A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 36

Chapter 36:
Relations


"Well, then,"  Punch said cautiously as he, Robert and Lennie approached Violet and Morgana.  "There you two are."

Gregory and Gerard followed behind, carrying the "Jar of Heads."  Ivy trailed behind them.

"Morgana!"  Ivy shrieked.

"Quiet!"  Lennie snapped.

"I knew if we kept looking,"  Punch continued, "we'd find you two.  And, glad we are to find you both.  Been having a chat, have you?"  

Punch was finding it difficult to keep up his aristocratic manner for the sake of Gregory and Miss Blessum, given the trying cirumstances, and alternated a bit between his preferred manner of speech and his impersonation of Julian.  Fortunately, neither Gregory not Ivy seemed to notice.

"Yes, Your Grace, we have."  Violet replied as calmly as she could.  "It seems we 'ave a new friend right 'ere in the 'all.  She's called Morgana."

"I know."  Mr. Punch nodded.  "I've been told that Morgana is my mother's sister.  That makes us relations.  Is this so, Morgana?"

Morgana nodded.  "This is what...they tell me."

"How wonderful."  Punch forced a smile.  "I keep finding relations.  It's not been too long ago that I found my sister.  And, now an auntie."  He paused.  "Shall I reintroduce myself?"

Morgana nodded.

"I am the Duke of Fallbridge.  My friends and relations call me by the affectionate name of 'Mr. Punch' or just 'Punch.'"

"Like...the...puppet...?"  Morgana rasped.

"Yes."  Punch nodded.  "Only I don't slap people.  Anymore."  He put his hand on Robert's shoulder.  "This is the Baron Colinshire.  I call him Robert.  I'm sure he'd like for you to do the same."

"I would."  Robert smiled.

"And, this lady," Punch continued, "is my sister, Lady Fallbridge.  We call her 'Lennie,' an affectionate name for 'Ellen.'  You may call her the same, if you like."

"You see, Morgana,"  Violet whispered, "I told ya they was nice, and gentle, and kind.  They'd not hurt ya.  They'd not hurt nobody.  You needn't be frightened."

"I...I've killed people."  Morgana croaked.

"Oh, I know."  Punch nodded.

"Don't speak of it!"  Ivy moaned.

"Shut your gob, Miss Blessum."  Gregory hissed.

"Have...you...ever...killed someone?"  Morgana continued.

"Well..."  Punch thought for a moment.  "Not...not exactly.  I've come nigh on it."

"And you?"  Morgana pointed to Robert.

"Not intentionally."  He answered.

"Lennie?"  Morgana asked.

"No.  However, I've considered it."  Lennie answered honestly.

"Our adopted daughter has killed two people."  Punch nodded.  "At least.  She's called Fern.  She's a wonderfully strange little thing.  You'd like her, I think.  And, I've no doubt she'd adore you."  

"You've...a daughter?"  Morgana asked.

"Away at school, she is."  Punch nodded.  "We also have a baby. Robert and I.  He's much younger, though we had 'im first.  He's called Colin, after my father."

"How...how do..."  Morgana raised her pincers.

"We adopted him as well."  Robert explained.

"Say, those are pretty.  They're not hands.  What do you call them?"  He pointed to her claws.

"Pretty?"  Morgana scowled.

"Yes."  Punch smiled.  "Very unusual.  Look quite strong.  Nice and red.  I like red things.  I think it's quite grand to be different.  Maybe I don't look so different, but I'm very different--in here."  He thumped his head.  "And here," he thumped his chest.  "Robert is, too."  He smiled.  "We all are, in one way or another.  You just carry yours on the outside.  It's quite interesting.  I should like to know more about you."

"You would?"  Morgana asked.

"Certainly."  Punch nodded.  "Provided, of course, that we have an understanding."

Morgana narrowed her eyes.

"We won't hurt you."  Punch said.  "And you won't hurt us."  He smiled.  "No more chains, no more locked doors or darkness.  No more sadness.  Right?  No more hurt.  If we can promise that, no one has to be afraid.  See, you don't have to carry off people.  We can all know each other.  And, there won't be people in the house to hurt you.  I'll see to that.  I'll make each and every one that ever made you suffer leave at once.  I swear it.  Only good people will stay.  You won't have to be afraid.  So, if you won't, we won't.  Seems to make sense, yes?"

"But, I'm to hate you."  Morgana shook her head.

"Who says?"  Lennie shook her head.

"Mr. Jackson."

"Does anything Mr. Jackson says make sense?"  Robert asked.

"No."

"Besides, he's been sacked."  Punch added.  "Furthermore, do you hate me?"

"No."  Morgana replied.

"Well, then, what do you say?"  Punch continued.  "This passage is getting a tad cold."


Did you miss Chapters 1-35 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 37.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 36

 Chapter 36:

A Bit o’ Joy

Mr. Punch looked around the piazza at Covent Garden and quickened his step to keep pace with Robert.

“You’re safe, dear Punch,” Robert whispered as Punch caught up with him.  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” Mr. Punch smiled.  “It’s just sometimes when we come here, I remember that day…”

“That won’t happen again.”

“But, I didn’t ‘xpect it to happen that time—them blokes jumpin’ me…well, jumpin’ Julian—only I was there inside.”

Robert patted Punch’s shoulder. “Dear Punch, I think of that day often and truly loathe that it happened, however, instead of allowing myself to become angry about the injustice of it all, I have chosen to think of it as a turning point.  While I despise the fact that you were harmed, that tragedy brought you to me.”

“That’s true,” Punch replied thoughtfully.  “And, here we are.  Not just us neither…” He pointed over his shoulder at their entourage.

While Hutchinson waited in the carriage, Charles, Gamilla and Miss Barrett—pushing Colin in his pram—followed behind their masters.

“Charles,” Gamilla whispered, glancing at her friend’s broken wrist.  “Had you oughta be here?”

“I don’t mind,” Charles smiled.  “It doesn’t hurt too much and besides I was eager for the outing.  I rather like coming here and it’s always a treat to see His Grace watch the puppet show.”

“I’m glad you’re feelin’ better,” Gamilla smiled.  “I just thought Gerry was meant to go with us today.”

Charles chuckled and winked at Gamilla.  “What’s this? You’d rather Gerry’s company?”

“You know it ain’t that.” Gamilla shook her head, looking at the ground as they walked.

“You know I’m only teasing you.” Charles grinned.  “Gerard wasn’t feeling too well today.  So, I suggested he stay home while the masters were out.”

“I noticed he was late comin’ down,” Gamilla responded.  “Almost didn’t make it up to the doctor’s room in time to get him dressed.  Looked like he didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Quite the opposite.” Charles shook his head.  “He slept like the dead.  But, he woke up all shakin’ and sweatin’.”

“Hope he’s all right.” Gamilla sighed.

“Aw, Gamilla, he’ll be just fine.  Gerry’s a strong lad.  Not to worry.”

“Thank you, Charles.  Or should I call you ‘Charlie’ like Mrs. Pepper does?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Charles laughed.

“There he is!” Mr. Punch shouted, turning to look at the three behind him.  “I hear him!  I hear Mr. Punch!”

Indeed, the familiar squawking of the puppet show alerted the crowd of his presence before they could even see him.

“There’s the fit-up!” Punch called out.

“Dear Punch,” Robert smiled. 

“Oh.  Right,” Mr. Punch snorted.  “Out in public—gotta act the Duke.”

“Maybe just a little.” Robert nodded.

“Sure, but it’s Mr. Punch.  And…look!” He caught himself and lowered his voice.  “And there’s Joey the Clown!”  He clapped his hands lightly.  “Did ya bring the sovereign for the bottler?”

“I did.” Robert nodded.  “I imagine that with that one coin you’ll be making those two men very, very happy indeed—and quite surprised.”

“Ah, well, they deserve it—carryin’ that fit-up all ‘bout, workin’ in the square like this just so folk can have a bit o’ joy in their day.”

“You’re wonderful.” Robert smiled affectionately.

“Eh…” Punch shrugged.

They approached the puppet booth and Punch stood mesmerized by the performance.  He rubbed his hands together as if he longed to touch the puppets.  As Charles and Gamilla laughed at the antics of Punch and Joey, Ellen studied her employer. 

She couldn’t help but smile at the innocent joy with which he watched the puppet show.

She bent over the pram and whispered to Colin.  “Look at your papa.  He’s so happy.  Do you see the show?”

Punch—who possessed rather extraordinary hearing—overheard Ellen’s gentle words to the boy and turned his attention away from the show.

“Can he see?”

“I think so, Your Grace.”  Ellen nodded.

“I’d like to hold him.” Punch said quickly.  “So he can see.”

“Certainly,”  Ellen replied, pushing the pram toward the Duke so that he could lift out the child.  Immediately Colin began to coo at the sight of the colorful puppets.

Robert looked proudly at his family.

Meanwhile, Charles’ attention had been captured by something else—a familiar-looking man who lurked near the columns of the Actors’ Church.

“Sir?” Charles whispered, approaching Robert.

“Yes.” Robert turned.

Charles pointed casually to the church.

Robert’s face flushed with anger when he saw William Stover watching them.

“It’s him, Sir.  Isn’t it?”

“Yes, Charles,” Robert rasped.  “You’ve done well to point him out.”

William looked at Robert—fully aware that the man had seen him.

“What should we do, Sir?”

“Nothing.” Robert shook his head.  "Yet."

“Chum?” Punch leaned over.  “Somethin’ wrong?  You ain’t watchin’.”

“I was just working out the plans for the day with Charles.” Robert fibbed.

“Oh.  Thought we did.  After the show, Charles is to ride back to Belgrave Square with Colin and Gamilla while Miss Barrett, you and I go see her brother.”

“I had confused myself, Sir.” Charles covered.  “I thought perhaps this was the afternoon Your Grace and Dr. Halifax were to go to the palace for luncheon.”

“Nah—that’s tomorrow.” Punch nodded.  “Oh!  Here comes the bottler!  Chum!”

“I’ve got it,” Robert chuckled nervously, still feeling William’s eyes on him.  He took the sovereign from his pocket and dropped it in the bottler’s bucket as he passed by.

The man noticed the coin as it fell in and his eyes widened.

“Thank you, Sir.  Thank you ever so much!”

“You may thank the Duke of Fallbridge,” Robert smiled.

“Your Grace,” The bottler bowed his head at Mr. Punch.  “Our mission is to amuse.”

“That you do,” Punch answered in Julian’s voice—though he didn’t really want to—“and you do it most well.”

“Your Grace,” the bottler bowed again before moving on.

“Hooray for us!” Mr. Punch chirped softly.

Robert looked over his shoulder again and noticed that William Stover was no longer standing at the church.  Robert scanned the crowd, but could not see the man.

“Dear Punch,” Robert whispered.  “I hate to say it…”

“Aw, but we only just got here.” Punch moaned.

“Still…we don’t want to keep Mr. Barrett waiting.”

“No.” Mr. Punch sighed.

“I’ll tell you what,” Robert suggested.  “We can come back tomorrow after luncheon with Prince Albert.”

“Oh!  I’d like that.  Only Colin wouldn’t be with us.”

“We’ll bring him back the next day.” Robert winked.

“Very well.”  Punch said.  “Gamilla, will you take me boy?”

“Yes, Sir.” Gamilla smiled, reaching for Colin.

“Miss Barret, Dr. Halifax and I are gonna go see Mr. Barrett.  Charles, you’re in charge.  Hutchinson will look for you at the stalls in ‘bout half an hour.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I see Hutchinson over there, dear Punch.” Robert pointed.

“Well, then,” Punch nodded.  “Good mornin’, all.  See ya shortly.  Be good, my Colin.” He waved at the baby who gurgled.

As Punch and Robert walked to their carriage and driver, Charles turned around and spotted William watching the two gentlemen walk away. 

“Who is that man?” Gamilla asked.  “He’s been starin’ at us this whole time.  I thought maybe he was lookin’ at me cuz he ain’t never seen an African before, but he was watching the Duke.”

“He’s an old acquaintance of the doctor.”

“Doesn’t look too nice.”

“I imagine that’s why he’s an old acquaintance.”

“What’s he want from us?”  Gamilla asked.

“I don’t know, Gamilla.” Charles shook his head.  “But, if he comes anywhere near either of the master’s, he’s going to regret it.”

“How you mean?”

“I’ll rip him to shreds--even with my one good hand--before he causes any trouble for our household.” Charles nodded firmly. 

Did you miss Chapters 1-35 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 37.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 36

Though Julian’s stomach still burned from the poison and though his vision was still blurry, Punch propelled Julian’s body through the power of a ferocious anger. He stomped through the passage and down the narrow flight of stairs to the sad row of cabins which housed the servants of the First Class passengers.


Arthur’s cabin door was open, a cloud of tobacco smoke curled from the room into the corridor, extending long, wispy fingers which beckoned Punch in. The man was sprawled out on the floor, his back resting on the edge of his cot. He wore no collar and no jacket, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the protrusion of a boney sternum and sharp, vicious clavicles which seemed to struggle against his pale, shiny skin. Next to him sat a robust, hairy man with a thick black beard that framed his too-pink, fish-like lips. The two of them were laughing, clinking glasses.

“I think we done well, Professor.” Arthur chuckled.

The heavy-set man looked up to see Julian’s figure framed in the doorway like an iconographic saint emerging from a mandorla.

“Here, we got company.” The man belched.

“Lord Fallbridge!” Arthur spat, standing up quickly on wobbly, drunken legs.

“Right.” Punch growled.

“Are you wanting something?” Arthur asked nervously, a bead a sweat trickling down the slender twig of his throat.

“What do you think?” Punch replied fiercely.

“Is something the matter? Is Dr. Halifax…”

“Dead?” Punch widened his eyes. “No.”

“That…I didn’t…I didn’t ask that.” Arthur trembled.

“I’ll be asking the questions, Devil.” Punch stepped forward.

“What’s this about?” The professor rose and stood next to Arthur. “Are you not feeling right, Your Lordship.”

“He sounds funny.” Arthur whispered to the man. “Like he does sometimes.”

“How can we help you?” The professor asked. “You really shouldn’t be down here, you know. It’s not a fitting place for a fine gentleman.”

“Neither is a coffin.” Punch came closer still. “Only that’s what you intended for me and my chum.”

“Whatever do you mean, Sir?” Arthur asked.

Punch grinned—a thought coming to him that he perceived as one of immense brilliance. With pleasure, he shut his eyes and put his hand to his head as he had known Julian to do hundreds of times. He fluttered Julian’s eyelids and pretended to gasp.

“Your Lordship?” Arthur said with a tremble in his voice.

“Oh, Arthur,” Punch replied, feigning Julian’s voice. “I don’t know what’s become of me. Dr. Halifax and I shared a bottle of spirits. They must have gone to my head.”

“Oh?” Arthur glanced sideways at the professor.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you with your friend,” Punch continued as he thought Julian might, “however, I was hoping you could assist us. I think Dr. Halifax has had a little too much whiskey. He’ll need some aid getting back to his cabin. I was hoping you might lend me a hand.”

“’Course, Sir.” Arthur nodded.

“You go and do your duty, Arthur,” the hairy man said slowly. “I’ll wait here for you.”

“Again, my apologies for the intrusion on your private time. I will make sure that Arthur isn’t long.” Punch couldn’t help but laugh as he thought. “Long for the world.”

“Take your time, Sir.” The man nodded.

“I didn’t happen to learn your name.” Punch said to the man in Julian’s voice.

“Folk call me ‘Professor.’” The man grunted.

“Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Sir.” The man narrowed his eyes under his fuzzy brow.

“Let me help you back to your stateroom.” Arthur said.

“Please.” Punch responded as Julian.

They walked together, slowly, up the narrow stairs to the deck. Punch grinned through Julian’s teeth. He enjoyed the feeling of Arthur’s distress.

The cool night air served to calm Julian’s stomach, so Punch made his “master” breathe deeply.

“Do look at the moon, Arthur.” Punch said walking over to the rail, knowing that the valet would follow.

“It’s pretty, Sir, only we should get you to your cabin.” Arthur twitched.

“Just a moment,” Punch smiled.

“We don’t want to keep the doctor waiting.” Arthur protested.

“Look at the moon, Devil.” Punch hissed, grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Here!” Arthur cried out. “You’re hurting me, Sir.”

Punch spun the footman around and pressed his belly against the rail of the ship. Punch forced the weight of Julian’s slender body against the man’s back as he bent the man over the rail and pushed his head down.

“Sir!” Arthur hollered. “You’re hurting!”

“Hurting like you did to me chum?” Punch whispered terribly in the man’s ear. “Like you did to me master?”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Arthur cried.

“Look at the moon!” Punch hissed again. “Look at it reflected in the water like diamonds.”

“Let me go!” Arthur shouted.

Punch pushed Arthur forward with such strength that the valet’s feet rose from the deck. Arthur howled!

Through Julian’s eyes, Punch looked from side to side. Someone was coming! A dark figure approached. As he got closer Punch knew immediately who it was—the dark-skinned man who had presented Julian with the gris-gris.

“Great Man of the Rocks.” The African smiled. “You are fulfilling your destiny?”

“What’s it to you?” Punch asked angrily as he pressed down on Arthur’s back. The valet kicked his legs, but he could not get loose.

“Nothing.” The African man laughed.

“’Nothing’ is right! You see nothing here!” Punch spat.

“I see only what is meant to be.” The man grinned.

“Go away!” Punch screamed. “I got to kill the Devil!”

“May I help you, Great Man?” The African asked.

Arthur continued to squirm, kicking Julian’s leg and sending his body off balance.

The African lunged forward and grabbed Arthur’s right arm as Punch moved Julian’s hand to grab Arthur’s right.

“Close your eyes, Great Man, and I will help you.” The African smiled.

“I ain’t gonna close me eyes!” Punch growled.

“You must.” The African continued to grin. “You do not wish for your other half to see you kill this man.”

Punch considered that for a moment as he tightened his grip on Arthur’s arm.

Arthur sobbed violently, pleading, “Please, Sir, please!”

“Very well!” Punch said, finally, “Me master shouldn’t see this.”

Punch shut Julian’s eyes as he pushed Arthur forward.

Arthur screamed in terror—his wail piercing the night.

The African man laughed. And, then, there was a loud splash as a body hit the sea.

Punch opened his eyes.

He was alone on the deck.

 
 
Did you miss Chapters 1-35?  If so, you can read them here.
Come back on Monday, September 6, for Chapter 37 of Punch's Cousin.