A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 40

Chapter 40
Fog


"So,"  Mr. Punch took a deep breath as he continued his address to the servants from his London townhouse, "it seems the woman who carried off our Vi is...my Auntie.  My Auntie  'bout whom I never knew."

From their various seats in the drawing room, Charles, Ethel, Maudie, Georgie, Mrs. Pepper, Gerard, Gamilla (holding Colin), and Violet looked up at him.

"It's true."  Violet replied.  "She told me so herself.  And, to see her face, and to look at all these portraits of the late duchess, you could see they're most surely sisters."

"Did your grandmother have her sent away, Your Grace...because of...her...?"  Mrs. Pepper paused.

"No.  I don't believe that's the case, Mrs. Pepper."  Punch answered.  "See, from what I know, it seems, Morgana--that's her name--was born out of--out of the marriage.  Of my grandfather and...someone else."

"Oh,"  Mrs. Pepper nodded.

"A family tradition."  Charles grumbled.

"What's that, Charles?"  Punch smiled, having heard him.

"Sorry, Your Grace."  Charles blushed.

"What is she, Your Grace?"  Maudie spoke up.  "With them...claws and...horrible..."

"Maudie..."  Ethel gasped.  "She's his Grace's auntie."

"Well, Ethel, only you didn't see her, did ya?  It wasn't you she pushed over and knocked the wind out of was it?"  Maudie said firmly.

"It's all right, Ethel."  Punch nodded.  "Maudie...any of you may ask anything you like.  Remember, we are all part of this household, and it is my wish for all of us to be comfortable, it is."  He looked at Maudie.  "My girl, best I can answer is that she's a woman.  She's a woman who's very sick.  That's what makes her look as she does."

"Is it catchy?"  Ethel asked.  "I ask only for the sake of the baby."

"No,"  Robert spoke up.  "The sort of deformity which Morgana exhibits develops prior to birth usually when the mother contracts some sort of fever."

Ethel looked confused.

"It ain't catchy."  Punch shook his head.  "His Lordship 'plained it to me thusly.  He said that before Morgana was born, instead of growin' fingers like the rest o' us, her fingers sort o' fused together like the claws o' a lobster.  He ain't quite sure 'bout the ridges o' her back and the growths what make her leg so lumpy, but..."  He looked to Robert.

"We discover new disorders of the connective tissues every day.  Sadly, many of the people who suffer from these conditions are treated very poorly and often end up in these beastly curiosity shows where they're put on display and humiliated for public amusement.  That seems to have been the case with His Grace's Aunt Morgana."  Robert explained.  "I can't be sure what exactly ails her as I've not had a chance to examine her.  She's shy of physicians, likely because she received cruelty at the hands of a less-than-honest doctor in the past, so, I shall have to win her trust."

"Win her trust, Your Lordship?" Charles sputtered.  "She abducted Our Violet!"

"Not with the intention of harming her."  Punch shook his head.

"With what intent, then?"  Charles asked.

"She was curious about me, Charlie."  Violet explained.  "She thought my hands were pretty. She wanted to get a better look at me.  The poor thing has been so used to being hidden away she thought the only way to get a look at me was to carry me off."

"So, she knocked me over?"  Maudie snorted.

"She didn't mean to hurt you."  Violet shook her head.  "She apologized for it."

"Not to me, she didn't."  Maudie frowned, rubbing her head.

"She will,"  Punch said quickly.  "I don't think she realizes how strong she is."

"Your Grace, is all this leading to your telling us that your intention is to keep this woman?"  Charles asked.  

Punch answered.  "Yes."

"In a house with your little son, your governess who is with child, your adopted daughter who visits from school; a household with your gentle sister and many female servants, all of whom could be harmed by this woman?"  Charles asked forcefully.

"No one will be harmed by her."  Punch shook his head.

"Gerard said she's killed two people."  Charles continued.

Gerard looked to the floor.  

"It's true."  Punch answered.  "I don't deny it.  Nor would Morgana.  She would tell you herself that she did so.  She feels quite guilty about it.  She did not mean to do it."

"Your Grace,"  Charles argued, "You'll have your son grow up with an aunt who has killed people?"

"I'll have him grow up with also with you, my valet who's own brother murdered my own beloved father."  Punch said flatly.  "I happen to understand forgiveness."

Charles face blanched.

The room grew silent.

Finally Maudie whispered to Ethel.  "Is that true?  Was it Charles' brother what killed Sir Colin?"

"Yes...I'll tell ya 'bout it later."  Ethel whispered back.

"My dear friends,"  Punch said after awhile.  "I don't know any more about this woman than what I've told you.  I don't know how she's come here other than that Mr. Jackson purchased her from a traveling curiosities show.  I've dismissed Mr. Jackson by the way, I have.  Don't know where he's gone to, neither.  Only I know he's gonna have to come back for his things since I know he's taken nothin' with 'im.  When he returns, I aim to find out more about why he done this.  I'll also find out more from Miss Blessum and Gregory--they're the other two what seem to have known about Morgana bein' here.  Can't imagine why he bought her or when or what he were thinkin', but he done it, and she's here, and she's my family.  I can't turn her 'way.  I know she ain't so easy to look at, but, it ain't her fault, it ain't.  But, she's actually rather sweet."

"She really is,"  Violet nodded.  "You'd think I'd feel different given what she done to me, but I found her to be quite sweet once she started talkin' to me."

"I want her to come back to London with us so she can get help and maybe live out the rest of her life in some sort o' comfort.  Everyone deserves that.  I can't make no promises, I can't.  If it turns out we can't live with her, we'll find a place where she can live comfortably, like we done with Her Ladyship's cousin, Roger.  Or, like we done with Fern.  We ain't a family what turns it's back on our own.  Bugger, Fern ain't even really our own, and we still take care o' her, so I sure as hell ain't gonna leave Morgana out in the cold."

"Well, Your Grace, I think you're doin', the right thing."  Mrs. Pepper said proudly.

"As do I, Your Grace."  Georgie nodded.

"Maudie?  Ethel?"  Robert asked.

Maudie smiled.  "We always trust anything you three do.  Don't we?"

"That we do."  Ethel nodded.

"Charles?"  Lennie asked.

"I'm sorry that I spoke out of turn.  I was worried for Violet, Your Ladyship."  Charles explained.

"As were we all."  Lennie replied.

"If Your Grace wishes to care for Miss Morgana, then we shall do so."   Charles answered.

"Thank you, Charles."  Punch nodded.

"You know how I feel,"  Gerard smiled.

"I do, Gerard."  Punch said.  "Yet, the only person we've not heard from his your lovely wife. Gamilla?  What say you?"

Gamilla looked up thoughtfully.  "I agree with you, Your Grace."

"However?"

"However,"  Gamilla shook her head.  "There's some cloud around Miss Morgana.  One that ain't her own.  Someone wicked...somethin' wicked obscures her vision...her image.  When I shut my eyes, I can see with my gift you, Miss Lennie, His Lordship, all of us, even Mr. Jackson and Miss Blessum, but, there's a fog around Miss Morgana.  I don't get a sense of evil from her.  Just the opposite.  But, there's somethin' tryin' to get at her.  Somethin' bad, Your Grace.  Somethin' terrible bad.  And, that's the thing we must watch out for."

"You've no idea what this 'thing' is?"  Lennie asked.  She blushed.  "I'm sorry, I...I don't understand your gift as well as His Lordship and His Grace do.  I wasn't in America with you.  I'm not as well versed in this...voodoo."

"It ain't voodoo, Your Ladyship.  It's just what I see in my head."  Gamilla smiled.   "And, no, I can't say because I don't know.  Just sometimes I hear laughter and some words..."

"What words?"  Punch asked.

"Words I can't repeat mostly.  Sometimes Lobster Girl."

"Miss Morgana told me that's what they called her at the Freak Show."  Violet said.  She looked embarrassed.  "I am sorry to use the word."

"It's all right, Violet."  Punch nodded.  He sighed.  "Gamilla, this 'fog,' is it the same thing you felt when you came to get me from my old rooms earlier?  The same sense of wickedness?"

"Yes, Your Grace."  Gamilla nodded.

Scratching the back of his neck, Punch inhaled.  "I think it best that the rest of you all try to get a few hours of sleep.  Lord Cleaversworth will be arriving later today.  Meanwhile, Her Ladyship, Lord Colinshire and I will be sorting out the staff here.  So, we'll need you to be fresh for when Lord Cleaversworth arrives in case there's no one left downstairs.  Ethel, would you mind tending to Colin so Gamilla can..."

"I already planned on it, Your Grace."  Ethel stood up.

"Thank you."  Punch grinned.  "Oh, and, just for my peace of mind, and such, since Jackson's roaming about, lock your doors."

With that, the staff retired, leaving Lennie, Punch and Robert in the drawing room.

"All right, dear Punch, what's on your mind?"  Robert asked.

"Something is gnawing at you, brother dear.  After Gamilla spoke, I saw a thought take hold that troubled you."  Lennie looked at her brother with concern.

"Not a thought, so much as a voice of me own."  Punch sighed.  

"Oh?"  Robert squinted.  "Not one of...the others?"

"Not 'xactly.  Julian."

Lennie looked worried.  She'd only known her brother as Mr. Punch and had never experienced any other "personality."

"Did he speak to you?"  Robert asked.

"Just a word."  Punch nodded.

"Oh?"  Robert asked.

"Panrty."  Punch nodded.  "I think we need to go have a look 'round Mr. Jackson's pantry."


Did you miss Chapters 1-39 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 41.  

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 40

Chapter 40:

Raised Voices

Gerard quietly crept down the attic stairs, hoping to sneak into the servants’ hall unnoticed. He hadn’t counted on Charles being seated at the end of the narrow service staircase.

“Charles,” Gerard smiled despite the fatigue and confusion he was experiencing from sleeping all day.  “How’s your wrist, mate?”

“It’s not too bad,” Charles sighed, standing up.

“You all in?  Why are you sittin’ here?”

“A couple of reasons,” Charles mumbled.  He pointed toward the door which led to the service entrance to the mansion’s morning room.  Raised voices—or, to be more accurate, one particular raised voice—beat through the padded door and echoed throughout the servants’ stairway.

“Is that the doctor in there shoutin’ like that?” Gerard asked, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers.

“It is.” Charles nodded.

“He and the master havin’ a row?  Ain't like them.”

“No.” Charles shook his head.  “From what I gather, His Grace is just listening while Dr. Halifax vents his spleen.”

“What for?” Gerard asked nervously.

“I suppose he feels betrayed.”

Charles began to visibly perspire and his cheeks flushed.

“Not by you and the medicine,” Charles said plainly.  “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“So, you know?”

“I do.” Charles smiled.  “It’s rather difficult to keep secrets in a room that size.”

“I didn’t mean no harm, Charlie.” Gerard said shamefully.  “It’s just it’s been so long since I had a drop o’ the drink.  I saw the bottle there and I wondered what it’d be like, is all.”

“And, doing so caused you to miss almost a full day of work.” Charles replied.  “A day that Violet had to make up for you since Gamilla and I were busy and His Grace hasn’t replaced Hortence yet.”

“Vi had to do my work?”

“A large part of it.” Charles nodded.

“I do feel bad ‘bout that.”  Gerard mumbled. 

“Gerry, I understand why you did it.  I really do.  Sometimes a body needs an escape.  I remember when I was a little younger—before I left Italy and Giovanni…”

“Your brother.” Gerard nodded.  “The no-good one.”

“Yes.”  Charles answered.  “I would wonder if I could ever escape him.  I wondered if I’d ever feel anything good.  I know what it means to want to go somewhere else for awhile.”

“I know you do,” Gerard answered regretfully.  “Only I ain’t as strong as you when it comes to that.  I ain’t had a drop of anything in almost a year.  Not even at the Duke’s celebration.  But, I saw how warm and goofy that med’cine made ya,  I was…envious, I guess.”

“You can’t do it again.” Charles responded.

“You didn’t tell the doctor?”

“No, but I thought about it.  I was going to bring the bottle back the Dr. Haliax, but I couldn’t tell him.”

“Loyalty to your pal?”

“Partly.  Also because we were interrupted.”  Charles laughed.  “But, I imagine some of it was loyalty.  I didn’t want to see you get in trouble, I really didn’t.  Just now I was about to try to return the bottle again—just to get it out of temptation’s way.  I figured I’d tell the doctor I was taking it, but didn’t feel I needed it any longer.”

“What stopped you?”

“The front bell rang and when I opened it, in bounded Dr. Halifax, seething and all red in the face.  I  never saw him look like that before.  Sure, I’ve seen him angry, but nothing like that.  He bounded into the house, went right into the morning room and slammed the door.”

“That musta been the loud noise that woke me.”  Gerard shook his head.  “I thought maybe it were the Duke playin’ with Dog Toby.”

“Musta been.”  Charles sighed.  “So, the doctor sent me for His Grace who joined him in the morning room and, now, the doctor’s been shouting ever since.”

“Do you know what for?”

“I think it’s got to do with William Stover.”

“That Humpty Dumpty bloke who came here?  The one you said you saw lurking in the square?”

“That’s the one.”  Charles replied.  “Saw him this morning, too.  He was following the Duke and Dr. Halifax around Covent Garden.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Gerard scratched his chin.

“Nor I.”  Charles nodded.  “When I was upstairs with the Duke and His Grace earlier the doctor got a message saying there was an emergency at the Stover Porcelain Company and that eh should come right away.  So, he left.  We didn’t expect him back so soon.  But, to be honest, I’ll bet there was no emergency.  I thought when the doctor left that it had a fishy smell to it, that story.  With all the doctors on that side of London, why need Dr. Halifax?”

“So, the doctor’s been in there yellin’ ever since?”

“Sure has.”

“Hmmmph.”  Gerard snorted.  “All I can say is that this Stover bloke better stay ‘way from here if he knows what’s good for him.”

“What’s this?”  Ellen asked as she met up with the gentlemen in the service passage. “What’s all the shouting?  I had to come down to see what was happening.”

“The doctor is upset ‘bout somethin’, Miss.”  Gerard explained.  “He’s telling the Duke all about how he was tricked this afternoon.”

“That Stover fellow?”  Ellen asked, wide-eyed.

“Ya know ‘im?” Gerard asked.

“No—I’ve only heard him mentioned by the Duke and Dr. Halifax.”  Ellen clucked her tongue.  “He sounds like an unpleasant man.  I wonder what the doctor ever saw in him.”

“Sometimes when a bloke is only, he’ll keep company with anyone he can.” Gerard shrugged.

“But, usually the doctor is such a good judge of character.”  Ellen sighed.  “This Stover man seems intent to cause trouble.”

“Well, of course, he is.  The Duke is very wealthy.  Who knows what this Stover wants?  Did you see him lurking at St. Paul’s this morning?”

“Is that who that was?”  Ellen asked.  “I felt as if someone was watching us.”

“He was there all right.” Charles shook his head.

“He’d be smart to stay away from this house and from the masters.”  Ellen barked.

“He doesn’t know what’ll hit ‘im if he does.” Gerard winked.

“I’ll tell you what will hit him.” Ellen smiled, balling up her hand into a fist.

“I like that,” Charles winked.

“Those two gentlemen have been kinder to me than my own brothers—and my brothers have been limitlessly kind, if that tells you anything.  I won’t let them suffer for a moment.”

“You’re not alone.”  Charles said firmly.

“I’d best get back to the nursery,”  Ellen said.  “Will you two please keep me informed if there’s more trouble?”

“Sure, Miss.”  Gerard answered eagerly.

“Thank you.”

Once Ellen had left, Charles and Gerard stood awkwardly alone.  Finally, Gerry spoke up.

“Charlie, ‘bout the med’cine.”

“I won’t say a word.”  Charles nodded.  “Only there’s a condition.”

“Anything.”

“Just bring it back to Dr. Halifax like I asked.” Charles answered.

“Right after tea.”

“Speaking of tea,” Charles said with a panicked look in his eyes.  “I’m going to need you help what with only having one good hand for the time being.”

“Sure thing.” Gerard nodded.

“And, there’s a letter to go to Countess Hamish.”

“Where’s Tom, then?  That’s his job.”  Gerard frowned.

“Gone missing again.”

“That rotten boy.” Gerard grumbled.  He paused.  “Why’s that old crone getting a letter anyway?”

“It’s from the Duke in response to a letter she’d sent this late afternoon.  The Duke tells me that Lady Constance and Countess Hamish were here last night.  Seems  the old lady made quite a scene about having to wait outside for too long and she was terribly insulting to both masters.  Today, she sent a letter of apology—making sure to remind the Duke that the invitation to dinner was still extended.”

“What’d he say?  Do you know?”

“He responded that he will be unable to attend.  That was all.”  Charles chuckled.

“Good for ‘im.”

“I suppose they can stand up for themselves, His Grace and the doctor.  But, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to protect them.”  Charles continued.

“Nor should it?”  Gerard agreed.  “The Lord knows that anyone who interferes with those men will get theirs in the end.”

Did you miss Chapters 1-39 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back on Saturday for Chapter 41.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 40

The Vieux Carré was gripped in the cold fist of a stinging December rain which pelted the windows of Dr. Biamenti’s fine house on Royal Street. Julian’s skin crawled with each sharp tap of angry water on the glass. He paced the plush crimson rug in front of the fireplace in his bedroom.

Robert lay across the settee, his rhythmic breathing periodically interrupted by a raspy wheeze. Julian paused to study his napping friend. He looked pale and gaunt. The strong lines of his face had turned to sharp angles which repelled the firelight to cast clenching shadows around the man’s eyes and jaw.

Julian squinted and rubbed his temples as the faint echo of some distant chatter deep within himself mimicked the staccato of the rain.

“You rest, Robert.” Julian whispered. “Rest for both of us.” He rubbed his head again, “For all three of us…”

Julian took a blanket from the bed and gently placed it over Robert who mumbled in his sleep.

A gentle rap on the door signaled Naasir’s entrance. He smiled as he carried a carafe of water into the room. He placed it silently on the bedside table.

“Shall I help the doctor to his room?” Naasir asked.

“Not yet,” Julian shook his head. “Let’s let him sleep for awhile. He’s quite exhausted.”

“As you wish, Sir.” Naasir nodded.

Julian squinted again, straining to understand the faint squawking which rattled from within.

“Do you hear something, Lord Julian?” Naasir wondered.

“Nothing. I…” Julian paused and changed the subject. “Have you settled in?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. I am in a room with an old man named Cal. He’s a fine man with many things to say.” Naasir replied cheerfully. What a change he was from Arthur.

“You’re comfortable, then?”

“Very much so. Thank you for being concerned about my comfort.” Naasir replied.

“Not at all.” Julian answered.

“Meridian will be up shortly with some tea for you both. Let me take the doctor’s boots since he has them off. I will polish them up nice and shiny. I will take yours, too, Sir. Let me fetch you your fine, soft slippers.” Naasir suggested softly, so as not to wake Robert.

Julian sat down on the bed to remove his boots.

“I will attend to that.” Naasir whispered.

“That’s not necessary.” Julian smiled.

Robert sputtered and coughed. Julian watched him to see if he’d awaken. He did not.

“Poor man.” Naasir shook his head. “He carries much burden. The weight of it makes him tired.”

“Yes,” Julian sighed.

“Your burden is greater,” Naasir continued, “Yet, you never sleep, Sir.”

“A part of me is sleeping presently.” Julian grinned weakly. “Though I can’t say for certain just for how long.”

Naasir picked up Julian’s coat which had been slung over the arm of a chair. “I will hang this, Sir, and lay out your dressing gown.”

“Thank you,”

Naasir reached into the pockets of the coat—as he had always done for Sir Louis—to make sure that nothing of importance had been overlooked. He pulled out the note which Julian had been handed that morning on the dock.

“Will you want to keep this, Great Man of the Rocks? Pardon me, I mean to say, ‘Lord Julian.’”

“Yes.” Julian said quickly, taking the folded paper from Naasir.

“It has evil on it.” Naasir’s eyes widened.

“It does.” Julian drew in a deep breath. “It’s a note from the woman who has my sister. At least, I think it’s she who gave it to me. It’s signed with her name.”

“Is the name Iolanthe Evangline?” Naasir asked.

“It is.”” Julian raised one eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“Iolanthe Evangeline is the taker of girls.” Naasir replied quietly. “She is a force.”

“You know of her?”

“I know that she is a woman of ice and violets. She is created of cold amethyst.” Naasir said. “She is the ice to Marie Laveau’s fire.”

“Marie Laveau is the voodoo priestess you mentioned when you gave me that bag.”

“The gris-gris, Sir. Yes.” Naasir nodded. “I took the liberty of placing it under your pillow when we arrived here.”

“Oh…” Julian raised his eyebrows. “Thank you.”

“It is strong stuff, but not strong enough to protect you from that crystal woman.”

“She’s dangerous, then?”

“You know they call her ‘The Elegant Ogress.’

Julian answered, “Yes.”

“She is dangerous. She challenged Marie Laveau herself. They say Marie took punishment by making Iolanthe’s skin blister each time it is touched by blood. And, so, she must wear gloves to cover the scars of her sins.”

“I don’t like the idea of my sister being in her hands.” Julian began.

“No, Sir.” Naasir said sympathetically. “You must battle her.”

“Battle her?”

“Yes, it is in the legend that ‘The Great Man of the Rocks’ will cleave the amethyst heart of the cold monster—as she has cleft his head.” Naasir explained.

Julian’s eyes closed as the familiar inkiness drowned him. Within him, Punch grumbled softly. “Me head. Me head is split.”

When his eyes opened again, he began to speak. The voice that fell from his lips was Julian’s, but the words were not. Those belonged to someone else.

“Then, battle her I must.” Punch said in Julian’s voice.

Naasir smiled.

“You find something amusing?” Punch asked, still impersonating Julian.

“It’s no use you trying to trick me, Mr. Punch.”

“Here!” Punch growled. “What do you know ‘bout it?”

“Mr. Punch,” Naasir grinned. “The light in your eyes is red where the light in Lord Julian’s is blue.”

“Think you’re pretty clever, eh, valet?” Punch powered Julian’s body to rise from the bed.

“I am not clever, Mr. Punch. I am observant.” Naasir grinned. “There is no need to deceive me. I am here to serve you as well. My loyalty is to all those who inhabit that body.”

“So, you’re loyal, what.” Punch chuckled. “Just how loyal are you, then?”

“To a fault, Mr. Punch.” Naasir bowed his head. “You may recall what I saw on the ship?”

“I do.” Punch frowned.

“Yet, I have chosen to keep that to myself so that I may protect both you and His Lordship.”

“And me chum?” Punch asked.

“And the doctor, too. Though he is suspicious of me, I will care for him also. It is my job to serve and to fulfill my destiny.”

"Good." Punch grinned.  "You like to sing?"

"I do." Naasir nodded.

"Maybe you're not so bad." Punch chuckled.

"I can show you that I am not."

“Then get me out of here without me chum knowin’.” Punch winked. “I know where to find the ‘Elegant Ogress.’ If it’s a battle she’s wantin’, I’m the one for the job.”



Did you miss chapters 1-39? If so, you can read them here.