A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 27

Chapter 27:
The Jar of Heads



"Stay there."  Punch whispered to Lennie and Robert

"Don't, Punch...please."  Lennie croaked.  "Stay."

"We can't jus' stay here indefinitely, dear."  Punch said softly.  "Not with her standin' in the shadows."

"We don't even know what it is."  Lennie said.

"I just wanna approach it."  Punch replied.  

"I'm going with you."  Robert stepped forward.

"No, no."  Punch shook his head.  "Chum, I need ya to stay here with my sister.  Listen, I ain't gonna get too close.  I just wanna see if I can get a look at her...it."  He stepped forward.

"Be careful."  Lennie urged.

"Hullo there."  Punch forced a smile, stepping forward slowly.  "I see you there behind the sofa.  I'm the Duke of Fallbridge, but you can call me 'Mr. Punch.'  I see ya already met me sister.  She's called 'Lennie.'  What are you called?"

The only response was raspy breathing.

"Do you mind if I come closer?"  Punch asked politely.  "I don't mean ya any harm, I don't.  Even though I'm called Mr. Punch by me friends and family, it don't mean I'm gonna hit ya.  I don't do that...anymore."

As Punch drew closer to the...intruder, he could see the features a little better.  The face was most definitely that of his mother, but not exactly the same.  The features lacked the hardness and cruelty which served to make the late Duchess both beautiful and intimidating.  They had been replaced with a cruder look, a primitive countenance which didn't convey malice as much as it did wildness, fear and anger.

He tried not to gasp at the sight of his dead mother's visage.  

However, some look of bewilderment of confusion must have passed briefly across Punch's innocent face because the intruder growled softly.

Punch tried to smile again.  "So, how long 'ave you been here?  I wish I'd known you were here.  I like to make my guests feel welcome.  I'd have made sure that you was given a proper dinner.  See, I only just arrived me-self.  Thought I'd see how the ol' place was fairin' with me in London all the time."

Again, Punch took another step closer, and as he did, he noticed that though the face of the intruder was rather unblemished, the body was quite horribly disfigured.  Her hands were not so much hands as they were claws.  Where there should have been fingers, the bones and flesh had fused together into something like pincers.  Still, something like fingernails had grown long and crooked, curving out at angles from random points.

Her back was stooped and somewhat ridged beneath the plain, dark shift which she wore.  Her feet were unclad, and one foot was notably larger than the other, flat and wide--the termination of a bulbous leg not unlike the trunk of a tree.

"Oh my,"  Punch nodded.  "You can't be comfortable standin' there in the cold and dark.  Maybe you'd like to come and sit here by the fire.  Truly, we mean ya no harm. That gent over there is my companion.  He's called Robert.  He's as sweet a man as he is handsome.  A very fine man, nice and gentle.  He's a doctor, too, he is.  Maybe..."

At the mention of the word, "doctor," the intruder began to growl and gnash her teeth.  She swatted at the air with her claws and ran toward Punch.

Lennie screamed.

Punch guarded his face with his arms as the woman knocked him over.  Before they had time to blink, she had managed to open the door with both of her appendages and escaped into the passages.

"Dear Punch!"  Robert rushed over.  "Did she harm you?"

"No,"  Punch shook his head as Robert helped him up.

"What was it?"  Lennie called out, joining the two men.

"I ain't quite sure.  But, I gotta feelin' someone in this house does.  Chum, ring for Jackson.  Wait with Lennie here and lock the door."

"Where are you going?"  Lennie asked.

"To the nursery to tell Gamilla to lock the door and sit by Colin with Gerard and Dog Toby."  Punch said.

"Not alone,"  Robert shook his head.

"I'll be fast."  Punch said.  "Only I need to know Lennie's got ya here."

Robert sputtered, but relented.  "Very well, dear Punch.  Do hurry."

"I will, Chum.  Now, please, ring for Jackson."

At that very moment, Jackson was awakened by the frantic ringing from the Coral Suite.  He stumbled from his pantry to find Ivy and Gregory in the Servants' Hall.  He gasped at what he saw.

"What is this?  I told you never to bring that out here!"  Jackson snarled.

"We need it."  Ivy answered quickly.

"Why?  The jar of heads is only for emergencies!" Jackson snapped.

"If this ain't an emergency, Mr. Jackson, I don't know what is."  Gregory shook his head.


Did you miss Chapters 1-26 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come  back tomorrow for Chapter 27.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 27

Chapter 27:

Just Like Me

“You don’t look like your ma at all,” Mr. Punch smiled as he tickled Colin’s little belly.  Both of them had enjoyed their respective breakfasts and Mr. Punch had taken Colin into the library with him so that Miss Barrett could get some rest after her long, sleepless night and Gamilla could attend to her many assorted duties.

At least that’s the excuse he gave.  The truth was, Punch enjoyed spending time with his son and, aside from the moments that he passed with Robert, considered the tot’s companionship the happiest part of his life.  Mr. Punch could never understand why other titled men in similar positions to his didn’t spend time with their children.  Talking to Colin, playing with him, singing him songs, reading to him—these were all joys which Punch would never trade.

Punch, Colin and Dog Toby sat in their favorite spot in the library—under one of the marquetry side tables with ormolu mounts which flanked the two monumental windows at one end of the room.  Dog Toby lay on his side and watched lazily as Punch chattered to the baby.

“No, you don’t look like your ma.  You look like me.  Huh—how we gonna ‘xplain that when you get older?”  Punch studied the boy.  “Yep—you’re just like me.  Same eyes, same nose, same chin…”

Punch squinted for a moment and wondered when he began to think of Julian’s appearance as his own.  He supposed it must have been going on for awhile.  The night before he had promised to share such realizations with Robert—those little thoughts about identity.  Robert had explained that such information would be helpful to writing their book and, also, in aiding Miss Barrett’s brother.

“See…”  Punch smiled at the baby, gently touching the child’s nose with his finger.  “Your nose is like mine.  Your ma looked a bit different.  You got me hair, too—auburn.  That’s all Molliner.  Only thing I got from me pa’s side.  I look like me own ma.”

Punch sighed again, wondering as well when he began to believe that Julian’s mother was his own.  At first he’d denied it--saying that since he grew within Julian’s mind, he had no mother.  He promised to remember to share that thought, too, with Robert.

“You don’t remember your ma, do ya?”  Punch asked the child.  “Dog Toby does.” Punch chuckled.  “Coo!”  He shook his head.  “See, your ma was me sister.  And your pa…was someone else.”  Punch frowned—just for a second—“but, I want you to know that even though I’m really jus’ your uncle, I’ll always be your papa, too.”

He smiled.  “Guess I’m all sorts o’ things at once, ain’t I?”

Ticking the child’s stomach again, Punch continued.  “Don’t matter that I ain’t truly your father.  I feel like I am, and that’s what counts.  Our chum, Robert, too, he feels like your papa and he ain’t even related to you by blood at all.  See, none o’ that matters, it don’t.  When you start talkin’, and you ought to soon or so says Miss Barrett, you oughta call me  ‘Father’ or ‘Pa’, but probably best to just say, ‘Father.’  Robert’d like it if you’d call him that, too, he would, only he says folk wouldn’t care for it.  So, you can call him ‘Uncle Robert.”

The child’s eyes brightened and he reached for the ring on Punch’s index finger.  Punch turned the diamond so that the child could see it sparkle, but didn’t allow the baby to take it off his finger.

“See, Uncle Robert’s gone to visit Miss Barrett’s brother and the man what looks after ‘im.  We’re gonna try to help him, we are.  Uncle Robert will be back soon.  And, Miss Barrett’s takin’ a nap since she were out all night with her brother.  So, it’s jus’ you and me and Dog Toby.  I gotta draw some pictures for His Majesty later.  Pictures of gems with teeth.  Fool thing, that.  Maybe you can help me.  I’ll put some paper and colors on the floor and we’ll see what you can do.  Would you like that?”

The child gurgled.

“A fine boy, you are, me Colin.” Mr. Punch smiled.

Punch looked up as he heard the library door open and grinned at Charles as he entered.

“Your Grace?” Charles said softly.  He looked around the room, finally spotting Punch and company under one of the tables.  “I’m sorry to interrupt you and Master Colin.”

“We’re  jus’ havin’ a chat, Charles.  Dog Toby, too.”

“Yes, Sir.” Charles nodded. 

“Somethin’ you need to tell me?” Punch asked cheerfully.

“There’s a gentleman here to see Dr. Halifax, Your Grace.”

“Bloody…” Punch scowled.  He caught himself.  “Ooop.  Not in front of the baby.” He giggled.  “What I mean to say is…not again?”

“Yes, Sir.” Charles smiled softly.

“Is it a sick person?” Punch asked with an unusual hopefulness, “you know—one of Dr. Halifax’s patients?”

“I don’t think so, Sir.  He looks quite healthy.”

“Oh.” Mr. Punch shrugged.  “Well, did ya tell ‘im that the doctor ain’t here?”

“I did, Sir.  He asked if he could see you instead.”

Mr. Punch grunted.  “I seen enough folk yesterday to last me awhile, I did.”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

“What did he say his name was?”

“William Stover, Sir.”

“You don’t say?” Punch grumbled, rolling out from underneath the table.  Charles offered his master a hand to steady him as he rose.

“Do you know the gentleman, Sir?”  Charles asked.

“No, I don’t.” Punch muttered.  “But, the doctor does…”

“Shall I send him away, Sir?”

“No.” Mr. Punch smiled.  “I think I shall see him.  Have him wait for me in the morning room, please.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”  Charles nodded.  “Shall I take Master Colin back to the day nursery?”

“Hmmm…”  Mr. Punch shook his head.  “I’ll take him up me-self.  Please tell this Mr. Stover that I’ll be down shortly.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

After Punch had taken Colin to the nursery and rang for Gamilla to watch the boy, he paused in front of the tall glass in the passage.  He arranged his hair in a manner more befitting the Duke of Fallbridge and descended the stairs, stiffening his back as he did.  He wished he didn’t have those bruises on his neck, but it wasn’t to be helped.  Fixing his face into his “Julian expression,” Mr. Punch opened the morning room door and entered.

“Mr. Stover,” Punch said in his best Julian imitation.  “I am Julian, Duke of Fallbridge.”

“Good morning, Your Grace,” William Stover replied nervously.  “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

“Of course,” Punch replied, gesturing to one of the coral-collared armchairs which flanked the morning room fireplace.  “Do sit, please.”

As William sat, Punch studied the man.  Robert had been accurate in his description of William.  The man was balding with a ring of fine blond hair around the crown of his head.  He wasn’t fat, but was shaped, as Robert had said, like a barrel.  And, yet, he had long, elegant fingers.  He was dressed handsomely, but not finely and had the red cheeks of a man who’d been too long in the weather.  Mr. Punch smiled at the height of the man.  He was quite short, and Punch thought this tremendously fitting and convenient.  He imagined how easy it would be to smash something over this little fellow’s head, and, though he’d never dream of actually doing so, the idea pleased him fully.

“This is a lovely home, Your Grace.”  William said self-consciously.  “So grand.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stover.  We’re quite happy here.”

“Does your family live here?”  He added, “Your Grace,” awkwardly to the end of the question.

“Yes.” Mr. Punch nodded.  “You could say so.  My blood family is all deceased.  I am joined in this house by my companion, whom you know, and my son.”

“You have a son, Sir?”  William asked.

“I have.  I adopted him while we were abroad.”

“You were abroad with Dr. Halifax, Your Grace?”

“Yes.”

“Is that where you met?” 

“No.  Well, to be accurate we’d met previously, but not officially following the Great Exhibition.  We became actually acquainted while we were both traveling.”

Mr. Stover nodded.  “Your son is very fortunate, Sir, to live in such a fine home and to have someone in his life like the doctor, and you, of course, Your Grace.  He…Robert…errr….Dr. Halifax was always so kind to my sister’s children.  They adored him.”

“Dr. Halifax is quite good with our boy.”  Punch replied, smiling confidently.

“I’m glad.”  William replied softly.

They sat in silence for several seconds and, with each tick of the clock, Punch became more annoyed, but he cleverly didn’t show it.

Instead he forced a smile and began, “Mr. Stover, I believe you were informed that Dr. Halifax was not present.”

“I was, Your Grace.”

“However, you wished to see me?”

“I did.”

“May I ask why?”

William pinched his lips together.

“You may speak plainly to me, Mr. Stover.  I think you’ll find I’m not the typical peer.”

“Well, Sir, since I may speak freely, I will say that I was curious to see you.  I have heard that Dr. Halifax was your companion and when I read his address, I couldn’t help but to wish to see him again and to see that…that he was happy and well.”

“I assure you that Dr. Halifax is both well and happy.  From whom have you heard that Dr. Halifax was my companion?”

“It’s the talk of London, Sir.” William blushed.

“I imagine that it is.  However, rest assured, by the time Her Majesty brings this next child into the world, Society will find other matters about which to gossip.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Now, that you’ve seen me, is your curiosity satiated?”

“Yes, Sir.  You’re much handsomer than I imagined.”  William suddenly seemed horrified by what he had just said.  “Please don’t think me impertinent, Sir.”

“I don’t.” Mr. Punch replied stiffly.  “It’s only natural that you’d wish to see how your old friend lives and with whom.”

“Has Robert mentioned me?”

“No.”  Mr. Punch answered, being careful not to show how much it delighted him to say so.  “The first I’d heard of you was yesterday when we’d received your card.  Dr. Halifax knows so many people and has such a vast list of patients and casual acquaintances that it, surely, would be impossible for him to mention all of them to me, or, in fact, remember all of them.” 

Punch knew he was being terribly rude, but, he didn’t mind.  He concluded that it was his own home and that this man had barged in uninvited.  Furthermore, the price that Mr. Stover paid for not being bludgeoned with a blunt object was mild rudeness.  Still, our Punch couldn’t help but feel that he was being a bit too hard on the little man and added, with a genuine smile, “Dr. Halifax did mention that you had opened a porcelain concern.  I do hope that it’s going well for you.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”  William nodded.  “Fairly well, indeed.”

“How pleasing,” Mr. Punch replied.  “Have you a message for Dr. Halifax?”

“Only that I wish him all the best, Your  Grace.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Stover.” Mr. Punch rose.  “I shall see to it that Dr. Halifax will always have the best of everything.”

William rose, too, blushing again.  “I’m glad, Your Grace.  Thank you, again.  I do hope I haven’t intruded on your home too terribly.”

“You haven’t.” Punch shook his head as he rang for Charles who appeared surprisingly quickly.  Punch wondered if—after what had happened the day before—Charles hadn’t been standing at the ready outside the door.

“Charles,” Punch smiled.  “Will you show Mr. Stover to the door, please?”

Charles nodded.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” William bowed his head.

“Goodbye, Mr. Stover,” Punch said, a bit of the triumphant creeping into his voice.

Charles, as he ushered the man from the room, looked quickly over his shoulder at the Duke and flashed a brief, but sly, smile which told Punch that the valet had, in fact, been standing at the door.

Punch waited until William had left the house and then whooped loudly.  “Silly little egg-shaped bloke!”  With a joyful smile he bounded up the stairs to collect Dog Toby from the library and join Colin in the nursery.

Did you miss Chapters 1-26 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 28.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 27

Julian screamed. When he opened his eyes, he was blinded by the sharp sting of hot crimson. He put his hands to his face and shuddered as he wiped blood away.

Someone was gripping him by his shoulders. He blinked rapidly, but each flutter of his eyelids seemed to scrape against his eyes. Julian’s entire body shook in spasms. “Let go of me!” He shrieked.

“Julian, it is I, Robert.” The doctor whispered softly.

“What’s happened?” Julian wiped at his face again, his sweat and blood marrying in streaks across his cheek.

“There was a scuffle on the deck. I’m afraid you were caught up in it.” Robert responded in the same hushed tone. “You’re in your cabin now, and I’m tending to you.”

“My head.” Julian groaned, his voice shaking. “They’ve split my head.”

“No, no. It’s just a scrape. A scalp wound bleeds terribly, but it’s nothing serious. You’re perfectly fine.”

“How?” Julian shut his eyes and let Robert wipe his face with a damp cloth.

“We were watching the Guignol show.” Robert explained. “There was a bit of trouble. Just horseplay, and you were accidentally struck in the head.”

“I don’t remember that.” Julian trembled.

“I know you don’t.” Robert whispered. “But, it doesn’t matter. You’re safe now.”

Julian’s vision began to clear and he looked down to see blood spattered on his shirt and waistcoat. His coat had already been removed.

“We’ll need to get you into some fresh clothes.” Robert said.

“Robert,” Julian responded pleadingly, “please, please explain to me what has happened.”

“I have,” Robert smiled.

“No. No, you haven’t. You’re keeping something from me. I didn’t go on deck. I didn’t leave this cabin. I don’t remember the Guignol show. I don’t know how or why I’m bleeding. Please!”

“I found you on deck watching the puppets. You became upset and, unthinkingly, grabbed for the Guignol figure. When you did, the puppeteer jumped up and toppled the puppet theater. That’s how your head was struck.” Robert said simply. He did not mention that Punch and an angry Frenchman in the crowd had come to blows. He did not mention the fierce profanities that Punch had shouted. Nor did he mention the taunts and jeers of the group who had gathered to watch.

“That is not something that I would do.” Julian gently touched his aching head.

“No, I should think not.” Robert put his hand on Julian’s shoulder. “However, it’s not unusual for someone to react in strange ways when he’s just had upsetting news.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell Julian about Punch. He knew that Julian wasn’t yet ready.

“My father…” Julian sighed, tears welling in his already pink-rimmed, puffy eyes.

“Yes.” Robert nodded. “Arthur told me of the contents of the letter from the Duchess.”

“I can’t believe it.” Julian sobbed. “His throat was cut. Thieves jumped him—just as they did me in Covent Garden…” Julian choked. “But, Father was…” He coughed, gagging. “I wasn’t…”

“Julian, please,” Robert helped the shaken man lean back on the cushions of the narrow bed. “Don’t speak anymore. Not now.”

“Robert, do you ever get the sense that you’re speaking even when you aren’t?” Julian asked.

“I don’t understand.”

“When we speak, we think and the words issue forth from our mouths. Yes?” Julian said slowly.

“Yes.”

“Sometimes, I think, and I feel as though words are coming forth, but I’m not saying them. Yet, the chatter keeps going. Always this humming in my head. Songs and poems, anger and words and thoughts that aren’t mine. Visions and memories that I can’t place. Things that I can’t see yet I know are there.” Julian winced. “’In Scarlet Town, where I was born, there was a fair maid dwellin’. Made many a youth cry well-a-day…her name...”

“Barbara Allen.” Robert finished the thought.

“You know, don’t you?” Julian asked. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Robert put his feet up on the bed and sat cross-legged in front of Julian. He took Julian’s hands in his.

“I promised someone that I wouldn’t have this conversation with you, but I…well, Julian, I can’t continue to keep it from you. I feel too much…”

“Who did you promise?” Julian asked.

“Punch.” Robert said.

“Punch?” Julian raised an eyebrow, the motion of which made his wound inflame and begin to seep blood again. “A puppet?”

“What you were telling me about the voices and thoughts that aren’t yours, Julian—they’re not yours. They’re someone else’s. They’re Punch’s. He lives within you. I don’t know how or why. I don’t really understand it myself, but I know that there are two distinct entities which share your body. One of you is a gentle, fragile soul, the other is…stronger. He’s…”

A convulsion rippled through Julian’s body as blood dripped down his face and into his eyes again.

“You mean to tell me that I’m possessed? By what? A demon? What?” Julian gripped Robert’s hands.

“No. It’s not that. That’s not possible.” Robert said quickly.

“What, then?” Julian became frantic.

Robert squeezed Julian’s hands in return. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out—together. You’ve suffered a great loss today, and you’re coping with this journey…” Robert paused as he noticed Julian’s hands becoming stronger.

“Save your breath, Doctor.” Punch laughed as the blood from Julian’s wound dripped onto the bed. “Julian’s gone. And, you, Sir, broke your promise. Now, what do you think I should do about that?”



Did you miss Chapters 1-26, if so, you can read them here.