Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 146

Chapter 146: 

Now that I hear it 


“Let her go, Georgie.” Mrs. Pepper said quickly.

“Mum!” Georgie yelped.

“Do what the man says,” Mrs. Pepper pleaded. “He’ll cut ya dead, he will.”

“You can count on it.” Finlay growled.

“Georgie!” Ethel screamed. “Let her go!”

George released his grasp on Ellen who flung herself away from him.

“You filthy idiot!” Ellen shouted. “You’ll pay for this!”

George rushed to his mother’s side.

“That was unusually good thinking on your part, George.” Finlay winked, still holding his knife forward.

“I’m still goin’ to the masters!” Georgie replied. “You can’t stop me from doin’ that.”

“Can’t we?” Ellen snarled. “Do you think Finlay would hesitate from cutting all of your throats right now.”

“Can’t get us all.” Ethel snapped.

“Hear me, lass,” Finlay narrowed his eyes. “I will come into your room tonight and kill ya in your bed.”

“Not if I kill you first.” Ethel barked.

“We’ve wasted enough time on these cretins.” Ellen Barrett hissed. “Come, Finlay, we’ve other matters which require us.”

“Ellen…” Finlay coughed. “They’ll go right to that lunatic upstairs.”

“Let them.” Ellen smiled. She looked to Georgie, and, then to Ethel. “You’d best be careful Scullery Maid, young Pepper here is a little rough on a lady.”

“You’re wicked, Miss!” Mrs. Pepper snapped.

Ellen shrugged. Taking Finlay’s hand, she led him toward the door to the Servants’ Hall.

“Are we just gonna let ‘em go?” Jenny whispered.

Finlay turned and aimed his knife at Jenny. “Doesn’t look like you’ve a choice, lassie.”

With that, Ellen and Finlay ran through the servants’ hall to the garden exit.

“Mum, what do we do?”

“We go right to the masters.” Mrs. Pepper nodded. “All of us.”

The trip up the service stairs was brief, yet, it seemed to those four, poor individuals to take forever. Each step seemed higher than usual and they all wondered how they’d make it.

Finally, they reached the passage to the Duke’s room. Mrs. Pepper cleared her throat, and knocked.

There was no response.

“Your Grace? It’s Mrs. Pepper. I’ve got Ethel, Jenny and George with me. I must speak with you.”

After a few seconds, Mrs. Pepper could hear the sound of the door’s lock. She was surprised when Gamilla answered the door.

Glancing inside the room, Mrs. Pepper gasped upon seeing the bloody bed which held Gerard.

“What’s happened?” Mrs. Pepper asked, moving her body forward to block the view from the younger people.

Gamilla, looking exhausted, shook her head. “You’d best speak to Dr. Halifax.”

“Where is he?” Mrs. Pepper asked.

“He’s with the Duke. But, see…the Duke.” Gamilla pointed with her thumb to the adjoining room. “You may find him…not himself, Mrs. Pepper.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Pepper raised her eyebrows.

“Can it wait?” Gamilla mumbled.

“I’m afraid not.” Mrs. Pepper shook her head.

“Then, go on. Knock on the nursery door and say who ya is. Dr. Halifax will answer.”

Mrs. Pepper nodded as Gamilla shut the door, and, then did as instructed.

Dr. Halifax also looked weary and frazzled.

“Yes, Mrs. Pepper?” He said softly.

“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve got to speak to you and His Grace.”

“His Grace is resting.” Dr. Halifax said softly.

“It’s all right, Chum.” Punch called from inside the room. “Let ‘em in.”

Robert nodded and opened the door, ushering in the four visitors.

Georgie, Ethel and Jenny joined hands upon seeing that Charles was also in the nursery and that he had blood on his shirt front.

“Charlie, are ya hurt?” Georgie asked.

“No, Georgie.” Charles shook his head.

“Gerard was injured.” Robert explained.

“I saw ‘im in the next room, Sir.” Mrs. Pepper replied. “What’s happened to the poor man?”

“He was attacked.” Robert replied.

“Bu Finlay no doubt.” Ethel chirped.

“Why do ya say that, Ethel?” Punch asked, no bothering to disguise his own voice with Julian’s. He’d cycled through enough personalities that evening and didn’t much care to pose as another.

Ethel didn’t seem shocked by this, perhaps because she had so much on her mind. “He just done so to Georgie.”

Robert’s eyes widened and he stepped forward to George. “Where are you cut?”

“Didn’t cut me, Sir.”

“But, he tried.” Mrs. Pepper spoke up.

“Why?” Robert asked.

“We caught Miss Barrett tryin’ to kill our Ethel.”

“Bugger!” Punch shouted.

“I knew she was…” Robert muttered. He turned to Mr. Punch. “So, she has been behind all of this. She and Finlay!” And to think, we let her stay with our child.”

“She’s a wicked woman, Sir.” Mrs. Pepper nodded. “What’s more, she’s tellin’ lies.”

“About what?” Robert asked.

“Claims she’s the Duke’s sister.” Mrs. Pepper continued. “Says she’s the child of ol’ Johnny Donnan and the late Duchess of Fallbridge.”

Mr. Punch’s face fell.

Robert studied his companion. “Perhaps you should sit, my dear.”

“I don’t think it’s a lie,” Punch squawked. “Now that I hear it…”

“Sir?” Mrs. Pepper said softly.

“I don’t think it’s a lie.” Punch repeated.



Did you miss Chapters 1-145 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 147.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 146

Iolanthe Evangeline turned toward Robert and Mr. Punch and glowered.


“What do the two of you know about this?” She hissed.

“Whatever do you mean?” Robert asked.

“No.” Iolanthe shook her head. “I want to hear from the daft Duke.”

“I don’t know nothin’.” Mr. Punch grunted.

Iolanthe’s back stiffened as she drew in a deep breath. “I don’t believe you and I don’t want you thinkin’ that I do. If I’m not to get any answers from you, I’ll address the lady herself.”

Iolanthe spun around quickly and walked toward Adrienne and Cecil—upon whom all eyes were fixed.

“Look alive, darling,” Cecil whispered. “She’s headed toward us.”

“Who dares to mock Iolanthe Evangeline?” Iolanthe growled as she came forward.

“Mock you?” Adrienne replied, “Dear Miss Evangeline, what makes you think you’re being mocked?”

“Adrienne,” Iolanthe grumbled. “I should have known it was you. Wouldn’t you consider this display to be mocking me?”

“Perhaps it’s an homage.” Adrienne grinned. “An homage to your very essence.”

“And, why would you wish to pay me homage?” Adrienne asked.

“Aren’t you one of the most beautiful women in New Orleans?” Adrienne asked. “And, one of the most famous?” She grinned. “Look at everyone. All eyes are on me. And, there’s not a soul in this room who doesn’t know—on sight—who I am meant to be. Isn’t a masquerade about fantasy? Look around. The room is filled with fantastical figures—famous visages from history and legend. Don’t you rightfully have a place amongst Marie-Antoinette and Queen Elizabeth. Aren’t you, yourself, an equally important figure?”

“I don’t disagree with that.” Iolanthe laughed. “However, I can’t help but think that your fancy dress is less of a tribute than it is a condemnation. Why pay me such flattery?”

“Is it too late to make my peace with you?” Adrienne asked.

“It’s never too late,” Iolanthe shook her head. “When it’s sincere. Yet, I find myself distrustful.”

“I’ve gone to a lot of effort to properly represent you this evening.” Adrienne smiled. “From the gown—which I must say was quite dear—to the elaborate wig.”

“Too much effort, I’d say,” Iolanthe frowned.

Sensing unrest at his party, Edward Cage lurched forward. “Well, then, I think we have a contender for our best costume, tonight. Wouldn’t you all agree?” He began applauding—an act which elicited the parroting of many in the room who also weakly applauded.

“And, truly, how could I expect anything less creative from the wife of my brilliant sculptor, Cecil Halifax. Ladies and gentlemen, will you allow me to present the clever mind and hands responsible for many of the excellent sculptures you’ll see tonight in my marvelous museum. Cecil Halifax!”

The applause grew stronger as the crowd fell for Mr. Cage’s showmanship.

Cecil bowed slightly.

“And, of course, his beautiful wife, Adrienne, who seems to have caught all of your attention with her ever-so clever costume. My dear lady, who are you meant to be? No. Don’t answer, let me guess. You’re meant to be the very spirit of New Orleans—are you not? New Orleans where our ladies are the finest in the world!”

A ruckus of whooping and cheers rose in the ballroom.

“Mr. Cage, I am meant to be the most famous of all of the ladies in New Orleans. More famous than Marie Laveau herself.” Adrienne answered loudly.

“Brilliant, just brilliant.” Edward Cage interrupted. “Now, I think it’s time for music and dancing! Maestro!” He signaled to the orchestra leader. “Begin!”

From the rear of the ballroom, the orchestra began to play.

“I will not have a scene here tonight,” Edward hissed at Cecil and Adrienne.

“But, a scene is just what we propose, Mr. Cage,” Cecil smiled.

“If you value your employment, I suggest that you blend into the crowd.” Edward spat. “We’ve had enough chaos for one evening.”

“What chaos would that be?” Cecil asked.

“Never mind about that,” Edward grunted. He turned to Iolanthe and frowned, “I’m going to continue to think that I don’t know who you are. Presently, I shall only consider you to be St. Joan since that’s the guise you wear, but I will warn you, too. If I were to look at the list of people I’ve invited here this evening, I don’t think I’d find your name. If you wish to stay, I reckon you’d do well to keep to yourself.”

“You’ll have no trouble from me,” Iolanthe purred. “In fact, Mr. Cage, the pleasure I can offer you is enormous.”

“That’ll do.” Edward sighed. “I warn all of you, we’re going to have a fine evening—without any trouble.”

“Of course,” Cecil nodded. “Tonight is a night for honest merriment. That’s all we shall offer you.”

“See that it is,” Edward smiled falsely, before walking away.

“We’d best join the others in our party.” Adrienne nodded to Iolanthe. “If you’ll excuse us.”

“Your brother and his mad ward are over there.” Iolanthe said stiffly. “I shall be keeping my eyes on you.”

“And ours shall be on you,” Cecil nodded as he took Adrienne by the arm.

Cecil and Adrienne met up with Mr. Punch and Robert.

“She’s quite upset.” Robert said.

“She’ll be more upset when our pantomime begins.” Adrienne said breathlessly.

“Are you quite well, my dear?” Cecil asked.

“Overheated, and a trifle nervous.” Adrienne answered.

“We don’t gotta do this.” Mr. Punch whispered anxiously.

“Yes, we do.” Adrienne nodded. “Don’t fear, Mr. Punch.”

Punch looked from side to side nervously. “Not to argue, but I think it’s only right that we should fear what’s dangerous.”

“Do you know your parts?” Cecil asked.

“I do.” Robert nodded.

“Dear, Mr. Punch?” Adrienne asked.

“I do as well, only I wish I could say that I do not.” Mr. Punch answered.

“Shall we begin, then?” Cecil asked.

Mr. Punch gulped. “If we must.”

“Go on, Mr. Punch,” Cecil said. “Remember what to do.”

“I remember,” Punch muttered. He looked to Robert, “Please, Chum, there’s got to be another way.”

“I assure you that we’ll be quite safe.” Robert said. “I’d never put any of you in harm’s way.”

“Very well,” Punch said uneasily. “I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, Mr. Punch walked to the rear of the ballroom and climbed upon the raised platform from which Edward Cage had given his speech. He began speaking, startlingly, as Mr. Punch—not as himself—but as the puppet. His voice was curiously like that of the puppet—as uncanny an approximation of Mr. Punch’s voice could be without a swazzle.

“Dooo-deee-doooo-deee-doooo.” Mr. Punch squawked. “What a fine ball, this is.”

The orchestra leader looked at Mr. Punch and tapped his podium, thinking that one of the revelers was about to delight the crowd with some spirited fun. The musicians stopped playing.

From a corner of the ballroom, Edward Cage grunted furiously.

“Dooo-dee-dooo,” Mr. Punch continued to squawk. “On a night such as this, a man fancies a kiss. Who will give us a kiss? No one?” Mr. Punch looked theatrically out into the crowd. “Who will kiss me on my beautiful nose? Who will give a kiss to Mr. Punch?”

The crowd began to laugh good-naturedly.

“Oh, my kingdom for a kiss, if a kingdom I so had to give. Such a lonely man, I am. And, sad, too for one so handsome as me-self. What a tragedy that my beautiful nose should go unkissed on such a fine night.”

The revelers chuckled heartily.

Edward Cage wrung his hands nervously.

“If I can’t come by a kiss honestly,” Mr. Punch continued his squawking. “Perhaps I can come by one in the manner known to lonely men. Perhaps I can buy a kiss for me-self. But, truly, what fine woman would sell her kisses to one such as me?”

“I would, Mr. Punch,” Adrienne said in a frighteningly deep voice, not unlike Iolanthe’s.

She cut through the crowd and ascended to the platform to join Mr. Punch.

“And, who might you be, lovely lady? You’re not Pretty Polly, you’re not.” Mr. Punch screeched.

“No, I am far more beautiful than Polly, and far more adventurous.” Adrienne grinned.

“But are you a virtuous lady?” Mr. Punch asked.

“For the right amount of gold, I am as virtuous as you wish,” Adrienne answered.

The crowd erupted into laughter and applause.

“Whatever is your name, oh virtuous one?” Mr. Punch continued.

“I call myself the name of violets.” Adrienne said dramatically, “though you’ll find that my buds smell far sweeter.”

The party-goers went wild with laughter.

“Will you kiss me, Flower of New Orleans?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I shall, Mr. Punch. I shall kiss your beautiful nose.”

“Go on, then.” Mr. Punch leaned forward.

“But, not first, without you giving me something.” Adrienne smiled theatrically.

“Whatever you desire.” Mr. Punch said. “Is it gold you seek? Is it diamonds? Is it exotic silks?”

“To be sure, I do desire those things,” Adrienne played along. “But, I desire something far greater still.”

“I want your kisses,” Mr. Punch opined broadly. “I shall give you whatever you wish.”

“You see, handsome man, I have a hunger.”

“Don’t we all?” Mr. Punch winked exaggeratedly at the audience. “For what is your hunger?”

“Souls, dear man,” Adrienne replied comically. “Souls!”

Iolanthe groaned, looking angrily at the display before her.

“Souls?” Mr. Punch asked. “But, I am a man of wood.”

“All men are of wood,” Adrienne chuckled in a stagey manner. “But, surely, short of offering me your soul, you’ve got something else I can use.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Punch asked.

“Your blood!” Adrienne replied.

The crowd’s laughter became silent.

“I take the blood of men and women alike…”

“Stop this!” Iolanthe shouted from the crowd. “Stop it at once!”



Did you miss Chapters 1-145? If so, you can read them here.