Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 194

Chapter 194
An Exhibition 


Prince Albert narrowed his eyes and glared at Punch and Robert who sat across from him in some small, dim, cold reception room in Buckingham Palace. For all his many visits to Buck House (both as Julian and as Mr. Punch), Punch had never seen that particular room and wondered if it was, perhaps, a room used only when the Prince Consort was displeased with something or someone.

“You’ve no doubt wondered why I’ve summoned you here today, Fallbridge.” Prince Albert glowered.

“No, Sir.” Punch responded—speaking as Julian. He wasn’t sure how his natural voice would be accepted by the Prince Consort. While Queen Victoria seemed to much prefer Punch’s manner to that of Julian and was surprisingly supportive of it, Punch was quite sure that Prince Albert would not be as generous about the Duke’s newfound informality.

“No?” Prince Albert growled.

“I know very well why Your Majesty has asked us to come this morning.” Punch said as pleasantly as he could.

“You’ve made a laughing stock of me.” Prince Albert spat.

Mr. Punch’s eyes widened slightly. “That was not my intention, Your Majesty.”

“I promised the organizers of the International Exhibition that they would receive three pieces from my personal jeweler, the very celebrated Duke of Fallbridge. And, yet, the deadline has passed us by and the Duke of Fallbridge has not provided me those pieces. I had to send jewels from Garrard’s to New York.” The Prince grumbled.

“My sincere apologies, Sir.” Mr. Punch nodded. “When Dr. Halifax and I sojourned to Aberdeenshire, we’d done so with the intention of allowing me ample time to finish my designs and send them to the goldsmith for production. However, we were beset with much tragedy and confusion. As I’m sure Your Majesty would, I had to focus all of my energy upon my family.”

The Prince Consort’s expression softened a bit. “Yes, I would.”

“Dr. Halifax and I discussed at depth last night just how disappointed Your Majesty must be.” Punch replied, looking to Robert for confirmation.

“We did, Your Majesty.” Robert nodded with ease though he had no idea what Punch was talking about.

The Prince Consort looked to Robert, for whom he had developed an obvious fondness, and his eyes flashed slightly. “Did you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Mr. Punch continued. “However, we concluded that the Americans really do not possess the sophistication to appreciate items that are not simply theatrical.”

“Go on,” The Prince replied.

“They don’t possess the depth of the British. We appreciate fineness while they look only at size. The larger and more overwrought the better. Therefore, in their estimation, I’m sure they’d consider the works of Garrard’s to be quite impressive. They’re sure to praise Your Majesty quite clever to have sent such specimens. Meanwhile, the subtlety of my work would , no doubt, be thought of as quite dull when viewed by American eyes.”

“This is true.” The Prince nodded. “Is this your thought, too, Dr. Halifax?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Robert replied quickly.

“Dr. Halifax and I did have an idea, however, which would serve to not only impress the empire, but also prove to exhibit Your Majesty’s fine tastes.” Punch expertly continued.

“Oh?”

“Of course, my late father was very much involved with Your Majesties in early discussion regarding the Museum of Manufactures. Your Majesty’s Great Exhibition was such a success that it only follows that a museum should be the next phase. I’m sure my father would have been quite pleased to have seen the brilliant exhibitions mounted at both Marlborough House and Somerset House to this end, and would have been so proud of Your Majesty’s idea for a new structure to house the impressive, growing collections. The newly proposed South Kensington Museum would offer an ideal forum for a jewelry exhibition. Your Majesty’s inherent appreciation for both the arts and sciences, after all, is evident in jewelry—using the treasures of the earth and man’s natural brilliance to create something wholly beautiful.”

“Yes.” The Prince nodded.

“Perhaps the South Kensington Museum could feature a permanent exhibit which we would suggest should be named for Your Majesty. This exhibit would feature jewels created in honor of Your Majesties and the little Royals. I would volunteer to not only design—with your Majesty’s considerable assistance—and orchestrate the manufacture of these jewels, but also oversee the machinations of staging the exhibit—a sparkling altar to the brilliance of British arts and sciences. The Prince Albert Jewellery Room.”

“I like it.”

“After all,” Robert spoke up bravely. “It would serve as an international beacon for anyone interested in the truly exceptional. It’s a much more fitting tribute to Your Majesties than a smudged glass case at some American fair.”

“Who would pay for this undertaking?” Albert asked.

“Well, Sir, I’m sure that I could donate a good many pieces and I’d be thrilled to provide gemstones from my own collection.” Punch answered coolly. “You could consider that my gift to the Empire. Furthermore, I’ve not doubt that Dr. Halifax and I could convince other peers and Society families to make contributions. Why, the Reverend Townshend alone would be able to provide a good many gems. If the Crown would make a small investment into the manufacture of the pieces, we would be able to keep the cost quite low.”

Robert smiled confidently.

“I find the idea intriguing.” Prince Albert sighed. “I shall discuss it with Her Majesty, the Queen.”

“I am your servant, Your Majesty,” Punch bowed his head.

The Prince rose, prompting Punch and Robert to do the same.

“You two are to wait here,” The Prince shook his head. “The Queen wishes to see you as well.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to know that, Your Majesty.” Punch nodded.

“Do not mention this scheme of yours to Her Majesty. I shall address the topic myself in my own time.”

“Of course, Sir.” Punch smiled.

“Good Day, Fallbridge.” Prince Albert said sharply. He looked to Robert and with a slightly softer tone added. “And, to you, Dr. Halfiax.”

With that, the Prince Consort strutted from the room.

Robert chuckled under his breath and whispered. “We didn’t discuss any of that, dear Punch. How on earth did you decide to suggest such a thing?”

“I knew he was gonna be angry,” Punch shrugged, replying in a hushed tone. “I knew we had to appeal to his vanity, we did.”

“You could have warned me first.” Robert laughed. “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Oh, you did real good, Chum.” Punch winked. “’Sides, I didn’t think of it ‘til just now.”

“You are too brilliant.” Robert shook his head.

“Only in the company I keep.” Punch smiled.

“I will be glad to see Her Majesty and thank her for her kindness in seeing that the house was looked after.” Robert continued.

“Coo!” Punch whispered, “I’d be happy to see anyone other than an angry German prince, but, yes, a visit with the Queen will do us both good.”

They noticed that one of the rigid footmen in attendance had opened the door to the chamber.

Standing, Punch and Robert prepared to receive their Queen.





Did you miss Chapters 1-193 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 195.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 194

Barbara trembled as she sat down in the parlor of Julian’s borrowed Royal Street house. She clutched her son to her breast. The infant gurgled happily.


“I…I…don’t know what’s come over me.” Barbara whispered.

“Now, let’s remain calm,” Adrienne said soothingly. “Marjani and I both understand.”

Marjani frowned. “No disrespect meant, Missus Adrienne, but I can’t rightly say I understand.”

“Marjani,” Adrienne smiled softly, “Had you been separated from your Nontle, wouldn’t you have done anything to get her back? What about Columbia?”

“The difference, missus, is that I ain’t gonna sell Columbia and I sure as Hell—if you’ll pardon me sayin’ it this way—wouldn’t have given my Nontle to no one. I was a woman on my own when my husband died. Yet, I didn’t sell my chil’.”

“You had a husband,” Barbara said quickly—surprised at herself for arguing for the approval of a woman whom she’d have disregarded one year before.

“So, did you.” Marjani raised her eyebrows.

“Not a real husband. Not like you had.” Barbara blurted out. “I made a mistake. But, I’m trying to remedy it. I’ll always regret what I did. But, I didn’t know I had another choice! I was told that it was my only answer. Can’t I try to make this right? I’m alone. I have nothing. I have no one! Shouldn’t I try to make a home for my son?”

“He ain’t your son, no more!” Marjani spat. “He’s Corliss Cage’s son now. You gonna take him from the only mama he knows?”

“Please, ladies.” Adrienne interrupted.

“I don’t mean to overstep my place, Missus Adrienne,” Marjani sniffed. “Only I gotta say what I feel.”

“Nonsense, Marjani.” Adrienne smiled. “Your place in this house is equal to anyone else’s. You are free to say whatever you wish. However, our bickering isn’t going to advance this situation any further. Miss Allen is in trouble.”

“What have I done?” Barbara said, hugging the child close to her.

“You’ve done what any mother would wish—she’s retrieved her child.” Adrienne said firmly.

“The Cages ain’t gonna rest until they find this boy.” Marjani said. She looked at Barbara. “Honey, you don’t know them folk like I do. You don’t know what you’re dealin’ with. An’, what ‘bout Iolanthe, chil’? What’s she gonna do when she hears from Edward Cage that the babe they done bought from her’s been taken? These ain’t folks you wanna trifle with, honey. They’re not good folk.”

“Marjani’s correct about that,” Adrienne sighed. “We’ve got to get you on the first ship out of here.”

“Where?” Barbara said, still trembling.

“That I don’t know.” Adrienne shook her head.

“You’ll help me?” Barbara asked.

“I’ll certainly try, Miss Allen.”

“Why you should, I don’t know.” Barbara replied, her voice quivering.

“Because I’m a mother.” Adrienne smiled softly. “And though I don’t agree with the choices you’ve made with your life, I do support your desire to protect your child.”

“How we gonna do this?” Marjani grunted.

“Let me think,” Adrienne said softly.

“Honey,” Marjani whispered to Adrienne, “what’s your husband gonna say ‘bout this?”

“I confess that Cecil will not approve.”

“You ain’t gonna keep this from him?” Marjani raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t know yet.” Adrienne shrugged. “But, we do need help.”

“Julian said that he’d help me—help me get back to England.” Barbara added.

“Not with no chil’ you done stole from another family.” Marjani shook her head.

“I suppose not.” Barbara whispered.

“Don’t be so sure.”’ Adrienne said. “Julian has expressed to me that he wished his nephew would one day receive his rightful place. If His Grace resists the idea, I know that…”

“What?” Barbara asked.

“Mr. Punch will.” Adrienne said quickly, her eyes widening. “Though I couldn’t dare to play them against each other.”

“Honey, a house divided never stands.” Marjani clucked her tongue.

“Most houses aren’t as strong as our Mr. Punch and Julian.” Adrienne replied thoughtfully.

“What ‘bout Mr. Cecil?” Marjani frowned. “How strong is he?”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Julian leaned back as Robert sat on the edge of his bed. They both looked at Charles who blushed.

“I rather feel like a criminal.” Charles said. “But, I’ve not done anything truly dishonest. I’m simply trying to survive.”

“I can appreciate that.” Robert nodded.

“I know that Giovanni Iantosca is more than a little unpleasant, but why flee from your brother?”

“Because I couldn’t condone what he was doing.” Charles sighed.

“Aside from being a sour and belligerent man, he’s a well-respected artist who travels in celebrated circles.” Julian squinted.

“And leads a very opulent lifestyle.” Charles frowned.

“Not atypical in a man of great wealth.” Robert added.

“Wealth?” Charles laughed. “Giovanni exhausted both his inheritance and mine long ago. How do you think he can afford his wild way of life?”

Robert and Julian looked at one another.

“You told me that you were attacked and robbed in Covent Garden.” Charles said. “This happened just after my brother asked you for financial assistance. Yes?”

“Yes,” Julian nodded.

“Who do you think arranged that?” Charles raised his hands in the air.

“You’re not suggesting…” Robert began.

“That my brother orchestrated the attack against His Grace?” Charles nodded. “I’d stake my life on it!”



Did you miss Chapters 1-193? If so, you can read them here.