Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 156

Chapter 156: 

Lennie

Charles and Violet reluctantly sat down around the small table in the cellar upon which the strange woman had placed the candle.

“I suppose you’ll want some sort of explanation.” The woman said softly.

“That might be a treat,” Charles replied drolly. “These last weeks we’ve been under the impression that the governess was who she claimed.”

“She isn’t.” The woman shook her head.

Violet snorted. “This is all too much for me.”

“How did this woman come to be called by your name, then?” Charles asked.

“She was, I thought, being kind.” The woman replied.

“You’ll need to explain yourself.” Charles frowned.

“I was a happy girl.” The woman began.

“We didn’t ask for your life story, Miss.” Violet grumbled.

“But, it’s all part and parcel.” The woman said, obviously offended.

“Continue, please.” Charles nodded.

“We weren’t wealthy by any means, but we were comfortable. I always found it strange since Father had no obvious profession. Still, I didn’t question it. Why would a happy girl question her own comfort? I enjoyed a pleasant home with my brothers. We even had a maid of all work. Orpha. She’d been a workhouse girl, but you’d never have known it. She loved to read and she spoke so beautifully. She and I were friends. We were close to the same age and I so enjoyed talking with her. She always had such interesting things to say. She’d taught herself to read, you see. And, read she did. Whenever she wasn’t working. We were all content. Our only sorrow was Roger, my brother.”

“We know Roger.” Charles smirked.

“He’d had an accident as a young man. I was never sure what had happened, but it left him…different. I was charged with caring for him. Usually, he was quite pleasant. But, every so often, he’d become quite wild. I was always able to calm him. Soon, Orpha was as well. You see, we resembled one another. It wasn’t a great resemblance—I was always so much thinner. However, it was enough of a resemblance that when Roger was in one of his rages, blinded by his own thoughts, he would think that Orpha was me. We carried on for many years. Soon, Father’s age began to show. He lost most of his sight. After that, he’d often confuse me for Orpha and Orpha for me.” The woman paused.

Charles and Violet looked at one another.

“I’m terribly sorry. It’s simply that I become quite sad when I speak of Father. My brothers—except for Roger—had lives of their own. They went off, as boys do. So, for the longest time, it was just me, and Father and Orpha.”

“Didn’t you have a mother?” Violet asked.

“She had long since passed.” The woman passed. “Father’s body soon began to fail him and he grew weaker and weaker. Not only did I have to look after Roger, but also him. Orpha suggested that she could be of assistance. She’d learned quite a lot about medicine by reading. And, so, I got Father to agree to employ her as a nurse and we contracted a new maid. Life was much smoother that way. Father would slip in and out of his senses from time to time, but I was used to it from what I’d seen with Roger.”

“That’s awful.” Violet nodded.

“Yes.” The woman sighed. “Then, Father became gravely ill. Just as he was dying, he told me something which shocked me to my very soul. He told me that he wasn’t my father at all. He told me that a Scotchman at Grange Molliner was my father and that my true mother was the Duchess of Fallbridge who was still living. He told me to go to her and claim what was rightfully mine.”

“What did you do?” Charles asked.

“I’d long heard of the Duchess of Fallbridge. Everyone had. Her cruelty was legend as was her excess and her sharp tongue. She wasn’t the sort of woman I cared to claim as my mother. I was shattered. To think that the boys were not my brothers. I love them so—even Roger. Father told me I should seek out my new siblings: Julian, Lord Fallbridge; and Barbara, Lady Fallbridge. Well, Lady Barbara was rumored to be just as her mother and Lord Fallbridge was said to be a kind man, if not strange and reclusive. Father told me that Lord Fallbridge was a favorite of the Crown and that he was a famous jeweler. Still, I didn’t care. I wanted no part of it. I wanted everything to be as it was. Comfortable. And, then, Father died.”

“I’m sorry,” Violet shook her head.

“Orpha was a great help to me, then. I shared all of my woes with her. She was my friend. With Father gone, I was afraid I’d have to dismiss her. I was never sure where our money came from, and, Father left us with so little. I could take care of Roger on my own. I cried inconsolably at the thought of losing Orpha and, also, from…well, from not knowing who I really was. To think that my brothers weren’t really mine and that somewhere in Yorkshire, I had other siblings—wealthy, famous siblings. I couldn’t dare think of contacting them. And, with all of that, I would lose my only friend.”

“Orpha told me that she would try to seek work as a governess, but she was afraid that she’d have no luck. What grand household would hire a governess who was a self-educated workhouse girl? Orpha told me that a girl like me would have no trouble. But, her, she feared—well, she’d fail. I told her that I wished I could give her my life as I no longer had a use for it. I was so ashamed. To think that I was…” The woman shook her head.

“So Orpha suggested that she use your name?” Charles asked.

“Yes.” Orpha nodded. “I was so disconsolate that I agreed. I would hire smaller rooms and care for Roger and she would carry on with her life and assist me as best she could. We grew up together. We were friends. I trusted her. So, she became Ellen and I became Orpha Polk.”

“And, then she started in on her scheme.”

“Yes. I’d heard rumors that the Baron Lensdown was having an…” The woman shook her head. “I’d hear much gossip. She stopped coming around. And, then, one day I read that Lady Barbara and the Duchess of Fallbridge had died while visiting America.”

Charles looked down.

“Is something the matter?”

“I…” Charles began. “I knew Lady Barbara very well.”

“I see.” The woman sniffed.

“Carry on.” Charles nodded.

“That’s when Orpha returned. She gave me a great deal of money and told me that she needed me to leave England. She presented me with a story that the newly ascended Duke of Fallbridge was mad and that he knew that I was his sister and that he’d come after me. I now know it was all a lie. She brought me to Scotland and promised she’d look after Roger. She told me that Roger would never know the difference. That much was true, I suppose. It breaks my heart.”

“Did she bring you here—the the Grange?” Violet asked.

“No, no.” The woman shook her head. “Just to the village. I got a job as a parlor maid. Then, a few days ago, Orpha came for me and…she was so rough. I…” She began to cry. “She brought me here and locked me in this cellar. I…”

“There, there.” Violet went to the woman’s side and patted her on the back.

Charles rose as well.

“I don’t know what to do.” The woman sobbed.

“We’re gonna get out of here, is what we’re going to do.” Violet said softly.

“Yes, we are. But, it’s going to take all three of us.”

“Then what will become of me?”

“We’ll take it one moment at a time.” Charles smiled.

“Here, what should we call you. Can’t call ya Miss Barrett—not while…”

“Call me ‘Lennie.’” The woman sniffed. “That’s what father called me.”

“Lennie,” Charles nodded. “Help me move that trunk over to the window.”

Lennie wiped her eyes and went to work.

Did you miss Chapters 1-156 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 158. 

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 156

Chapter 156: 

Orpha Polk 


“Nothin’.” Violet grunted as she wiped her hands on her apron. “We pulled up every carpet in the place and there ain’t no way down to the cellar.”

“Don’t give up hope yet, Violet.” Charles said as calmly as he could. The girl was already distraught after what had happened to her. Charles didn’t care to upset her further.

“I didn’t have hope to begin with.” Violet sighed. “You sure there was a cellar?”

“Reasonably sure,” Charles responded. “I can’t think of another reason why there’d be such a low window on the rear façade. These old lodges often had cellars to keep wine and meat as well as powder and such.”

“What good is it if we can’t get there?”

“That’s just it, Vi.” Charles replied. “This cottage was built for convenience—purely that. Even out on the hunt, the riders could have easily made the journey back to the Grange. After a late hunt, a house such as this would have been designed as a comfortable stopping point and an excuse for further revelry.”

“Huh?”

“I suppose this cottage is here to make the hunt easier. Certainly, having to go outside to seek out supplies wouldn’t have been convenient. Each hunter would have had a man with him. I imagine that their men would need to have…”

“What’s gotten into you?” Violet asked.

“I just thought of something.” Charles’ eyes widened. “Where would the servants be?”

Violet shrugged.

“So far, all we’ve seen are the bed chambers and this drawing room. But, there must be some small hall for the servants, and, possible, even a scaled-down range and kitchens.”

“I ain’t seen nothin’ like that.”

“There must be a service entrance.” Charles sniffed. He looked toward a corner of the cottage’s small drawing room, squinting into the darkness. “Did we look over there?”

“Sure.” Violet frowned. “There’s nothin’ over there but them cases of trophies.”

Charles hurried to the other side of the room.

“What are you doin’?”

“Gentlemen of the Eighteenth Century loved their novelties.” Charles smiled. “I remember a palazzo near my home town in Italy. I visited there once with my Uncle Giacomo. I was very excited when I saw one room that had a hidden door. It was built into the wall and made to look like a case for books, but, if one tugged on the moulding it was a door which led to a service hall.”

“Do ya think…”

“Maybe.” Charles nodded. He ran his hand along the side of the trophy case and found, on the left side, a raised metal nob. Pulling the bob forward, the case opened to reveal a staircase.

“Oh!” Violet squealed. “You’re brilliant!” She rushed to his side.

“Take my hand,” Charles said. “It’s dark. I don’t want you to fall.”

Charles guided Violet down the winding staircase into the musty, black cellar.

“Look over there.” Charles exclaimed. “There’s that window. I can see the moonlight through it.”

“I don’t know if either of us can fit through that.” Violet said softly. They walked briskly to the window.

“I think I can.” Charles said. “We’ve got to find something to boost me up to it. If I don’t fit, you’re much smaller than I…”

Charles stopped. He’d bumped into something—clearly a person.

“Who is there?” Charles asked, reaching forward with the hand which Violet wasn’t holding.

“What” Violet chirped. “Someone’s here?”

“Don’t hurt me,” a meek voice whimpered.

“Who are you?” Charles demanded.

“My name is Ellen.” The voice replied.

“Miss Barrett?” Charles growled.

“How did you know my name?” The woman gasped.

“You’re not fooling me.” Charles barked. “Your innocent pantomime isn’t going to be effective.”

Suddenly, Charles and Violet squinted as the woman lit a candle. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they saw in front of them a complete stranger.

She did, in fact, look vaguely like Ellen Barrett, however, she was gaunt, and considerably thinner. She wore a dirty gown, slightly tattered at the sleeves. In whole, she looked defeated and frightened.

“I don’t know you.” The woman said meekly. “I don’t know you.”

“Nor we you.” Charles said slowly.

“You aren’t Miss Barrett.” Violet snapped.

“I certainly am.” The woman replied, clearly hurt. “Why do you doubt me?”

“Because we know Ellen Barrett. She’s a brash, miserable creature of pure evil.” Charles replied.

“Oh…” The woman began to cry softly. “She’s not Ellen Barrett. I am.”

“Who is she, then?” Violet asked suspiciously.

“Her name is Orpha Polk. She’s taken my life.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-155? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 157 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 156

Marjani’s footsteps echoed through the vestibule as she carried Julian/Punch into St. Louis Cathedral. The air was still quite thick with the dust of construction, though the rebuilding of the stately church had mostly stopped two years earlier. Marjani lowered Mr. Punch’s body to the floor and wiped her brow, taking a deep breath. The cathedral smelled new—not at all like it did when she had first been there—years earlier as a girl, newly off the boat and set for a life of slavery. She’d stood in that church, relishing the coolness of the walls around her as she nervously waited—shackled to her sisters—to be sold to the highest bidder. The building was different than she had remembered—grander, taller, emptier, but nonetheless beautiful. Moonlight filtered through the windows and danced on the patterned floor.


“Holy Mother!” Marjani called out. “I done brought this man for ya to help him. Don’t fail me. Look down at us with all them angels and saints and find it in your kind, big hearts to save him for he done no one any harm.”

Julian’s body shook with pain as Mr. Punch cried out. “It’s cold.”

“Won’t always be so, Great Man.” Marjani said sweetly. “Soon, it’ll be warm and you’ll feel the arms of those who love you pick you up and carry you home.”

“Home,” Mr. Punch mumbled. “Home. Me master’s got a home. Two homes. No, three. There’s the monster of a house in the country, there’s the fine, tall townhouse in Belgravia, and there’s the room what he lives in—that room inside of us.”

“Don’t forget your home here, Mr. Punch.” Marjani smiled as she knelt down beside him, stroking his sweaty hair. “The home that you share with the Halifaxes and Toby, with me and Gamilla and Meridian and my Columbia.”

“I’m a lucky man,” Mr. Punch groaned.

“You ain’t lucky, Mr. Punch.” Marjani chuckled. “You’re what they done call ‘fortunate.’”

“’Spose so.” Mr. Punch nodded. “Guess if I were lucky, I’d not be here bleedin’ on the floor of some church.”

“I reckon not.” Marjani nodded.

Mr. Punch coughed and moaned.

“Jus’ keep talkin’, Mr. Punch.” Marjani said softly.

“Talkin’ ‘bout what?” Punch asked. “Think maybe I run out of words.”

“No.” Marjani shook her head. “You ain’t never gonna run outta words. You got lots of words in ya. You got words enough for two men.”

“Julian don’t say a lot.” Mr. Punch gagged. “He likes to be quiet, he does.”



“Don’t mean he don’t got words. Sometimes the quietest of men got the most words. If anyone would stop to ask them, they’d have a lot to say.”

“True.” Punch sputtered. “It hurts, Marjani.”

“I know it does.” Marjani nodded.

“Am I…are we gonna die?”

“All men die.” Marjani said gently.

“Where’s your Holy Mother?” Mr. Punch groaned.

“She’s here.” Marjani sighed. “Watchin’.”

“What good’s watchin’?” Mr. Punch asked angrily. “Watchin’ ain’t helpin’.”

“Isn’t it?” Marjani smiled.

“Here, how’d you find me?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I knew where ya was, Great Man.” Marjani said, stroking Julian’s hair again. “I jus’ had to get to ya.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Scared?” Marjani grinned. “Scared o’ what? Them three witches? I ain’t scared o’ no witches. They don’t got limitless power, ya know.”

“Don’t they?” Mr. Punch asked weakly.

“You tell me,” Marjani said firmly, trying to get Punch to keep talking. “You’re here, ain’t ya?”

“Yes,” Punch grunted. He shut Julian’s eyes.

“Don’t sleep now, Mr. Punch. They’re comin’.” Marjani whispered.

Footsteps and voices filled the vestibule.

“Thank God!” Adrienne shouted as she rushed to Mr. Punch.

“How’d you know, old chap?” Cecil asked Robert as Robert hurried to Punch’s side.

“I…I’m not sure.” Robert muttered as he leaned over Julian’s body.

“I’m here, dear Punch.” Robert whispered.

“Evenin’, chum,” Mr. Punch grinned weakly. “You found me.”

“I did.” Robert sighed as he unbuttoned Julian’s coat to see the damage.

“I been shot.” Mr. Punch said.

“I see that.” Robert replied softly.

“Are we gonna die?” Mr. Punch asked.

“Not this night.” Robert answered deeply. “Not unless I’m going with you.”

“Marjani brought me here.” Mr. Punch mumbled. “She brought me here so that you’d find me. The Holy Mother is watching, you know?”

“Marjani did?” Adrienne asked, looking around.

“Yes.” Mr. Punch moaned as Robert pressed his chest. “She’s right here.”

“Where’s she gone?” Cecil asked.

“She’s here.” Punch answered.

Robert, Cecil and Adrienne looked at one another. Marjani was nowhere to be seen. They were alone with Mr. Punch in the vestibule of the great cathedral.

“Of course she is, my man.” Robert smiled. “Now, will you do something for me?”

“Course,” Mr. Punch answered weakly.

“I want you to bite down on this handkerchief. Will you do that?”

“Yes.” Mr. Punch replied in confusion.

“This is going to hurt,” Robert said as he gently placed the balled-up handkerchief into Julian’s mouth.

Punch bit down as he felt Robert’s fingers slip into his wound. The room went black.



Did you miss Chapters 1-155? If so, you can read them here.