A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 4

Chapter 4:
Past the Point of No Return



"There, M'Lady."  Violet smiled as she put the final touches on Lennie's coiffure.  "You look just like a picture in one o' the Queen's palaces."

"Thank you, Violet."  Lennie sighed contentedly, "I am feeling so much better now that I've had a nice bath and you've done my hair."

"And, don't you look lovely in your new rose-colored gown what His Grace bought special for ya for the trip 'ere.  Musta planned it just so it'd match these rooms."  Violet nodded.  "And, fine rooms they are.  Were they really your mum's?"

"Apparently."  Lennie replied.  "The large gilded "F" above the bed would seem to indicate that they were.  I don't think the butler, Jackson, was too thrilled with the idea of my occupying these rooms.  I have a feeling nothing has been disturbed in here since the Duchess passed away."

"Funny to think o' callin' your mum 'the Duchess.'"  Violet said sympathetically.  "But, what else could ya call 'er, never knowin' the woman?  Lucky ya got such a fine brother in His Grace, and in Lord Colinshire, too.  Makes up for it."

"Quite right."  Lennie replied, glad to have such a loyal friend in her maid.  She looked around the room.  "In a way, I'm rather glad I never knew my mother.  As lovely as these rooms are--the whole estate--don't you feel that there's...there's something..."

"Strange, M'Lady?"  Violet nodded.  "Like a meanness underneath all the silk and gold?"

"Yes."  Lennie nodded.  "Maybe it's just my imagination after the rather frosty greeting we received.  Goodness knows, my brother's not said one negative word about anything here--to me.  He wants me to form my own opinion.  I confess my first impression--at least of the staff--was not a good one.  I suppose I shouldn't judge the lot just on Jackson."

"Oh, mum, you're right to do so.  They're all just as bad."

"Are they?  Have they been unkind to you?"

"Not outright.  Only it's right clear we ain't wanted here."  Violet answered.

"I can't understand why."  Lennie shook her head.  "Aside from wanting to give all of you a break from the city, His Grace brought you here so that there'd be no further burden on the existing staff upon his return.  This house--well, it has to be seventy-five rooms--at least."

"At least, Your Ladyship."

"With you and Gerard and Charles here to look after us, and Gamilla and Ethel tending to the nursery, there hardly any extra work for those who were already here.  Furthermore, Georgie will help out with the footmen and well--their cook is absent.  Mrs. Pepper and Maudie are filling a necessary position!  They should be pleased as well as welcoming.  Your accommodations, are they poor?"

"Oh, not at all."  Violet shook her head.  "We've been put at the other end of the house from the servants' hall, in fact, in rooms what I think used to be for the visiting batmen of hunters.  They're fine 'nough.  It's just that no one's said one word to us, just about us...and..."

"And?"

"Oh, M'Lady, you know I talk too much."

"They're gossiping about His Grace?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship."

"What are they saying?"

"Nothing I care to repeat.  Just that they don't approve that His Grace brought Lord Colinshire with 'im and that they're..."

"I see."

"Seems most o' the lot 'ave been 'ere a long time and 'ave ideas already about His Lordship.  Seems they don't care for 'im much."

"I can't imagine anyone not liking my brother."  Lennie shook her head in irritation.  "Granted, I didn't know him before he was...'Mr. Punch,' but as His Lordship describes him, he was imply shy and kept to himself.  I can't imagine he was ever a burden to anyone."

"No, but, from what I overheard, the Duchess were none too fond o' her son, and made it known to anyone who'd listen--even the staff.  Seems they still act as if this is her house, mum."

"Well, then, I'm sure they've voiced their opinions of me!"  Lennie laughed.  "The last of the Duchess' daughters to reside here, Lady Barbara, was no prize, but at least she was legitimate.  I'm not."

"Maybe not, M'Lady, but she was a slut and a beast o' a woman accordin' to what Charlie's told me."  Violet said dryly, then she blushed.  "Oh, Miss Lennie, I oughtn't 'ave said that."

"You may alway say what you wish to me, Vi."  Lennie chuckled.  "Besides, what you say is true."

"When I think what she done to poor Master Colin.  Well, if His Grace and Lord Colinshire adn't 'ave found 'im when they did, he'd be dead now, the poor little thing.  I never met that Barbara, but I hate 'er."

"I do as well.  My own half-sister.  But, we'll never have to deal with her.  Remember, Violet, as far as anyone is concerned, Lady Barbara is dead."

"Yes, M'Lady."

"So, what have they said about me downstairs?"

Before Violet could answer, a knock on the door was followed by Punch's voice.  "May we enter?"

"Yes, of course!"  Lennie chirped.

Robert and Punch came into the room.

"Are we interrupting?"  Robert asked.

"No, Your Lordship.  I just now finished Lady Fallbridge's hair.  Don't she look lovely?"

"She does."  Robert smiled.

"The most beautiful woman to ever reside in this house."  Punch said sincerely.

"You're too much, brother dear, and I adore you for it."  Lennie laughed.

"Violet,"  Robert looked to the maid.  "We've just come from inspecting the rooms in which Jackson has put all of you.  They're acceptable, I think."

"Yes, Your Lordship."

"However, I can't imagine why you're so far away from the servants' hall."

"Because they got the taint o' our London hedonism on 'em."  Punch muttered.

Violet chuckled.  "Your Grace?  Is Master Colin settled?"

"Quite well."  Punch nodded.  "In fact, Gamilla has him all bundled in his pram looking for all the world like an angel and he and Dog Toby are waiting for their Auntie to join us on a tour of the estate."

"How, lovely."  Lennie nodded.

"I'll get your wrap, M'Lady."  Violet began.

"And, yours, too."  Punch added.  "Since Gamilla will be coming along, we thought that Gerard, and Charles and you...well, the whole lot of you might like to walk with us."

"What a treat!"  Violet clapped.  "Only, maybe it ain't such a good idea.  Won't the staff 'ere think you're showin' favorites."

"I think the point of gainin' their favor's passed us, Vi.  Don't you?"  Punch smiled.



Come back tomorrow for Chapter 5 of A Recipe for Punch.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

The Duke and the Doctor

After she’d been properly introduced to the rest of the staff, Ellen Barrett knew that her initial instincts had been correct.  She’d been right to interview at No. 65 Belgrave Square and she was confident that her time in the household would be comfortable and enjoyable. 

Overall, the household staff was pleasant and unassuming with the possible exception of the under-house maid, Hortence, who couldn’t seem to be bothered to smile for the new governess nor, even, say a word of welcome.  

The amusingly-named, Mrs. Pepper, was gruff, but Ellen could tell that the woman was possessed by a desire to mother all around her.  Within seconds of their introduction, Mrs. Pepper had presented Ellen with a fresh cup of tea and a warm ginger biscuit.

“Don’t be assumin’ I got time to be waitin’ on ya all the time, Miss.”  Mrs. Pepper snapped as she added a second biscuit to Ellen’s plate.  “I got a whole household to feed.  And, the Duke’s always hungry!”

“I certainly appreciate that you’ve taken the time to give me such a delicious treat,”  Ellen smiled, leaning against the large wooden table in the center of Mrs. Pepper’s kitchen.

“Well, then,” Mrs. Pepper smiled.  “I’m sure I don’t mind at all.”

“Cooks…”  Ellen thought to herself. 

Upon finishing her snack, Ellen had—with Gamilla—approached Mr. Speaight about the possibility of Gamilla serving as nursery maid in addition to her duties as parlor maid.

“I had rather planned on Hortence serving in that role,”  Mr. Speaight sniffed. 

He tried desperately to project an air of detached officiousness, but Ellen could see the bemused twinkle in his eye and knew that he was going to be her ally.

“Sir, Hortence already got so much for to do,”  Gamilla replied shyly.  “And, I don’t think she wants to be workin’ in the nursery, too.”

“What about Vi?”  Mr. Speaight asked.  He was aware that Ellen could see he was teasing Gamilla.  “She has more experience.  She might be better able to balance so many duties.”

“Mr. Speaight, Sir,”  Gamilla began.  “Vi is the upper-house maid.  Should Charles or Gerard be unable to serve, she’s got to be ready to fill their places…”  Gamilla’s eyes became moist.  

“Besides, Sir, I know the baby.  I done known him since just after he was born almost.”

“I am aware,”  Mr. Speaight said softly.  “Very well, Gamilla.  I have no objections, and, frankly, I’m sure that Hortence will be relieved.”

“Oh, thank you, Sir.”  Gamilla chirped.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Speaight.”

They all grinned at one another for a few seconds.  Ellen truly felt at home.  Their moment was interrupted by a bell ringing from the ebonized and gilt panel of labeled bells which was framed above the archway to the staircase to the upper floors.  

“Drawing room.”  Charles announced from the rear of the clean, white-washed servants’ hall.  “I’ll go.”

“No, Charles.  I shall go.”  Mr. Speaight shook his head.  “You work on that silver with Gerard.  Spit-spot, the two of you—into my pantry.”

Charles nodded, swatting Gerry playfully across the shoulder.  Gerard, who was seated near the central fireplace, grabbed Charles by the elbow and squeezed.

Ellen couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics of the two men.  Their horseplay reminded her of her brothers.  She missed them terribly.

“You gotta do the spoons.”  Gerard grinned.  “I hate doin’ the spoons.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to do the candelabras.”  Charles teased.

“I don’t mind.”  Gerard nodded.

The two men paused and looked at Ellen.

“Welcome, Miss Barrett.  We hope you like it here.”  Charles said softly and self-consciously.

“I’m sure I will, Charles.”  Ellen nodded.  “Thank you.”

“I gotta say,”  Gerard added, “I’m glad you’re not some crusty ol’ nanny what thinks she’s better than the rest of us.  I was scared you might be.”

“I’m glad to be a relief.”  Ellen laughed.

Gerard took a step further.  “And, thanks for lookin’ out for Gamilla.  She’s a special lass, she is.  I know how she loves Master Colin.  I won’t forget how kind you been to stick up for her.”

“It’s really my pleasure.  I like Gamilla.”  Ellen replied, patting Gamilla’s arm.  She noticed the affectionate exchange of glances between Gamilla and Gerard.

“We all do, Miss.”  Gerard winked.

“Come on, then.”  Charles barked.  “If we don’t get to that silver, Old Speaight will have our heads.”

“Don’t be disrespectful.”  Mrs. Pepper spat from across the kitchen.

“Sorry, Mrs. Pepper.”  Charles grinned.

“Now, you finish up your tea, Miss, and get on.  I can’t have all you lot clutterin’ up me kitchen.”  Mrs. Pepper grumbled.  “Where is that Jenny?”

“She’s in the scullery with Ethel.”  Gamilla responded.

“What for?”  Mrs. Pepper fumed.

“Ethel needed help, Mrs. Pepper,”  Gamilla explained.  “She had all them pots for to finish.”

“Jenny’s here to help me--not Ethel, the scullery maid!  Bless my soul, but those two girls are gonna be the death of  me yet!”  With that, Mrs. Pepper stormed off into the scullery which was located through the archway behind Mrs. Pepper’s range.

Gamilla chuckled and shook her head.

“Gamilla!”  Mr. Speaight snapped as he came back downstairs.  “Just because I’ve allowed you to be nursery maid doesn’t mean that your other duties don’t need attention.  I’ve just come from the drawing room and, frankly, I was appalled that the flowers on the center table are wilting!”

“I’ll get right to it,”  Gamilla yelped.  “Good afternoon, Miss.”  She smiled at Ellen.

“I’ll see you later, Gamilla.”  Ellen whispered.

“As for you, Miss Barrett.”  Mr. Speaight bellowed.  “I am aware that I have no jurisdiction over you.  As a governess, you exist on a plane separate from the rest of us, but since you’ve declared a desire to associate with us, I feel I must warn you that the maids cannot be disrupted in their work.”

“Of course, Mr. Speaight.”  Ellen replied.  She couldn’t keep herself from smiling, however, because despite his stern talk, his eyes twinkled as if he was thinking of a naughty joke.

“Very well.”  Mr. Speaight nodded.  His expression softened.  “His Grace has asked for you.  The Duke and the Doctor are in the drawing room.  They’re engaged in entertaining Master Colin and the Dog Toby.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Why does everyone refer to the dog as ‘Dog Toby.’  Why not simply ‘Toby’?”

“Because, Miss.”  Speaight stammered.  “That’s his name.”

“It’s just that it reminds me of the puppet shows—you know, Punch and Judy.  Mr. Punch calls his dog, ‘Dog Toby.’”

Speaight narrowed his eyes.  “I want  nothing more than for us to get on as friends, Miss.  If you wish the same, you’d do well to remember that we don’t discuss the goings-on upstairs.  It’s not our place to question anything that our betters do.”

“I apologize.”  Ellen said quickly.  “One of my greatest faults is that I’m terribly curious.  I should know better.  I’m always asking questions I shouldn’t.”

Speaight’s expression softened again.  “I do understand.  Let me just say, Miss Barrett, that we all have questions about the Duke and the Doctor.  We are all aware that Society is curious about the affairs of our household.  His Grace, however, is a very private individual, and one who is very highly regarded by the Crown.  We must respect that privacy even though we may wonder about…things.”

“I am terribly sorry.”

“There’s no harm done, Miss.”  Mr. Speaight sighed.  “The Duke and the Doctor…they’re fine men.  You’ll never meet two kinder gentlemen.  But, they have secrets.  To be sure, I’ve wondered about some of the things I’ve seen and heard.  His Grace is…for lack of a better word…unusual.  But, it’s that nature which makes him such a fine gentleman.  Dr. Halifax is very protective of the Duke.  Perhaps it’s because His Grace is an artist.  As a jeweler, he is given over to a particular sort of genius which the rest of us couldn’t understand.  It’s often said that genius, especially artistic genius, makes a man a bit strange.  You will see a good many peculiarities in this house.  I’ve learned not to question them  because, in their way, they are rather charming and delightful.”

Ellen nodded.

“Charles and Gerard—they know more about the Duke and the Doctor than I do.  Gamilla as well.  They all share a history.  Yet, they’re very silent about it.  You see, Miss Barrett, I too am curious.  I wonder about the things that I hear and see.  But, I know that I must ignore those questions and do my job.  I hope you don’t find me pedantic, and, certainly, I didn’t mean to scold you.  However, it’s my responsibility to protect the sanctity of the household.”

“I understand completely.”

“Now, then, you’d best not keep them waiting.”  Mr. Speaight smiled.  “His Grace tends to worry if he becomes impatient.”

“I shall go right away.”  Ellen nodded.  “Thank you, Mr. Speaight.”  With that, Ellen hurried up the stairs.

Mr. Speaight sighed as Mrs. Pepper returned from the larder.  She spotted him from across the kitchen.

“Where’s the governess?”  Mrs. Pepper grumbled.

“Gone to see the masters.”  Mr. Speaight replied, walking toward her.

“She’s no fool.  I can see she’s gonna want to know more ‘bout why the Duke is the way he is and why the doctor protects him so.”

“Don’t we all wonder, Mrs. Pepper?”

“All I wonder ‘bout is when the butcher’s gonna bring me chops.”  Mrs. Pepper muttered.

“I’m not surprised.”  Mr. Speaight mumbled.

“What’s that?”  Mrs. Pepper snapped.

“Nothing, Mrs. Pepper.”  Mr. Speaight smiled.  “Nothing.”

Did you miss Chapters 1-3?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 5, Mr. Punch and the Baby, of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.  

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 4

“What are you blathering about?” The Duchess of Fallbridge hissed.


“Punch…” Julian answered meekly, the smile fading from his lips.

“Imbecile!” His mother spat. “You make absolutely no sense whatsoever. You really must be mad! Do you have any idea how weak and insipid you sound?”

Julian had no response.

“Isn’t it bad enough that you’re so useless? Must you be barking mad, too?” She continued.

Julian shook his head.

“Are you mute as well?” the duchess demanded. “Speak!”

“No, Mother.” Julian whispered, feeling not at all like a grown man, but rather like a little boy. Amazing how the tyranny of some can reduce a soul to its basest form. Did she realize what she was saying? Julian hoped she did not. He could not stand to think that she was aware of her beastliness. As always, he wanted to see the good in everyone.

“Julian!” His mother growled.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” Julian shook his head again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…” His mother fumed, pacing the floor of his study. “I have heard nothing but apologies since I married your father. Well, dear, dear Julian. That was in Eighteen Hundred and Twelve! Forty years of groveling! I won’t have it from you. No.”

The duchess threw herself into the purple velvet chair and twisted her hands into a white knot. “How could you do this to me? Have you even considered me? How do you think I feel with your sister out there—unprotected?”

“I’ll find her, Mother.” Julian responded gently.

“How? When? You’re more concerned with your toys.” The duchess moaned.

“I’ll ring for Arthur. We’ll go out now. “ Julian said quickly, walking to the bell pull.

“So, Lord Fallbridge is leaving his rooms?” His mother mocked him. “And, all it took was a family tragedy.”

Julian winced.

“What’s the matter, Julian?’ His mother grinned.

Julian stumbled over his words. “I…can…I am able to…”

“Speak up, dear.” His mother smirked.

Julian rang the bell.

Julian turned to face his mother. He stood stiffly and spoke as slowly as possible so as not to stutter. “As for Barbara’s leaving, I wouldn’t call it a tragedy. We’ll find her forthwith.”

“You’d best do just that.” His mother rose. “I’d hate to think what would happen if you didn’t.”

With that, she flounced from the room as quickly as she’d entered it.

Julian let out a sharp breath.

“I am capable of leaving the house.” He said aloud. “I am. It won’t happen again. Not this time…” Julian shut his eyes. “How many times can it happen?”

Walking over to the curio cabinet, Julian tried to take comfort in the familiar architecture of the room. The great pediment which perched proudly on the Ionic columns over the fireplace, the gentle slope of the volutes around the mantle, the sharpness of the lancet windows—the bones of the room— they were his own skeleton. He existed both for and because of them.

Once again, Julian shut the cabinet door, and for a moment envisioned his own head on the shelf where Punch had always sat. His own head…in a reliquary, safe and preserved. Why would Punch wish to leave such comfort?

How did Punch leave?

The door to his study opened and Julian turned, expecting to see Punch returning—dragging himself by his stubby hands as the soft, hollow-end of his trunk trailed behind like the train of a lady’s dress.

Instead, Arthur entered.

“I’ve instructed the groom to saddle Mercury, Lord Fallbridge.” Arthur smiled his oily smile, showing slightly-yellowed teeth. “I’ll fetch your cloak and boots.”

“Thank you.” Julian nodded.

Arthur slipped quickly through the door to Julian’s adjoining bedroom.

The footman returned a moment later with Julian’s boots—unworn for months—clasped together in one hand. His other hand was curled shut.

“Sir,” Arthur said brightly. “I don’t mean to ask questions, only, I found this on the floor.” The footman opened his hand, producing a gold tassel. “Is it yours?” He let the tassel tangle from his fingers.

“No.” Julian responded, hesitant to take the quivering thing. “Yes. Well, yes, indirectly.”

“Sir?”

“If you would please, leave it on the desk.” Julian answered softly.

How horrible to think that Punch was out there somewhere without the tassel from his hat.

 
 
Did you miss Chapters 1-3?  If so, read them here.