A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 50

Chapter 50
Keys


Morgana winced as Ivy Blessum entered the Vermillion Suite.  The woman's expression startled Gamilla who rose and turned quickly.

"Why are you in here, African?"  Ivy snarled.

"I was invited."  Gamilla replied coldly.  "I believe His Grace done told you to stay 'way from Miss Morgana.  I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Morgana doesn't wish for me to leave."  Ivy snapped.  "Do you, Morgana?"

Morgana gulped, sinking lower into her chair.  

"You needn't fear this woman, Miss Morgana.  Not any longer.  You're the master's aunt.  She is a servant.  You may tell her what you think."  Gamilla said gently.

"I...I...don't...I don't want you here,"  Morgana whispered.

"There,"  Ivy smirked.  

"She is addressing you, Miss Blessum."  Gamilla shook her head.

"I am."  Morgana nodded.  "I want you to...l...leave, Ivy."

"I won't leave."  Ivy frowned.  "I'll never leave.  I've not carried out my orders."

"You done been given your orders, Miss Blessum.  Now, you'd best go."  Gamilla said firmly.

"I hear you're with child."  Ivy growled.  "By your Australian husband."  She laughed.  "A woman in such a condition is most delicate."

"Gamilla..."  Morgana whimpered.  "She's angry."

"I ain't afraid o' this dry husk o' a thing."  Gamilla put her hands on her hips.  "Now, get your stick legs movin', you sad, ol' thing before I pick you up by that fish-scale nose o' yours and toss you into the hall."

Morgana's eyes widened and she chuckled a little.

"You find it amusing, do you, Morgana?"  Ivy squinted.  "Sitting there like the Queen, in your borrowed tea dress with your hair in curls and your pincers hidden under velvet and lace.  You're still a freak, my dear."

"What is this?"  Mr. Punch shouted from behind Ivy as he entered the Vermillion Suite.  Followed by Ethel who carried Colin.  Dog Toby trotted beside her.  "Miss Blessum, I specifically told you to stay away from Miss Morgana."

"I know, Your Grace..."  Ivy began.  "I..."

"There's no excuse for it."  Mr. Punch continued.

"Your Grace, did you need me?"  Gamilla asked.

"Not exactly, Gamilla."  Punch replied to Gamilla gently.  "I thought Ethel might bring Colin to meet his Great Auntie Morgana, and then, I might tell you about...something.  I did not expect to find Miss Blessum here."

"I can explain..."  Ivy began again.

"And, you shall."  Punch nodded.  "Later."  He smiled.  "Have you your keys?"

"Keys?"  Ivy asked.

"They keys to the cell where you kept Miss Morgana."

"I have."

"Will you show me this cell?  I understand it's just in the attics...just above where most of the staff sleeps--on the other side of the West facade, behind the turret."  Punch smiled.

"That's correct, Your Grace."

"I'd like to see where my aunt has spent the last year of her life."

"P...P..."  Morgana began.  She thought better of calling him "Punch" in front of Ivy, realizing that no one else seemed to refer to him as "Punch" when others were around.  "I don't think you would really want to see such a place."

"It will help me."  Mr. Punch replied.  "Dear Auntie."

"If it pleases Your Grace."  Ivy answered bitterly.

"It does."  Punch grinned.  "Gamilla, I leave you to make the introduction of my son to his new Auntie as well as Ethel to Miss Morgana whilst I visit a part of my home which I've never seen before.  Miss Blessum, I'll let you lead the way."

"Very well..."  Ivy nodded.

"I shall return,"  Punch winked as Ivy left the room.

Once Mr. Punch had closed the door, Ethel laughed.  "Oh, he's gonna lock up that old woman, ain't he?"

"He sure is, honey."  Gamilla laughed.

"Is that true?"  Morgana's jaw dropped.

"I think it is, Miss Morgana."  Gamilla replied.

"Good."  Morgana nodded.



Did you miss Chapters 1-49 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 51.  

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 50

Chapter 50: 
Aim to Fight 

“You gotta try to be calm,” Punch said, wrestling Robert to the bed.

“How can I?” Robert moaned, tears running down his face—his nose running.

Punch plopped down on the bed next to his companion. They were alone in Punch’s chamber after sending Charles back to watch Mr. Barrett with Ellen, Gerard back to his room to rest his head and Speaight to wherever Speaight went within the bowels of the mansion at night.

“Because it’s gonna turn out fine.” Punch smiled brightly.

“You perjured yourself to an officer of the law. You and Charles and Gerard and Speaight. You lied about the Crown, you claimed to have committed a murder that you did not commit and you…”

“We all did it to protect you.”

“Why?”

“Well, then,” Mr. Punch rose angrily, pacing to the mantel across the room. He bent over slightly and leveled his eyes at Robert. “If you gotta ask that, I been doin’ somethin’ wrong this last year.”

“You know what I mean.” Robert whispered.

“No.” Punch snapped. “I don’t.” He raised his left hand. “You see this hand?”

“Yes.” Robert mumbled.

“What’s on it?”

“Two rings.”

“And what do they mean?”

“Punch…”

“What do they mean, Robert?” Punch shot back.

“The diamond on your index finger was the first ring you…well, Julian…ever made.”

“Yes.” Punch nodded. “Why do I wear it—every day?”

“To remind you of Julian, of your heritage, of the Molliner name and what it means to be the Duke of Fallbridge.”

“That’s right.” Punch sighed. “And, the other? On me third finger?”

“That’s the ring I gave you for your birthday.”

“And…what’s it mean?”

“It means…”

“It means that we’re in this life together. You and me, chum. Robert and Punch. Together. Forever. You and me—lookin’ out for our boy, Colin! Takin’ care of this household! Together! Them stones spell out, ‘dearest.’ Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Because I’m your dearest. And, you’re mine. You and me and Colin and Dog Toby and them folks what live in the attic and work in the bottom of this house so that we can all be happy. That’s why I lied. I done it to make sure we’re all together and that we’re all safe and happy. Them three—Tom and Hortence and the other one—they came into this house with threats. I ain’t gonna take no threats in me own home, especially when they’re threats to my dearest! You hear me. I done what I had to do and Charles and Gerry and Speaight—they backed me up because they love you too—sure, maybe not the way I do, but they love you all the same. We’re happy here! We aim to stay happy and ain’t nothin’ I won’t do to make sure that’s so!”

Robert nodded.

“Now, you’re makin’ me shout and I don’t like it.” Punch scowled.

“Come sit by me.” Robert said softly.

“Don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I’m angry, I am.”

“With me?”

“Sure, I am. You’re not bein’ Robert Henry Halifax like I know ‘im. You’re bein’ strange and scared. Why?”

“I’m afraid of losing what we have.”

“We ain’t gonna!” Punch yelped. “Chum, we ain’t gonna. But, I gotta have your help.”

“You’re right. Yes, of course, you’re correct.”

“Don’t forget. We spent weeks in America together. Were that a pleasure trip?”

“No.” Robert smiled slightly.

“No. It were not. We fought Voodoo Queens and cruel ladies and murderers and a man who wanted to steal our son. We went through fever and fire and gun shots and blood and…all manner of queer magic what I—to this day—still don’t understand. But, we was together—through all the treachery and all the meanness, we got through it. And, what did we get from it? We got here! We got here with our Colin! And, we came out of it with friends, chum. Gerry and Charles and Gamilla. Buggery Bullox! By the end, we even called the very Voodoo Queen what tried to kill us our friend! Ain’t that what you’d call triumph?”

“I should say so.”

“Then, this is nothin’.” Punch sniffed. “Yes, I lied. I told the copper that I killed William. The reason I gave was good ‘nough. Nothin’s gonna happen. By doin’ it, I stopped them folks from talkin’ and I took ‘way any doubt what could have plagued us. It’s over, chum. And, once ‘gain, what have we got?”

“Us. Colin…and our household.”

“Yes.” Punch grinned.

“Yes.” Robert nodded.

“So, why are you cryin’?”

“I’m…”

“What?”

“I’m haunted. When we were in America, no one knew me—no one except you. Well, of course, Cecil, my brother. But, I mean, no one’s opinion of me was colored by anything. Here, it’s easy to know who I am. My father—the debtor. My mother—the lunatic. It’s easily discovered. People judge you based on these things. They judge and they make decisions based on it.”

“Don’t I know it?” Punch sighed, sitting next to his companion. “Who am I?”

“The Duke of Fallbridge.” Robert shook his head.

“Rumored to be mad, I might add.” Punch winked. “And, not too far-fetched a rumor. Sure, the body is the Duke’s. And, sure, he’s in here. But, we know who I am and it ain’t no Duke. But, even were that not the case, even if I were just Julian Molliner, Duke of Fallbridge, don’t you think people’d judge me the same way. Julian’s mum—there was a witch if there ever was one. And, what became of her? Who knows? Right? We know. Sure, we know she were killed by a whore in New Orleans. But, what do folk here know? Nothin’. She went to America and never came back. Don’t you think folk talk? Do you think they believe when I say she lost her life to fever? No. They don’t. They know she were a horrible person who surely met a bad end. And, me sister. Or, Julian’s sister. Either way—same awful girl. All set to marry a baron and then she’s gone! Where’s she? Didn’t come back either? Lost to the same fever? Who believes that? Whether or not folk think she’s dead or know she’s really alive in Louisiana livin’ as a prostitute, all folk see is that the Duke came back with an ‘adopted’ son who looks an awful lot like a Fallbridge. Don’t you see? No matter what we do, folk are gonna talk, they’re gonna talk and judge and point. No matter what we do, chum, they’re gonna point. And, if for no other reason than that we’re different, you and I. We ain’t a Duke and Duchess livin’ in this fine house. We’re two men and folk know what we’re ‘bout. Nothin’ we do is gonna stop people talkin’ and judgin’. Can’t stop that, we can’t. It just can’t be done. So, we can always live in fear and let folk beat us down or we can fight. I aim to fight. But, I won’t do it alone. You gotta fight with me.”

“I will, dear Punch.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” Robert smiled.

“Sure, I know what I done tonight were wrong. It ain’t the first time I done somethin’ wrong and it ain’t the last I ever will. But, this time I did it for a good reason. I done it to protect you—to protect us. And, even to protect them others what live in this house. And, especially our Colin. We can’t control what anyone outside of here does, but, coo! We can make what happens at No. 65 Belgrave Square as safe and happy as possible for as long as possible!”

Robert nodded.

“Now, smile.”

Robert did as instructed—a large, relieved, genuine smile.

“You gonna fight at my side?”

“Always.” Robert stood up.

“That’s all I ask.” Punch grinned.

“I will always be at your side.”

“That’s the way to do it.” Punch whooped.

“I just hope you realize that this evening was not the end of this William Stover problem.”

“I know it.” Mr. Punch laughed. “But, it’s the end of it for the day, and that’s ‘nough for me.”

“For me, too, dear Punch. For me, too.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-49 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 51.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 50

Mr. Punch cautiously peered over the side of the bassinette. He looked over at Robert and Cecil who were standing to the right of the room. Robert grinned broadly. Cecil, on the other hand, looked rather nervous.


“Mr. Punch,” Adrienne smiled, “I’d like you to meet Fuller Douglas Halifax.”

“How’d ya do?” Punch nodded Julian’s head at the baby.

Punch squinted. “He don’t answer. See, I knew he’d not like me.”

“Oh, Punch, my dear,” Adrienne couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s still too young to talk. Babies don’t talk until they’ve grown a bit.”

“Oh.” Punch said. “He don’t talk.” Punch smiled. “I can see how that might be nice.”

Punch got a little closer and leaned over the infant who reached out his arms.

“Crikey.” Punch laughed. “Kinda nice lookin’, isn’t he?”

“He wants you to pick him up.” Adrienne smiled.

“How’d ya know?” Punch asked nervously. “Not talkin’ and all.”

“He communicates in his own way.” Adrienne said.

“Now, now, my dear,” Cecil said quickly, “if Mr. Punch doesn’t want to hold Fuller, he doesn’t have to.”

“Who says I don’t?” Punch frowned. “I didn’t say one way or ‘nother. Didn’t know the little thing wanted holdin’.”

“You may pick him up if you like. Just make sure to support his head.” Adrienne said softly.

“What’s wrong with his head?” Punch’s eyes widened.

“Not a thing.” Adrienne giggled. “It’s simply that babies can’t support their own heads.”

“Kinda helpless, isn’t it?” Punch responded quietly. “Makes you want to take care of it.”

“We prefer to refer to Fuller as a ‘him,’ as opposed to an ‘it.’” Adrienne responded cheerfully.

“I see.” Punch continued to look at the child. “So, ‘e’s gonna grow up to be a man? A man what’s got legs and arms and strength—huh?”

“That’s the plan.” Cecil said. He, too, began to smile again.

“Well, then.” Mr. Punch sighed. “I think that’s a fair thing and all. Yes, maybe I would like to hold it…errr…him.”

Adrienne lifted Fuller and placed him gently in Julian’s arms as Mr. Punch made a considerable effort to make sure the child’s head was supported.

“Soft and warm, he is.” Punch grinned. “Smells nice, too.”

The baby cooed and tugged at Julian’s lapel.

“Not made a wood, are ya, little human?” Punch smiled at the baby. “You’re made a people stuff. How nice for you. Now, you take care of that head of yours. See, I know about that sorta thing what with me head bein’…” Punch paused. “But, that ain’t for the likes of you, little people. No. You should be told about happy things. I know some happy things, I do.” Punch thought for a moment. “Like I can remember when me master went to London in lived in a big house all his own. He had shiny things then what he made into even shinier things like this here ring.” Punch gently wiggled Julian’s left index finger so that Fuller could see.

The baby was mesmerized by the sparkle of the diamond.

“Now, that’s a nice thing, isn’t it?” Punch continued. “I want for you to have nice things and to have that same look ‘bout you what you got right now. That kinda happy look so that you’ll know that you’re a nice thing yourself.”

Cecil sniffled and looked away.

“Here, what’s with him?” Punch asked.

“I think he’s touched to see his son treated with such kindness.” Robert answered for his brother.

“Oh.” Punch nodded. “Not bein’ ‘specially kind, I’m not. Just tryin’ to let the little human know that he got folk what like him. Even if I ain’t a real man. I’m still kind of a man.”

“You’re most certainly a man, Mr. Punch.” Robert said, his voice hoarse.

“What this?” Punch said with considerable alarm as he looked at the baby. “He’s got wetness comin’ out his mouth! Did I break him?”

Adrienne chuckled, “No, not at all. He’s doing what babies do. They tend to drool a little.”

“I see.” Punch said. “Kinda messy things, then. ‘Spose he’ll get over it?”

“Yes, he will.” Cecil laughed.

“You got yourself a nice little people here.” Punch said to Adrienne. “Now, you talk to him, don’t ya?”

“Yes. Every day.” Cecil answered.

“Glad ta hear it.” Punch nodded.

“Well, then,” Adrienne said to the baby as she took him from Julian’s arms, “Fuller, say ‘good night’ to Uncle Punch.”

Punch’s eyes widened happily. “Uncle Punch?”

“Of course,” Adrienne said as she laid the baby down. “Robert is his uncle, and, now, so are you. And, when we meet Lord Fallbridge, he will be Fuller’s Uncle Julian. Our son is quite fortunate—in you, he has two uncles in one.”

“Never been uncle to nothin’ afore.” Punch coughed. “Only how’s he gonna say ‘good night’ to me when he don’t talk?”

“Give me your hand.” Adrienne said.

Punch offered Adrienne Julian’s hand.

“Hold out your finger.” Adrienne said as she guided Julian’s hand toward the baby. Fuller grabbed Julian’s finger in his tiny fist.

“Here!” Punch whooped. “He’s got a grip on him, then!”

“That’s his way of saying ‘good night.’”

Punch grinned, taking Julian’s finger back. “What do ya know? Sleep well, small people.”

Robert laughed. “What do you think of my nephew?”

“He’s me nephew, too. So, rightly, I think he’s a fine wee chap.”

“That he is.” Cecil laughed. “Now, I suppose you two men must be starved. Let’s retire to the dining room and take some sustenance.”

“That’s the way to do it.” Punch smiled. “Only what ‘bout Naasir? I ‘spose he’s hungry too what with being a human and all.”

“I’m sure Naasir has eaten with the rest of the servants.” Cecil answered.

“What? Can’t he eat with us?” Punch asked.

Cecil looked at Robert—confused.

“Our Mr. Punch doesn’t quite understand why people need to be separated because of their lot in life.” Robert said.

“Don’t make sense.” Mr. Punch shrugged. “But, long as he’s been fed, I ‘spose it’s all right.”

“I’m sure he has.” Adrienne answered.

“Interestin’ place, this is.” Punch continued as they walked downstairs. “Full a heads and babies and things to eat.”

“I’m pleased that you like it.” Cecil laughed.

“So, you made these men?” Punch asked. “Gave ‘em heads an’ all?” He pointed to the busts in the corridor.

“I did.” Cecil answered.

“Can you fix a head what’s been broken?” Punch asked.

“I imagine that I could, Mr. Punch.” Cecil nodded.

“Huh.” Punch grunted.

Adrienne, Robert, Cecil and Mr. Punch walked into the elegant dining room. Its walls were painted a deep coral color—brilliant against gleaming white moldings. In the center of the room hung a glimmering crystal chandelier with blazing candles. The long cherry wood table was set with fine crystal and china and the sideboard brimmed with peculiar foods the likes of which Punch had never seen, but the smell of which appealed to him.

“Coo.” Punch hooted. “Look at all that.”

Cecil pulled out Adrienne’s chair so that she could sit at her place at the head of the table. Upon sitting, she reached for the linen napkin to place it on her lap. As she did, something fluttered out of it.

Adrienne shrieked!

“What is it, my darling?” Cecil asked quickly.

Adrienne could not speak. Trembling she pointed to the thing on her lap.

A long, deep-purple feather lay across her fine gown.

“Dear God,” Cecil hissed. “That woman has been in my house.”

Did you miss Chapters 1-49?  If so, you can read them here.