Showing posts with label Chapter 305. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chapter 305. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 305




Chapter 305 

Head of the Family 



Come,” Robert replied to the knock on the door to the Duke’s bedchamber. Gamilla entered, looking concerned.

“Pardon me, Sir. Ruthy’s sittin’ with Master Colin, so I thought I’d come and see how His Grace was farin’.”

“No change,” Robert shook his head and squeezed Punch’s hand. Robert, still dressed in deep blue suit of clothes he’d worn all day, had taken his usual spot in the bed next to Mr. Punch while Lennie had pulled a chair close to the side of the bed.

“I see you got him in his night clothes, so he’d be comfortable.” Gamilla said softly.

Robert nodded. “Charles helped me.” He glanced over at Punch, and reached over to brush the long wisps of his auburn fringe from his companion’s eyes. “I can’t be sure how long His Grace will remain asleep, however, his body’s responses are as they should be and he shows no signs of being in danger.”

“Thank the stars.” Gamilla inhaled. “I’ll leave you in peace, then.”

“No, no.” Lennie shook her head. “Stay a moment. I was just telling Robert about our afternoon adventures.”

“Oh.” Gamilla nodded.

“Could it be true? Did our lovely little sister really strike the baron in the face?” Robert asked Gamilla, teasing in a fraternal way.

“She did, Sir.” Gamilla smiled slightly. “And got him brought to Orpha Polk.”

“They deserve one another.” Robert said firmly. “Either as brother and sister or…whatever else. The whole family is raving mad.”

“That includes Miss Fern. As the child of the baron, she’s also niece to Orpha Polk.” Gamilla sighed.

“Let’s hope that Fern outgrows this phase of her life. After all,” Lennie began, “heredity only counts for so much. Doesn’t it?”

“That’s the question.” Robert replied. “Is such madness learned or is it passed through the blood?”

“I can’t speak for Orpha and Victor, of course, because I don’t know their parents.” Lennie answered, “however, I can speak for myself. My mother was the Duchess of Fallbridge—by all accounts, a sadistic and cruel woman, and my father, Johnny Donnan, is a monster who openly tortured his own son, Finlay.” Lennie paused for a moment, thinking of Finlay. “I only spoke to Finlay a few times before he died, but, you all tell me that he was just as peculiar and fiendish as Johnny Donnan. He was raised by the man. I was not. Finlay was cruel, and I am not. Both Punch and I have the same mother. Punch is not a sadist as the Duchess was. Nor am I.”

“By your logic,” Robert spoke up, “that such behavior is learned and not inherited, Punch should be just as cruel and debauched as his mother was. Furthermore, his nanny—kin to Ulrika Rittenhouse, I should remind everyone—was as demented as the Duchess, if not more so. Reared by such people, Punch, if we follow your assertion, should be as barbarous as they.”

“Yes, but Punch had the influence of Sir Colin, his father.” Lennie smiled.

“As did Lady Barbara.” Robert countered. “And, yet, Punch’s other sister developed into as lost a soul as the Duchess.”

“However, by the time Barbara was growing up, hadn’t Sir Colin begun to spend most of his time abroad on his archaeological digs?”

“May I say something?” Gamilla asked.

“Certainly, Gamilla.” Robert nodded.

“Maybe each person…well, maybe he becomes whatever he is because that’s what he is. Maybe it’s that each person becomes what he’s gotta be. You both speak of his Grace, and you talk of him as bein’ Mr. Punch. I know that’s what he is and, if I may say so, I love him for it. But, well…Mr. Punch done grew inside of His Grace…because he had to. His Grace weren’t always Mr. Punch. He had to be so because it was his way of bein’ safe. Ain’t no one else in his family that’s like him, and he didn’t learn how to make them other folk inside himself. He done it on his own, to protect himself, because that’s what he was. It’s what he is.”

“A very interesting point, Gamilla.” Lennie nodded.

“Thank you, Miss. It’s the same for you. You, Miss Lennie done grew up into the lady you are because that’s who you are. And…well, I hope I ain’t outta line by sayin’ this, but, Dr. Halifax, you done tol’ me how your mama was ill and how your papa had troubles with money. You, Sir, are a healthy, responsible man as is your brother. I think folk like Orpha Polk and Miss Rittenhouse and the like are just bad folk. They was born bad and’ll stay bad because that’s just what they is. I seen bad folk born to good people and I seen good folk born to bad people. Now, that may not be somethin’ that’s learned nor…well…maybe it ain’t even something that’s passed in the blood like the color of a body’s hair and eyes or skin. Maybe, when each person is made, that part of him is just what it is. That part don’t change. It stays—always. What changes is the way that part grows as things happen to a body.”

“That’s a very thoughtful and considerate answer, Gamilla. And, I don’t disagree with you.” Robert smiled

“In the end, it don’t really matter what a person is, just that he is and what he does. If I’d not been taken from Africa by them men, I’d have had a different life. I’d not have suffered the same things nor had the same joys. But, I’d still think and feel the same things I do. Look at what Miss Lennie done today. She was brave and strong. That’s because that’s what she is—inside her. If Miss Lennie’d been only able to act the way she was taught, she’d have been weak and…well, I don’t know the word. And, if she’d been only able to act the way her mama and papa acted, she’d have been cruel, not brave.”

“And had she not been so brave, she’d not have attracted the attentions of the Earl of Cleaversworth.” Robert teased.

“Oh, Robert.” Lennie blushed. She turned away from him. “Gamilla, I think you’re a very wise woman, and I thank you for sharing your philosophy with us. We should ask you more such questions.”

“I concur.” Robert nodded. “We’ve much to learn from you.”

“Oh, I don’t know ‘bout all that.” Gamilla shook her head. “I ain’t educated like you, Dr. Halifax. I only know what I feel, not what’s true.”

“I think, more often than not, what you feel is the truth, Gamilla.” Robert replied. “And, since you speak the truth, let me ask you a question about this Earl who has sent a floral tribute to our Lennie.”

“Did, he Miss?” Gamilla’s eyes brightened.

“Yes.” Lennie looked away self-consciously.

“May I see?” Gamilla asked.

“They’re in the morning room.” Lennie said softly.

“So…is he handsome?” Robert asked.

“He’s…” Gamilla began. “Yes, I’d say he is. To be true, he ain’t got the beautiful face and figure of you and His Grace, nor is he tough and sturdy like my Gerard, but, he’s got a gentle and dignified look ‘bout him. He looks kind and his is the open face of an honest man.”

“Now, now, we needn’t discuss this any further,” Lennie interrupted.

“Why not? I should like to know more about the man. After all, we may be related…in our way…one day.”

“Pardon?” Lennie blushed.

“Perhaps you should invite him to the reception which will follow the upcoming marriage of Gamilla and Gerard. It might inspire him to ask for your hand.”

“Aren’t you all rather getting ahead of yourselves? I’ve only just met Matthew today and spent all of twenty minutes with him.”

“It’s Matthew, then, is it?” Robert smiled.

“That is his Christian name.” Lennie sniffed. “That I know the man’s name is hardly cause to start planning the next wedding.”

“Oh, very well. We shan’t tease you any longer.” Robert winked.

“I’d best get back to the nursery. Thank you for lettin’ me check on His Grace and for listenin’ to me talk like a fool.”

“Not at all like a fool.” Robert shook his head. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask. How is Ruthy working out for you?”

“So far, she done real well on her first day. Colin seems to like her fine, too.”

“I’m glad.” Robert nodded. “Maybe Fern will take to her as well. After all, she’ll be with Fern more often than not.”

“We can only hope.” Gamilla answered. As she was about to turn to leave, she paused and studied the face of the Duke.

Robert noticed Gamilla’s glance and also looked at Punch.

“His eyes is flutterin’!” Gamilla exclaimed.

Robert stroked Punch’s forehead. “Dear Punch…my dear…are you waking?”

Punch snorted. “Coo.”

“Praise be!” Gamilla whooped.

“Robert?” Punch rasped.

“I’m here, dear Punch. Lennie and Gamilla are, too.”

“Are you well?” Punch mumbled.

“Now that you’re awake, I’m very well.” Robert grinned.

“Colin?”

“In his room.” Robert nodded.

“Dog Toby?”

“With Master Colin in the nursery, Sir.” Gamilla answered.

Punch opened his eyes fully and looked up at Robert. “Hullo, Chum.”

“Good evening, dear Punch.” Robert sighed happily.

“I got a question, I do.” Punch mumbled.

“I’ll tell you all that’s happened to you, and why you’re in your bed when last you were in the library, as soon as you’re a bit more alert, my dear.”

“No, no…not that.” Punch replied.

“What is it, dear Punch?”

“It’s just that before Lennie gets married, this bloke’s gotta ask me permission. I’m the head of the family, I am.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-304 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 306.





Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Punch’s Cousin, Chapter 305

Mr. Punch pulled his arm away from Arthur who frantically grabbed for it with bloody fingers.

“Don’t touch him,” Robert growled to Arthur.

“Please, Sirs, you’ve got to hear me.” Arthur pleaded.

“You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t already know—in part.” Punch answered. “I knew me master’s mum hated him. He knows that. Everybody knows that. But, I’d be a donkey if I thought for a moment that she ordered her own son to be murdered.”

“Why?” Arthur hissed as his throat gurgled. “She ordered her own husband’s death. She sold her daughter’s virtue? Why not your life, too?”

“That ain’t what you told me ‘bout how it happened, Mate.” Gerard whispered to his dying friend.

“Shur yer gob, Gerry!” Arthur groaned. “I didn’t tell ya the whole story. Do you think I told you everything?”

“You said you did,” Gerard frowned. “Say, you are the lyin’ scoundrel everyone says you are.”

“This is a surprise to you?” Arthur coughed. “Think of all we done together. You think I was an honest man?”

“I thought you were at least honest with me,” Gerry shook his head.

“What for?” Arthur choked. “You were just another tool for me to use.”

“You’d best quiet yourself now,” Marjani said, studying Arthur. “You’ll tell your story to the Devil soon enough by the looks of ya.”

“Pay him no mind, Mr. Punch.” Robert whispered. “He’s trying desperately to save his soul.”

“But, there’s some truth in what he said.” Punch responded softly. “Ain’t the first time we heard that the Duchess asked for our pa to be killed.”

“He’s just speaking enough truth to make his other lies believable.” Robert replied quickly. “Besides, what good is any of it now? It has nothing to do with where we must go with our lives or how we’ll live in the future. It’s finished now. It’s the past.”

“Still matters.” Punch shook his head. “One thing I know is that the past matters. It makes us do the things what we do and think what we think. It’s what made me master what he is and what made me alive, it is. Can’t say the past don’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter as much as what’s to come.” Robert answered affectionately. “Listen to me, dear Punch, it isn’t fitting for you to see this. Certainly not for Julian to see it. Go in the house and look for Meridian to give you a cup of tea. Let Arthur die here alone as it should be.”

“He won’t leave!” Arthur bellowed, drooling on himself as the words poured forth. “He won’t leave ‘til I’m dead and gone ‘cause he believes me, he does. He knows I’m tellin’ the truth. He knows that his ma were the one what made all of this happen! It weren’t me! She used me! And, His Grace knows that he’s got to make it right! It can all end with him—this suffering. All these generations of misery can all end with him!”

From outside the stable, Iolanthe Evangeline grinned as she watched through the dirty, narrow window. She mouthed the words along with Arthur—the very words she had coached him to say. “That’s it Arthur,” Iolanthe chuckled. “Hang on long enough to get it all out.”

At that very moment, Charles froze with fear as Louis Glapion looked around the cathedral to find the source of the sound which had startled him—the sound of a baby crying.

“What you got in your arms, Girl?” Louis asked.

“My child.” Barbara smiled.

“Then, what baby is cryin’ over there by your lover?”

“That?” Barbara grinned—a strange and unsettling grin which sent a shiver through Charles’ spine. “That is the child that belongs to my brother and his companion.”

“You ain’t right, Girl.” Louis narrowed his eyes.

“Am I not?” Barbara laughed wickedly. “Am I not? If I am not, then, haven’t I earned the right to be peculiar? My brother—he’s peculiar, yet, everyone seems to find it charming. Perhaps it’s a family characteristic to be strange, to be insane. Perhaps we inherited it from our mother. Perhaps.”

“What’s she sayin?” Louis asked, stepping back.

Charles stood frozen, unsure if he should pick up the crying baby and frightened that Louis would react angrily upon discovering that Barbara had lied to him. Furthermore, Barbara’s strange behavior puzzled and disturbed him. He had seen hints of this side of her before—a sort of wild and confused side—but only glimmers, only seconds.

“You wish to see my baby?” Barbara asked, her voice growing shrill. She unraveled the blankets that she held in her arms to reveal a knife which glinted in the dim candlelight of the cathedral. “This is my child. I call him “Hate.” He has a sharp tongue and if you’re not careful he will insult you.”

“Listen, Girl, just hand me the baby—the real baby. I told Mare I’d bring him back and I’m not gonna have none of your tricks.”

“My baby is not prone to tricks. You know where you stand with him.” Barbara said, gripping the knife firmly. “As for being real, can you think of anything more real than hate?”

“Lordy,” Louis gulped. “You’re a real loony.”

“But, don’t you find me charming?” Barbara laughed. “His Grace, the Duke of Fallbridge is charming—with all of his little references to being a puppet and his darling confusion about everyday things. Isn’t he sweet when he speaks in his rough, uneducated voice? Isn’t he wise when he says simple things which make us think? We pity him because even as a lunatic, he’s still charming. Even when he claims to be a puppet, he’s still adorable. He’s always been adorable. So rational. So steady—even when he was petrified, which was always. He’s afraid of everything. Yet, so adorable. It’s so easy to forgive his oddities. It’s so easy to pity him. Do you pity me? Did you know I was a Lady? Lady Barbara. I was to marry a Baron! I could have been Lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. Did you know that? Perhaps if not to her, then one day to the future Princess of Wales or the Duchess of York. Can you imagine? But, I gave it all away. And, I had a child. Two children, really. One, I lost—several times. One, I’ll keep, and he is the one I shall carry with me always. This child—hate!” She flashed the knife.

“Ain’t nothin’ worth this.” Louis stammered, stepping backward from Barbara.

“Don’t go.” Barbara cooed. “I want you to stay. I want to talk with you. I want you to pity me.”

“I do.” Louis nodded. “I do pity you. But, I pity that man and that baby more.”

“Such a shame.” Barbara sighed. “You can’t go now.”

“Why not?” Louis asked.

“Because, my child wants to know you better.” With that, Barbara raised the knife high in the air and plunged it with all of her strength into Louis’ chest. The man fell to the floor of the cathedral in a tangled brown heap.

Barbara turned and looked at Charles, smiling. “Now, my dear, we can be alone—as we were.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-304? If so, you can read them here.