Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 152

Chapter 152: 

A Good Boy 

Robert nodded as he entered the Duke’s bedroom through the door from the nursery.

“Sir?” Mrs. Pepper looked up. “Where’s His Grace, then?”

“And, Charles?” Jenny asked.

“Charles is waiting in the passage and His Grace is speaking with Miss Barrett.” Robert explained.

“All alone, Sir?” Ethel chirped.

“Don’t fear, Ethel.” Robert said as calmly as he could. “I shall stand just here at the door and listen. Furthermore, with Charles standing guard in the passage, we have no worries. No harm will come to the Duke.”

“Can’t be sure, Sir.” Ethel shook her head.

“Quiet, Girl!” Mrs. Pepper snapped.

“It’s true, ain’t it?” Ethel argued. “Look what she done to our Gerry here.” Ethel pointed toward the bed which contained the sleeping footman who still grasped Gamilla’s hand in his own. Gamilla, still in the chair next to Gerard’s bed, looked up and silently nodded.

“It may be true, but it ain’t your place.” Mrs. Pepper whispered.

“I encourage all of you to speak your mind.” Robert said. “And, I don’t disagree with you at all, Ethel. However, His Grace asked me to leave him with Miss Barrett so that they might speak to one another privately, and I must obey him.”

“The Duke’s no fool.” Mrs. Pepper nodded confidently. “He ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen.”

“That’s correct, Mrs. Pepper.” Robert answered. “And, to be sure, might I ask Georgie to stand here with me at the door? Just in the event that we might need to intercede quickly.”

“Yes, Sir.” Georgie nodded.

As Georgie walked across the Duke’s chamber to join Dr. Halifax at the door to the nursery, a soft knock at the chamber door startled everyone in the room.

“Who is it?” Robert asked as Georgie approached him from the side.

“Doctor,” Mr. Speaight said from the other side. “It is I—Speaight, Sir.”

Robert opened the door quickly.

The occupants of the room (with the exception of the exhausted and slumbering Gerard) gasped to see Mr. Speaight holding a long plait of blonde hair in his trembling hands.

“Merciful heavens, Mr. Speaight!” Mrs. Pepper chirped. “What is that you’ve got there?”

“I think it’s Violet’s braid.” Speaight responded.

“Wherever did you find it?” Robert asked.

“Just in the passage.” Mr. Speaight replied. “I…” Suddenly, the man dropped the plaited hair to the floor and clutched his arm, stumbling forward.

Robert and Georgie hurried forth to catch the butler before he fell.

“What’s happened to him, Doctor?” George Pepper asked.

“I don’t know.” Robert began… “Charles!” He called.

George and Robert gently lowered Speaight to the floor. Georgie loosened the butler’s tie.

“Charles!” Robert shouted again.

Georgie scrambled to the door and looked around the corner. “He ain’t there, Sir!”

“Where could he have gone?” Robert muttered.

Georgie knelt down next to Mr. Speaight. “Poor fella, what’s come of him?”

“It’s poison.” Finlay smiled as he walked up to the open door. “And, it’s not too late to keep the old bastard from dyin’. Just give me my sister and we’ll see that he doesn’t meet his maker just yet.”

Georgie sprung up and lunged for Finlay. “I’ll kill ya dead, you scum.”

“Now, now, lad.” Finlay scoffed. “Stay back. You don’t want your Mr. Speaight to die, do you? And, I don’t suppose you want Charles to either.”

Meanwhile, in the adjoining room, Ellen smiled at Mr. Punch/The Duke of Fallbridge.

“So, you wish to welcome me to the family?”

“I do.” Mr. Punch nodded slowly.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Ellen grinned. “I’m finally going to be accepted as having Fallbridge blood in my veins.”

“Oh…no.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “I ain’t gonna welcome ya as the Duke of Fallbridge.”

“No?” Ellen narrowed her eyes. “What else, then. I’ve no Molliner blood. Only you and Barbara…”

“Nor am I gonna welcome ya as a Molliner.” Mr. Punch interrupted. He paused by the hearth and took the bed-warmer in his hand.

“I don’t understand.” Ellen raised an eyebrow.

“I ain’t really neither o’ them things.” Mr. Punch shrugged.

“Of course you are.”

“No, no. Just the body is. I’m somethin’ else. Remember?”

“Well—that…you just think…” Ellen stammered.

“Don’t fret, sister.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Like I said, I just wanna welcome ya nice and proper.”

“I…” Ellen began.

“I wanna welcome ya to me own family. The family Punchinello.”

And, with that, Punch quickly and swiftly—and with all his might—smashed Ellen Barrett across the skull with the bed-warmer. She fell to the floor in a heap.

“That’s the way to do it,” Mr. Punch sighed. “I’m a good boy, I am.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-151 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 153.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 152

Mr. Punch had grown accustomed to feeling. At first, the sensations of Julian’s body were strange and foreign—almost humorous—to him. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, itchiness, aching, energy—these natural feelings confused Mr. Punch at first. Soon, he’d grown used to living in a human body full-time. In many ways, he thought, the constancy of a puppet body was much easier. Wood and papier mache feel nothing. However, soon he found there was delight in hunger inasmuch as the feeling of being full after eating was pleasurable. Pleasure—that was another thing. Joy, sorrow, worry, amusement, love, loathing—emotions—these, too, had been concepts which had confused him. Confusion in and of itself was strange. But, he’d grown to appreciate it. And, of course, there was fear. That was the one thing that he had already understood. Punch knew fear. After all, it was out of fear that he’d been born. Julian’s fear had conceived Mr. Punch in the first place. And, pain—yes, pain. Mr. Punch had grown to know pain, too.


He’d occupied Julian’s mind for thirty years. True, he’d been actively using Julian’s body for almost as long. Of course, not for as extended a period as he had then, at the end of 1852. But, for all of that time, Mr. Punch had grown to expect pain. There’d been a lot of it, too. The pain of the beating Julian had sustained in Covent Garden when thugs had handled him roughly. That was the day that Punch had first met Robert. Little did he know at the time that he and Robert would have been reunited on The Hyperion, that their lives would be forever entwined. There was the pain of the fire in the stable, the broken glass of the window which had sliced Julian’s hand when Mr. Punch spotted Arthur, the pain of being poisoned, pain in many forms…

However, the pain he experienced that night—just before the year changed to 1853—was new and frightening. At first, it was simply a dampness, a flash of red in front of his eyes, the weight of Barbara Allen atop him as the smell of gun powder wafted through the air. Then, it was a clutching hand, the grip of cold fingers around his heart, a strange combination of lightness and heaviness, ice and fire.

Was the blood that flooded into the fibers of his coat his own or Barbara’s?

It was his own.

Or, to be more accurate, it was Julian’s blood which gushed from the bullet hole just above below his clavicle. How strange it felt.

“Coo.” Mr. Punch muttered as Barbara Allen rolled off of him, scrambling to his side.

“Julian!” Barbara screamed. “Julian!”

“I ain’t Julian, Barbara.” Mr. Punch whispered as he heard Julian’s heart beating in his ears. “I’m Mr. Punch, I am.”

“Oh, Arthur,” he heard Ulrika growl. “Can’t you do anything right?”

“Animals!” Barbara screamed.

“That’s no way to talk to your husband.” Arthur chuckled.

Mr. Punch winced as the door screamed open and Iolanthe rushed in, followed by Marie Laveau, Mala and two large men.

“What is all of this?” Iolanthe demanded.

Mr. Punch shut his eyes and felt the pain. Soon, the chaos in the room was replaced with a comforting silence. The darkness was replaced with a gentle, amber light. He saw himself seated in an elegant room, hung with yellow silk drapes and filled with gilt furniture. Julian sat regally in an embroidered fauteuil.

“Come and sit with me, Mr. Punch.” Julian smiled.

“Here, where are we?” Mr. Punch asked as he joined the other half of themselves.

“We’re inside.” Julian answered.

“It’s all yellow like sunshine.” Mr. Punch answered.

“Warm and nice.” Julian nodded.

“Shouldn’t we be out there with the rest of them?” Mr. Punch asked. “I think somethin’s gone wrong.”

“It has,” Julian nodded calmly. “We’ve been shot.”

“Say,” Mr. Punch whistled. “That ain’t so good.”

“No.” Julian shook his head. “All the more reason to rest in here.”

“It’s nice in here.” Mr. Punch nodded. “Is this where you stay when I’m usin’ the body?”

“Yes,” Julian smiled. “This is the room you built for me, dear Punch.”

“I did this?” Mr. Punch looked around.

“You did.”

“Here, I got good taste.” Mr. Punch smiled.

“Yes.”

“You sure I shouldn’t be out there with them?” Mr. Punch frowned. “Seems to me I ought to be there, trying to stay alive.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do.” Julian shrugged. “So, let’s rest. I wish to speak with you anyway. But, first, just rest.”

“Maybe for a minute,” Mr. Punch smiled, shutting his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was still in the phantom room with Julian, however, it had changed from yellow to icy blue.

“It’s different.” Mr. Punch mumbled.

“Yes,” Julian nodded.

“Are we dead?”

“No.” Julian shook his head. “However, now’s the time for us to have our chat.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-151? If so, you can read them here.