Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 129

Chapter 129:
Contempt


Gerard coughed when he saw the Countess Hamish. She hadn’t just been stabbed, she’d been…for want of a better word, Gerard thought, butchered.

Robert exhaled and looked up at Gerard.

“I feel bad for Lady Lensdown,” Gerard said softly. “She’s a nice lady, and, I’d hate to think that she saw this.”

Robert nodded. “Someone truly hated the Countess. This is an act of utter contempt and cruelty.”

“I know we ain’t supposed to speak ill of the dead, but...”

“No, I know. Still,” Robert sighed. “No one deserves this.”

“What do we do, Sir?” Gerard asked.

Robert rose from the body of the Countess and inhaled again. “I don’t quite know. My initial thought is that we need to move the woman, but, if we do, we might be risking the removal of something which could give us an idea of who did this. Until light of day, we can’t really see everything with which we might be dealing.”

“We could cover her up,” Gerard suggested.

“Yes.” Robert replied. He looked around the dark room. “There is, I think, in the window seat, a blanket which His Grace was using when Colin was in here earlier today.”

“Oh, yes.” Gerard nodded. “Put it there me-self. I remember His Grace sayin’ he didn’t like the color.” He went to the window seat nestled behind the drapes which framed a bay of leaded-glass windows. Gerard removed the blanket and unfolded it. He and Robert covered the countess’ corpse.

“Any idea who done this, Sir?” Gerard asked.

Robert shook his head. “No.”

“Do ya think it’s the same person what killed our poor Mrs. North?”

“It could be,” Robert sniffed. “But, I can’t imagine why.”

Robert walked to the other end of the room and settled into one of the plush armchairs. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his heads.

“Sir?” Gerard asked as he followed the doctor.

Robert looked up and gestured to the chair across from him in the dark room. “Go on and sit, Gerry.”

Gerard nodded and did as he was asked.

“May I ask what you’re thinkin’, Sir?”

“You may, however, I’m at a loss as to how best describe my thoughts at present. This was meant to be a joyful evening. Yet, it’s turned into a tragedy. I’m heartbroken for Mrs. North, and, though there was no love lost between me and the Countess Hamish, I can’t help but feel sympathy for Lady Constance at having lost her mother.”

“It’s gonna be hard to keep Lady Constance from here, Sir.”

“I know.” Robert grumbled. “But, we can’t let that woman see her mother like this.”

Gerard shrugged. “I think maybe she should see her ma, Sir.”

“Do you?”

“Sure.” Gerard nodded. “I think maybe Lady Constance is stronger than she looks.”

“Could be.”

“When I lost my ma,” Gerard continued. “I didn’t get to see her.”

“Oh?” Robert raised his eyebrows.

“Pastor said that she was too beat up.” Gerard replied. “See—she’d.” He paused. “She’d been drowned. Lost for awhile, but…” He gulped. “They found her.” He shook his head. “I wanted to see her…dunno why, but the Pastor said I shouldn’t. I always regretted it, Sir.”

“I do understand,” Robert nodded. “My own mother died in…hospital. We weren’t told immediately, and Cecil and I…” He coughed. “I do understand. I’m not suggesting that Lady Constance not be allowed to view her mother, but, I do think we should not let her see this bloody mess.”

Gerard nodded.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“We can’t let anyone leave.” Robert shook his head, finally speaking.

“Should I talk to Mr. Speaight? We can open the guest rooms for the ladies and gentleman and make space in the Servants’ Hall for the others.”

“We’ll have to.” Robert whispered. “Though I hate the idea of keeping a murderer or murderers—not to mention thieves—in the house with His Grace and Colin. Well, frankly, as well as the rest of you.”

“But, we can’t let whoever done this get away with it.”

“I know.” Robert scowled. “I don’t even know about the constabulary in this part of the world. Who do we contact?”

“Dunno, Sir.” Gerard answered. “I reckon His Grace does.”

“And, how am I going to tell him about this?” Robert mumbled. “How will he handle it?”

“His Grace is the strongest man I know,” Gerard said. “I’ll bet he’ll be better with it than we done.”

Robert smiled slightly. “Probably so.”

“See,” Gerard continues. “His Grace knows what he’s feelin’ an’ he ain’t scared to let his ‘motions show unlike most folk.”

“That’s very true.”

“I think by lettin’ his feelin’s show, he’s…he’s…”

“He’s able to deal with more than most.” Robert suggested.

“Yes, Sir.”

“It’s curious, isn’t it? Look at His Grace. People call him mad, and, yet, he’s innately stable because of the very thing for which people condemn him. And, then, you’ve got a man like Baron Lensdown who didn’t move a muscle to comfort his terrorized wife. Would most call him mad—this cruel being? No. Yet, we have a loving, intelligent, compassionate creature who, by nature of being different, is ridiculed while a man with no heart whatsoever is left to a life of utter freedom.”

“Ain’t right, Sir.” Gerard sighed.

“I suppose that I should make some kind of statement to our guests.” Robert stood up. “Will you coordinate with Speaight to see about lodging for them?”

“Yes, Doctor.” Gerard replied.

“Will you extinguish the lamp?” Robert pointed to the oil lamp which someone had lit prior to their entry—he assumed it had been Lady Lensdown.

Gerard went to the lamp, and as the flame extinguished and a shroud of blackness fell across the room, he felt a hand clamp over his mouth.

Unable to scream, Gerard tried to fight against the person who held him so tightly, but he was unable to break free.

Though Dr. Halifax was merely feet away, Gerard succumbed to the sharp pain in his back.



Did you miss Chapters 1-128? If so, you can read them here. Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square will be back on Tuesday, September 4 with Chapter 130. Thanks for reading!

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 129

“Honey, you know I can’t do that.” Marjani shook her head.


“Please,” Naasir croaked, “Please.”

“You’re askin’ me to take your life, Honey.” Marjani said softly. “You’re askin’ me to do somethin’ that ain’t my place to do. It’s not up to me to decide who lives and who dies. The Holy Mother done put me on this Earth for to nurse folk and make them well. My place here is to give people the chance to have life, not to take their lives away.”

“But, my destiny…” Naasir rasped.

“Listen, Honey.” Marjani smiled. “Don’t you think that whatever happens is our destiny? Now think ‘bout it. You’re here, ain’t ya? Them fine English gentlemen—it was their destiny for to get ya out of that place and bring ya back here—alive. Did ya think of that? If that ain’t what was supposed to happen, then it wouldn’t o’ happened.”

Naasir sighed painfully.

“Honey, I understand what you’re thinkin’. I do, for true. But, we gotta realize that sometimes what we think is supposed to happen, isn’t the way it really is. When I got married—when I was a young girl—I thought my big, strong husband and I would live a long time together, happy, with our babies. But, then I watched my babies die—three of ‘em—just little infants. And, each time, don’t think I didn’t curse the Lord and tear my hair. I shouldn’t have done that. When I finally done realized that it wasn’t my place to decide what was to happen—as soon as I let it go—then I was blessed with a baby who done lived. My Nontle. I saw her grow and become a beautiful woman. Then, my dear husband—he died. It’s not what I thought would happen to us, but it did, and I made my peace with it. And, then, my Nontle, my beautiful Nontle with a baby of her own, she died. I watched her go, Naasir. I held her hand and watched the life leave her. It ain’t what I thought my destiny would be, but it turns out that’s what it was. Now, here I am, in New Orleans—a free woman, a free woman with a child to raise. But, I’m blessed. Blessed to have folk who done care enough to give me a place to live and food in my belly. I got friends. So do you.”

“It was written.” Naasir rasped.

“Sure, Honey. I know the legends. I know the story of The Great Man of the Rocks. I know the tales you been told, cuz I been told the same tales. But, sometimes, the things that are written are different than the things that happen. Remember, Honey, those things that were written were done so by man and man is nothin’ but a bunch of mistakes. If the Holy Mother and the saints wanted you to die, you’d a done died at Iolanthe’s hand. But, you didn’t. You’re here. You still got your place in what’s written, and it’s bein’ rewritten as we go. Ain’t for us to decide, Honey. It’s bein’ decided for us.”

Naasir was silent.

“Now, do you want some of that elixir that Dr. Halifax made up for ya? It’ll help your pain.”

Naasir sighed, “Yes.”

“That’s my man,” Marjani smiled. She spooned some of the medicine into what remained of Naasir’s mouth.

“No close your eyes,” Marjani said softly. “And, let yourself dream. The answers you don’t seek will come to ya in your dreams. I promise.”

Marjani sat with Naasir until she was sure he’d fallen asleep. She then left his room and returned to her own bedchamber where Meridian sat on the bed with Columbia and Little Fuller who were also asleep.

“Go on to your room,” Marjani whispered. “I’ll watch the little ones.”

“How’s Naasir?” Meridian asked quietly.

“He’ll be fine,” Marjani nodded firmly. “Now, he’ll be fine.”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Adrienne was just coming down the staircase as Mr. Punch and Robert entered.

“Dieu merci! Mon cher Punch, vous êtes enfin accueil. J'étais tellement inquiets. Maintenant, nous pouvons tous être ensemble. Où nous appartenons!” Adrienne exclaimed, rushing toward Mr. Punch.

“That’s right, Lady Chum.” Mr. Punch smiled. “We’re all safe.”

“Where’s Her Grace?” Adrienne asked.

“Left her there.” Mr. Punch mumbled.

Adrienne glanced at Robert who shook his head slightly.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” Adrienne said firmly, talking Mr. Punch by Julian’s hnds and leading him into the parlor. “All that matters is that you’re back!” She proudly announced, “Look, Cecil, look who has returned to us.”

“I say, Old Punch, how good it is to see you.” Cecil rose from the chair where he’d ensconced himself. “I was frightfully worried.”

“No need.” Mr. Punch smiled. “My chum what loves me came and helped me and now I’m back.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Robert said. “I’m going to go check on Naasir.”

“Tell him that Mr. Punch is thinkin’ good thoughts ‘bout him.” Punch said quickly.

“I will.” Robert smiled as she left the room.

“Mr. Punch, before you ask, and I know you will, Toby and your puppet are both in your room. The last I saw, Toby was asleep by the fire and Meridian—very carefully—placed your puppet on the bed.”

“Good to know,” Mr. Punch grinned. “And, yes, I was gonna ask.”

“You must be hungry.” Cecil said, “Let me ring for some nourishment.”

“Nah.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Let them nice people sleep. It’s late. I’ll go down and get me-self somethin’ to eat later.”

“As you wish.” Cecil nodded.

“Cecil, dear,” Adrienne began, “I’ve put Nellie in the far back bedroom and given her one of my night dresses. She seems quite comfortable.”

“What’s Nellie?” Mr. Punch asked.

“A houseguest.” Adrienne explained. “Someone I knew long ago.”

“Ah.” Mr. Punch nodded. “She ain’t gonna want to play with me puppet, is she?”

“No.” Adrienne smiled.

“Fine, then,” Mr. Punch sighed, sitting down on the settee across from the fire.

Robert returned to the parlor. “I don’t know how she managed it, but Marjani has somehow coaxed Naasir into taking the pain medicine I prepared. He’s fast asleep.”

“Good.” Cecil grinned.

“I passed Meridian in the hall,” Robert continued. “She tells me that Fuller is quite content in Marjani’s’ room.”

“He can stay there awhile.” Adrienne smiled. “He seems to like Columbia a great deal.”

Cecil looked around the room, “Could it be that, for once, we’re all in our proper places?”

“I think it is,” Robert chuckled, sitting down on the settee next to Mr. Punch.

“You know,” Adrienne began softly, “We never really had a chance to finish our celebration of Christmas.”

“No.” Mr. Punch grunted. “We sure didn’t.”

“Let’s do so now.” Adrienne smiled. “Though we’re away from home, and though the world outside is teeming with people who wish us harm, we can at least be thankful for this moment—all of us together, a family.”

“Presently, my dear,” Cecil walked to his wife. “We’re untouchable.”

“I am thankful, I am.” Mr. Punch mumbled. “Thankful for all we got. Tomorrow will show its ugly face and grab at us with its tattered claws, but tonight, let’s be warm and jolly.”

“Well said.” Robert winked.

“We’re not alone, you know.” Adrienne whispered.

“What?” Mr. Punch frowned. “Who’s here? Not that Arthur?”

“No, no, dear Punch,” Adrienne shook her head. “What I mean to say is that we have someone watching out for us. Someone good. In Heaven…”

“Ah,” Mr. Punch nodded. “And, with Him is me pa, and Marjani’s daughter, and yer ma and pa.” He looked at Robert. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” Robert nodded slowly.

“They want us to be happy whenever we can.” Adrienne said.

“So, let’s be happy, then. For as long as we can.” Mr. Punch smiled.

Robert put his arm around Julian’s shoulders. “For as long as we can.”

“After all,” Mr. Punch grinned. “This is what we’re fighting for.”

“And, we’ll be triumphant.” Cecil nodded.

“That’s the way to do it!” Mr. Punch cooed.

“Indeed, dear Punch,” Adrienne smiled. “That is the way to do it.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-128? If so, you can read them here. Punch’s Cousin will return on Monday, December 27, 2010, here at Stalking the Belle Époque.

From Mr. Punch, Robert, Adrienne, Cecil, Marjani, Naasir, Toby, Fuller and Meridian, we wish you a very happy Christmas, and the kind thought that we all remember, “That’s the way to do it!”