Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 123

Chapter 123: 

To Blazes 



“Give that baby to me.” Punch said to Finlay in his own voice—firmly and gruffly.

“Of course, Your Grace.”’ Finlay smiled, handing the child over to his father.

“What in Hell do you think you’re doin’, you oily beggar?” Punch growled.

“Pardon me, Sir?” Finlay asked with mock innocence.

“What are you doin’ with my child?” Punch asked again.

“I don’t understand, Your Grace?” Finlay shook his head, making the glittery faux horns of his devil costume shake.

“Bugger, you don’t know.” Punch snapped.

“Finlay,” Robert interrupted. “I believe that when you were caught in Colin’s nursery the other night that you were told not to come near the baby unless one of us was present.”

“Mrs. North had me bring him back up while she prepared his milk. The lad seemed like he was a little cold in the kitchens, so she wanted me to bring him here where it was warm. She asked me to wait with him until she returned.” Finlay lied.

“Is that so?” Robert asked.

“Go and ask her, Sir. She’ll tell you.” Finlay smiled.

“Jus’ what were you doin’ in the kitchens anyway?” Punch asked, hugging the child close to his chest. “Why wasn’t you at the party?”

“I’d gone downstairs to see if the wine was holdin’ out, Sir. Thought I’d be a help to the men you hired. It’s my job as footman to see to the runnin’ of the household, Sir.”

“Is it also your job to go into my jewel casket and help yourself?” Punch hissed.

“Sir?”

Punch’s eyes widened with anger and his face turned red.

“Are you quite well, Sir?” Finlay asked obsequiously. “You don’t seem yourself.”

Mr. Punch took a deep breath and turned to Robert. “Deal with him.”

Robert nodded.

“I’m going to inspect my son. If there’s on scratch on him, Finlay, so help me, I’ll bash your head in and paint your epitaph with your brains.” Punch added before turning around and walking into his chamber.

“Dr. Halifax,” Finlay began. “I’m worried for His Grace. He’s speaking so queerly.”

“Come into the passage.” Robert grunted, pushing Finlay out of his way. He shut the door behind them.

“You know every well,” Robert continued. “That it’s not your place to be watching the child.”

“What was I to do, Sir?” Finlay asked. “Mrs. North gave me an order. I had to do as she instructed.”

“If she did, then, she was wrong. I shall speak with her about that.”

“Yes, Sir.” Finlay nodded.

“When you were coming up here from the kitchens, did you pass Gerard?”

“Sir?”

“Gerard.” Robert repeated. “We’d sent him down to look for the baby. You must have passed him on the stairs or in the passage.”

“No, Sir.” Finlay shook his head. “But, you know Gerard, he probably took the longest route. Probably paused for a drink on the way.”

Robert clenched his hands into fists. “You’d do well to get out of my sight.”

“Sir?”

“Get out of my sight!” Robert shouted.

“Where do I go, Sir?”

“Go to your room. Go to the ball. Go to Blazes for all I care!” Robert shouted. “You’re dressed for it!”

“Yes, Sir.” Finlay whispered.

“Just don’t leave the house.” Robert added. “There’s been a robbery—in addition to this mess with Colin.”

“You don’t think that I…” Finlay began.

“I don’t know what to think.” Robert snapped. “All I know is that you’ve proven to be a most disagreeable member of the household and, frankly, despite your tenure here, your longevity is compromised.”

Finlay smiled. “Sir, you don’t want to sack me.”

“Don’t I?”

“No.” Finlay shook his head. “I can help you. I know just what to do to help a man relax and feel comfortable.”

“You sicken me.” Robert spat. “Go!”

“What of the theft, Sir? Shall I warn the others?”

“No.” Robert snarled. “Say nothing. Presently, I’m most concerned that my son is unharmed.”

“Your son?” Finlay winked.

“Leave my sight, Finlay.” Robert sniffed. “Or the Duke won’t have the pleasure of killing you first.”

With that, Finlay hurried down the corridor. Robert sighed and opened the door to the Duke’s bed chamber, closing it behind him. There, he found Punch seated on the bed—cross-legged in the center, with Colin laid out in front of him.

The baby was now awake and gurgling contentedly as Punch examined him.

“How is he?” Robert asked softly.

“Seems fine.” Punch smiled.

“Thank goodness.” Robert exhaled.

“I don’t understand it.” Punch shook his head. “I’m shocked that Mrs. North would let Finlay take the child.”

“I don’t believe him, dear Punch.” Robert replied. “Something else is afoot.”

“What should we do now?” Punch asked.

“I’m going to go find Mrs. North, and, on the way, let Gerard and Gamilla know that Colin is safe.”

Punch nodded.

“I’ll tell Gamilla to come here so that you can return to the guests.”

“No.” Punch objected. “I ain’t leavin’ Colin.”

“We’ve a house full of people.”

“One or more of whom stole from me.” Punch added. “I ain’t leavin’ our son in the very room what someone just robbed.”

“You’re right.” Robert nodded, running his fingers through his dark hair. His light blue eyes glinted with frustration. He pressed his lips together. “I’ll ask Speaight to act as temporary host until we figure out what to do. Meanwhile, I’ll inform Charles of the theft and have him question the hired staff.”

“Good.” Punch nodded. He sighed. “I just hope Mrs. North can explain herself.”

“So do I.” Robert answered. He bent down to kiss Punch on the top of his head. “I’ll be back shortly.”

As Robert descended the grand staircase, he had no way of knowing what was happening I nthe bowels of the great house.

Down in the silver vaults, Gerard searched for Mrs. North, but he didn’t expect to discover her in the condition which he did. There, in the dim light of the vault, he saw a lumpy blanket stretched across the floor. Expecting to find some misplaced foodstuffs there, he lifted the blanket is disgust.

When he saw what was beneath the blanket, he yelped in horror.

Mrs. North lay dead on the floor of the vaults—her face fixed in an expression of fright, her eyes wide-open, her mouth agape.

Gagging, Gerard stumbled backward.



Did you miss Chapters 1-122? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 124 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 123

Robert shook his head sternly. “Mr. Punch, climb into this carriage.”


“Chum,” Mr. Punch smiled helplessly. “You know I gotta do this.”

“We don’t have a minute to spare. We’ve got to get Naasir back to the house so that I can tend to him. His life is hanging in the balance.”

“I know.” Mr. Punch replied. “Take him. I’ll be along soon.”

“I won’t allow you to go back in there.” Robert responded firmly.

“Do be reasonable, Punch.” Cecil added. “Come along, now.”

“His mother’s in there—me master’s mum. Sure, she’s a beast. But, that don’t mean she’s gotta suffer at the hands of an even worse one.” Mr. Punch argued.

“She’s already lost, dear Punch.” Cecil said. “We’re not going to risk losing you to save her! Now, come up here!”

“No.” Punch said softly. “Listen, how many people told ya that yer mum was lost and that there weren’t nothin’ that could save her?”

“That’s entirely different!” Cecil snapped. “Our mother was kind to us. The Duchess of Fallbridge has never done a kind turn for anyone! To compare the two is insulting!”

“He’s not trying to insult us,” Robert sighed.

“I know.” Cecil grunted. “I’m sorry. It’s merely that it’s a sore subject.”

“Maybe there’s some hope for that woman up there.” Mr. Punch said. “Maybe this is the thing what she needed to make her realize that livin’ a life of cruelty just ain’t the way to do it. And, even if it’s not, would it be right to leave her to be tortured? Don’t everybody deserve a chance? I know that folk can change if they want to. Look at all I’ve learned while livin’ in Julian’s body. Don’t that woman deserve the chance to learn? It’s up to her if she don’t, but it ain’t up to me to take that chance away from her. She’s Julian’s mother for God’s sake! And, for that, in her own way, she’s me mother, too—though I hate to admit it. Without her, I’d have no body what I could live in. I’d be just another puppet.”

“Dear Punch,” Robert said quickly. “I can’t go back in with you. I’ve got to tend to Naasir.”

“I’ll go with him.” Cecil said, rising to climb down from the cab.

“No, Brother Chum.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “I thank you for it, but I gotta do this alone. You’re better to go with Robert and Naasir.”

“Driver!” Robert shouted. “To Royal Street. Before I change my mind.”

As the carriage clattered off, Robert looked over his shoulder at Mr. Punch and hoped that it wasn’t the last he’d see of him…or Julian.

Mr. Punch took a deep breath and, without knocking, walked into Iolanthe’s house. The entrance hall was strangely empty without Mala’s usual gargoyle presence. Punch could hear the sounds of the commotion which continued in the back as Iolanthe’s screaming and ranting persisted. He could hear Barbara Allen trying to reason with the woman.

Above him, the sounds of female laughter and the chatter of drunken men steered Mr. Punch toward the wide staircase which rose high against the velvet-covered back wall of the hall. Punch headed for the stairs and tried to recall the layout of the house. He knew he’d been in Iolanthe’s private rooms when she’d held him there. When was it? It seemed like years before, but it had only been days.

In the upstairs passage, Punch counted the doors. His nose itched from the smell of spirits and perfume and he cringed when he heard a faint howling further down the corridor. “Four doors, five doors. Where’s the turn?”

“There.” A narrow archway at the end of the passage seemed familiar to Mr. Punch and he turned sharply to the right, following a dim corridor to a door upon which the initial “E” had been floridly painted in gold.

Mr. Punch opened the door to the plush dressing room where Iolanthe had railed at him. To the right of the fireplace, another door was partially ajar, and through it, Punch could see the tall posts of a bed upon which a female figure was draped.

Punch entered the room.

“Your Grace?” Mr. Punch said.

The woman did not respond.

Punch walked closer and leaned over Julian’s’ mother. “Your Grace?”

She opened her eyes as a weak rush of air squeaked from her mouth. “Julian…”

“I’ve come to take ya from here, Your Grace.”

She squeaked again.

“Can you put your arm ‘round me neck?” Mr. Punch asked, bending over to lift the woman.

The Duchess tried to hold on, but didn’t have the strength.

“No matter,” Mr. Punch said softly, “I got ya anyway.”

Little did Mr. Punch know that Mala was lurking just behind him—her ghastly face pulled back into a terrifying grin.

Meanwhile, the carriage arrived at Dr. Biamenti’s fine house on Royal Street. Cecil and Robert carried Naasir—still wrapped in their cloaks—into the house.

They were surprised to see Adrienne sitting in the entrance hall with a woman they didn’t know. Adrienne gasped and rushed toward her husband and his brother.

“Mon Dieu! Ce qui est produit?” Adrienne cried.

“We didn’t get there soon enough.” Robert said softly. “Iolanthe’s burned him.”

“Est-il mort?” Adrienne asked—horrified.

“No. He’s alive, but barely.” Robert responded. “I want to take him to the servant’s hall. We’ll need to clear a room. I’ll need Marjani’s help? Is she much improved?”

“Yes, she’s quite well. All she needed was some sleep. She’s in her room with Meridian.” Adrienne answered. “Je ne peux pas croire! Je savais qu'elle était un monstre. Mais, cela? C'est inhumain!”

“I told ya!” Nellie said from the settee where she’d remained. “I told ya she’s more touched in the head than ever!”

“Who is this?” Cecil asked Adrienne softly, straining under Naasir’s weight.

“She’s Nellie. She’s…an old friend. I’ll explain later.” Adrienne said. “Nellie, pardon me, I’m going to help with Naasir. Do make yourself comfortable.”

“I’ll wait.” Nellie nodded.

As they hurried through the house, Adrienne said, “I’m going on ahead to get Marjani. Take Naasir to the room to the left of the kitchen. That one’s empty, and…”

Adrienne paused as Marjani came toward them.

“Holy Mother, he said it would happen,” Marjani gasped.

“I need your help, Marjani.” Robert said quickly.

Adrienne opened the door to the empty room. “We can put him here. I’ll…” She stopped. “Where’s Mr. Punch?”

Robert and Cecil glanced at one another as they gently placed Naasir on the bed.

“Robert, Où est cher M. Punch?” Adrienne asked again.

“He’ll be along shortly.” Robert answered vaguely.

“Tell me that he’s safe.” Adrienne gasped. “Me dire qu'il n'est pas avec ce monstre abominable!”

“He stayed behind to help The Duchess of Fallbridge.” Robert answered.

Adrienne turned to Cecil. “Comment pourriez-vous laisser faire cela? Comment pourriez-vous laisser là? Il est un innocent. Vous laisser un enfant avec Iolanthe?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” Cecil said.

“Please,” Robert interrupted. “I am just as concerned about Julian…Mr. Punch…as any of you! More so. After all, he is my…” Robert sputtered, “But, I…” He struck his fist against his thigh. “Naasir needs all of our attention right now!”

“Of course,” Adrienne said.

“I think maybe you two should leave me and the doctor to this,” Marjani said softly. “Meridian’s with little Fuller and Columbia. Why don’t the two of you go into the parlor?”

“Certainly.” Cecil nodded. He gently took Adrienne by the arm and led her from the room. He whispered. “I don’t want you to see Naasir. It’s quite bad, really.”

“I can’t comprehend any of this.” Adrienne said shakily. “I knew something bad would… Mon Dieu! J'ai oublié Nellie!”

“Who is this Nellie?” Cecil asked.

“Another lost soul, my dear,” Adrienne sighed. “Another soul who needs us.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-122? If so, you can read them here.