A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 49

Chapter 49
M'Lady


"M'Lady."  Ivy moaned, wringing her hands.  "How...how..."

"For the love of God, Miss Blessum,"  Gregory hissed, pulling the ancient woman into a dusky corner of the servants' hall.  "Steady on.  The maids are lookin' at ya."

"I don't care."  Ivy groaned.  "How could those men have carried her out like that?  In a crate like so much rubbish."

"What should they have done, then?"  Gregory snapped.  "Did ya want the whole house to know she's been in there this whole time--hangin' like meat curin'?  Most o' the lot are superstitious simpletons.  Do you think they'd stay here knowin' they've been sittin' to supper with the corpse o' the lady o' the house propped up in the butler's pantry just behind 'em for the past year?"

"How can you speak of Her Grace that way?"  Ivy took Gregory by the shoulders.

"Don't you touch me, you dusty old hag.  I'll break you in half."

Ivy released her grip.  She put her hands to her face and rubbed her cheeks, feeling the long, rough, stiff scab from when Morgana had scratched her the night before. 

"Barmy..."  Gregory sputtered.

"They should have waited until the night when everyone was in bed."  Ivy whispered.  "Then, they could have taken her out with some dignity."

"Her Ladyship's fiance is comin' this afternoon.  I figure they want the duchess outta the house before he arrives.  Don't ya think His Grace gave orders for her to be removed as soon as he saw her?"

"Mr. Quick should have been here to do it properly."

"His Lordship's a physician."  Gregory shrugged. 

"But, where is God?"  Ivy's eyes widened.

"Miss Blessum, God ain't got a thing to do with any o' this."  Gregory laughed.

"A doctor and two valets."  Miss Blessum shook her head.  "And one of them a mandrake."  She whispered.  "Where will they take her?"

"To the crypt, I'd guess--where she oughta been from the start."  Gregory scowled.  "Go on, then, Ivy--I'm sick o' the sight o' ya.  Go up to your room or somethin'."

"Will ya do something for me?"  Ivy pleaded.

"Cor."  Gregory sighed.  "What?"

"Go to the crypt and see they're treatin' her with dignity and respect."

"Ivy..."

"Please."

"I can't."  Gregory shook his head. 

"Just peer in."

"Peer in?"  Gregory scoffed.  "It ain't a conservatory.  There's only the one way in--behind the screen at the chapel.  It's all below ground.  If I set one foot on them stairs, they're sure to see me."

"Then, go get Mr. Jackson."  Ivy begged.

"And do what with 'im?"  Gregory laughed.  "Bring 'im 'ere?"  He shook his head.  "I think not."

"Or Mr. Quick."

"The Duke's mary-ann and their men are in the chapel.  Quick is sure to notice 'em sooner or later."

"Please."

"And, what, then?"  Gregory growled.  "When they come back and see me gone?  Ivy, his Grace said you and I are both as good as sacked.  We're only here because we have knowledge what they want.  If they find us agreeable, they might keep us on.  Hell, I don't care about you.  But, I need this job.  No other estate in Yorkshire'll have me."

"Because you've impregnated most of the maids..."

"Never you mind why..."  Gregory interrupted.  "Now, I don't suspect that Lord Colinshire and the men are in the crypt dancin' with Her Grace's corpse, so..."

"Bite your tongue..."

"Go do somethin', Miss Blessum...you make me weary."  Gregory shook his head.  "The woman's dead.  Sure she was pretty.  But...the way you and Jackson go on...well, I just don't understand it."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Go put somethin' on that cut on your face.  I've work to do.  If you've got to worry someone, go poke about William there."  He pointed to the pantry door where William awkwardly stood guard.  

"I don't care for him."

"That surprises me."  Gregory chuckled.

"You're useless, Greogry."  Ivy barked.

"I'm young and strong."  Gregory smiled.  "All households need a young, strong man.  What good are you?  Your lady is dead.  The new lady has her own maid.  No one needs you.  Seems to me you're the useless one.  Unless you want to play maid to Morgana now that, overnight, she's gone from savage beast to beloved auntie."

"My Morgana."

"She ain't yours."  Gregory narrowed his eyes.  "Nothin' here is yours, nor mine.  We're servants, woman."  He shook his head again.  "If I had any pity in me, I'd pity you."  

"I don't want your pity.  I want your help."

"You'll get neither."  With that, Gregory walked away.

Miss Blessum tilted back her head and moaned softly.  "M'Lady."

She looked around.  No one was watching her.

Heading for the stairs, she began to mumble.  "I feel you here with me.  Gregory will pay for all he just said to me.  They shall all pay for their crimes.  I can hear you, Your Grace.  I can hear you.  It's not too late.  We don't need the men.  We don't need them.  I can carry on for us.  I shall serve you, M'Lady.  I shall."

Reaching the Great Hall, Ivy looked up at the grand portrait of the Duchess of Fallbridge which hung just above the main staircase.  

"I will do as you ask of me, M'Lady."  Ivy whispered.

Climbing the monumental stairs, Ivy headed for the Vermillion Suite...and Morgana.


Did you miss Chapters 1-48 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 50.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 49

Chapter 49: 
To Protect the Crown 



“Your Grace, you…” The beadle raised his eyebrows. “You killed that man?”

“I certainly did.” Mr. Punch, still speaking as the Duke of Fallbridge, nodded matter-of-factly.

“Think of what you’re doing…” Robert whispered.

“I’m simply telling the truth, my dear.” Mr. Punch smiled though he was not telling the truth at all.

“Why, sir?” The officer asked.

“The man gave me no choice. Did he, Charles?” Punch looked up at Charles who managed to maintain a cool expression despite the fact that his heart was racing.

“No, Sir.” Charles shook his head. “He gave you no choice.”

“He’s lying!” Eudora Stover shrieked. “He’s trying to protect his companion!”

“The man’s a loon!” Hortence chimed in.

“You see,” Punch began before the office could ask any more questions and before the two women could cause any more trouble. “My work puts me in a delicate position. I am privy to all manner of delicate matters regarding Their Majesties. In fact, I’m working on a special project for Her Majesty at this very moment. Now, the poor Queen—heavy with child—trusts me to protect her privacy and that of the Prince Consort. The Prince recently entrusted me with some very specific information—information which I am not at liberty to discuss. Now, as you well know, there are many in the Kingdom who would do the Queen harm and whose sole enterprise is to trade in her secrets…”

“He’s mad!” Hortence interrupted.

“Quiet, you!” The officer snapped.

“Thank you,” Mr. Punch smiled. “Upon our recent luncheon with Prince Albert, my companion and I discussed some very sensitive issues with the Prince regarding…” Punch paused dramatically, looking at Eudora and Hortence. “Well, I really cannot say.”

“I see, Sir.” The beadle nodded.

“Prior to that luncheon, my companion and I had made some very important notations in my private journal regarding the matters about which we were to engage the Prince Consort. You see, Officer, the day before this meeting, we had noticed Mr. Stover following us.”

“We did, Sir.” Charles said quickly. “We saw him watching us in Covent Garden. Other members of the staff are able to corroborate this.”

“Without thinking, I asked my man, Charles, to put my journal in our carriage so that I would not forget it. I’m an artist, you understand. So, I’m prone to being absent-minded. Still, more so, with so many delicate matters on my mind, I must always try to think what is best for the monarchy.”

“Yes,” The beadle nodded again.

“However, about an hour before we were to depart for the palace, I grew nervous, recalling Mr. Stover and the many times he’d been spotted prowling around our property.”

“I can list several times I spotted him.” Charles added.

“As can I.” Gerard said. “Many of us can.”

“So, I personally went to the mews to retrieve my journal.” Punch continued. “I’m certainly glad that I did.”

“You found Mr. Stover, then?” The beadle asked.

“Most certainly.” Punch nodded. “He’d gotten into our carriage. Now that I think of it, he probably gained admission through his nephew. You see, Mr. Stover, unbeknownst to us had planted his nephew, Tom, in our household where he had been employed as a page. This young man here.” Punch pointed to Tom, grinning.

“Are you the nephew of the deceased?” the beadle asked.

“Well, yes, sir, but…”

“Who knows how long Mr. Stover and his family had been plotting against us in order to gain access to private information about Crown and Country?” Mr. Punch said theatrically.

The beadle scowled.

“Well, Officer, when I saw Mr. Stover with my private papers, I became enraged. I struck him—repeatedly—in an attempt to make him release my notations. He finally did and scurried off. I thought I’d finally rid myself of him, but I worried how much he had seen about…the important matter.”

“I see.” The beadle frowned.

“You can’t believe this?” Eudora shrieked.

“That’s enough out of you!” The officer snapped.

“Anxiously, Dr. Halifax and I went to keep our meeting with the Prince Consort.”

“And, that’s when Mr. Stover returned.” Charles lied.

“You saw him, then?”

“Yes, Officer.” Charles continued. “I’m the Duke’s man. Charles Iantosca. I’ve been the Duke’s personal valet for some time, Sir. I’m also first footman. And, I’m frequently with His Grace. I’ve seen Mr. Stover lurking about many times.”

“We both did.” Gerard added.

“He threatened us, Sir.” Charles shook his head.

“William was no spy. That’s not what we were about!” Hortence wailed. “All we wanted…”

“Shut up!” Eudora growled.

“What did you want?” The officer asked.

“Nothing.” Hortence replied quickly.

“Sir,” Charles interrupted. “Mr. Stover was clearly weakened by the beating that the Duke had given him. Gerard and I scrapped with him further. By this point, the Duke and Dr. Halifax were long gone. I punched him and he fell—dead. So, you see, it wasn’t the Duke who killed him.”

“Yes, Charles, it was.” Punch spoke over his man. “It was my initial beating which caused his death. However, I cannot think of any man in my position who would not do the same in order to protect the Sovereign.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The beadle nodded.

“Once he was dead,” Charles continued, “Gerard here—he and I tried to carry him off, but…”

“You weren’t sure what to do with the man.” The beadle nodded.

“Yes.” Charles and Gerard said in unison.

“Clearly they’re lying!” Eudora scoffed.

“What of you?” The beadle barked. “You’re the bastion of truth?”

“What do you mean?” Eudora frowned.

“Quiet, you trollop.” The officer spat. “It’s clear what happened here. His Grace and his men were protecting not only their home, but the personal business of the Crown. I’m just sorry you had to go to all this trouble, Sir.”

“I am disheartened that a man lost his life,” Punch lowered his head, “but, it could not be avoided. And, now, these women are here trying to blackmail me—a crime unto itself. How much must my household suffer?”

Robert choked, leaning on the newel post.

“You ain’t gonna suffer any more, Your Grace.” The officer shook his head. “Now, I must say, we’ll need to send an inspector from Whitehall to get your statements, but I know they’ll see this as what it is.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Punch nodded with theatrical relief.

“Now, you three.” The beadle turned to Eudora, Tom and Hortence. “What’s all this mean to you?”

“I used to work here, Sir.” Hortence replied nervously.

“She was dismissed for eavesdropping. Isn’t that so, Dr. Halifax?” Punch smiled.

“It is true.” Robert replied softly.

“Yes, Sir.” Speaight confirmed. “I’m the butler here. We’d had nothing but trouble with the girl.”

“And you dragged me here under false pretenses—sayin’ you thought you was in danger.” The beadle glowered at the women.

“You don’t know what they’ve jus’ been feedin’ you!” Eudora snorted.

“I know that we’ve had trouble with you before, Eudora Stover. I won’t say what sort. It ain’t fit talk for a gentleman’s house. But, worse, still you’re tradin’ in espionage now? And blackmail?” The officer said sharply. “I think you three better come with me.”

“I don’t think so.” Hortence shouted.

“Try and struggle and see how it goes for ya.” The beadle narrowed his eyes.

“You got nothin’ on us.” Eudora said stiffly, adjusting her shawl. “Come on. Let’s go!”

Hortence and Tom followed Eudora to the door. Miss Stover paused and looked at Mr. Punch. “This ain’t over, Mr. Molliner!”

“Yes, it is.” Mr. Punch smiled. “Very much so.”

“I’ll make sure they go, Sir.” The beadle nodded. “Good night. And, thank you for your fine cooperation. I’ll be back with an inspector in the morning. Is there any time better than another?”

“No, come at your convenience. You’re a credit to ‘the Met.’”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The beadle blushed. With that, he escorted Tom, Eudora and Hortence out. Speaight quickly closed the door behind them.

“What have you done?” Robert hissed wildly.

“His Grace told the truth, Sir.” Charles said quickly.

“No, he did not!”

“Yes, he did.” Charles snapped. “Pardon me sayin’ it, Dr. Halfiax, but what was said here tonight was what happened. Whenever I’m asked about it, this is how I will answer. I will not change it one hair. You’d best understand that, Sir.”

“Same for me,” Gerard nodded groggily. “I’ll never vary one bit.”

“I, too,” Speaight said, “will maintain the information shared this evening with anyone from the Met who should ask.”

“I’m outnumbered.” Robert mumbled.

“You’re very loved, chum.” Punch said quickly, speaking as himself. “We did what we had to. It’s over.”

“Is it?” Robert moaned. “And when the inspector from Whitechapel arrives, what then? What if someone should ask the Prince Consort about this sensitive information that you were supposedly protecting?”

“Do you think,” Punch shook his head, “that a member of the Met is going to go to Prince Albert because some porcelain-maker was killed in Belgravia? Do you think that the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis is going to visit the pregnant Queen and ask her about her business with the Duke of Fallbridge?”

“He might.”

“And what will Her Majesty say to Sir Richard Mayne when he does?” Punch sighed. “Will she worry that some middleclass, alleged spy lost his life in a fight with her beloved jeweler or will she be quick to honor the Duke who battled bravely for her honor?”

“You shouldn’t have risked it.” Robert said emotionally. “None of you should have.”

“Had we not done something, those women would have tried to insinuate publicly that you killed Mr. Stover. Yes, we risked something, but had we not, we would have risked losing you.”

“We couldn’t do that, Sir.” Charles said softly.

“No.” Speaight agreed.

“You heard Eudora Stover.” Robert shook his head. “It’s not over.”

“And, you heard me!” Punch said passionately. “And, I say that it is!”



Did you miss Chapters 1-48 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 50.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 49

“Darling husband,” Adrienne turned to Cecil and demurred in her sweet French accent, “why not take your brother upstairs to see his nephew? Fuller will want to meet the man he’s heard so much about.”

“What about you, my sweet?” Cecil asked.

“I shall take Mr. Punch in the parlor and he and I will get to know one another.”

Cecil raised his eyebrows.

“Go on, my dear.” Adrienne giggled.

“They will be just fine, Brother.” Robert smiled.

Cecil sighed. “Very well. Come along, young sibling and see my great joy!”

“I cannot wait.” Robert answered. Before heading up the stairs behind Cecil, he glanced at Punch with a familiar look that said at once, “Behave” and “You’re still my chum.”

Punch nodded Julian’s head.

Naasir followed behind Robert and Cecil, carrying their bags. He, too, smiled at Mr. Punch.

“Will you follow me this way?” Adrienne asked Punch, gesturing down the long central passage with her delicate hand.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Punch responded. “Say, but I like all your heads and such.”

“Pardon me?”

“All these heads.” Punch tapped one of the marble busts that lined the hallway. “So cheerful they look. Like they got somethin’ they’re thinkin’ of. Only I know they ain’t cuz they can’t think the way I think.”

“Ah,” Adrienne nodded. “My husband’s sculptures. Though his main efforts these days are figures of wax for Mr. Cage, the stone still calls to him. I’m glad of that. He is a great artist. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do.” Punch said as they entered the parlor. Punch flung himself onto the settee. “Oooo. Nice and soft.”

Adrienne giggled.

“Do you talk to ‘em?” Punch asked.

“Talk to whom?” Adrienne smiled.

“All those heads?” Punch answered.

“No.” Adrienne shook her head.

“Hadn’t you better?” Punch tilted Julian’s head to one side. “I know they may not seem like it, only I bet they’d ‘preciate someone offering them a ‘how do you do?’ every so often. It’d do them good. Folk don’t think about talkin’ a things. But, things have got feelin’s, too, ya know. Look at me.”

“But you’re a man.” Adrienne continued to smile.

“Not a man. Only look like a man. I’m a man inasmuch as I got thoughts, only I ain’t a man—not a people man.”

“Tell me, Mr. Punch, what are you?”

“I’m…” Punch considered the question for a moment. “I don’t rightly know what I am. I’m a puppet by trade. Only now I’m not a puppet. I got legs. But, I don’t have strings like other puppets with legs. ‘Spose they ain’t really me legs at all. They’re me master’s legs. So, what does that leave me?” Punch laughed. “Don’t know. Just know I ain’t people.”

“Do you like people?” Adrienne asked.

“Not so terribly much, no.” Punch shook Julian’s head. “Well, to be fair, I love me chum. Much as I can love anyone, I ‘spose. He’s a great fella. I like Naasir just fine. Seems like a fair enough bloke even if he is a foreigner and a bit on the strange side. I know he can keep a secret. And, I know he’s got plenty a secrets of his own. I’m fond of me master, too. Only he’s so scared of everything. That’s why he needs me.”

“Who’s your master?”

“Why Lord Julian, course.” Punch laughed. “Didn’t you know?”

“Aside from my brother-in-law and your master and your man, you don’t like anyone else?”

“Not ‘specially.” Punch shrugged. “You seem like a decent sorta lady. Might like you. Haven’t decided.”

Adrienne giggled again. “Well, I hope you decide that you do.”

“Might.” Punch shrugged Julian’s shoulders again. “Don’t like other people as a rule.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz people are all a bad lot. Humans! They’re just a bad lot.”

“How so?”

“They take things that aren’t theirs and they laugh ‘bout it. See, a human’s only good for one thing and that’s takin’. When you try to protect what’s yours, they only laugh at you and call you a fool. A human’ll take anything it can. Just big meaty sacks of want, humans are. They’ll take your things, your dignity, your life, your very soul.” Punch grinned. “Only I ain’t got a soul not bein’ a people, so I know they won’t be takin’ that from me.”

“Mr. Punch,” Adrienne began, “I know what you mean. I, too, have had many things taken from me by people.”

“So you understand?” Punch asked.

“I do.” Adrienne nodded. “You met Iolanthe Evangeline?”

“Yes.” Mr. Punch scowled. “She’s an awful one.”

“She is.” Adrienne shivered. “You know what she took from me, then?”

“I do.” Punch said. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m terrible sorry ‘bout that.”

“Thank you.” Adrienne smiled. “And, I am sorry for what has been taken from you and your master.”

“Thanks.” Punch said softly.

“I would like to be friends with you, Mr. Punch.”

“You would?” Punch asked.

“I shall do you no harm. You have my promise as one who has also suffered great cruelty.”

“What about me master?” Punch asked. “Will you make a promise to him, too?”

“When I meet Lord Julian, I will wish to be his friend as well.”

“He’s in here.” Punch thumped Julian’s chest. “He’s just scared to come out. I’ll let him know when I think it’s safe.”

“I hope that’s soon.” Adrienne grinned.

“We’ll see.” Punch nodded.

“Now, I understand you don’t like babies?”

“’S right. Just little people, they are.” Punch frowned. “Always wantin’ somethin’.”

“Could you concede that not all babies are alike? You say you have a fondness for Robert. The same blood that runs through Robert’s veins runs through Fuller’s. Cecil and I wish to raise Fuller to be a good and decent man. Will you give him a chance?”

“When you put it that way, I ‘spose I have to.” Punch grinned. “Didn’t think of it like that. I guess if that baby of yours could be a man like me chum, then maybe I could like him.”

“Maybe you could help ensure that he does grow to be a man like your ‘chum.’ People aren’t entirely powerless. No matter the odds, sometimes they can cause something good to happen.”

“Even a puppet-man?”

“Even a puppet-man.” Adrienne nodded.

“Huh.” Punch sighed.

“Now, would you like to see him? The baby?”

“Might like to.” Punch responded. “Only you gotta promise me somethin’ first.”

“Anything.” Adrienne laughed.

“Do those men with no bodies a good turn and say a few kind words to ‘em every once in awhile. They can’t help it if they’re made of stone.”

Adrienne lowered her head so that Punch wouldn’t see her amusement. She looked up and said quite earnestly, “If it would please you, Mr. Punch, and somehow please the sculptures, I will offer them some conversation each day.”

“That’s the way to do it!” Punch whooped. “I made up me mind. I’ll see your baby. Can’t be too bad. Got a nice mother.”

Adrienne rose and extended her hand to Mr. Punch. “And many kind friends.”

Punch took Adrienne’s hand. “One thing though, when it’s Lord Julian that’s usin’ the legs and arms and such, he don’t like to be touched. Only me chum can touch him and he even don’t like that so much.”

“I’ll remember that.” Adrienne responded.

“Where’s the baby?” Punch asked.

“Upstairs in the nursery. Come with me.”

Punch followed Adrienne down the passage, pausing to say a few words to the busts along the way. Then, they climbed the stairs.

Little did either of them know, a dark and hulking figure lurked outside the leaded-glass window in the entryway. With fists curled in furious balls, the man hit himself in the leg and smiled at the pain. “Any day now, ya loony,” he growled. “I’ll make you pay for what you did.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-48? If so, you can read them here.