't allow it.  Nor will she."



Did you miss Chapters 1-110 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 112.  

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 111

Chapter 111: 

Among Us Again 



Mr. Speaight stood at the middle landing of the monumental grand staircase which divided the two wings of the Great Hall at Grange Molliner. His back straight, his eyes bright, he stood proudly in his fancy dress—looking for all the world like Edward the Confessor, complete with little, pointed red slippers on his feet. He cleared his throat, and everyone below turned to look at him.

A group of about fifty people milled about the Great Hall—all in fancy dress. The staffs of both the Belgrave Square house and Grange Molliner were in attendance as well as the many people who worked the estate. Aristocratic neighbors rubbed shoulders with common laborers unaware who was who for, in addition to their costumes, most people wore masks over their eyes, in the style of the Commedia dell’Arte.

Speaight looked down at the crowd and smiled. Everyone looked quite fine in their brightly-colored costumes—glittering with jewels and sequins in the light of the fire and the candles which burned in the eight ornate bronze and crystal chandeliers which adorned the hall.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Mr. Speaight smiled. “Your hosts…His Grace, the Duke of Fallbridge and Dr. Robert Henry Halifax.”

As thunderous applause echoed throughout the Great Hall, Mr. Punch and Robert descended the stairs. Robert held Punch’s arm, supporting him on the stairs as Mr. Punch was cradling Colin.

“My friends,” Mr. Punch began when they reached the landing. He tried his best to set his face into an expression which would be typical of Julian, but he found he was much too excited to be completely reserved. And, so, his eyes were wide with anticipation and joy. Still, he managed to keep his voice even and suitably formal. “Dr. Halifax and I would like to welcome all of you to our home. Furthermore, we’d like to introduce all of you to Colin, Lord Fallbridge.” Mr. Punch paused and looked down at the baby in his arms. His voice trembled for just a moment. “He’s a handsome little lord, isn’t he?”

The revelers applauded wildly.

“We had rather thought that our Colin’s first public appearance would be at his own christening, however, I think that this is an even more suitable debut for this child who will one day be the Tenth Duke of Fallbridge. Many of you may have noticed that Colin is named for my father, Sir Colin Molliner. The majority of you knew my father. He was the great explorer and archaeologist, yes, but he was also a devoted father, master and friend. When Dr. Halifax and I arrived here recently for our holiday, I spoke to him of the Servants’ Ball which my father would host here at Grange Molliner, and, we decided to continue that tradition in his honor. I’m sure that Sir Colin would be as proud as Dr. Halifax and I are of all of you. Our staff from our home in London has proven to be particularly loyal and exceptional. Our governess, Gamilla…”

Mr. Punch paused to point out Gamilla who stood in the center of the room—for the night, Cleopatra. She looked gorgeous, dressed in a shimmering azure and silver sheath with a gold and turquoise headdress. Her long, dark hair was down, and cascaded over her shoulders. Over her eyes, she wore an azure blue mask, trimmed in gold.

Gamilla grinned with pride. To begin with, she was quite pleased with her fancy dress and felt, for the first time, really, exceptionally beautiful. She was also proud to be standing next to Gerard who was dressed as Marc Anthony and who looked at her with such affection that it made her heart race. The evening was quite exciting overall, in fact. From her costume to the aroma of the floral garlands, to the spiced punch and tables of delicious foods surrounding the great butterscotch cake—she’d never seen anything like it. And, then, there was Gerry who looked so relaxed and handsome in his crisp toga and indigo robe—one broad, bare shoulder was exposed and his muscular arms were showing. It was the first she’d ever seen of any of Gerard’s body aside from his face, neck and hands, and she found the sight confusing and exciting. But, most of all, she was thrilled to have been called Colin’s “governess” in front of the entire room. Though part of her felt that Miss Barrett should not have been slighted in such a way, she knew Mr. Punch meant no harm, and could not help but feel that it was her rightful due.

“Gamilla has not only been kind to our boy, but has brought such joy to our home. Ladies and Gentlemen, Gamilla came to us all the way from America. In her short life, she has lived in Africa, America and, now, the British Empire, and we are most pleased that she has chosen our home as her own. Similarly, our valets, Charles Iantosca and Gerard Gurney—both of whom came home with us from America, are invaluable to our lives. Never before have we known such loyalty. Our Mrs. Pepper—who gave us the exquisite, magnificent cake you see over there—makes sure that we are fed while Speaight, keeps our household running smoothly. Without them, and without Violet, Georgie, Ethel and Jenny…and Hutchinson, who could not be here, we would be at a loss.”

Ethel and Jenny clasped their hands together, both feeling so overcome with emotion that they thought they would cry. Though they were both quite young—just girls, really—they could not recall a time when anyone ever singled them out for special mention, and, certainly never made a statement about them which was met with applause.

Mrs. Pepper held her head up high. She felt quite regal indeed—dressed as Queen Charlotte and wearing jewels which once belonged to the Duchess of Fallbridge. She never had another master who would introduce her to guests at a ball, and certainly not one who would lend her his mother’s jewels. She, too, felt as if she might cry with pride, especially when she glanced over at the towering cake she’d made—adorned with colored frosting in a plaid to match the Molliner Tartan. She looked over at her son, Georgie, and saw that he did, in fact, have tears in his eyes. She was prouder still, then.

Charles glanced at Violet. She looked quite pretty dressed as Juliet. Charles could tell that she missed Hutchinson—her aging, balding Romeo. Charles took a deep breath and smiled. He was pleased that the Duke had not mentioned Miss Barrett. He wondered if it was purposeful, but concluded that it wasn’t. Charles sighed and looked down at his costume. Even if his mask itched, he felt he made a handsome Hamlet and was quite pleased with the way his costume had turned out.

Punch smiled as the room was, again, filled with applause. He looked at Robert and nodded.

Robert began. “And, then, when we came here, I had the honor of being introduced to the wonderful staff at the Grange. Led by Mrs. North…” Robert nodded at the woman he thought to be Mrs. North. At the base of the stairs, a plump woman was standing, dressed as “Me A’an Sel”—the fairy girl of Scottish lore. Draped in an iridescent purple robe, the woman’s back was graced by wings of papier mache and tulle, and, upon her head she wore a large hat shaped like an upside-down morning glory—the silk petals of the flower nearly completely obscuring her face. The woman bowed slightly.

“Led by Mrs. North,” Robert continued. “the staff here has proven as warm and welcoming to me as if I’d spent my entire life here. So, tonight, we honor all of you who live and work both here and in our London home as well as those of you who tend the land here. We are joined tonight by our neighbors: some from here in Aberdeenshire, and some, from as far away as London. Each of you makes our life interesting, bright and full in your own particular way.”

“And, so,” Mr. Punch spoke up. “We invite all of you to eat and drink your fill and to dance until your heads spin. Before we begin, I’d like to ask each of you to raise your glasses aloft.” He chuckled. “Dr. Halifax will have to hold his glass up for both of us since my arms are rather occupied by young Colin.”

The crowd laughed as Robert took a glass from a tray offered to him by Speaight.

Robert raised his glass.

Mr. Punch began. “My father had a favorite toast that he liked to give at gatherings such as this. Some of you may remember it:

May those who love us, love us.
And those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts;
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles,
So we will know them by their limping.”

The crowd laughed.

“As they say here,” Mr. Punch continued, still managing to speak as Julian even though he was feeling quite emotional. “Slàinte mhòr agus a h-uile beannachd duibh. Excellent health and every good blessing to each of you!”

Everyone responded, “Slàinte!” Each took a sip.

“Slàinte don Bhànrigh!” Mr. Punch added.

“Health to the Queen!” The crowd responded, taking another sip.

“And, finally,” Mr. Punch gulped, his voice cracking slightly, “To Sir Colin Molliner, Cha bhithidh a leithid ami riamh! His equal will never be among us again!”

“To Sir Colin!” The crowd cheered.

“Now!” Mr. Punch chirped. “The pipers!”

Suddenly, from the door beyond the Great Hall, a troupe of pipers dressed in the Molliner Tartan—their bagpipes blaring “God Save the Queen.”

Robert looked over to Punch who had tears in his eyes.

“I’m cryin’ on the baby, I am.” Punch whispered in his own voice.

“You did beautifully, dear Punch.” Robert nodded, his own voice choked by emotion as well.

“Thanks, Chum.” Punch responded softly.

“Shall we go down and join our guests?” Robert asked.

“Not yet…” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Let’s watch from up here for a few more minutes.”

“As you wish.”

“I like to think this is how our pa is seein’ it.” Punch nodded toward the cheerful commotion below.

“I have no doubt, my dear.” Robert smiled. “And, I’m sure he’s quite proud.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-110? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 112 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square as the ball gets under way!

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 111

Marjani walked slowly into the central hall of the rambling plantation house of Mr. Manuel Fontanals. The house smelled of tobacco, whiskey and men. The aroma made Marjani’s already blood-shot eyes sting. She squinted in the dim morning light, and saw, at the end of the hallway, the figure of a man in silhouette.


“This way, Marjani.” Mr. Fontanals said softly. “Come into the library.”

Marjani did as instructed.

Mr. Fontanals shut the door behind her and pointed to a chair in front of his long, dark desk. “Sit.”

Marjani sat stiffly, folding her hands in her lap.

“Can I offer you something to drink? Some brandy, perhaps?” Mr. Fontanals asked softly.

“No, Sir.” Marjani replied flatly.

Manuel sat behind the desk and looked at Marjani with his large, dark eyes. Marjani knew those eyes. They were the same wide orbs that had stared at her from the face of her granddaughter, Columbia, as she’d told the girl that her mother was dead.

“I know I speak for everyone here when I tell you how sorry I am that you’ve lost Nontle and Gilbert. You did everything that you could to make them comfortable at the end. You’re to be commended for your loving care.”

“I don’t want no commendation.” Marjani said. “I want my family to be alive again.”

“I know that you do.” Mr. Fontanals responded.

“Is that why you asked me in here?” Marjani asked. “To tell me you’re sorry?”

“That, and another reason.” Mr. Fontanals answered. “Have you told the child, yet?”

“Yes.” Marjani nodded stiffly. “I done tol’ her that her mama and her daddy are gone. But, it ain’t true. Is it? We both know that Kirabo…Gilbert as you call him…was not her daddy though she thinks he was. We both know who her daddy really is. And, we both know that he’s very much alive and doin’ quite well in his fine, fine house.”

“I’d advise you to think before you speak.” Mr. Fontanals said firmly.

“I always do, Sir.” Marjani spat. “I always think before I do anything. Do you?”

“Marjani, I don’t wish to be bad friends. I’ve asked you here to give you a gift. I had planned to release you at the stroke of the new year. However, I’m going to make an exception given your circumstances.”

“Release me?” Marjani smirked.

“Yes. As of this moment, you and your granddaughter are free. If you so choose, you may stay here and continue to work on my land, but since you have the opportunity, I suggest you take the child and leave here.”

“You just want me to go far away, don’t ya?” Marjani shook her head. “You don’t want no reminder of your lust walkin’ around here.”

“I’m being kind, Marjani.” Mr. Fontanals answered curtly.

“Is that what you call it?” Marjani frowned. “Well, Sir, whether it’s kindness or not, I will take Columbia and leave this place. I’ll leave it behind and never think of it again.”

She rose from her chair and walked toward the door.

“Do you need any…funds?” Mr. Fontanals asked. “I can give you a little something to help you start anew.”

“I don’t need nothin’ from you, Sir.” Marjani said without turning around. “I got folk who done care about me who already gave me all that I need to take care of me and my little Columbia.”

“Are you sure?” Mr. Fontanals asked.

“Very.” Marjani said, opening the door.

“Not even a word of thanks?” Mr. Fontanals laughed.

“My thanks is that I’m leavin’ here without slapping your face, Sir.” Marjani said as she walked out.

She didn’t pause, she walked from that house and never looked back. She walked up La Colline Cramoisie and paused at the yellow house with its comfortable gleaming towers—the home of Adrienne and Cecil. There, behind the house, she found Gros Chidi.

“Marjani,” Chidi said gently. “We done heard ‘bout Nontle. She’s with the angels now.”

“Thank you,” Marjani nodded. “Chidi, my girl and I are leavin’ Marionneaux. We’re free.”

“Where you gonna go?” Chidi asked.

“New Orleans.” Marjani answered firmly. “Do you know where Mr. Halifax went to?”

“They got the address in the house, honey.” Chidi smiled. “You gonna go to them? I know how you like Dr. Halifax and His Lordship.”

“That’s where I’m goin’.” Marjani nodded. “I’m goin’ to find the ‘Great Man.’”

Meanwhile, in New Orleans, Mr. Punch was seated in the long red dining room of Dr. Biamenti’s house on Royal Street. He sat at the deep mahogany table and drummed Julian’s fingers against its gleaming surface. Toby sat beneath the table at Mr. Punch’s feet and murmured to himself in a series of small grunts and growls—a habit he picked up from Mr. Punch. Across the table, the puppet smiled at Mr. Punch from the chair where he’d placed the figure.

“Don’t worry, dog Chum,” Mr. Punch said. “The others’ll be down for breakfast soon. Can’t come fast enough for me. I smell them sausages over there. Makin’ me awful hungry. But, we gotta wait for the others, cuz that’s what’s polite and that’s the way gentlemen behave, it is.”

Toby barked.

“You’re a gentleman, too, Chum.” Mr. Punch said. “Only if you’re a little gentleman in a fur coat. Still, we gotta behave ourselves so me master’ll be proud.”

Punch whooped with relief when the pocket doors slid open in Adrienne entered with Fuller in her arms.

“My goodness, dear Punch, but you’re up early today.” Adrienne said.

“Sure am!” Mr. Punch smiled. “Hungry, too.”

“You look quite handsome.” Adrienne smiled.

“Thank you, Lady Chum.” Mr. Punch grinned. “Only I didn’t do it meself. Naasir helped me with this fool collar and noose…errr…cravat.”

“Well done.” Adrienne nodded.

“So, where’re Cecil and me chum?” Mr. Punch asked.

“They’re on their way.” Adrienne smiled. “The last I saw of them, they were bickering over a shaving mirror. Brothers…”

“Have you got any brothers?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I have two brothers.” Adrienne nodded. “And a sister. Though I’ve not seen any of them since I left France.”

“They got babies?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I don’t really know, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne sighed. “My family wanted very little to do with me…at a point.”

“Ah.” Punch grunted. “Sorry.”

“I’ve made my peace with it.” Adrienne said softly.

“Seems to me that family oughta be nice to one another.” Mr. Punch continued. “Even if they don’t agree with what you’ve done. But, I understand. Me master’s mother and sister are… Well, I understand. His father were nice, he was.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Adrienne nodded.

Meridian hurried into the dining room through the door at the rear of the long room.

“Good mornin’, good mornin’!” Meridian chirped cheerfully. “We got some fine, fine vittles for you folk this mornin’. Your Lordship’s gonna be so pleased! Can we expect Dr. and Mr. Halifax down?”

“Yes.” Adrienne nodded. “Shortly.”

“And, look at young Mr. Halifax. Ain’t he a fine baby? I’ll bet he’ll be wantin’ some breakfast, too.”

“I believe he’s quite famished, Meridian.” Adrienne chuckled.

“You want I should take him in the back and give him some milk?” Meridian asked.

“No, but if you could mash some fruit, I’ll feed him myself.” Adrienne smiled appreciatively.

“I got just the thing. Some right fine apples. We’ll set him up right.” Meridian grinned and started back toward the kitchen. A knock at the front door interrupted her.

“Now, who could that be at this hour?” Meridian asked, wiping her hands on her apron. “Too early for deliveries. Excuse me, folks.”

Meridian walked briskly into the front hallway, closing the dining room doors behind her.

She returned several seconds later. The smile on her face had faded.

“Who was it, Meridian?” Adrienne asked.

“There’s a lady here for to see His Lordship.” Meridian said slowly. “Says she’s his mother.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-110? If so, you can read them here.