Showing posts with label Chapter 292. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chapter 292. Show all posts

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 292




Chapter 292 
Safety 



“Your Grace,” Speaight rose as Punch descended the service stairs. “Everyone to your feet” he waved his hands at Mrs. Pepper, Georgie and Maudie who had gathered around Ethel and Ruthy.

“No, no.” Punch shook his head. “Stay where you are, please.” He was careful to speak in the measured tones of the Duke of Fallbridge.

Walking across the servants’ hall, Mr. Punch joined the staff at the table, sitting down with them. He tried his best to smile for the sake of Ethel and the visiting girl.

“When I was a small boy,” Punch began, “I saw many a thing that was frightening. These same things frightened me as a man. I was fortunate because I had something within me which comforted me.” He looked at Ethel and nodded. “You know what I mean by that.”

Ethel nodded slowly.

“When I met Dr. Halifax,” Punch continued, “I realized that I didn’t just have to rely upon myself…or…my own…” he struggled for the words, “inner thoughts to feel safe. I soon saw that I could rely on other people. They, too, may be frightened, but there’s even comfort in being frightened with someone else—someone who cares about you. Ethel, you have many here who care about you. Frightening things may throw themselves at us. They may even sometimes, like today, find their way into our home here. When they do, we, together, will face them and do what we can to make them retreat. And, even on those days when we can’t make them go away altogether, we can always know that, together, we are safe. Together, we always have people who understand us, people who love us and want us to be well. Ethel, for as long as you’re here, you will have that.”

Ethel smiled.

“If you’d like, you may go to your room and get some rest.” Punch smiled.

“No, Sir. I got lots of dishes what want washin’ in the scullery. Don’t I, Mrs. Pepper?”

“I should say you do.” Mrs. Pepper grinned.

“Ethel,” Maudie began. “I can help you with them pots, if you’ll help me chop all them onions for the upstairs tarts. Would that be all right, Mrs. Pepper?”

“Sure, it would.” Mrs. Pepper nodded. “But, be smart ‘bout it. Upstairs dinner is comin’ quick.”

The two girls rose and hurried toward the kitchens. Ethel paused and turned to face the Duke.

“Your Grace?” she said softly.

“Yes, Ethel.”

“Thank you.” Ethel nodded before rushing off after Maudie.

Mr. Punch took a deep breath.

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Pepper smiled. “I got the kettle on. I was just about to get some tea for Ruthy. Maybe you’d fancy some?”

“No, thank you.” Punch shook his head.

“I’ll leave ya to talk with the girl, then.” Mrs. Pepper nodded. “Come with me, Georgie.”

“Mum? What am I gonna do in the kitchens?”

“You can bring in them sacks of flour like I asked ya an hour ago.” Mrs. Pepper said sharply.

“Oh, right.” Georgie nodded. He stood up. “Nice meetin’ ya, Ruthy.”

Ruthy looked up.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” George bowed his head.

“You’re a good lad, George.” Mr. Punch responded. “Now…” He turned to Speaight. “I’d like to speak with Ruthy for a moment.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Speaight nodded, retreating to his pantry.

“Ruthy,” Punch started, “how are you?”

“I never seen anything like it.” Ruthy shook her head.

“I know.” Punch answered sympathetically. “But, we mustn’t be afraid. The poor creatures can’t help what they are. It’s an accident of nature, as Dr. Halifax says. We should pity them, not fear them.”

“I didn’t mean that, Your Grace.” Ruthy answered.

“No?”

“No. I was shocked by that poor, sad thing.” Ruthy confessed. “I shouldn’t have screamed like that.”

“It’s understandable that you did.” Mr. Punch smiled. “But, if you didn’t mean, Marduk, as they’re called, what did you mean?”

“This, Your Grace.” Ruthy shrugged. “A master of the house, a Duke no less, coming down and sitting with the staff to make them feel better. Speaking to a scullery maid in such a gentle way so she’d not be afraid.”

“As master of the house, as you say, it’s my responsibility to see that all who live here are safe and comfortable.”

“Most men don’t care, Sir. Especially men like you—men with titles and wealth.”

“I’m not most men.” Mr. Punch chuckled slightly.

“Your Grace,” Ruthy began, “if you’ll have me still, I’d like to start my trial.”

“I’d like that.” Mr. Punch said. “Speaight will take you upstairs to the attics and show you where you’ll be sleeping and give you your uniforms. Then, if you would, tell him that I’d like to see you in the library, I’ll take you to meet Colin. Gamilla and Miss Molliner should have returned by then.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Thank you, Ruthy. I hope you’ll be happy here.”

“I know I will be.” Ruthy nodded.

After arranging for Speaight to take Ruthy to her new quarters, and after checking in on the kitchens to see that everything was as it should be, Punch quietly slipped from the servants’ hall and went upstairs two flights to the library where he found Dog Toby waiting for him.

“Hullo, furry one.” Punch said softly.

The terrier wagged his tail.

“Been a terrible day, it has.” Punch shook his head. “Just terrible.” He knelt to pet the dog, and, then, spotted the ornate table in the center of the opulent room.

“Here,” Punch sighed. “Maybe…maybe we oughta…”

The dog seemed to understand Punch and trotted to the table, lying down under it. Punch crawled across the plush carpet and joined the dog underneath the table.

“Coo.” Punch puffed, lying on his back and shutting his eyes. Dog Toby rolled over so that his head was resting on Punch’s leg.

“Let’s just stay here for awhile, furry love.” Punch whispered. “Our chum will find us.” He sighed again. “Just for a little while, then. Just long ‘nough to catch me breath.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-291 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 293.




Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Punch’s Cousin, Chapter 292

Barbara Allen began to despair the closer she got to Marie Laveau’s strange house. By that point, Louis Glapion had grown weary of carrying her and allowed her to walk at his side. He did, however, keep his arm firmly around her waist so that she would not flee.

She did not try to flee, in fact, knowing that Charles was following them, but as they approached Marie’s door, she secretly bemoaned the fact that Charles had not yet intervened.

Charles, too, worried about his lack of action, silently cursing himself for what he perceived as a lack of bravery. Was it cowardice or good sense that had prevented him from jumping upon Louis and freeing Barbara? He followed close behind with leaden feet as if his deficiency of action was controlled by another, stronger force just out of his sight.

“This is where my brother’s widow lives.” Louis grunted as he knocked on the door.

Marie didn’t take long to open her door. Upon seeing Louis with Barbara she laughed heartily.

“This is how you great your kin?” Louis smirked.

“No, no, Louis. How glad I am to see you, you Devil! I didn’t expect ya so soon. Come in, and bring Miss Allen with you.”

“You know this girl?” Louis asked.

“Of course!” Marie chuckled. “She lives here. Or, at least, she did.” She grabbed Barbara’s hand and pulled her into the house.

“Look around your home, Barbara, and see who has paid us a call!”

Barbara flinched as she saw Iolanthe and Ulrika.

“Now, ain’t it a fine thing?” Marie said with glee. “All three of your former mistresses in one place. We shall have to decide who gets you.”

Louis looked confused.

“Don’t you worry nothin’ ‘bout it, Louis, my brother.” Marie winked. “You’ll get to play with your prize, too.”

Meanwhile, Charles crept around the back of the long, mean house and found an open window backing into a dark and vicious alley. Carefully and silently, he moved some crates so that he could climb into the window. He did this as quietly and unobtrusively as he could, and was, in fact, quite pleased with his stealth—that is until he realized into what he climbed.

There, lying in a cruel, narrow bed lay Charles’ brother Giovanni next to the scarred figure of Nellie.

“Look at that, Nell,” Giovanni croaked—still weak from his wounds. “My brother has returned to me.”

Meanwhile, within their shared body, Mr. Punch rushed forward and put his imaginary arms around the image of Julian who stiffened as Punch embraced him.

“Here, I know you don’t like to be touched, Master chum,” Punch chirped. “But, these ain’t our real bodies. These are just thoughts, they are. And, if thoughts can’t show love, what can?”

“True,” Julian nodded, returning Punch’s embrace.

“Where’d you go, Master?” Punch asked.

“I retreated further.” Julian said. “I…I…was upset and frightened, filled with self-loathing. Had it not been for me, Colin would be in a safe, warm home.”

“Wanted to punish yourself, did ya?” Punch wondered.

“I did.” Julian nodded. “Hence the arrival of Jack Ketch. I’m afraid you received the brunt of his fierceness.”

“Ain’t nothin’.” Punch shrugged.

“My, dear, brave Punch.”

“Maybe not brave, Master. Maybe just too stupid to know better.” Punch smiled.

“You mustn’t say such things.” Julian shook his head.

“I feared I’d not see you again.” Punch whispered.

“Never fear that,” Julian replied.

“We’d best get the body goin’ ‘gain, then.” Punch nodded.

“Not yet.” Julian sighed. “We’ve much to decide, but first we have much to examine.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-291? If so, you can read them here.