Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 143

Chapter 143:
Any Further 

“She ain’t gonna be able to help us,” Mrs. Pepper shook her head. “Poor thing is too overcome.”

“Well, Mum, she knew Mrs. North for a lotta years.” George said softly.

“Sure she did. I don’t fault her for it. We’re all upset. I liked the ol’ woman.” Mrs. Pepper sighed. “But, if Mrs. Gall ain’t gonna help us with the cookin’, that means Jenny and me are gonna have to feed breakfast to the whole house.”

“I can help, too,” Ethel volunteered. “Maybe I don’t know as much as Jenny, but I seen ya cookin’ and I can do choppin’ and such.”

“Good girl, Ethel.” Mrs. Pepper smiled. “Gonna be a lot of dishes, too. Lots of washin’ for ya.”

“I can do both. All them people gotta eat.”

“Why’d the Duke make everyone stay?” Jenny asked innocently. “Why not let them all go to their own homes?”

“Because, girl,” Mrs. Pepper replied patiently. “One of them folk killed our Mrs. North and that Countess Hamish. His Grace couldn’t let them go. The bloke what killed them ladies would leave and not come back. So, he made everyone stay ‘til he could figure out which of ‘em done it.”

“What’s to say he didn’t already leave after he done what he done?” Jenny asked. “Before the Duke locked us all in?”

Mrs. Pepper shrugged. “Even so, maybe someone saw somethin’. It makes sense to keep ‘em all here.”

“I don’t much like the idea of bein’ locked in with a killer.” Ethel shivered.

“Don’t worry, girl. No one wants to kill you.” Mrs. Pepper clucked her tongue.

“Why’d anyone want to kill Mrs. North?” Ethel asked.

“Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Georgie answered. “’Haps she saw someone do somethin’ and said she’d tell or maybe she knew somethin’ she oughtn’t.”

“That’s one thing for sure,” Mrs. Pepper shrugged. “Mrs. North all what went on in this house.”

“Poor thing.” Ethel sighed. “I hate to think of her lyin’ up in her room—dead.”

“Better she rest in peace there than on the floor of the silver vaults.” Mrs. Pepper shook her head. “Such a sad thing.”

“And, the Countess—she’s still up in the blue room.”

“Terrible thing.” Jenny mumbled.

“Where is the Duke anyway?” Ethel asked. “He and the doctor been upstairs for hours now.”

“I heard there were some of his jewels missin’.” Jenny said.

“I tol’ ya that.” George frowned.

“Oh, that’s right.” Jenny nodded. “Maybe they caught the man what done it and they got him upstairs.”

“Ain’t seen Gerard nor Charlie in awhile.” Mrs. Pepper squinted. “Nor Gamilla.”

“Hope nothin’s wrong.” Georgie nodded.

“I ‘spect if there was, His Grace would tell us.” Mrs. Pepper replied. “Now, why don’t we put on the kettle? Mr. Speaight’s gonna be that tired when he comes down. Poor man, takin’ care o’ all them folk without the boys to help ‘im.”

“He’s got Finlay to help.” Jenny looked up.

“No, girl.” Mrs. Pepper shook her head.

“Where’s Finlay, then?” Ethel asked.

“Ain’t no one seen him.” Georgie answered.

“Well, ain’t that just like that one?” Ethel scowled.

“Somethin’ ‘bout ‘im I don’t like.” Georgie muttered.

“Ain’t our place to like ‘im, son.” Mrs. Pepper smiled.

George nodded at his mother.

“Nothin’ to like.” Ethel continued. “You know? Once I saw ‘im goin’ into Miss Barrett’s room.”

“What were you doin’ upstairs, girl?” Mrs. Pepper squawked.

“I’d gone to get the jewels what His Grace let me borrow for tonight. I had permission and all.”

“Sorry.” Mrs. Pepper nodded.

“Why’d Finlay be goin’ into Miss Barrett’s room?” Georgie asked.

“Bringin’ her somethin’ for her illness, I guess.” Jenny chimed in.

“They’re two of a kind, ain’t they?” Georgie asked.

“Here, why don’t no one like Miss Barrett?” Jenny wondered.

“The Duke likes her well ‘nough to let ‘er take care of Master Colin.” Mrs. Pepper replied. “And, that’s good ‘nough for me.”

“I don’t like the looks of her.” Ethel sighed. “She’s got a mean look to her.”

“She ain’t ugly though.” Jenny said.

“No.” Ethel shook her head. “Say, you know what’s strange?”

“I can think of a few things.” Mrs. Pepper winked at her son who chuckled.

“No, no.” Ethel frowned. “When we was upstairs at the ball, I was lookin’ at the paintin’s on the wall of the Great Hall—all them portraits and such.”

“What of it?” George asked.

“Well—all them folks, they’re the Duke’s family, yes?”

“Yes. Most of them on his father’s side—the Molliners.”

“But, there’s the one big paintin’ at the back of the hall—a paintin’ of the Duke when he were younger with his ma and his pa and his sister.” Ethel continued.

“Sure.” Mrs. Pepper nodded. “I saw it. His Grace looks quite the same as he does now—only he’s got roses in his cheeks now.”

“It ain’t the Duke what I was lookin’ at.”

“No?” Jenny asked.

“No, it was his sister.”

“Poor soul, I hear she’s dead.” Mrs. Pepper shook her head.

“But, didn’t ya notice?” Ethel scowled.

“What?” Mrs. Pepper asked.

“Lady Barbara looked an awful lot like Miss Barrett.” Ethel replied.

“Now ya mention it,” Mrs. Pepper narrowed her eyes. “She did.”

“Ain’t that queer?” Ethel asked.

“Well, it’s hard to tell from a paintin’.” Mrs. Pepper shrugged. “Besides, lots of girls look alike.”

“Somethin’ ‘bout the eyes.” Ethel went on. “Just the same. Same mean eyes.”

“Go put the kettle on, girl.” Mrs. Pepper chuckled. “And stop your foolish talk.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pepper.” Ethel nodded sadly. She rose from the table where they were all seated and wandered off to the kitchens.

Ethel was surprised to see that the lamps in the kitchens had all been extinguished. Had she known was awaited her, she’d not have gone any further.



Did you miss Chapters 1-142 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 144.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 143

“Ladies and Gentleman, honored guests.” Edward Cage began. “Welcome to Le Merveilleux Musée de Cire—The Marvelous Museum of Wax! The pride of New Orleans.”


A cheer erupted from the ever-growing crowd in the ballroom.

“It is with great pleasure tonight that I welcome you to the finest, grandest waxworks in the world! Those English have got nothin’ on us!”

“Yes,” Robert whispered to Mr. Punch. “I’m sure Madame Tussaud’s on Baker Street will hurry to shut their doors forever when word of Edward Cage’s Louisiana Wax Museum reaches her.”

Mr. Punch chuckled.

“But, there’s more to be proud of in New Orleans than just my glorious museum,” Edward droned on. “There’s all of you—the finest and the best. That’s why you’re here tonight. My beautiful wife, Corliss,” He gestured toward Corliss who stood precariously next to him, looking as if she might topple from fatigue at any moment, “and I have invited you all to join us in welcoming 1853 because you’re the best people in the city! So, drink of my wine and eat of my food and make sure to see the new works of our famed sculptor, Cecil Halifax. Cecil,” He scanned the crowd, “Cecil…are you here?”

The room buzzed with murmurs.

“Looks like he’s not arrived yet. You know artists—always wantin’’ to make an entrance. We do have someone special here tonight. All the way from Merry Ol’ England—a real Royal fella.”

Mr. Punch clutched Robert’s arm. “He don’t mean me do he?”

“I suspect so,” Robert whispered. “So much for being inconspicuous.”

“He’s traveled a long way, and we’re honored to have him—His Grace, The Duke of Fallbridge.” Edward said proudly. “Over there, dressed as Mr. Punch from the puppet shows.”

Mr. Punch looked to the floor.

“Smile, dear Punch.” Robert hissed through his teeth.

Mr. Punch looked up and grinned as wide as he could—looking slightly more demented than glad to be there.

“Would you like to say a few words to these kind folks, Your Grace?”

“Not ‘specially.” Mr. Punch whispered.

“I think you’d better,” Robert smiled, guiding Mr. Punch toward the platform where Corliss and Edward were standing.

Mr. Punch looked out at the crowd in their fancy dress and took a deep breath. Speaking in Julian’s voice, he began, “It is, indeed, with great joy that I look out upon all of you this evening. Mr. Cage is correct, my companion and I have travelled quite a long distance. Little did we know that we would be met with such…” he paused. “Passionate, interesting and intelligent people such as yourselves. New Orleans has proven to be a magical place, indeed. And, when I return to London, I shall always remember the color, pageantry and gaiety that I’ve seen demonstrated in this remarkable city. With the utmost sincerity, I wish all of you the happiest of years.”

The crowd applauded and Mr. Punch hurried off of the platform.

“Well played, my dear.” Robert whispered in Punch’s ear. “That’s the way to do it.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Edward Cage spoke up. “With that, I invite all of you to enjoy yourselves. Later in the evening, we’ll have a contest to see whose costume is the best. Perhaps His Grace will w in.”

“Fifteen minutes ago, he was callin’ me a ‘wild man,’ now he’s full of praise.’” Mr. Punch whispered.

“When he realized that the papers will recount that the Duke of Fallbridge was here tonight, he realized that he could advertise this place as hosting English nobility.” Robert sighed.

“The winner of our contest will win a very special prize.” Edward said to everyone. “So, let’s enjoy ourselves! And, Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” everyone shouted in response.

“Still no sign of Iolanthe Evangeline.” Robert mumbled.

“Cecil and Adrienne gotta be cold waitin out there in the carriage.” Mr. Punch grumbled, heading toward the window.

“Wait,” Robert said, taking Julian’s arm. “Look over there.”

Punch turned toward the entrance to see a woman enter. Despite her mask and short blonde wig, Punch could tell immediately that it was Iolanthe Evangeline. She was dressed as St. Joan—in a flowing white gown—tied about the waist with thick ropes. She carried a shield upon which a crest had been painted. The crest was divided into four quadrants. The first quadrant depicted fire; the second, a diamond; the third, a fleur-de-lis and; the fourth, a pair of angel’s wings—but instead of white feathers, they were violet and purple.

“Joan d’Arc,” Robert grunted. “When it’s she who is burning people.”

Mr. Punch hurried to the window and moved the candelabra to the left to signal to Cecil and Adrienne that Iolanthe had arrived. He paused at the window to see the pair descend from the carriage.

“They’re comin’.” Mr. Punch whispered to Robert.

“Let it begin,” Robert sighed.



Did you miss Chapters 1-142? If so, you can read them here.