A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 114

Chapter 114
Escape


Morgana tried to wriggle free from the strips of canvas which bound her arms behind her.  Ivy Blessum had made sure to make her binds as tight as possible.  Not only were the canvas shackles too tight, so tight that she could no longer feel her pincers, but the position was unbearable.  Morgana's hump was already a constant source of discomfort, but to have her arms pulled at such an angle, tucked under her hunched back as they were, was proving excruciating.

Similarly, Morgana's legs were bound.  This wasn't so much of a problem as she had little feeling in her deformed leg anyway.  Furthermore, Morgana knew that because of the cylindrical shape of her leg, she'd have less trouble freeing her lower extremities.  She extended her club-like foot, causing a contraction in what should have been her ankle and calf, and the canvas strips slipped right off.

She knew that the door was locked.  She'd heard Ivy and Jackson fumbling with the lock and key when they left her.  Still, the edifice in which she'd been imprisoned--whatever it was--was so derelict and crumbling that surely there had to be another way out, even if it had to be one of her own making.

Morgana shook her head and sighed, recalling her years with the traveling show.  How many times had she seen Calif, the Human Skeleton, wriggle free from the ropes which bound him?  It was part of his act--the escape.  Ah well, she thought, Calif's ropes were tied in such a way that he could easily break free from them through trickery.  There was no such carnival magic for her.

Where was she?

She tried to recall what she'd been told about the estate.  Punch had mentioned a chapel and the catacomb beneath it.  He'd spoken of the farmers and their cottages, and even of the small village which served them.  What other buildings would be on such land?

Lennie had mentioned a large glass structure which had served as a year-round garden--a spot where flowers could bloom even on the coldest winter's day.

This was not that place.

Was it somewhere near the stables?

Violet had gone on about the stables.  As she'd brushed and arranged Morgana's hair, she told her new friend all about the beautiful horses she'd seen when Punch took everyone for their tour of the estate.

"Oh, Miss,"  Violet had said.  "I never knew such a large plot of land uninterrupted as it is.  Not even in Scotland when His Grace took us all to his father's ancestral home.  Strange as it is here, it is beautiful."

Morgana had thought that Violet's final appraisal seemed fitting.  Hadn't Pauline been beautiful, but strange.

She glanced at the shabby casket in which Pauline's body waited...waited for her resurrection, for Morgana's death.

Strange and beautiful.

"Y...you have made a diabolical land here, Pauline."  Morgana said aloud.  "Rolling green hills to s...support your wicked, w...w...wicked band of lunatics."

Again, she recalled Violet's spirited talk of the estate.  "Yes, Miss, it is lovely.  There's these buildings like you've never seen before.  One is like a temple like you'd see in a place like Rome--all made of marble.  There's another what's got a big, shallow pool of water in front of it what reflects the whole of it like a giant mirror.  Then, up high on the east hill is a wee castle of stone.  All covered in ivy, it is, with a tower.  His Grace says that when he was a boy, he...well...sure he used to go up to the tower and look out at the whole estate.  They're not built for no reason other than to be pretty, Miss.  Folk don't live in 'em or nothin'.  Oh, what was it His Grace had called 'em?  Oh, I can't think of the word.  Wait.  Folly!  That's it!  He called 'em follies.  Fancy that, then.  A perfect word for a buildin' what ain't got no use other than to be pretty."

That's where she was, Morgana concluded.  She was in one of the follies--the one which Violet had called a "wee castle."  

Morgana looked to the tilted, crumbling spiral of stone steps.  That, surely, led to the tower.  If she could make her way to the top, she could scream and call out.  Someone, certainly, someone would see or hear her and come to her aid before Jackson and Ivy returned with the stuff of their mysterious game.

Lace, oil, a basket and a torch--wasn't that what Jackson was grumbling about when he and Ivy skittered out?  For the amusement of the duchess?  What were they planning?

Morgana limped toward the staircase and set her bloated foot upon it.  Bits of stone crumbled away under her weight, puffs of dust rising from the broken edges.

She looked up.  There was a wooden cover at the top of the stairs, but, she could see light through it.  

She would deal with that obstacle when she reached it.

Slowly, and painfully, she began to climb the stairs.



Did you miss chapters 11-113 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow or Chapter 115.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 114

Chapter 114: 

Family Traits 



Mr. Punch looked over at Robert who stood at his side. “What are you grinnin’ at?” He whispered in his own, comfortable voice.

“Just looking at you and our Colin.”

“It’s his first ball, it is.” Punch said softly, gazing affectionately at the baby who slept in his arms.

“The first of many. Just think, in a few years, he’s going to be the most sought-after man in London Society.”

“I ‘magine so.” Punch nodded.

“After all, we can see that he’s going to look like you. How could he not be the toast of London?”

“Ha.” Mr. Punch chuckled. “To be sure, he’ll look like Julian, not me. Remember, I’m a hunchback with a very large and beautiful nose. You just don’t see it.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, dear Punch.” Robert shook his head. “I see all of you all the time.”

“That you do.” Punch smiled. “Still,” he replied thoughtfully, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard by the many revelers who danced and chatted in the Great Hall. “Our boy will look like his mother.”

“You and Barbara do resemble one another.”

“Inasmuch as we’re siblings. We both took after our ma in our faces. I ‘magine Colin does, too. That Fallbridge face is hard to mistake. I just got the Molliner hair and build.”

“I think the Molliner appearance has been passed on to Colin.” Robert reached over and stroked the child’s hair. “I see the flecks of auburn in his growing locks.”

“I hope so.” Mr. Punch smiled. “He’s not got me eyes though. He got Barbara’s eyes. Or maybe whoever his father’s are.”

“Are Barbara’s eyes blue? I don’t recall.” Robert sighed. “Whenever she and I were in the same spot, she was too busy loathing me for me to notice the color of her eyes.”

“Coo…she did hate you.” Punch giggled. “But, yep, her eyes is blue. Like ma’s. Don’t know where I got me brown eyes—or where Julian did, I mean. The Molliners typically had green eyes.” Punch paused and grinned.

“What is it?”

“Well…” Punch blushed. “I know it can’t be true, but sometimes, when I look at Colin, I like to think his blue eyes come from you. Course, since neither of us is his real father, we…”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you, but, I disagree. We’re both his real fathers. We love him. He’s our son no matter where he came from.”

“That’s right.” Punch nodded. “Thank you.”

Robert reached over and petted the child again. “He’s so sound asleep. I don’t know how he could be with the pipers and all of the laughter.”

“Sleep of the innocent,” Punch winked. “Maybe he ought to go to bed, then. Do ya think?”

“Sadly, I think that might be best.” Robert nodded. “Shall I fetch Mrs. North?”

“Seems a shame to interrupt her good time.” Punch looked around the hall to try and spot Mrs. North. He saw her in her glittering fairy costume, standing in the spot by the great archway. “She’s havin’ a good time, ain’t she?”

“I suspect so.” Robert chuckled. “I don’t think she’s moved from that spot all evening, but she’s watching everything so intently that I imagine she’s enjoying herself.”

“Why ain’t she talkin’ to no one?” Punch wondered. “I can’t ‘magine she’s shy.”

“No, she’s certainly not shy.” Robert laughed. “I think it’s her natural Scottish reserve which has kept her in her spot.”

“She’s a nice lady though. Kind of her to volunteer to look after Colin for Gamilla and Mrs. Pepper so they could stay at the ball.”

“She’s a lovely person. Very loyal.”

“Well, she has been at the Grange for…coo…five decades or more.” Punch nodded. “I ‘spect she knows the Molliners better than just ‘bout anyone. The Fallbridge’s too.” Mr. Punch pursed his lips, “You know, Chum. I think she knows Colin is blood family.”

“Do you think she fancies that he’s your son?”

“She knows better than that.” Mr. Punch laughed. “I’m sure she’s figured out that he’s Barbara’s son.”

“Probably so. Her discretion, however, is admirable.”

Punch smiled. “She was always good to Julian, too. I remember. She’d speak so kind and gentle to him, knowin’ he was scared of loud talkin’. She’ll be good with Colin tonight, too. Yeah, it sure is nice of Mrs. North to give up her evenin’ so the others can have their holiday.”

“She wouldn’t have to if Miss Barrett…”

“I know.” Punch interrupted. “But, I s’pose the girl can’t help if she’s sick. Did I tell ya that I popped in to see her this mornin’. She don’t look well. Her face is all pinched.”

“Her face is always pinched.”

Punch giggled again. “Well, I mean, it’s drawn like she’s tired. Usually she’s got a glow in her cheeks. Reminds me of…” He stopped.

“Reminds you of whom?” Robert asked.

“Sorta puts me in mind of Barbara.” Punch said slowly.

Robert squinted. “In a way.”

“Always had this brightness to her face, Barbara did. Especially when she was bein’ cruel or naughty.” He shrugged. “Which was always.” He looked up at Robert. “Do ya sometimes wonder if maybe Colin might get more from his ma than her blue eyes?”

“He will be nothing like your sister.” Robert said reassuringly. “He’ll be all you.”

“Hope not.” Punch whooped a little louder than he’d wished to. No one seemed to notice.

“I hope he’s just like you.” Robert winked.

“Well, if he is, he ain’t gonna want to go to bed ‘til after the cake is cut.” Punch smiled.

“This is true.” Robert nodded. “You see? He already takes after you. I’ve seen our boy around a cake.”

Punch hugged the sleeping baby. “Let’s keep him up awhile. He’ll wake up when the cake’s cut. Besides, even if he is asleep, it’s his first ball, and I think he’s havin’ a good time.”

“I know he is.” Robert replied. “Let’s take our Colin and show him off to our guests.”

“Not just him.” Punch nodded.

“Oh?”

“I get to show you off, too.”


Did you miss Chapters 1-113 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 115.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 114

The Duchess took a deep breath to steady herself. She forced her face into a malicious grin and released air through her teeth so that it whistled in a labored hiss. Narrowing her eyes on her son, she began to speak.


“Now that your father is dead,” Pauline began, “Of course, his wealth passes to me. I am now in control of one of the greatest fortunes in England. I’ll say this for your father, while he may have been absent-minded, and too-much lost in his dreams, he did manage to add coins to our coffers. Combining his legacy with my own means that the Fallbridge line is, by far, one of the most prestigious in all of England—perhaps the world.”

“The Fallbridge line?” Mr. Punch grumbled. “What of the Molliner name?”

“You, thankfully, are the last of that.” The Duchess chuckled. “A strange lot, they were. I see you’ve inherited all of their foolishness and none of the Fallbridge sensibility.”

“I’d rather have me foolishness, I would.” Mr. Punch answered. “I’d rather have that than all the riches in the world.”

“And you just might.” The Duchess spat. “Listen to me, my lunatic child, I will continue to provide you with your allowance—providing that you adhere to a few basic rules.”

“I don’t need your gold,” Mr. Punch shook Julian’s head. “Me master’s got ‘nough gold of his own to last us until the end of our days.”

“Your master?” The Duchess squinted. “What is he saying?” She looked to Robert.

“I believe,” Robert said slowly, “that His Lordship is trying to communicate the fact that he is unconcerned about his wealth.”

“He shouldn’t be.” Pauline said angrily. “Upon my death, he’ll be one of the wealthiest men in England—if I don’t change my mind.”

“Upon your death, the only riches what concern me is the wealth of freedom we’ll have. I’d eat off the streets if I had to, to be free of you.”

“I see.” The Duchess rose. “You’ve been too much influenced by these…people.” She walked toward Julian/Mr. Punch. “Know this, you insane creature, you must remember your title and your station. If not for loyalty to me, then to your father.”

“Me pa weren’t no Fallbridge.” Mr. Punch answered sharply.

“No, he certainly was not.” The Duchess grinned. “However, he was smart enough to respect his betters. He wanted you to achieve the position that my name has given you. Would you neglect that?”

“I’ve not done nothin’ to make me pa ashamed no matter what me name is.” Mr. Punch replied softly.

“I don’t know what you think you are,” The Duchess hissed, “but, I know what you should be. You are Julian, Lord Fallbridge. If you want to continue to be, then, you’d best do as I say.”

“And, if I don’t?” Mr. Punch said.

“You’ll have nothing.” The Duchess smiled.

“I got plenty.”

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to seize your property? That shop which has sat closed all this time, the house in Belgrave Square… That lease is in my name, isn’t it? Any accounts you might have would certainly revert to me should you be found incompetent. Think about it. Are you fit to manage your own life? Isn’t it a mother’s place to make sure that her child is provided for? Should you lose your fortune, how long do you think these people who claim to love you so dearly would continue to stand by your side and suffer your antics?”

“I speak for all of us when I say that His Lordship will never want for a thing for as long as he lives.” Cecil answered for the family.

“How certain you are,” The Duchess winked. “Now.”

“What do you want of me?” Mr. Punch whispered.

“I want you to return with me—this moment. I want you to collect your sister and sail back to England. Otherwise, I’ll leave you in the dirt.”

“Dirt is good enough for me,” Mr. Punch said firmly.

“Very well, Fool.” The Duchess replied. “You’ll regret this.”

“No.” Punch responded, shaking Julian’s head.

“Good day, then.” The Duchess said, walking toward the door.

“Your Grace,” Adrienne began, but it was too late, the Duchess had hurried from the house.

“What an unpleasant woman.” Adrienne sighed.

“She can’t take all of Julian’s wealth, can she?” Mr. Punch asked Robert.

“Not as easily as she seems to think.” Robert shook his head. “However, she can deny you your rightful inheritance. That’s her right if she so chooses.”

“Ain’t nothin’ worth sufferin’ with her.” Mr. Punch grumbled.

“I’m sure Julian would agree.” Cecil slapped Mr. Punch on the back affectionately.

“I want me puppet.” Mr. Punch frowned. “And me dog and me breakfast.” He sighed. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“No, dear Punch,” Adrienne smiled, “it isn’t. Chers Punch, don’t worry about a thing. We must believe that goodness always triumphs in the end.”

“I believe that.” Mr. Punch nodded. “But, I believe that wickedness sure makes fun for itself in the meantime.”

The Duchess arrived breathlessly back at Iolanthe’s house, hurrying past Mala’s ugly gaze and to the relative safety of her bedchamber. She was surprised to see Iolanthe Evangeline sprawled across the bed—reading from a dusty, tattered book.

“Well?” Iolanthe asked.

“He’s unmoveable.” Pauline hissed.

“I figured he might be.” Iolanthe laughed. “Your son’s a real looney.”

“I don’t disagree.” Pauline frowned. “Now, leave me, I must rest.”

“You’ll have time enough to rest once we’ve solved our problem.” Iolanthe sat up. “See, I don’t cotton to failure. Yet, somehow, I knew you’d fail me. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m unreasonable, because I’m not. I believe that folks should have a second chance. We have an agreement, you and I. In exchange for my silence about your husband, I expected you to pay me what you agreed. Now, we gotta find another way to get it. See, I have things that worry me. I have debts to settle. There are folks out there who done me wrong. I can’t let them get away with that. And, if, in getting justice, I can line my purse, why not?”

“Just leave,” The Duchess bellowed.

“Not so fast, Pauline.” Iolanthe grinned. “I’ve been readin’ from this book. Seems like I may have been too specific. Didn’t know I could make substitutions. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m not a woman who can’t accept some changes here and there.”

“You bore me with your talk of books. What is that thing anyway?” Pauline growled.

“You could call it a recipe.” Iolanthe’s eyes flashed. “But, it isn’t as specific as I thought. Sure, I need your son’s man—that priest, Naasir, but I can get him on my own easy enough. You see, Duchess, he’s the fire upon which I’ll cook my supper. But, it don’t look like I’m gonna need your son after all.”

“You’re not threatening my daughter, are you?” Pauline asked.

“No. She’s got too much mud in her. She’s better spent keeping my visitors company. They like the mud. You, on the other hand, you’ll do nicely.”

“I don’t understand.” Pauline shook her head.

From beneath the pillow, Iolanthe withdrew a long, sharp knife. “Don’t you?”

“What are you doing?” Pauline asked as Iolanthe rose from the bed and walked toward her with the knife.

“Just keeping up a tradition.” Iolanthe responded flatly. “And, like all traditions, I’m adding something new to it. See, I was taught by Marie Laveau. Do you know who that is? But, she didn’t want me around anymore. I guess she reckoned my power was greater than hers. I’ll give her that. It is. See, I’m not afraid to take chances. I aim to do that just now.”

Pauline ran to the door and opened it, only to find Mala grimacing on the other side.

“Step aside, you hobgoblin!” The Duchess commanded.

Mala shook her disfigured head slowly.

Pauline shrieked.

“Come back in here, Pauline,” Iolanthe said. “Fightin’ is only gonna make it worse. I don’t want you thinkin’ it isn’t.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-113? If so, you can read them here.