A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 120

Chapter 120
A Stain on the Blood




Mr. Quick inhaled sharply, his long, thin nostrils vibrating beneath his slender, fin-like nose.  "Nothing but problems," he despaired.  Shaking his head, he repeated it.  "Nothing but problems."

He walked over to the low sofa where he had bound Mr. Punch.  "Your mother, I'm sure, is quite frustrated with me.  I can hear her curses carried on the breeze.  Still,"  he ruffled Punch's hair, "now, I think we have everything as it should be.  Truly, this most recent change of plans should delight her so."

Punch looked up, his eyes wild above his gagged mouth.

"Do try to keep yourself calm, little mandrake."  The parson continued.  "There's no point in becoming upset.  I know how you nancy men enjoy a good tantrum, but it won't do you any good."

Pulling a chair over from another corner of the back parlor of the vicarage, he saw next to Punch.  

"Can you feel it?"  Quick asked.  He paused to wait for a response that he knew couldn't come because of the messy gag in Punch's mouth.  "You can thank Mr. Jackson for that.  It was he who perfected that elixir.  Your mother and I--for all our studies of the powers of plants and herbs--could never quite find the right balance.  It was Jackson who deduced the right measurements.  The dosage he used on your sister...your half-sister...was too strong.  This, I think, was just enough.  Furthermore, it really should be taken orally, as opposed to directly into the blood.  That was the mistake he made with your sister.  Just so you know, he did that all on his own--the comb.  I had no idea he'd dipped the teeth in it.  He must have done that some time ago.  I suppose he meant it as an emergency measure--for security--in case anyone tried to move Her Grace."

Punch groaned.

"It's too much for you, isn't it?"  Quick nodded.  "You're not equipped for the rigors of a Dukedom.  We've all known about your problems for a long time.  I don't just mean your perversion.  No.  Though we've known about that for just as long, that is not to which I refer. No, I mean your affliction.  Your sickness of the mind.  Many is the time I saw you, even as a lad, standing in the folly tower, talking to yourself--dragging that little puppet around with you.  It angered your mother so.  Oh, to have her eldest child and only son exhibit the manner of a madman.  Still, she resolved herself to it in time.  She correctly figured that it was the effects at having mated with someone such as Sir Colin Molliner.  The very thing that had made him passably attractive--his intellect--made him an unsuitable father.   Wisdom is like a stain on the blood. One should never breed with a scholar.  Their minds are peculiarly formed.  It doesn't make for strong children.  Of course, Her Grace had hoped that Lady Barbara might be her recompense--that she might somehow make up for the utter disappointment for her first child.  But, no.  Barbara's just as mad as you are.  I'd hoped that this new girl you'd brought with you might be somewhat more like your mother.  But, no.  You've corrupted her.  She's lost.  The only salvation we have, oddly enough, was brought to us by Barbara.  So, maybe the little harlot wasn't as much of a waste as we thought."

The parson stroked Punch's cheek.

"You feel cooler.  I can tell the elixir is working.  Do you feel as if your limbs are heavy, leaden?  That's what it will do.  You'll be perfectly awake, yet paralyzed.  I'm not sure if you'll feel anything.  In part, I wish you would.  Still, it might be considered inhumane, if you did.  I've no way of knowing.  No one to whom we've ever given it has lived to tell us about the experience.  Just know that you'll be aware of all that transpires."

Quick sighed again.

"I'd not intended to utilize you.  If your aunt and the others had been more cooperative, we wouldn't have had to.  Now, with you here, however, we have all we need.  And, truly, it did work out for the best.  To be able to give your mother a strong heart--one of her own bloodline--will assure us success.  With Charlotte's lovely...femininity and the young skin from that Perkins boy (and, yes, I do think we can salvage some from William), and the addition of some of your smooth, white flesh, we should have all we need.  Except one thing, but that's coming...  Well, two things."

Again, the parson stroked Punch's cheek, this time letting his hand slip down to his shoulder and chest.

"You are an attractive specimen.  I'll give you that.  Though you've got that Molliner ginger hair, and your eyes are certainly wild, the rest of you is rather handsome.  At least you did inherit your mother's beauty."  He leaned in, to look at Punch squarely in the eyes.

"You now of course, that we'll still need your auntie's face."  He shrugged.  "Luckily, Hargrave is strong, and I'm clever.  We'll get it yet.  I'd been worried about some of the signs of age she's begun to exhibit.  She didn't take as much care with her toilette as your mother did.   How could she, of course?  It's amazing she's managed to keep herself clean at all with those horrid claws of hers.  Then, I realized that the condition of her face doesn't really matter because--and this really is clever of me--I concluded that her youth and beauty can be restored.  All we need is new blood.  It'd have to be of the same bloodline.  But, new, fresh, young blood!"

Punch tried to wriggle free of his bondage, but found that, as the Parson had said, he could not move his limbs.  

"You brought the solution to me yourself, you fey, little ginger Duke.  Your son.  Well, he's not really your son since you didn't sire him.  Your whore sister did.  Nonetheless,  you brought him to us.  He'll be perfect!  His blood is just the tonic we need.  Furthermore, we'll be doing him a service by killing him and releasing him into God's hands.  How could he ever expect to have a normal life, being raised by a madman and his maryann?  Besides, he's likely going to be mad anyway.  Yes, it'll be a blessing to him to serve such a noble purpose and then be given to God."  Quick scratched his nose.  "Have you had him christened?"

Punch tried to yelp, but could not.

"No matter, I'll do it before the ritual."

He caressed Punch again.

"What a pity.  When we poured the elixir down your throat, we spoiled your waistcoat and cravat.  Perhaps the stains can be washed out.  Causer had said he wanted your clothes when we'd finished."


Did you miss Chapters 1-119 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so,  you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 121.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 120

Chapter 120: 

Regrets 



“Oh, Your Grace!” Gamilla smiled as she approached Robert and Punch. “You done so well!”

Punch wiped his face with a handkerchief and grinned. “We did dance well. Didn’t we?”

“You looked right handsome out there—both of ya, done, Sirs.” Gamilla smiled.

Robert chuckled. “I didn’t think I had it in me.”

Gerard, who stood at Gamilla’s side, nodded. “I felt the same when I started, too. But, there’s somethin’ ‘bout the pipers. Can’t help but dancin’. Feel the music right in your bones.”

“I must say,” Robert began, still out of breath, “the two of you make a very handsome pair. We couldn’t help but watch you as you were dancing.”

Gamilla blushed.

“It took some convincin’.” Gerard grinned. “But, I finally got her to dance with me.”

“I understand.” Punch laughed. “So, I trust the two of ya is havin’ a lark for yourselves, then?”

“I never had such a fine evenin’ in my life.” Gamilla said proudly. “I gotta thank ya, Your Grace. Were it not for you and Dr. Halifax, I’d never have felt like this.”

“How do you feel, Gamilla?” Robert asked.

“Like a princess, Sir.”

“In that gown, Gamilla.” Punch nodded. “You could hold your head up high at Buck House, you could.”

“Oh, Sir.” Gamilla blushed again.

“Can I get you anything, Sirs?” Gerard said quickly, knowing that Gamilla was embarrassed. He hoped to distract the masters from praising the girl any further.

“No, no.” Robert shook his head. “This is your evening off. You’re not serving us tonight.”

“But, you ain’t had nothin’ to eat. I saw how you and His Grace were standin’ with Colin. You barely got to have a piece of that grand cake.”

“We’ll get something shortly, Gerard. Don’t worry. Every so often, His Grace and I are capable of feeding ourselves.”

“Every so often,” Punch confirmed. “’Sides, it were such a treat for Colin to be down here with everyone at his first ball—even if he did sleep through most of it.”

“You done gave him over to Mrs. North?” Gamilla asked.

“Yes,” Robert nodded.

Gamilla and Punch exchanged glances.

“I know what the two of you are thinking.” Robert smiled.

“Sir, it’s jus’ that he ain’t used to Mrs. North. Maybe he’s feelin’ fussy. He’s used to bein’ with me…or Miss Barrett.”

“He’s not been with Miss Barrett in quite some time,” Robert frowned.

“All the more reason, Sir, that maybe I need to go check on him.”

“I shall tell you what I’ve been telling His Grace,” Robert grinned. “The child was sound asleep when Mrs. North carried him upstairs. I’m sure he’s still sound asleep—quite happily dreaming of pipers and cake and beautiful costumes.”

Mr. Punch scowled. “Still, bet he’d like his papas to come and give him a cuddle.”

“Or, at least, his Gamilla to sing him that song he likes so well.”

“Very well,” Robert smiled. “Why don’t the two of you slip upstairs and make sure that Colin and Mrs. North are getting on well?”

Mr. Punch smiled. “You don’t mind, Chum?”

“I’ll play host.” Robert nodded. “To be honest, I’d feel more comfortable knowing that the lad was content.”

“I knew it, Chum.” Punch grinned. “You’re just as overprotective as I am, you are.”

“This is a surprise to you?” Robert winked. “Don’t forget—the first few nights after we arrived in London, I sat in the nursery all night and watched him sleep to make sure he didn’t awaken and wonder where he was.”

“Coo! How could I forget? Don’t ya think I were sittin’ there, too, watchin’ both of ya after you fell asleep in the chair.”

“He’s a lucky boy to have two such lovin’ papas.” Gamilla giggled.

“We won’t be long, Chum.” Mr. Punch smiled, taking Gamilla by the arm. “Why don’t you and Gerry have some more cake?”

“I think we shall.” Robert nodded.

Gerard and Robert watched as Gamilla and Mr. Punch headed toward the stairs.

“I’ll get you some cake, Sir. And, maybe something savory, too.” Gerard smiled.

“You certainly will not.” Robert shook his head. “I shall fetch something for both of us.”

“Sir…” Gerard shook his head.

“No arguments, Mr. Gurney,” Robert smiled. “Tonight, we serve you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Gerard nodded.

The two men glanced toward the staircase just in time to see Punch and Gamilla disappear around the curve of the second landing. Both smiled affectionately.

“I reckon Dr. Halifax and Gerard think we’re silly.” Gamilla said quietly as she and Punch started down the long, vaulted corridor.

“Nah.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Fact is, I s’pose Dr. Halifax worries more ‘bout our Colin than any of us. It’s jus’ that he’s quieter ‘bout it than I am.”

Gamilla nodded. “Your Grace, I gotta tell ya, though I’m sad Miss Barrett done took ill, I’d not have traded this time with Colin for nothin’.”

“I know it.” Punch replied. “And, he loves you so. Makes me think maybe we shoulda jus’ made ya his nanny at the start.”

“Well, Sir, a boy of Master Colin’s stations should have a governess. All I coulda been is a nurse. I ain’t like Miss Barrett. I can’t teach him nothin’ like a real governess would.”

“We could have hired tutors later on. Ain’t like Colin needs much education right now. He ain’t even walkin’ yet.”

“Still, don’t matter, Sir. You got Miss Barrett.”

“Yes,” Punch sighed. He paused in the passage and turned toward Gamilla. “I’m terrible sorry. I shoulda given you the post.”

Gamilla shrugged.

“I think Dr. Halifax were right all along.” Punch continued.

“Maybe so, Sir.” Gamilla answered.

“You think so?” Punch’s eyes widened. “Thought you was a friend of Miss Barrett?”

“I…” Gamilla began. She wished she could tell Mr. Punch what she knew about the governess and why she was so concerned for Colin, but she knew that if she told the master, the child would be in danger.

Mr. Punch smiled. “I understand. You don’t wanna say nothin’ bad ‘bout your friend. You’re a loyal young lady, Gamilla. I commend ya for it, I do. We can talk ‘bout this more tomorrow. This is a night for you to relax. ‘Specially since you wasn’t feelin’ well earlier. How are you now? You seem much better.”

“I am, Sir.” Gamilla answered uncomfortably as she recalled the cruel treatment she had received from Miss Barrett and Finlay’s violent threats. She wished the night would never end.

“Here,” Punch narrowed his eyes in concern. “Somethin’ troublin’ ya.”

“No, Sir.” Gamilla forced herself to smile. “I was just thinkin’ ‘bout Master Colin.”

Punch nodded and the two of them began walking again.

“Here we are,” Punch grinned as they reached the nursery door.

He opened the door quickly and gasped as he rushed into the room.

Gamilla followed him in.

“Get Dr. Halifax!” Punch yelped. “Quick!”



Did you miss Chapters 1-119 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 121.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 120

“There they are,” Ulrika panted, clawing for Arthur’s hand.


“I thought we were going to see Barbara,” Arthur droned.

“We are,” Ulrika moaned in exasperation, “but, it seems so is her lunatic brother. You see—there—headed toward Iolanthe Evageline’s, with his companions?”

“I don’t want to see His Lordship,” Arthur tried to pull away from Ulrika who held on tightly.

“I don’t care what you want, really.” Ulrika growled. “Lord Fallbridge!” She shouted.

Several men turned to look at her.

“What are you staring at?” Ulrika barked.

The men laughed and looked away, happily returning to their night of merrymaking.

“Here,” Mr. Punch whispered to Robert. “Someone’s callin’ for Julian.”

“Keep walking,” Robert said.

“I know that voice, I do—deep like a man’s, but not. It’s that flame-haired witch.”

“Just keep walking. Act as though you don’t hear her.” Robert said.

“She’s headed for us.” Cecil grunted.

“Oh, and she’s got Arthur with her.” Mr. Punch sighed. “God help us. But, why?”

Ulrika ran toward the three men, dragging Arthur behind her.

“Lord Fallbridge,” Ulrika panted, lifting the veil, once again, from her face. “I’ll need to have a word with you.”

“What for?” Mr. Punch mumbled, making no attempt to pretend to be Julian.

“I need to talk with you about your man.” Ulrika lied.

“He ain’t me man.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Don’t know whose man he is now. I ‘spose he’s your man. You seem to have some kind of fondness for him though I’d like to remind you that he’s married to the one what calls herself Barbara Allen.”

“I’ve caught him trying to rob me.” Ulrika continued.

“I ain’t done no such thing.” Arthur said. “You’re the one that robbed me.”

“Quiet!” Ulrika snapped.

“How fortunate to find you three here.” Ulrika said. “I was just on my way to see you at the address I was given from Mr. Halifax’s servants.”

Cecil shook his head, “Then, you’re going the opposite direction, Miss Rittenhouse. Royal Street is that way. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got some business which needs our urgent attention.”

“Business?” Ulrika smiled. “What sort of business could three fine gentlemen have in a place such as this? I don’t know about these things, really, but, isn’t this quite the disreputable part of The Quarter? I believe this street is lined with…shall we say, houses of ill-repute.”

“It doesn’t concern you, Miss Rittenhouse.” Robert snapped. “And it especially doesn’t concern your companion.”

“Here, leave us alone. Would ya?” Mr. Punch sighed.

“I have a good mind to go straight to Mrs. Halifax and tell her what I’ve seen tonight.” Ulrika grinned.

“And, I’ve a good mind to speak with your father when he arrives tomorrow. I think I owe it to my employer to tell him that his eldest child was caught in the French Quarter—in such a ‘disreputable’ part of town—with an even more so disreputable, married, male companion.” Cecil grinned back at her.

“Father would never believe such a thing.” Ulrika frowned.

“We could draw him a picture,” Mr. Punch smiled.

“Go on with you,” Cecil continued. “We’ve an appointment to keep.”

“Shall I come along?” Ulrika asked quickly.

“Go with your friend.” Robert demanded. “Go do whatever it is you do.”

“I don’t think I should.” Ulrika replied frantically.

“Look, if you caught him stealing from you, go to the authorities.” Robert snorted. “Or punish him in your own way. It’s, frankly, none of our affair. We don’t care what you do.”

“So much for the famed English chivalry.” Ulrika frowned. She looked at Mr. Punch and winked. “Lord Fallbridge, you don’t look well at all. No, you look quite mad and desperate. What you need is some peace—eternal peace. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t it be ever so pleasant to have a quiet mind for eternity?”

“I’d settle for you goin’ away.” Mr. Punch grumbled.

“Come, gentlemen,” Robert stepped forward. “We don’t have time for this foolishness.”

“Ulrika, I’ve known you since you were a child.” Cecil said. “I always knew you were trouble. Do try to put yourself on the correct path.” He glanced at Arthur, “As for you, I wish that His Lordship had dumped you in the ocean.”

“I want to see Barbara,” Arthur hissed in Ulrika’s ear. She turned to slap him. As she did, Mr. Punch and his two companions walked away.

“You fool!” Ulrika screamed.

“What’re you tryin’ to do?” Arthur asked, the effects of the St. Dymphna’s root clearly beginning to wear off.

“I’m trying to prevent them from going to Iolanthe’s.” Ulrika snarled. “Nothing is going as planned.”

“What’s it to you if His Lordship and his friends go to Iolanthe’s?”

“Do you really want him to see Barbara? Really?” Ulrika spat. “And if he does—what then? Tell me? If he convinces her to return with him to England where does that leave us? I’ll tell you. It leaves me without her fortune and it leaves you without a wife!”

“She ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur chuckled. “Not with him anyway.”

Ulrika clasped Arthur’s arm again.

“What’re you doin’?” Arthur growled.

“I’m taking you back to Royal Street. We need to hasten our plans.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you. Diamond or no diamond. I don’t know what you’ve been givin’ me and Barbara. But, it stops now. You’re not in control of me any longer! Now, I’m the one in control, see.”

Meanwhile, in the dusty back room of Miss Iolanthe’s Bawdy House, Barbara continued to plead with Naasir to escape with her. Her efforts were interrupted as Iolanthe Evangeline burst into the dark room. In her arms, she held a gangly toddler with an uncomfortably oversized head and egg-shaped eyes. The child drooled across the back of her crimson gown, leaving a dark maroon trail. He groaned as his mother carried him into the room.

“What’s this?” Iolanthe demanded. “I asked you to bind him.”

“I’m trying,” Barbara lied.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Iolanthe narrowed her eyes. “It sounds to me as if you’re doing just the opposite. I heard you, trollop. I don’t want you thinkin’ I didn’t.”

“I…” Barbara stammered.

“Take my child.” Iolanthe commanded. “And, go sit in the corner.”

Mala trotted into the room behind Iolanthe, she carried a large wooden bowl which smelled of copper, herbs and blood.

“Mala, set that on the altar and tie this man’s hands.” Iolanthe ordered. “I’ll prepare him.”

“Miss Iolanthe…” Barbara began.

“Silence!” Iolanthe snapped. “You’re to be quiet and watch. I need you to watch. Just be still and don’t upset my son. Egil is very delicate. Look at him, Barbara Allen. Look at his face.”

Barbara did as instructed and frowned.

“Not pretty, is it?” Iolanthe smiled. “Could you love such a face? If your own child had been born this way, you’d have had him drowned, I dare say. Be thankful your child is fair of face. We got a fine price for him. But, mine—my Egil…” She gulped. “This—this is the result of my sick heart and my dissolution, but the very things that caused him to be will cause him to be free! Hold him tightly! Hold him! Be careful of his head—his…enormous…”

“I done tied him,” Mala interrupted.

“Well done,” Iolanthe smiled. “At least I’ve got one loyal girl. It’s a blessing your mother didn’t drown you at birth, Mala. Ugly as you are…”

Mala laughed.

“That’s a good girl.” Iolanthe cooed.

“You’re insane.” Barbara trembled.

“And, you’re insolent!” Iolanthe snapped. She turned to Naasir. “Have you anything to say before we begin, Priest.”

Naasir was silent, looking directly into Iolanthe eyes.

Iolanthe squinted and looked away. “You can’t take my soul, Priest. I’ve not got one to give you.” She spun around. “Mala! Bring me the torch!”





Did you miss Chapters 1-119? If so, you can read them here.