Showing posts with label Chapter 52. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chapter 52. Show all posts
Monday, February 3, 2014
A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 52
Chapter 52
Grating
"I never imagined..." Robert shook his head as they pried open the crate in which they'd transported the preserved carcass of the Duchess of Fallbridge.
Gerard coughed a bit from the smell and turned away.
"Gerry, if this is too much for you..." Robert said gently.
"No, Sir." Gerard shook his head. "It shouldn't be. Dunno. I..."
"I think we are all a trifle overwhelmed, Your Lordship." Charles intoned.
"Well, I know I certainly am. I thought we were well rid of the woman when we found her hanged in the attics in New Orleans." Robert frowned. "Who could have guessed that after we entombed her that she'd have been smuggled back into England by her ardent admirers?"
"I wonder how old Jackson managed it?" Gerard squinted, casting a quick look at the Duchess in the crate.
"That is just one of myriad questions I have." Robert grumbled.
"Another, Your Lordship, is where to put her." Charles looked about the crypt.
"I don't know." Robert sighed. "I would have thought that she'd have had a place designated for her--as self-indulgent as she was. I expected when we arrived that we'd find some monument to her down her, but there's not even the slightest trace of a spot set aside for her. Perhaps she fancied herself immortal. That's rather more like it. She was just enough of an egoist to think so."
"Should she be buried with Sir Colin?" Gerard asked shyly. "They were married."
"No." Robert said firmly. "Sorry. It's just that the poor man didn't deserve to be with her in life, there's no reason he should be saddled with her bones in death. Furthermore, he's not interred here. His Grace had Sir Colin's remains returned to Grange Molliner."
"Sir, there is a free vault over there in the corner. We would need a mason to come and cover over..." Charles began.
"A mason..." Robert sighed. "And, have them know about this? I'm not sure." He took the edges of the crate's heavy lid. "Help me, then."
"What're you doin', Sir?" Gerard asked.
"Covering her up again." Robert replied plainly. "I say we just leave her in this crate."
Charles stifled a laugh.
"She's been in a cupboard in the servants' hall for a year. Surely this is no different. Furthermore, she's not due any greater show of respect than this. We've more pressing things which require our attention and I don't relish another moment down here surrounded by death." Robert said quickly.
"I couldn't agree more, Your Lordship." Charles smiled.
"We need to get back to the house." Robert nodded. "Back to life. It's important that when the Earl of Cleaversworth arrives that we have some semblance of peace..." He paused. "What's...?"
Before Robert could finish his question, the creaking sound that had given him pause--the strange grating sound of metal grinding against metal--swelled into the crashing sound of the gate of the crypt being slammed closed.
Robert, Charles and Gerard ran toward the stairs toward the gilt wrought iron screen and gate which stood at the rear of the chapel.
Rattling the gate, Robert shouted. "It's been locked!"
Did you miss any chapters of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 53.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 52
Chapter 52:
God Save the Queen
“Speaight!” Robert called across the foyer of the great house.
“Yes, Sir.” The butler replied, pausing on his way to the morning room.
“I’ve a letter to post.” Robert shook his head. “Have Gerard and Charles returned?”
“Not yet, Sir.” Speaight smiled. “I trust they’ll be back shortly. I can take it for you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Robert replied. “You’re needed here.” He sighed. “We’re going to need to get a new page quickly. We still haven’t replaced Hortence. I’m afraid that you and the others are being over-worked.”
“We’re managing quite well, Dr. Halifax.” Speaight answered brightly. “Not to worry. If you like, I can send Vi to post this for you.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to—for now—though I don’t like the idea of sending one of the girls out. It’s not appropriate.”
“The postbox is just on the corner, Sir. I imagine Violet would welcome the chance to get out. It’s a fine day.”
“Very well.” Robert smiled. “Thank you.”
“When would you like me to gather the staff, Sir?” Speaight answered, taking the letter from Robert.
“As soon as Charles, Gerard and Hutchinson return from getting Mr. Barrett settled. If you’ll just gather them in the servants’ hall, His Grace and I will address everyone there.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Where is His Grace?” Robert asked. “In the morning room?”
“No, Sir.” Speaight furrowed his brow. “He’s in the library. I tried to convince him to use the morning room since the fire was already lit in there, but, you know how His Grace prefers to work in the library.”
“It’s too cold for him in there.” Robert shook his head. “I’ll talk with him.”
“I’m afraid you’ll find he won’t budge, Sir.” Speaight answered. “His Grace has gotten himself quite comfortable with his colors and paper. The last I saw him, Dr. Halifax, he had wedged himself with his tools behind the screen in the corner of the room. Dog Toby is at his side. In fact, Sir, I think he’s quite content. He was humming cheerfully when I left him.”
“Isn’t it remarkable?” Robert couldn’t help but smile. “The whole household is at sixes and sevens waiting for the inspector from Whitehall and our master is able to keep his spirits up in such a way.”
Speaight grinned. “His Grace is an inspiration to us all. However, if you’ll pardon me, Sir, His Grace may be my master, but he’s not yours. You are his equal.”
“I shall never be his equal, Speaight.” Robert chuckled slightly. “He is as much my master as he is yours.”
Speaight nodded, looking with admiration at the doctor, as the front door bell rang.
“Good Heavens!” Robert’s eyes widened. “That can’t be the inspector so early?”
“I hope not, Sir.” Speaight sighed, tucking the letter Robert had given him into his side pocket. “I’ll see who it is.”
Robert watched as Speaight hurried across the grand foyer and into the vestibule. When the butler opened the door, Robert’s jaw dropped—as did Speaight’s.
“Your Majesty,” Speaight gasped, bowing deeply at the incredibly pregnant Queen who stood outside the door of No. 65 Belgrave Square. On one side of the Queen was the Baroness Lehzen and, on the other, a burly, well-muscled man dressed in livery.
The Queen swept into the house as gracefully as a small woman in the late stages of pregnancy could. Louise Lehzen and the guard/footman trailed behind. She aimed herself for Robert.
Robert bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”
“You’re the doctor?” Queen Victoria asked imperiously.
“I am, Your Majesty.” Robert replied nervously.
“My husband said you were a perfect male specimen. I see that he was correct. You’re a sculpture by Michelangelo. I see why Fallbridge keeps you.” The Queen continued rather plainly.
“Thank you,” Robert replied hesitantly as the Queen continued to study him.
“Quite lovely.” Queen Victoria nodded her approval. “Now, Dr. Halifax—that is your name, yes?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Robert nodded, still shocked that the Queen had not only left the palace in her condition—a condition in which she despised being despite the frequency with which she was in it—but was also in their foyer.
“Very well, Dr. Halifax, what is all of this nonsense I hear from Lehzen about Fallbridge murdering a man?”
Robert’s body spasmed with terror momentarily.
“Well?”
“Your Majesty,” Robert began. He looked helplessly at Speaight who stood at the front door in shock. “Perhaps we should retire to the drawing room to discuss this.”
“Sir,” Speaight said quickly, coming to his senses. “The fire is not lit. Pardon me, Your Majesty.”
“What are you thinking, Doctor? It’s too early for a drawing room fire. Where’s your morning room?” Victoria bellowed.
Robert absent-mindedly pointed to his right to the columned and pedimented entrance to the sunny morning room.
“Well?” The Queen repeated.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Robert said quickly. He looked to Speaight who rushed past to open the morning room door for them.
“The baroness and Maximilian will wait here, if you don’t mind.” Her Majesty pointed to the low-upholstered settee which was nestled in the ornately papered crook of the looping staircase.
“Certainly.” Robert forced a smile.
Speaight bowed as the Queen and Robert passed him, looking up to catch Robert’s expression of sheer terror. Standing at the entrance of the room, the butler awaited his orders.
“Speaight, would you please alert His Grace that Her Majesty has paid us a visit?” Robert asked.
“Yes, Dr. Halifax.”
“And, then…” Robert added quickly. “Ask Mrs. Pepper to arrange a special tray for Her Majesty.”
“Oh, please, no.” The Queen said graciously as she arranged herself in Punch’s favorite yellow toile chair. “I could not eat. Thank you.”
Speaight bowed again, shutting the door behind him and flitted toward the staircase, trying to appear calm in front of the Baroness Lehzen and the muscle-bound man.
Alone in the morning room with the Queen, Robert stood uneasily near the mantel.
“Dr. Halifax, you may be seated now.” The Queen smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.” Robert nodded, taking the chair across from her.
“You need not be so nervous, Doctor.” The Queen continued. “You do not fear your queen. Do you?”
“No, Your Majesty. Please pardon me. Simply put, if I seem uneasy it is simply because I have little experience in the presence of Royalty.”
“You live with the Duke of Fallbridge.” The Queen grinned. “You have some experience with the aristocracy, at least. While Fallbridge is not a Duke of the Blood Royal, he is at the apex of the nobility.”
“That is true, Your Majesty.”
“This is why I find it so hard to imagine that Fallbridge has murdered someone. I’ve always found him rather timid, in fact. I’m terribly fond of Fallbridge. My husband is also. Thus, my visit. When I heard there was trouble, I knew that I must come myself even if it meant exposing my horrible condition to all of Belgravia. There are few people for whom I would leave the comfort of my rooms while burdened with this awful affliction.” She glanced down at her pregnant belly.
“I cannot imagine, Your Majesty, how truly uncomfortable in every way your condition must be. No man could ever comprehend it, and I feel for you very deeply.”
“I believe that you do.” The Queen smiled slightly. “Most men are quick to dismiss a woman who is great with child because they dare not imagine the utter pain of it all. You are different.”
“Ma’am, I have attended many a woman in Your Majesty’s condition, and, I must say, that of all of the afflictions which I have witnessed, none could be as painful as childbirth. It is a pain which to me is incomprehensible, and, so, I feel it all the more important to treat it with that much more respect.”
“I see why Fallbridge finds you so appealing.” Queen Victoria nodded. “It is not simply your charming appearance.”
“I hope, Your Majesty, that I have not spoken too plainly.”
“Not at all.” The Queen waved a hand. “Tell me, Doctor. How is Fallbridge?”
“He is quite well, Your Majesty.”
“I’m told he is changed.” The Queen shook her head. “My husband says that he is bolder, different… In fact, the Prince Consort informs me that Fallbridge even appears different—more robust, healthier. This, I suspect, is your doing?”
“I could not say, Your Majesty,” Robert replied slowly. “My only wish is that His Grace remains in good health and good spirits for many years.”
“Is he in a good humor, then?” The Queen sniffed.
“More often than not, Your Majesty.” Robert answered.
“And, yet, he claims to have murdered a man?”
Robert took a deep breath.
“This makes you nervous? Just the statement?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And, yet, is this not what Fallbridge has claimed? He has stated to an officer of the constabulary that he murdered the man who was found outside this very house.”
“That…yes…Your Majesty, yes, that is what His Grace claims.”
“This man…this man I have found so timid in the past.” The Queen replied thoughtfully. “This very gentle, reserved, quiet genius. Regardless of how he has changed from your influence, I cannot fathom that he’s taken the life of another man.”
“His Grace would not do so about provocation, Your Majesty.”
“This foolishness about protecting a secret of mine is poppycock.” The Queen smiled. “You know that as well as I.”
Robert was silent.
“Your Queen addresses you, Doctor.”
“I do not know what to say, Your Majesty.” Robert nodded, glancing at the door and hoping that Punch would appear immediately.
“Doctor, you do know that Fallbridge is a favorite of mine?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. As you said, you would not have paid a personal visit presently were he not. His Grace is a favorite of mine as well.” Robert hoped the last comment would be found as humorous.
The Queen did not laugh nor even smile. Instead, she seemed to find the comment touching.
“Isn’t it time,” the Queen nodded, “that you tell Your Queen the truth, Doctor?”
Meanwhile, upstairs, Speaight searched frantically for Mr. Punch/the Duke. He wasn’t where the butler had left him in the library. Speaight finally found his master in his bedroom—seated under the writing desk. Punch lay on his stomach—his legs extended behind him. In front of him was his drawing pad and Punch was feverishly coloring the detail of a drawing of a brooch. Dog Toby lay next to the Duke, watching the man’s every move.
“Hullo, Speaight!” Punch chirped as Speaight rushed into the room.
“Your Grace,” Speaight panted. “I’ve been looking for you…”
“Lost me blue…what’s it called?. Thing. The blue thing.” Punch muttered. “Found it up here, so I thought I’d just draw in here. Light’s not as strong, but this is where I am, so here I’ll stay.”
“Your Grace…” Speaight snorted.
“Did ya want me?” Mr. Punch looked up cheerfully.
Speaight found the Duke’s childish expression quite enchanting and couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, yes, Your Grace. We’ve a visitor.”
“Bugger!” Punch muttered. “Ain’t the inspector, is it?”
“No…it’s the Queen.” Speaight answered.
“Sure it is.” Punch laughed.
“No. Sir—the Queen is in the morning room with Dr. Halifax.”
“The Queen?” Punch grinned. “Sure, she dragged her big pregnant self all the way to Belgrave Square to have sausages with me.” Punch’s eyes widened. “By the way, when’s breakfast.”
“Your Grace,” Speaight yelped. “The Queen is downstairs.”
“Which queen?” Punch narrowed his eyes.
“Victoria Regina, Sir.” Speaight trembled.
Punch’s eyes widened. “Here! You’re serious!”
Mr. Punch sat up quickly, belting his head on the bottom of the desk. “Bugger!” He howled, rolling out from under the writing table. Dog Toby wagged his tail. “You mean to tell me that Her Majesty Queen Victoria is downstairs with me chum?”
“Yes, Sir.” Speaight nodded anxiously. “Baroness Lehzen and some male servant are waiting in the hall.”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…” Punch mumbled frantically. “Whatever would make her come here? She don’t like to be out when she’s with-child. She don’t like to do anything when she’s…she don’t’ even like to breathe! Oh, Hell! Oh, she’s in a foul humor, ain’t she? She’s always in a foul humor when she’s heavy with child. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!”
“Please, Sir, we must remain calm.” Speaight said, helping Mr. Punch up.
“And…and…you say Robert’s with Her Majesty. Bother! He must be dyin’!” Punch squealed, rushing to put on his jacket. He raced to the door.
Pausing, Punch looked squarely at the butler. “Tell me, do I look like a Duke or do I look like a mad puppet man?”
“Well…uhhhh…”
“Speaight, this ain’t the time for indecision!” Punch chirped.
“Your Grace might wish to arrange his hair differently.” Speaight said hesitantly.
Punch hurried to the mirror and studied his reflection. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! I look like I been drowned." He ran his fingers through his wavy auburn hair, trying to brush the fringe from his forehead. Turning around quickly, he asked. “How’s that?”
“Better, Sir.” Speaight nodded.
“Good.” Punch snorted, rushing from the door.
“Sir!” Speaight called after Punch.
“What?” Punch snapped.
“Your hands, sir.” Speaight pointed at Punch’s hands—the fingertips of which were smeared with charcoal and pastel.
“Bullox!” Punch yelped, hurrying to the water basin. He scrubbed his hands hurriedly. “Did she say why she came?”
“I heard Her Majesty ask about the murder, Sir.” Speaight answered, drying the Duke’s hands with a nearby flannel.
“Oh, ain’t that a treat!” Punch howled. He looked squarely at the butler. “I gotta go down. Dr. Halifax is probably soaked with nervous sweat. Tell me—is there anything else what might offend Her Majesty.”
Speaight quickly studied his master. “I don’t think so.”
Punch snorted again.
Speaight’s eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, butler chum, I ain’t gonna do that with the Queen. I’ll play the Duke.”
With that, Punch rushed down the stairs, pausing outside the morning room door to catch his breath and smooth his hair again.
Opening the door, Punch stood dramatically at the entrance to the room, bowing theatrically. “Your Majesty, what a pleasant surprise.” He said in his best Julian voice.
“Fallbridge.” The Queen nodded as Punch entered. “You do look quite changed. I don’t recall you being so…masculine before.”
Punch blinked rapidly a few times, unsure how to respond.
“I’ve come,” The Queen continued, “about this murder business.”
“A tragic affair, indeed, Your Majesty.” Punch nodded.
“Your companion tells me that you lied to the authorities. That you didn’t have anything at all to do with this foolishness.” The Queen smiled.
Punch’s eyes widened as he looked to Robert.
“Your Majesty…I…” Robert began.
“Why would you do such a thing, Fallbridge?” The Queen interrupted.
“I had no choice, Your Majesty,” Punch replied humbly, yet still as Julian might. “I don’t know why my companion felt the need to involve you in my deception…”
“He didn’t.” The Queen grinned. “He stuck to your tale. You, however, just gave yourself away.”
“I…” Punch’s face fell.
“Now, now, Fallbridge. You mustn’t look so glum. Your queen is here to help you.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-51? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 53 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
“Speaight!” Robert called across the foyer of the great house.
“Yes, Sir.” The butler replied, pausing on his way to the morning room.
“I’ve a letter to post.” Robert shook his head. “Have Gerard and Charles returned?”
“Not yet, Sir.” Speaight smiled. “I trust they’ll be back shortly. I can take it for you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Robert replied. “You’re needed here.” He sighed. “We’re going to need to get a new page quickly. We still haven’t replaced Hortence. I’m afraid that you and the others are being over-worked.”
“We’re managing quite well, Dr. Halifax.” Speaight answered brightly. “Not to worry. If you like, I can send Vi to post this for you.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to—for now—though I don’t like the idea of sending one of the girls out. It’s not appropriate.”
“The postbox is just on the corner, Sir. I imagine Violet would welcome the chance to get out. It’s a fine day.”
“Very well.” Robert smiled. “Thank you.”
“When would you like me to gather the staff, Sir?” Speaight answered, taking the letter from Robert.
“As soon as Charles, Gerard and Hutchinson return from getting Mr. Barrett settled. If you’ll just gather them in the servants’ hall, His Grace and I will address everyone there.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Where is His Grace?” Robert asked. “In the morning room?”
“No, Sir.” Speaight furrowed his brow. “He’s in the library. I tried to convince him to use the morning room since the fire was already lit in there, but, you know how His Grace prefers to work in the library.”
“It’s too cold for him in there.” Robert shook his head. “I’ll talk with him.”
“I’m afraid you’ll find he won’t budge, Sir.” Speaight answered. “His Grace has gotten himself quite comfortable with his colors and paper. The last I saw him, Dr. Halifax, he had wedged himself with his tools behind the screen in the corner of the room. Dog Toby is at his side. In fact, Sir, I think he’s quite content. He was humming cheerfully when I left him.”
“Isn’t it remarkable?” Robert couldn’t help but smile. “The whole household is at sixes and sevens waiting for the inspector from Whitehall and our master is able to keep his spirits up in such a way.”
Speaight grinned. “His Grace is an inspiration to us all. However, if you’ll pardon me, Sir, His Grace may be my master, but he’s not yours. You are his equal.”
“I shall never be his equal, Speaight.” Robert chuckled slightly. “He is as much my master as he is yours.”
Speaight nodded, looking with admiration at the doctor, as the front door bell rang.
“Good Heavens!” Robert’s eyes widened. “That can’t be the inspector so early?”
“I hope not, Sir.” Speaight sighed, tucking the letter Robert had given him into his side pocket. “I’ll see who it is.”
Robert watched as Speaight hurried across the grand foyer and into the vestibule. When the butler opened the door, Robert’s jaw dropped—as did Speaight’s.
“Your Majesty,” Speaight gasped, bowing deeply at the incredibly pregnant Queen who stood outside the door of No. 65 Belgrave Square. On one side of the Queen was the Baroness Lehzen and, on the other, a burly, well-muscled man dressed in livery.
The Queen swept into the house as gracefully as a small woman in the late stages of pregnancy could. Louise Lehzen and the guard/footman trailed behind. She aimed herself for Robert.
Robert bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”
“You’re the doctor?” Queen Victoria asked imperiously.
“I am, Your Majesty.” Robert replied nervously.
“My husband said you were a perfect male specimen. I see that he was correct. You’re a sculpture by Michelangelo. I see why Fallbridge keeps you.” The Queen continued rather plainly.
“Thank you,” Robert replied hesitantly as the Queen continued to study him.
“Quite lovely.” Queen Victoria nodded her approval. “Now, Dr. Halifax—that is your name, yes?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Robert nodded, still shocked that the Queen had not only left the palace in her condition—a condition in which she despised being despite the frequency with which she was in it—but was also in their foyer.
“Very well, Dr. Halifax, what is all of this nonsense I hear from Lehzen about Fallbridge murdering a man?”
Robert’s body spasmed with terror momentarily.
“Well?”
“Your Majesty,” Robert began. He looked helplessly at Speaight who stood at the front door in shock. “Perhaps we should retire to the drawing room to discuss this.”
“Sir,” Speaight said quickly, coming to his senses. “The fire is not lit. Pardon me, Your Majesty.”
“What are you thinking, Doctor? It’s too early for a drawing room fire. Where’s your morning room?” Victoria bellowed.
Robert absent-mindedly pointed to his right to the columned and pedimented entrance to the sunny morning room.
“Well?” The Queen repeated.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Robert said quickly. He looked to Speaight who rushed past to open the morning room door for them.
“The baroness and Maximilian will wait here, if you don’t mind.” Her Majesty pointed to the low-upholstered settee which was nestled in the ornately papered crook of the looping staircase.
“Certainly.” Robert forced a smile.
Speaight bowed as the Queen and Robert passed him, looking up to catch Robert’s expression of sheer terror. Standing at the entrance of the room, the butler awaited his orders.
“Speaight, would you please alert His Grace that Her Majesty has paid us a visit?” Robert asked.
“Yes, Dr. Halifax.”
“And, then…” Robert added quickly. “Ask Mrs. Pepper to arrange a special tray for Her Majesty.”
“Oh, please, no.” The Queen said graciously as she arranged herself in Punch’s favorite yellow toile chair. “I could not eat. Thank you.”
Speaight bowed again, shutting the door behind him and flitted toward the staircase, trying to appear calm in front of the Baroness Lehzen and the muscle-bound man.
Alone in the morning room with the Queen, Robert stood uneasily near the mantel.
“Dr. Halifax, you may be seated now.” The Queen smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.” Robert nodded, taking the chair across from her.
“You need not be so nervous, Doctor.” The Queen continued. “You do not fear your queen. Do you?”
“No, Your Majesty. Please pardon me. Simply put, if I seem uneasy it is simply because I have little experience in the presence of Royalty.”
“You live with the Duke of Fallbridge.” The Queen grinned. “You have some experience with the aristocracy, at least. While Fallbridge is not a Duke of the Blood Royal, he is at the apex of the nobility.”
“That is true, Your Majesty.”
“This is why I find it so hard to imagine that Fallbridge has murdered someone. I’ve always found him rather timid, in fact. I’m terribly fond of Fallbridge. My husband is also. Thus, my visit. When I heard there was trouble, I knew that I must come myself even if it meant exposing my horrible condition to all of Belgravia. There are few people for whom I would leave the comfort of my rooms while burdened with this awful affliction.” She glanced down at her pregnant belly.
“I cannot imagine, Your Majesty, how truly uncomfortable in every way your condition must be. No man could ever comprehend it, and I feel for you very deeply.”
“I believe that you do.” The Queen smiled slightly. “Most men are quick to dismiss a woman who is great with child because they dare not imagine the utter pain of it all. You are different.”
“Ma’am, I have attended many a woman in Your Majesty’s condition, and, I must say, that of all of the afflictions which I have witnessed, none could be as painful as childbirth. It is a pain which to me is incomprehensible, and, so, I feel it all the more important to treat it with that much more respect.”
“I see why Fallbridge finds you so appealing.” Queen Victoria nodded. “It is not simply your charming appearance.”
“I hope, Your Majesty, that I have not spoken too plainly.”
“Not at all.” The Queen waved a hand. “Tell me, Doctor. How is Fallbridge?”
“He is quite well, Your Majesty.”
“I’m told he is changed.” The Queen shook her head. “My husband says that he is bolder, different… In fact, the Prince Consort informs me that Fallbridge even appears different—more robust, healthier. This, I suspect, is your doing?”
“I could not say, Your Majesty,” Robert replied slowly. “My only wish is that His Grace remains in good health and good spirits for many years.”
“Is he in a good humor, then?” The Queen sniffed.
“More often than not, Your Majesty.” Robert answered.
“And, yet, he claims to have murdered a man?”
Robert took a deep breath.
“This makes you nervous? Just the statement?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And, yet, is this not what Fallbridge has claimed? He has stated to an officer of the constabulary that he murdered the man who was found outside this very house.”
“That…yes…Your Majesty, yes, that is what His Grace claims.”
“This man…this man I have found so timid in the past.” The Queen replied thoughtfully. “This very gentle, reserved, quiet genius. Regardless of how he has changed from your influence, I cannot fathom that he’s taken the life of another man.”
“His Grace would not do so about provocation, Your Majesty.”
“This foolishness about protecting a secret of mine is poppycock.” The Queen smiled. “You know that as well as I.”
Robert was silent.
“Your Queen addresses you, Doctor.”
“I do not know what to say, Your Majesty.” Robert nodded, glancing at the door and hoping that Punch would appear immediately.
“Doctor, you do know that Fallbridge is a favorite of mine?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. As you said, you would not have paid a personal visit presently were he not. His Grace is a favorite of mine as well.” Robert hoped the last comment would be found as humorous.
The Queen did not laugh nor even smile. Instead, she seemed to find the comment touching.
“Isn’t it time,” the Queen nodded, “that you tell Your Queen the truth, Doctor?”
Meanwhile, upstairs, Speaight searched frantically for Mr. Punch/the Duke. He wasn’t where the butler had left him in the library. Speaight finally found his master in his bedroom—seated under the writing desk. Punch lay on his stomach—his legs extended behind him. In front of him was his drawing pad and Punch was feverishly coloring the detail of a drawing of a brooch. Dog Toby lay next to the Duke, watching the man’s every move.
“Hullo, Speaight!” Punch chirped as Speaight rushed into the room.
“Your Grace,” Speaight panted. “I’ve been looking for you…”
“Lost me blue…what’s it called?. Thing. The blue thing.” Punch muttered. “Found it up here, so I thought I’d just draw in here. Light’s not as strong, but this is where I am, so here I’ll stay.”
“Your Grace…” Speaight snorted.
“Did ya want me?” Mr. Punch looked up cheerfully.
Speaight found the Duke’s childish expression quite enchanting and couldn’t help but smile.
“Well, yes, Your Grace. We’ve a visitor.”
“Bugger!” Punch muttered. “Ain’t the inspector, is it?”
“No…it’s the Queen.” Speaight answered.
“Sure it is.” Punch laughed.
“No. Sir—the Queen is in the morning room with Dr. Halifax.”
“The Queen?” Punch grinned. “Sure, she dragged her big pregnant self all the way to Belgrave Square to have sausages with me.” Punch’s eyes widened. “By the way, when’s breakfast.”
“Your Grace,” Speaight yelped. “The Queen is downstairs.”
“Which queen?” Punch narrowed his eyes.
“Victoria Regina, Sir.” Speaight trembled.
Punch’s eyes widened. “Here! You’re serious!”
Mr. Punch sat up quickly, belting his head on the bottom of the desk. “Bugger!” He howled, rolling out from under the writing table. Dog Toby wagged his tail. “You mean to tell me that Her Majesty Queen Victoria is downstairs with me chum?”
“Yes, Sir.” Speaight nodded anxiously. “Baroness Lehzen and some male servant are waiting in the hall.”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…” Punch mumbled frantically. “Whatever would make her come here? She don’t like to be out when she’s with-child. She don’t like to do anything when she’s…she don’t’ even like to breathe! Oh, Hell! Oh, she’s in a foul humor, ain’t she? She’s always in a foul humor when she’s heavy with child. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!”
“Please, Sir, we must remain calm.” Speaight said, helping Mr. Punch up.
“And…and…you say Robert’s with Her Majesty. Bother! He must be dyin’!” Punch squealed, rushing to put on his jacket. He raced to the door.
Pausing, Punch looked squarely at the butler. “Tell me, do I look like a Duke or do I look like a mad puppet man?”
“Well…uhhhh…”
“Speaight, this ain’t the time for indecision!” Punch chirped.
“Your Grace might wish to arrange his hair differently.” Speaight said hesitantly.
Punch hurried to the mirror and studied his reflection. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! I look like I been drowned." He ran his fingers through his wavy auburn hair, trying to brush the fringe from his forehead. Turning around quickly, he asked. “How’s that?”
“Better, Sir.” Speaight nodded.
“Good.” Punch snorted, rushing from the door.
“Sir!” Speaight called after Punch.
“What?” Punch snapped.
“Your hands, sir.” Speaight pointed at Punch’s hands—the fingertips of which were smeared with charcoal and pastel.
“Bullox!” Punch yelped, hurrying to the water basin. He scrubbed his hands hurriedly. “Did she say why she came?”
“I heard Her Majesty ask about the murder, Sir.” Speaight answered, drying the Duke’s hands with a nearby flannel.
“Oh, ain’t that a treat!” Punch howled. He looked squarely at the butler. “I gotta go down. Dr. Halifax is probably soaked with nervous sweat. Tell me—is there anything else what might offend Her Majesty.”
Speaight quickly studied his master. “I don’t think so.”
Punch snorted again.
Speaight’s eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, butler chum, I ain’t gonna do that with the Queen. I’ll play the Duke.”
With that, Punch rushed down the stairs, pausing outside the morning room door to catch his breath and smooth his hair again.
Opening the door, Punch stood dramatically at the entrance to the room, bowing theatrically. “Your Majesty, what a pleasant surprise.” He said in his best Julian voice.
“Fallbridge.” The Queen nodded as Punch entered. “You do look quite changed. I don’t recall you being so…masculine before.”
Punch blinked rapidly a few times, unsure how to respond.
“I’ve come,” The Queen continued, “about this murder business.”
“A tragic affair, indeed, Your Majesty.” Punch nodded.
“Your companion tells me that you lied to the authorities. That you didn’t have anything at all to do with this foolishness.” The Queen smiled.
Punch’s eyes widened as he looked to Robert.
“Your Majesty…I…” Robert began.
“Why would you do such a thing, Fallbridge?” The Queen interrupted.
“I had no choice, Your Majesty,” Punch replied humbly, yet still as Julian might. “I don’t know why my companion felt the need to involve you in my deception…”
“He didn’t.” The Queen grinned. “He stuck to your tale. You, however, just gave yourself away.”
“I…” Punch’s face fell.
“Now, now, Fallbridge. You mustn’t look so glum. Your queen is here to help you.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-51? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 53 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Punch's Cousin, Chapter 52
Naasir groaned as the ropes cut into the flesh of his wrists. He tried not to move. The slightest motion caused the fibers to dig deeper into his skin. Sweat poured from his scalp, collecting in the dark folds of the cloth that had been tied around his eyes. He could see nothing.
“Now, then, Priest.” A man’s voice growled with the throatiness of the sea. “Will ya do as we say?”
Rough, thick fingers brushed against Naasir’s check as someone removed the gag from his mouth.
“I will do only what the spirits direct me to do.” Naasir answered softly.
“Like spirits, do ya?” The same man laughed.
Naasir suddenly felt warm liquid being poured over his head. He pressed his lips shut, but the wetness still entered his mouth and stung. He could feel his shirt dampen and his nose filled with the overpowering bitterness of whiskey. He sputtered.
“Do what you will.” Naasir croaked. “Do what you will, but my destiny is set out before me. I know my place. I have seen it for it has been written, and, I am not afraid.”
A sharp blow across Naasir’s face toppled him over. He lay on his side on the ground.
“You’d best be afraid.” Another man shouted.
Naasir smelled fire. As he felt the warmth grow hotter and closer, he screamed. “I am not afraid!”
At the yellow house on La Colline Cramoisie, Mr. Punch stalked the floors of the back parlor mumbling to himself. He paused in front of a small bronze sculpture of a woman.
“Don’t know how good ya have it, metal woman.” Punch muttered. “Don’t got a heart nor any mind. Just standing there forever, holdin’ your wheat and lookin’ pretty. Don’t know what it’s like ta feel pain, to feel like you don’t got power over things what are tryin’ to hurt you. Don’t know what it means to care ‘bout nothin’.”
Adrienne interrupted him. “Mr. Punch, do come and sit by me here. I would be comforted to have you by my side.”
“What kind of comfort can I offer?” Punch asked, sitting beside Adrienne. “Don’t have any power, I don’t.”
“But, you do, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne smiled. “Do you see? I already feel better having you near.”
“’S that so?” Punch wondered.
“Yes.” Adrienne nodded. “You know, my own brothers are far from here. I miss them terribly. Just as Cecil always missed Robert. But, now, you are here. You are my new brother and I feel that I am safe, just as when I was a little girl and my Matthieu would cradle me in his arms when the storms frightened me.”
Punch nodded Julian’s head. “I got the ‘pression you mean that.”
“I do.” Adrienne winked. “You are my new brother.”
“Hm.” Punch grunted. “I don’t know what to say to that, I don’t. Only I feel like I’m not good to nobody. The two men went out without me.”
“They’ve given you the task of keeping me safe and to protect Fuller.” Adrienne responded.
“That’s true.” Punch said. “How’m I doin’?”
“Very well, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne laughed.
Punch sunk Julian’s body deeper into the couch. “Crikey, but when are they comin’ back?”
“They’ve gone to see where Naasir might have been taken. It could be awhile.”
“I’ll never forgive meself if anythin’ happens to Naasir. Kept me secret he did. Least I could do is see that nobody hurt him.”
“You can’t be everywhere at once, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne said soothingly.
“Can’t be nowhere.” Punch grumbled. “Never—not without me master. What’s he gonna say when he comes out and finds Naasir’s been taken?”
“He doesn’t know?” Adrienne asked. “Lord Fallbridge is…how do you say it? He is in there with you, yes?”
“Yes, only he don’t know a lot a the things what happen when I’m the one movin’ the body around. See, I keep things from him—not to be cruel, you see, but to help ‘im out. Sometimes he don’t understand things so well and they make him afraid. So, I keep those things for him like they’re kept in a box what he can’t open. Only I can see ‘em, and that helps to protect ‘im.”
“How long have you been protecting Lord Fallbridge?” Adrienne asked.
“Oh. Long.” Mr. Punch answered. “Ever since he were a little fella. Only I didn’t have to make the body work on me own until he were a grown man. See, he used ta think that he’d heard me—when I was in the cabinet and such.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Adrienne wrinkled her brow.
“Nothin’ a be sorry ‘bout, Lady Chum. Hard thing to understand, it is. See, when Julian were a boy, he’d talk to me—puppet me, I mean—when I had no legs. I sat on a shelf in a cabinet and he’d take me out and play with me and tell me things what happened to him and so on. Sometimes the things he’d tell me were hard things to say, and, so, I took ‘em from him so’d he’d not have to say ‘em again. Always so nice to me, he was—to take the time to talk and ask about me. So, I figured, I’d help him out. Only it was hard to help him out when he weren’t with me, so I found a way to be with him all the time. You see, I made that happen. Don’t know how I did it, but by talking with Julian, I became a part of him. I got to be in two places—me body in the cabinet and me thoughts in Julian. Only then other things happened what weren’t so good and Julian needed me more and more. Then, me head got split open and I was lost in the sugar cane. So, I could only be in Julian and nowhere else. Understand?”
“Surprisingly enough, yes, I do.” Adrienne nodded.
“That’s why you’re me Lady Chum.”
“That’s why I’m your new sister.”
“Well, then.” Punch sighed. Suddenly, he bolted upright. “Someone’s here! There’s footsteps!”
Punch commanded Julian’s body to dart to the door of the back parlor. “”S safe, it is. It’s me chum and Brother Chum!”
“Ah, dear Punch.” Robert coughed, patting Julian’s shoulder. “Did you keep our precious Adrienne safe?”
“Her and our nephew,” Punch said proudly. “Did you find Naasir?”
“Sadly, no,” Cecil answered. “The plants at the west end of the property have been trampled. There’s a path—as though a body has been dragged—which leads into the Fontanals’ Plantation and, perhaps all the way to the Cage’s. We dared not go any further. While Manuel Fontanals wouldn’t mind our trespassing on his land, Mr. Cage certainly would. I know he keeps guards on the property, and we didn’t want to risk being shot.”
“Here, this Cage man, he’s the fellow what’s your employer?” Punch asked.
“Yes.” Cecil nodded. “He owns the waxworks in addition to his sugar cane plantation.”
“Didn’t Naasir say that his brother was workin’ on a plantation?” Punch said quickly.
“Yes, his brother, Cephas,” Robert nodded. “I don’t recall which plantation—perhaps he didn’t say.”
Adrienne rose and tugged on the bell-pull. A dark-skinned woman—quite young and beautiful—entered.
“Gamilla,” Adrienne began, “do you know anyone named Cephas?”
“Yes’m.” Gamilla nodded. “He works over ta Mr. Fontanals’ place. Just took a bride,” She smiled. My cousin, Hannah. Such a pretty young thing, ma’am.”
“Do you think you could send one of the men with a message to Cephas?” Cecil asked.
“Reckon, I could, Mr. Halifax.” Gamilla nodded. “Mr. Fontanals don’t mind if we go on his land.”
“Fine, then, if you would, please, tell Ty Chidi to run over and find this Cephas and tell him that his brother, Naasir, is in danger and that we are trying to help him.” Cecil said.
“I’ll do that, Sir.” Gamilla nodded.
“And, how is Gros Chidi. Is he resting?”
“Yes, Mr. Halifax.” Gamilla answered. “He’s right fine. Dr. Halifax was powerful nice to him.”
Robert nodded his gratitude.
“Good. Hurry, then.” Cecil said. Gamilla rushed off on her mission.
“Here!” Punch said. “We still don’t know where Naasir is!”
“Punch, dear fellow, it’s pitch black out. We won’t be able to find him tonight.” Cecil said softly.
“Only you promised!” Punch cried.
“I promised that we’d help him, and we shall. But, until sunrise, it’s quite impossible.”
Punch frowned in disappointment, “Brother Chum, nothin’s impossible.” With that, Mr. Punch ran from the room.
“Robert, stop him!” Cecil shouted.
“No, Darling.” Adrienne shook her head. “Let him go.”
“I’ll go with him. Keep Adrienne and Fuller safe.” Robert said, hurrying from the room.
Robert caught up with Punch just outside the house.
“What’s West?” Punch panted.
Robert pointed the direction.
“You comin’ with me, Chum?” Punch asked.
“Where else would I be?” Robert smiled.
Did you miss Chapters 1-51? If so, you can read them here.
“Now, then, Priest.” A man’s voice growled with the throatiness of the sea. “Will ya do as we say?”
Rough, thick fingers brushed against Naasir’s check as someone removed the gag from his mouth.
“I will do only what the spirits direct me to do.” Naasir answered softly.
“Like spirits, do ya?” The same man laughed.
Naasir suddenly felt warm liquid being poured over his head. He pressed his lips shut, but the wetness still entered his mouth and stung. He could feel his shirt dampen and his nose filled with the overpowering bitterness of whiskey. He sputtered.
“Do what you will.” Naasir croaked. “Do what you will, but my destiny is set out before me. I know my place. I have seen it for it has been written, and, I am not afraid.”
A sharp blow across Naasir’s face toppled him over. He lay on his side on the ground.
“You’d best be afraid.” Another man shouted.
Naasir smelled fire. As he felt the warmth grow hotter and closer, he screamed. “I am not afraid!”
At the yellow house on La Colline Cramoisie, Mr. Punch stalked the floors of the back parlor mumbling to himself. He paused in front of a small bronze sculpture of a woman.
“Don’t know how good ya have it, metal woman.” Punch muttered. “Don’t got a heart nor any mind. Just standing there forever, holdin’ your wheat and lookin’ pretty. Don’t know what it’s like ta feel pain, to feel like you don’t got power over things what are tryin’ to hurt you. Don’t know what it means to care ‘bout nothin’.”
Adrienne interrupted him. “Mr. Punch, do come and sit by me here. I would be comforted to have you by my side.”
“What kind of comfort can I offer?” Punch asked, sitting beside Adrienne. “Don’t have any power, I don’t.”
“But, you do, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne smiled. “Do you see? I already feel better having you near.”
“’S that so?” Punch wondered.
“Yes.” Adrienne nodded. “You know, my own brothers are far from here. I miss them terribly. Just as Cecil always missed Robert. But, now, you are here. You are my new brother and I feel that I am safe, just as when I was a little girl and my Matthieu would cradle me in his arms when the storms frightened me.”
Punch nodded Julian’s head. “I got the ‘pression you mean that.”
“I do.” Adrienne winked. “You are my new brother.”
“Hm.” Punch grunted. “I don’t know what to say to that, I don’t. Only I feel like I’m not good to nobody. The two men went out without me.”
“They’ve given you the task of keeping me safe and to protect Fuller.” Adrienne responded.
“That’s true.” Punch said. “How’m I doin’?”
“Very well, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne laughed.
Punch sunk Julian’s body deeper into the couch. “Crikey, but when are they comin’ back?”
“They’ve gone to see where Naasir might have been taken. It could be awhile.”
“I’ll never forgive meself if anythin’ happens to Naasir. Kept me secret he did. Least I could do is see that nobody hurt him.”
“You can’t be everywhere at once, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne said soothingly.
“Can’t be nowhere.” Punch grumbled. “Never—not without me master. What’s he gonna say when he comes out and finds Naasir’s been taken?”
“He doesn’t know?” Adrienne asked. “Lord Fallbridge is…how do you say it? He is in there with you, yes?”
“Yes, only he don’t know a lot a the things what happen when I’m the one movin’ the body around. See, I keep things from him—not to be cruel, you see, but to help ‘im out. Sometimes he don’t understand things so well and they make him afraid. So, I keep those things for him like they’re kept in a box what he can’t open. Only I can see ‘em, and that helps to protect ‘im.”
“How long have you been protecting Lord Fallbridge?” Adrienne asked.
“Oh. Long.” Mr. Punch answered. “Ever since he were a little fella. Only I didn’t have to make the body work on me own until he were a grown man. See, he used ta think that he’d heard me—when I was in the cabinet and such.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Adrienne wrinkled her brow.
“Nothin’ a be sorry ‘bout, Lady Chum. Hard thing to understand, it is. See, when Julian were a boy, he’d talk to me—puppet me, I mean—when I had no legs. I sat on a shelf in a cabinet and he’d take me out and play with me and tell me things what happened to him and so on. Sometimes the things he’d tell me were hard things to say, and, so, I took ‘em from him so’d he’d not have to say ‘em again. Always so nice to me, he was—to take the time to talk and ask about me. So, I figured, I’d help him out. Only it was hard to help him out when he weren’t with me, so I found a way to be with him all the time. You see, I made that happen. Don’t know how I did it, but by talking with Julian, I became a part of him. I got to be in two places—me body in the cabinet and me thoughts in Julian. Only then other things happened what weren’t so good and Julian needed me more and more. Then, me head got split open and I was lost in the sugar cane. So, I could only be in Julian and nowhere else. Understand?”
“Surprisingly enough, yes, I do.” Adrienne nodded.
“That’s why you’re me Lady Chum.”
“That’s why I’m your new sister.”
“Well, then.” Punch sighed. Suddenly, he bolted upright. “Someone’s here! There’s footsteps!”
Punch commanded Julian’s body to dart to the door of the back parlor. “”S safe, it is. It’s me chum and Brother Chum!”
“Ah, dear Punch.” Robert coughed, patting Julian’s shoulder. “Did you keep our precious Adrienne safe?”
“Her and our nephew,” Punch said proudly. “Did you find Naasir?”
“Sadly, no,” Cecil answered. “The plants at the west end of the property have been trampled. There’s a path—as though a body has been dragged—which leads into the Fontanals’ Plantation and, perhaps all the way to the Cage’s. We dared not go any further. While Manuel Fontanals wouldn’t mind our trespassing on his land, Mr. Cage certainly would. I know he keeps guards on the property, and we didn’t want to risk being shot.”
“Here, this Cage man, he’s the fellow what’s your employer?” Punch asked.
“Yes.” Cecil nodded. “He owns the waxworks in addition to his sugar cane plantation.”
“Didn’t Naasir say that his brother was workin’ on a plantation?” Punch said quickly.
“Yes, his brother, Cephas,” Robert nodded. “I don’t recall which plantation—perhaps he didn’t say.”
Adrienne rose and tugged on the bell-pull. A dark-skinned woman—quite young and beautiful—entered.
“Gamilla,” Adrienne began, “do you know anyone named Cephas?”
“Yes’m.” Gamilla nodded. “He works over ta Mr. Fontanals’ place. Just took a bride,” She smiled. My cousin, Hannah. Such a pretty young thing, ma’am.”
“Do you think you could send one of the men with a message to Cephas?” Cecil asked.
“Reckon, I could, Mr. Halifax.” Gamilla nodded. “Mr. Fontanals don’t mind if we go on his land.”
“Fine, then, if you would, please, tell Ty Chidi to run over and find this Cephas and tell him that his brother, Naasir, is in danger and that we are trying to help him.” Cecil said.
“I’ll do that, Sir.” Gamilla nodded.
“And, how is Gros Chidi. Is he resting?”
“Yes, Mr. Halifax.” Gamilla answered. “He’s right fine. Dr. Halifax was powerful nice to him.”
Robert nodded his gratitude.
“Good. Hurry, then.” Cecil said. Gamilla rushed off on her mission.
“Here!” Punch said. “We still don’t know where Naasir is!”
“Punch, dear fellow, it’s pitch black out. We won’t be able to find him tonight.” Cecil said softly.
“Only you promised!” Punch cried.
“I promised that we’d help him, and we shall. But, until sunrise, it’s quite impossible.”
Punch frowned in disappointment, “Brother Chum, nothin’s impossible.” With that, Mr. Punch ran from the room.
“Robert, stop him!” Cecil shouted.
“No, Darling.” Adrienne shook her head. “Let him go.”
“I’ll go with him. Keep Adrienne and Fuller safe.” Robert said, hurrying from the room.
Robert caught up with Punch just outside the house.
“What’s West?” Punch panted.
Robert pointed the direction.
“You comin’ with me, Chum?” Punch asked.
“Where else would I be?” Robert smiled.
Did you miss Chapters 1-51? If so, you can read them here.
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