A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 51

Chapter 51
Manacles


"Fascinating,"  Punch declared in his finest "Julian" voice as he and Miss Blessum arrived at the terrible cell where Morgana had been kept for nearly a year.  "Here I thought there wasn't a corner of Fallbridge Hall that I hadn't seen, and, yet, within the past day, I've seen so much that I never expected."  

He faced Miss Blessum so that she  so that she could not escape his gaze.  "Tell me, however did you find this particular room?  Tucked away here...as it is."

"I did not, Your Grace.  Mr. Jackson knew of it."  Ivy answered.

"Open the door for me, please."

"Yes, Your Grace."  Ivy nodded nervously.

"I wonder what purpose it served."  Punch smiled.  "Oh, after you..." He waved the woman in before he entered.  "Tell me, were the chains on the walls here or did you and Mr. Jackson have then installed?"

"We..."

"Go on."  Mr. Punch grinned.

"We had Gregory install them."  Ivy gulped.

"Ah,"  Punch nodded.  "Hmmm...the manacles look as though they'd have been a bit snug on my aunt.  She does not technically have wrists, you know.  Just wee indentations where her...claws...pincers meet her arms.  I can't imagine that she would have been terrible comfortable.  And, well, those leg irons.  Those must have cut and chafed her terribly--her one leg as...swollen as it is.  Open them."

"Your Grace?"

"The shackled and leg irons."  Punch smiled.  "Use your keys and open them.  Then, hand your keys to me."

"I...I do not think that..."

"Do it!"  Punch shouted.

Ivy did as instructed.

"Now, the keys."  Punch held out his hand.  Ivy reluctantly deposited the keys in his palm.

"Miss Blessum, I should like to see how the manacles fit a person with wrists so that I might imagine how they might have fitted my Aunt Morgana.  Please place your wrists in the shackles."

"Your Grace..."

Punch narrowed his eyes.  "You will do it while conscious or..."

"Surely, Your Grace, you couldn't be so..."

"Cruel?"  Punch interrupted.  "Cruel as to keep another human being chained to a wall, in a cell, in an attic?"  He laughed.  "Why not?  It's quite the thing in Yorkshire, I'm told."  His smile faded.  "Now, place your bony wrists in the shackles."

She did has instructed and Punch snapped them shut.  "Do you see how loose they are?  Not loose enough that you could escape, mind.  But, still, loose enough that they're not cutting into your flesh--not that you have much flesh.  Now, think.  My aunt's...arms...are much thicker than yours.  How might that feel?  Think of that.  Do...really think of it.  I shall ask you for your observations when I return."

"You're going to leave me here, Your Grace?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"For how long was Miss Morgana locked here?"  Punch smiled as he closed and locked the door behind him.


Come back on Monday for Chapter 52 of A Recipe for Punch.  If you've missed any chapters, you can catch up in the Chapter Archive.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 51

Chapter 51: 

The Unexpected Houseguest 

Mr. Punch took a deep breath as he climbed the final few stairs to the attics of his Belgrave Square townhouse. Even though every room in the house technically belonged to him, he was always uncomfortable going to the attics. In fact, he had only done so a few times. To Punch, those rooms belonged to the staff. They were their homes, their private spaces—the only place in the house where they were the master of something entirely unique to them. Mr. Punch, being sensitive to such things, was always shy to bother the servants when they were in their rooms.

Still, he had no choice. As the sun yawned to cast dusty, sooty rays across the white, columned facades of Belgrave Square, Punch had already been awake all night. He hadn’t even tried to sleep. He stayed at Robert’s side, watching as his companion fell into a fitful sleep. And once the man was slumbering, Punch stroked Robert’s dark hair and whispered soothing things. At one point, just for a few moments, Punch rose from his spot next to Robert—making sure to move Dog Toby to Robert’s side so that the rattled man would not feel alone. During those brief minutes, Punch had crept to the floor above to look-in on the nursery where he saw Colin sleeping peacefully with Gamilla snoozing in a chair by the fire. Satisfied, Punch returned to Robert and Dog Toby and remained there until Gerard came to help them dress.

Gerard showed he was cheerful, but groggy. Punch couldn’t tell if it was the injury Gerard had sustained to his head which caused Robert’s valet’s listlessness or the medication which Robert had prescribed for the pain. Briefly, Punch thought that Gerard had been acting peculiar ever since Charles had fallen down the service stairs, but he didn’t think anything of it—his mind was elsewhere. Gerard tried his best to help his two masters with their morning routine. He truly did, but clearly looking after the Duke and the Doctor both was too much for him.

“I’m sorry for bein’ so clumsy, Sir.” Punch had heard Gerard say to Robert. “We’ll get everything back in regular order when Charles is free again.”

Robert mumbled something in response about it being important for Charles to stay at Ellen’s side while Mr. Barrett was still in the house. And, this—this was the problem. Mr. Barrett was still in the house. Not only that, but he had long-ago awakened from the heavy drugs Robert had given him. Mr. Barrett was alert and confused, and Punch didn’t care much for this. The idea that this man—this poor, sad, ill man—was in the same home as Punch’s son, companion and friends, bothered and concerned Mr. Punch endlessly.

One characteristic shared by Punch and the Duke with whom he shared his body (among many others which typically went unnoticed and unexplored) was a distinct fear of the unknown. While Julian was crippled by this fear, Punch found it motivating. And, so, once Punch was content that Robert was being looked-after by Gerard, he slipped from his bedchamber and tip-toed up the two flights to the attic room where Charles and Ellen guarded their unexpected houseguest.

He knocked gently on the door to the room which once belonged to Hortence and smiled when Charles opened it.

“Mornin’, Charles.” Mr. Punch nodded.

“Good morning, Your Grace. Was Gerard able to take up my duties today?”

“Fairly well.” Mr. Punch shrugged. “Dr. Halifax is dressing now. I come up here to visit with you and Miss and Mr. Barrett.”

“Who’s that?” a voice asked from inside. Punch knew that the voice came from Mr. Barrett, yet it was a voice which Punch had not heard before. How many people lived within that man?

“Roger, it’s His Grace, the Duke of Fallbridge.” Punch heard Ellen explain.

“Who’s that?” Roger asked.

“My employer. The man to whom this house belongs. You know him. He’s been so kind these past weeks, helping to look after you.” Ellen answered.

“Come in, Your Grace.” Charles whispered.

“Is he…” Punch began.

“He’s calm, Sir.” Charles nodded.

Punch entered the small room and smiled a greeting at Roger Barrett.

“What are you smiling at?” Mr. Barrett asked.

“I typically try to greet my houseguests with a smile.” Punch responded, feeling the need to speak as Julian might instead of in his usual manner.

Roger narrowed his eyes and studied Mr. Punch. “I know you. You’re the puppet man.” This time when he spoke his voice was more familiar to Punch. “Where are they? The puppets?”

“It’s too early for them,” Punch replied.

“I see,” Roger Barrett nodded considerately. “Well, I understand that.”

“How is your head, Mr. Barrett?”

“My head?” Roger squinted. “What’s wrong with my head?”

“You were injured.” Ellen whispered.

“No, I wasn’t.” Mr. Barrett replied. He reached up and felt his forehead. “Oh—well…maybe…” He yelped in panic. “How…who did that? When? How…”

“Mr. Barrett,” Mr. Punch smiled. “You need not fear anything. You’re quite safe. My companion, Dr. Halifax, has tended to your wounds and you’re quite well now. You just need rest.”

“Who are you?” Mr. Barrett mumbled.

“I’m the Duke of Fallbridge,” Punch smiled.

“Right.” Mr. Barrett nodded.

“Roger…” Ellen began.

“What?” Mr. Barrett grunted. “What’s this woman talking about?”

“Might I ask what you’re called?” Mr. Punch said, continuing to smile.

“Lawrence.” The man replied.

“So, you’re Lawrence?” Punch nodded.

“Well, of course I am!” The man spat.

“Very well, Lawrence.” Mr. Punch replied. “Are you hungry?”

“No.” Mr. Barrett smirked. “Are you?”

“Well, yes.” Mr. Punch chuckled. “Usually.”

“That must be difficult for you.” Mr. Barrett sighed.

Punch looked at Charles and chuckled.

“What’s funny?” Mr. Barrett snapped.

“Nothing at all.” Mr. Punch replied. “Now, Lawrence, I think it’s time that you go home to your apartments and rest.”

“Isn’t this my flat?” Mr. Barrett asked.

“No, this is a room in the attics of my house.”

“Oh.” Mr. Barrett nodded. “Oh! You’re the puppet man! Where are they? Where are the puppets.”

“Roger…” Ellen whispered again.

“Who is this woman?” Mr. Barrett growled.

“She’s your sister, mate!” Charles snapped.

“I have no sister, Sir.” Mr. Barrett sighed.

A knock on the door made them all turn as Robert quietly entered the room.

“Another man!” Mr. Barrett barked.

“Good morning,” Robert nodded. “How are we today?” Robert added softly to Punch, “And who?”

“Dunno, chum.” Punch whispered. “He’s been four different blokes since I been in here.”

“Stop speaking about me as if I wasn’t here.” Mr. Barrett moaned.

“My apologies.” Robert nodded. “Sir, are you up for a carriage ride?”

“That depends…” Mr. Barrett squinted. “Where’m I goin’?”

“Back to your rooms.” Robert smiled.

“Sir?” Ellen rose. “Is it wise to send him back?”

“We have no choice, Miss Barrett.” Robert answered irritably. “We have an inspector from Whitehall coming this morning. Or didn’t you know?”

“Charles told me all that happened here last night,” Ellen nodded slowly.

“So, I’m sure you can agree that your brother must return to his rooms.” Robert replied curtly.

“Why do you keep sayin’ this woman’s my sister?”

“Because she is, mate.” Charles grumbled.

“Is she?” Mr. Barrett asked. “Are you my brother, then?”

“No.” Charles shook his head.

“What of them two?” Mr. Barrett asked. “I like the looks of the one with the dark ginger hair. He’s some Scotch in ‘im. Right? Maybe he’s my brother.”

“No. Well, yes. I…I do have some Scottish blood. On my father’s side.” Mr. Punch replied quickly. “However, I’m not your brother, but I like to think that I’m your friend.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Mr. Punch nodded.

“Oh…yes, you’re the puppet man.”

“I am.” Mr. Punch answered patiently. “I have a proposal for you. You see, my companion here…”

“Who’s he?”

“He’s my companion.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Mr. Punch snorted. “He lives here with me. He’s a fine gentleman who has spent his life helping other people. He’s your friend, too.”

“You don’t say?”

“I do.”

“How nice for me, then.” Mr. Barrett smiled.

“I don’t know how you manage it.” Robert whispered.

“Chum…” Punch shrugged. He smiled again at Mr. Barrett. “My companion has sent a letter this morning to a very kind man. This man will be at your rooms when you arrive and he’s also going to be your friend. He is called James.”

“Why will he be at my rooms?”

“So that you always have a friend with you.” Punch forced a smile.

“Oh.” Mr. Barrett nodded. “I think that would be lovely.” He paused and his expression changed. “What do you think, Ellen?” 


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Punch's Cousin, Chapter 51

“What do ya mean when you say ‘that woman?’” Punch growled to Cecil. “You can’t mean that snake Evangeline?”


Cecil knelt down next to his wife—still seated at the dining room table—and took the purple feather from her lap. He held the feather up to the candlelight of the chandelier and glowered at it.

“That’s precisely what I mean, Mr. Punch.” Cecil sighed.

“She’s here, that one?” Punch said wildly. “She’s been in this room? In this house where my chums and me nephew are?”

“Brother,” Robert interrupted, “How can you be sure?”

“This is Iolanthe Evangeline’s calling card.” Cecil said, twirling the feather between his fingers by its stiff tip. “She leaves a feather behind when she wants to make her presence known.”

“This is all my fault.” Robert shook his head. “I shouldn’t have come directly here. She knew I was coming to Marionneaux with Julian and Naasir…”

“And me.” Punch added.

“And, you, dear Punch.” Robert nodded. “I led her right to your door.”

“Robert, Robert,” Adrienne sighed, composing herself. “She has been here before. She already knew the path to our door.”

“Could it be that she sent one of her henchmen to try to scare us?” Robert asked. “Perhaps she’s not been in this house.”

“If she has, I’ll kill her.” Punch roared. “I’ll find her and I’ll pull her painted head right from her sick-smellin’ body. Nobody’s gonna scare me lady chum and nobody’s gonna do nothin’ to hurt me family.” Mr. Punch tilted Julian’s head to one side. “Family? So that’s what the word means. Never knew afore.”

Robert smiled and put his arm around Julian’s shoulders. “Yes, Mr. Punch. That’s what the word means. However, we’ll solve nothing by killing people.”

“Solve a lot, I’d say.” Punch grunted. “Got a problem, hit it with a club. That’s the way to do it.”

“Not in our world. Outside the confines of a tent set up in Covent Garden, the rules are slightly different.” Robert said softly.

“I do appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne said, the smile returning to her lips. “However, I don’t wish you to harm anyone. It wouldn’t do to have Fuller’s new uncle, well uncles really, in a prison for committing murder—even the murder of a monster.”

“Nah,” Punch shook his head, “It’d be easy. She’s all made up of wax and paint. Kind of a puppet herself if you think ‘bout it.”

Robert took his arm from Julian’s shoulders. “Well,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Punch asked.

“Mr. Punch, you’re quite an intelligent chap.” Robert said slowly.

“Always thought so of meself, I did.” Punch nodded. “What makes you think so, too?”

“Perhaps Iolanthe Evangeline is a puppet.”

“No, Chum.” Punch shook Julian’s head. “I didn’t mean it like that. She ain’t really a puppet. Got legs and no strings. She’s a people. I was bein’ poetic like what me master is always doin’. See, I pay attention when he’s out doin’ whatever ‘tis he does.”

Robert squeezed Julian’s arm. “I’m being poetic, too, ‘Chum.’ What does one think of when one considers a puppet?”

“You came to the best party for that one,” Punch grinned. “I think a lots a things. Known a good many puppets, I should say. I know lots ‘bout what makes a puppet what ‘tis.”

“Very well. What’s the one thing that makes a puppet what it is?” Robert asked.

“More than one thing. Can’t just be one. Wooden hands that can’t grasp nothin’. Head made a stuff that ain’t soft. Hollow body what a man can put his hand in.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Robert continued.

“That ogress woman ain’t hollow. She’s got all that stuff inside her what the rest of ya got. Remember, I was gonna spill her guts.” He turned to Adrienne, “If you’ll pardon me sayin’ it, Lady Chum.”

Adrienne nodded weakly. “Quite all right.”

“Again, I’m being ‘poetic’ as you say. A puppet is controlled by someone else.” Robert said.

“I ain’t!” Punch frowned. “I ain’t controlled by nobody but meself.”

“You’re not a puppet anymore. You’re…” Robert struggled, coughing.

“I know. Still not quite sure what I am. I see what you’re sayin’. You think maybe some other party’s what’s makin’ this terrible woman do the things what she does.”

“Exactly.” Robert nodded.

“No.” Adrienne shook her head. “Iolanthe is her own driving force. No one dictates to her.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that, Lady Chum, if you’ll pardon me objectin’. Only I saw that she had fear in her when we was in her place. She’s got somethin’ else what makes her tick, she does. Sure, maybe it’s greed in part. Goin’ on ‘bout business and money, she was. But, maybe it’s fear, too . She was terrible frightened that Naasir was something more than just a man…like me…” Punch’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Robert asked.

“Where’s the man?” Punch said wildly. “Where’s Naasir bein’ kept?”

“Out back with the others.” Cecil rose to his feet.

“Where?” Punch paced around the room, grabbing a hunk of bread from the sideboard and shoving it in Julian’s mouth. He grew increasingly frantic.

“Follow me.” Cecil said.

“Darling, you don’t think…” Adrienne rose.

“I don’t know, Dearest,” Cecil said gently. “Robert, do stay here with Adrienne. Mr. Punch and I will go to the cabins.”

Cecil and Mr. Punch hurried to the cabins at the rear of the property where the household staff lived.

“We made a place for him in here.” Cecil pointed to a cozy little structure with bright calico curtains in the window.

Cecil knocked on the door.

“Naasir!” Punch cried.

The door opened. A dark-skinned man staggered out, rubbing his head in bewilderment.

“Gros Chidi,” Cecil said, “Where is Lord Fallbridge’s man?”

“Dunno, Sir.” The man moaned. “Some fellas come in and done took him away. I tried for to stop them, but they done hit in the face.”

“No! No!” Punch screamed

“What did these men look like?” Cecil asked.

“White men. Maybe Creole. Didn’t talk none. One of ‘em had a wooly black beard.” Chidi answered.

Mr. Punch thumped Julian’s fist loudly against the wall.

“How badly are you hurt?” Cecil asked.

“I’ll be fine, Sir.” Chidi nodded.

“Still, I want you to go to the house and ask Gamila to fetch Dr. Halifax to the kitchen to have a look at you. Tell her, also, that she should stay with Mrs. Halifax in the drawing room until I return.”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Halifax.” Chidi nodded, walking toward the house.

“Here!” Punch demanded, “Now, what are we gonna do, Brother Chum.”

“I don’t know.” Cecil sighed loudly.

“Can’t let some blokes take Naasir ‘way.” Punch cried feverishly. “Can’t let ‘em. You know what that ogress was gonna do? She was gonna burn Naasir. That’s right! Burn ‘im. Can’t let her burn ‘im!”

“But, we have to protect the family, too, Mr. Punch.”

“Naasir is part of the family!” Punch shouted. “Just cuz he don’t look like the rest of us don’t mean he ain’t! In here,” He pounded Julian’s chest, “I don’t look like you and Robert. I got a hunchback and a nose that touches me mouth! Don’t mean I’m any less of a thing than anyone else. Just means I’m different. Naasir’s different, too, but he’s still me chum. He helped me and now I gotta help him.”

Cecil lowered his head. “And, so you shall, Mr. Punch. We all shall.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-50? If so, you can read them here.