Chapter 19:
Dinner Will Help
Mrs. Pepper was
alarmed when the Duke didn’t call for his luncheon tray.
“Is he ill, Mr.
Speaight?” She asked.
“Not to my
knowledge, Mrs. Pepper,” the butler had answered.
“What’s he doin’
up there?”
“He was, for
many hours, in the morning room.” Mr.
Speaight responded. “He’s now gone
upstairs to the library.”
Mrs. Pepper
nodded gravely, twisting a towel in between her fingers. “Will the doctor be home soon?”
“Hard to say,
Mrs. Pepper,” Mr. Speaight shook his
head.
“Stuff and
nonsense,” Mrs. Pepper muttered. “The doctor will come in, wantin’ to be fed
when I’ve got to get downstairs supper on the table.”
“We’ll do what
we can, Mrs. Pepper. I have no doubt of
your abilities to feed this household in a fine and elegant fashion.”
“Well, then,”
Mrs. Pepper smiled slightly. “Go on.”
The cook’s alarm
quickly turned to irritation when the Duke didn’t take tea. She complained bitterly to Mr. Speaight. “Spent an hour bakin’ me special maple cake—a
favorite of His Grace.”
“The cake will
keep, Mrs. Pepper. In fact, it’s even
lovelier the next day—if that’s possible.”
This mollified
the cook—until it was time for upstairs dinner.
“Ain’t he gonna
eat?” Mrs. Pepper growled when her
dinner was returned to the kitchens—uneaten.
“One thing we can always count on is that the Duke’s gonna be
hungry. I don’t know! The whole world’s at sixes and sevens!”
“It’s not our
place to speculate, Mrs. Pepper.” Mr.
Speaight sighed. “His Grace will eat
when he’s ready.”
“Don’t expect me
to take time heatin’ this bird up again.” She grumbled, poking at the glazed
fowl which sat grandly on its silver tray.
“It’ll be dry.”
“His Grace likes
cold chicken.” Mr. Speaight smiled. “And, your chicken is so succulent that it
could never be dry.”
“Oh well,” Mrs. Pepper smiled. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Speaight.”
Charles, too,
had been concerned about the Duke.
Several times he had gone upstairs to look in on his master. It wasn’t unusual for the Duke to mope while
the doctor was out on a call, but he seemed more bothered than usual. His Grace’s eyes looked sick and tired and he
barely spoke when Charles addressed him.
When Violet had
gone into the library to tend the grate and light the lamps, His Grace had
barely looked up. And, when Gerard
carried up the sherry tray in anticipation of the doctor’s return, the Duke
didn’t even acknowledge the man’s presence—he simply sat in a chair by the
window, peering out over Belgrave Square.
Even Gamilla had
tried to get a response from the Duke when she went to change the library
flowers.
“Good afternoon,
Your Grace,” she had nodded.
“’Milla,” the Duke had muttered.
Gamilla even
whispered kindly to the Duke, calling him “Mr. Punch.” “Dr. Halifax will be home shortly, Mr. Punch,”
she had said.
“Yes,” was the
man’s only response.
“Colin’ll want
to see you.” Gamilla tried again.
That was the
only time the Duke’s face lightened a little.
“I’d like that. Me boy…” he had trailed off.
She left
him. He seemed to want to be alone.
Everyone
downstairs had fallen silent—going about their business without the usual
cheerful chatter. The Duke always set
the tone in the household. The staff
was—especially with Hortence gone—quite jolly, matching the energy of their
eager-eyed master. However, that day,
all were sullen and anxious.
“Must be sum-fink
wrong upstairs, then.” Ethel had
whispered to Jenny. “Vi says the Duke’s
in a bad humor.”
“I’ll bet he’s
sad what with the doctor gone today.”
Jenny shrugged. “Now, don’t
bother me, Ethel—I got these cheese straws to finish.”
“What for?” Ethel frowned. “He ain’t gonna eat them.”
Another queer
thing was the obvious absence of Miss Barrett.
She usually paid several visits a day to the staff. They liked her. She didn’t mind bringing down
her own trays and she always had a joke or kind word for everyone. Yet, that day, she didn’t come down
once. She rang for her trays and rang
for fresh milk for Master Colin. She
rang to have things removed and rang for new linens.
“I don’t like
it,” Ethel grumbled.
“Ain’t your
place to like or not like anythin’!”
Mrs. Pepper had snapped. “Now,
back to the scullery with ya. Upstairs
dinner dishes want washin’.”
“Didn’t use
none!” Ethel complained. “What’s to wash?”
“Do as you’re
told!” Mrs. Pepper spat.
Ethel trudged
back to the scullery and sat on her stool, staring at the large basin—nothing
to do.
When the bell
rang for the front door, Charles, Gerard and Speaight all put on their jackets.
“We don’t all
three need to go. It’s most likely the doctor,”
Speaight squinted. He pointed at Gerard
who nodded—scurrying up the stairs.
Indeed, it was
the doctor. The man looked tired and
hungry, yet he still smiled.
“Ah,
Gerard.” Robert nodded, coming into the
house. He paused as Gerard helped him
off with his coat.
“Mrs. Pepper
will have my head,” Robert teased. “I’m
sure I’ve ruined dinner. It couldn’t be
helped. I hope His Grace went into the
dining room without me.”
“No, Sir.” Gerard shook his head.
“No?” Robert raised his eyebrows.
“No.” Gerard answered.
“How are things
here?” Robert asked cautiously. “Any
trouble?”
“Not trouble,
really.” Gerard answered. “Only His Grace hasn’t spoken a word to no
one, nor has he eaten.”
“I see.” Robert frowned. “Where is His Grace?”
“Last anyone
saw, Sir, he was in the library—lookin’ out the window.”
Without another
word, Robert hurriedly climbed the stairs and, pausing to take a breath, placed
a smile on his face as he entered the unusually dark library.
“Dear Punch,”
Robert declared as cheerfully as possible.
“I’ve returned.”
“Saw you come
in.” Mr. Punch/the Duke replied.
“You’ve got a
wonderful vantage point at that window.
I imagine you’ve seen all that transpired on Belgrave Square.”
“Maybe,” Mr.
Punch mumbled, not looking up. “Did Lord
Glencaron die?”
“Yes,” Robert
answered, shaking his head. “I did all
that I could to make him comfortable.
But, the poor fellow’s heart wasn’t strong enough.”
“Must be awful
havin’ to deal with death and sick people each day.”
“It can be,”
Robert nodded, walking over to Mr. Punch and sitting across from him in the
window alcove. “I try to remember that
it’s my place to foster life where I can.
When I am unable to do so, I try to give each man or woman the dignity
that he or she deserves.”
“Dignity,
huh?” Mr. Punch snorted.
“Yes, dear
Punch.” Robert answered softly.
They sat in
silence for awhile.
Finally, Robert
could stand no more. “Please, dear
Punch, if something is troubling you, I do hope you’ll confide in me.”
Punch pointed to
the small table between them on which sat the letter which he’d brought
upstairs with him.
Robert picked up
the letter and squinted at it. He rose
and walked to the fire, reading the peculiar scroll by the light of the
flames. His face went pale.
“What is
this?” Robert gasped.
“A threat, I
believe it’s called.” Mr. Punch mumbled.
“From whom did
this come?”
“Don’t
know.” Punch responded.
“From where did
you get it?”
“Miss Barrett
found it—with that carnation there.”
Punch answered, finally looking up.
“It says I’m mad. It says that
the Queen and the newspapers will be told that I’m a bad fella.”
“Who would so
such a thing?” Robert rasped.
“Miss Barrett
says it’s Hortence.”
Robert coughed.
“That’s
right.” Mr. Punch growled, rising from
his chair. He walked to the fire and
stood across from Robert.
“Did she happen
to say why she thought Hortence would write this?”
“You know
why.” Mr. Punch narrowed his eyes.
“I suppose I
do.” Robert sighed.
“Why didn’t you
tell me, Chum?” Mr. Punch asked, the
hurt rising in his voice. “Why didn’t
you tell me what that awful girl said?”
“I didn’t want
to worry you.”
“I’m worried
now. More so worried knowin’ ‘bout it
afterwards, I am.”
“We were going
to the palace. It was your first
official outing since we’ve come home.
I…”
“I know,” Mr.
Punch sighed. “You were tryin’ to
protect me, you were.”
“I truly was.”
“That’s what
Miss Barrett said.” Punch continued.
“I…I…” Robert began. “Oh, Punch, you know I’m not
very good at expressing myself.”
“I know.” Mr. Punch sniffed. “Only, ya gotta tell me now.”
“When I
dismissed Hortence…”
“Not that.” Mr. Punch interrupted. “I know what she said. Miss Barrett tol’ me. That ain’t what I want to know.”
“What is it,
then?” Robert asked awkwardly.
“Do you think
it’s true?”
“What?”
“Do you think
I’m mad?”
“No! Certainly not!” Robert answered passionately.
“Then, why do
you keep things from me?”
“I didn’t want
to worry you.”
“So you said,”
Mr. Punch replied. “Or is it that you
don’t think I can cope with them things what you fear will worry me? Do you think maybe I’ll become a lunatic and
do somethin’ awful?”
“No.” Robert responded quickly, putting his hands
on Punch’s shoulders. “I do not think
that at all. You can cope with anything. You’ve shown me that time and again. I have no cause to doubt your abilities
ever. In fact, you’re better in most
situations than I am.”
Mr. Punch
shrugged. “Don’t know ‘bout that.”
“I simply knew
that the task of visiting the Prince was daunting. I didn’t want to add an element of…” He stopped.
“Dash it all!”
Mr. Punch
smiled. “Now, Chum. I didn’t mean to make it worse for ya.”
Robert’s eyes
grew moist with tears. “When I was a
child, I was always told, ‘Don’t tell your mother.’ She couldn’t handle anything. First father, then Cecil and I…we always kept
things from her which we feared would upset her. It’s a habit I’d gotten into. But, you…I don’t do it because I think you’re
incapable. You’re not like my
mother. She, truly,
was…incapacitated. With you, I…”
“You don’t gotta
say no more.” Mr. Punch shook his head,
taking Robert’s hand and leading him to the settee in front of the fire. He
forced Robert to sit.
“I’m terribly
sorry.” Robert continued.
“I understand.”
“Have you been
angry with me all this time?”
“No.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “I was upset at first, I was. Ain’t gonna tell ya otherwise. Only after awhile, I began to worry if maybe
I am mad and that maybe you thought as such, too.”
“If you were
mad, dear Punch, you wouldn’t fret about it.”
Mr. Punch
smiled. “I reckon that’s the truth.” He patted Robert’s knee. “But, you gotta understand that we can’t keep
things from one another. We’re both the
masters of this house. We owe it to one
another to tell what we know—even if it’s something what’s gonna be hard to
hear. We’ll expect the same of Colin
when he’s talkin’ and it’s only fair to ‘xpect it from each other.”
“Of
course,” Robert nodded. “Can you forgive me?”
“Already
did.” Mr. Punch grinned. “And, can you forgive me for bein’ upset
about it?”
“No need.” Robert shook his head. “However, we do, indeed have a terrible
problem here.” He held up the letter.
“Hortence, if she was behind this, is incapable of doing this on her
own. I doubt she can even read or
write. She must have someone assisting
her—making this all the more dangerous.”
“I know.” Mr.
Punch nodded. “Thought of that, I did.”
“What shall we
do?”
“Eat,” Mr. Punch
stood up.
“Pardon?”
“We eat—that’s
what we do. You gotta be hungry.”
“I am.”
“Well, I’m twice
as hungry.”
“Understandably,
you’re twice as many men.”
“True,” Mr.
Punch chirped cheerfully—relieved to have spoken his mind.
“Mrs. Pepper
will not be pleased to be asked for dinner on a tray.”
“She’ll
live.” Mr. Punch shrugged as he rang for
Speaight. He looked at Robert, “Sorry
you had to see a man die today.”
Robert
nodded. “I’m, sadly, rather used to it.”
Mr. Punch
sighed.
“To be sure,
what sustained me was the thought that I’d be coming home to you and Colin.”
Punch smiled.
As Speaight
entered the room, Mr. Punch whooped, but then, remembered himself.
Speaight wasn’t aware of the “Punch side” of
his life, and, so, he quickly fixed his face into an aristocratic grin and
lowered his shoulders and voice.
“Speaight, would you be so good as to ask Mrs. Pepper to prepare dinner
trays—with my apologies—to be brought to the library.”
“Gladly, Your
Grace,” Speaight answered with relief.
“Dr. Halifax and
I are terribly hungry.” Punch continued
as the Duke.
“I’m glad to
hear it, Sir.”
“Tell Mrs.
Pepper, if you would, that I wasn’t feeling well earlier, but that the aroma of
her lovely dinner chased my malaise away.”
“She’ll
appreciate that, Sir.”
“I rather
figured,” the Duke teased.
“I will return
shortly, Your Grace.” Speaight smiled,
pleased to be able to share the good news with those below.
After Speaight
exited, Robert looked up at his dear Punch.
“Please know,”
Robert said softly. “Whatever I do, I do
from affection—not doubt.”
Mr. Punch
nodded. “And know if I worry, it’s me
what I’m doubtin’ not you.”
“Dinner will
help.” Robert winked.
“It’s a start,”
Mr. Punch answered.
Did you miss
Chapters 1-18 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?
If so, you can read them here. Come
back tomorrow for Chapter 20.
