A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 55

Chapter 55
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"Lady Fallbridge,"  Violet began gently, "I know you don't want to think of it right at the moment, but, you'd best be thinkin' 'bout what you want to wear for when the earl arrives."

"I know."  Lennie replied, biting down on the nail of her right thumb.  "I...I know."  She shook her head.  "The air in here is so terribly close, isn't it, Violet?"

"Yes, M'Lady."  Violet nodded.  "Shall I open a window?"

"They don't open."  Lennie shook her head.  "None of the windows in these rooms open.  I've tried them all."

"I saw one in the passage was open earlier."  Violet smiled.  "Maybe we should step out."

"It's no use, Violet."  Lennie replied.  "No matter where I go here, it seems that closeness--that oppressive feeling--follows me.  Ever since, ever since this morning."

"I know what you mean, M'Lady."  Violet answered.

"Before I dress, perhaps I should look in on Pun...His Grace, His Lordship and my Aunt Morgana."  Lennie suggested.

"The last I saw Miss Morgana, M'Lady, she was with Gamilla."  Violet said.  "His Grace was in the nursery, and, well...you know what His Lordship was about with Charles and Gerard."

"Yes,"  Lennie responded quietly.  "Surely Lord Colinshire's returned by now.  I should like to know how...how that was resolved."

"How about this, M'Lady, I've got to go fetch the water for your ablutions.  I shall go and see if His Lordship has returned and look in on Miss Morgana and on the nursery for you.  I'll ask His Grace to visit you here while you decide which gown you'd like to wear."

"You're too good to me."  Lennie smiled for the first time in hours.

"Not at all, Miss Lennie."  Violet said.  "Now, you take your time, M'Lady, and look through your gowns and I'll be back as fast as I can."

Violet hurried to the door and rushed out into the passage, leaving Lennie in the room alone.

Lennie sighed.

The last thing thing she really wanted was to pick out a gown.  Furthermore, the idea of Matthew's arrival, though she did miss her fiance, was not one which filled her with excitement--given the earlier events of the day.  How would she explain what had transpired?  He was sure to sense something was amiss.

"Oh, we just happened to find the remains of the mother I never knew in a cupboard in the butler's pantry."  Lennie said aloud.  "How was your journey, Matthew?"

No.  That would not work.

And, how to explain Morgana?  Poor, sweet Morgana.  Matthew was a sensible man with a generous nature, but he tended to be rather staid.  Certainly he accepted Punch's--eccentricities, and he accepted Robert and Punch as a family when most in Society sniggered, and most outside of the upper-classes would see them hanged in a heartbeat.  However, would he wish to be linked to a family with a...

She felt ashamed of herself.  Nonetheless it was the truth.  Morgana was a sideshow curiosity.  Morgana herself knew it.  Still, it felt rather cruel to think it.

"By the way, Matthew, dear.  It seems we have an Auntie.  Here she is.  Her name is Morgana and she's a Lobster Woman."  Lennie said to the room.  "She's been locked in the attics for some reason of which we're not particularly sure at the moment.  Oh, look it's time for tea."

Lennie glanced down at her engagement ring and chuckled a bit.  However Matthew responded would be for the best.  She wasn't really sure if she was ready to be wed anyway.

Coughing, Lennie was reminded of the strong odor in the pantry.  Her rooms were suffocating.  

Recalling that Violet had said that a window in the passage had been opened, she decided to venture out an take in some fresh air--just for a moment.

At first, the cold handle of the door seemed to stick as if locked from the other side, sending a shock of panic through Lennie's hand, but, then, it suddenly, gave way in her hand and the door flung open as though it had been pushed.

"Dreadful place."  Lennie thought to herself as she walked into the passage.

"Ellen..."  A voice seemed to call to her.

She shivered at the sound.  She never liked being called by her given name--for a variety of complicated reasons.  Who would call her "Ellen"?  Neither Punch nor Robert would.  None of the staff would dare.  Furthermore, it was a woman's voice.

Was it Morgana?  

Had Lennie intriduced herself as "Ellen" or "Lennie" at first?  She couldn't remember.  Either way, she would have been sure to make a point of saying she preferred being called "Lennie."

Curious, Lennie followed the sound, certain she'd heard the name called again.



Did you miss Chapters 1-54 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back on Monday for Chapter 56.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 55

Chapter 55: 

Never More than Me 



“Imagine,” Ethel sighed. “Just now our masters is sittin’ with the Queen.”

“I wonder what they’re talkin’ bout,” Jenny replied wistfully.

“I’ll wager they’re talkin’ ‘bout gold and diamonds and jewels.” Ethel smiled.

“That ain’t what they’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Jenny frowned. “Do you think that’s all rich folk talk ‘bout?”

“Well, makes sense, don’t it?” Ethel pouted. “His Grace is a jeweler and he makes pretty things for Her Majesty.”

“By the way,” Jenny’s eyes brightened. “Did ya see the ring what the doctor gave His Grace?”

“Didn’t I?” Ethel nodded. “Wasn’t it ever so beautiful? Wonder if a man will ever give me a ring like that.”

“You’ll get a ring.” Jenny chuckled. “A black one—right ‘round your eye. Any man stuck with you’s gonna blacken your eyes one way or ‘nother. If you can get one at all…”

“Is that so?” Ethel barked. “I don’t see no men lined up for you.”

“Where’s the queue for you, then?” Jenny laughed.

“I got a fella,” Ethel scowled.

“Sure ya do.” Jenny wrinkled her nose. “That bloody bloke what you found in the scullery?”

“Here! That were awful!” Ethel spat.

“Were he your true love, then?” Jenny teased.

“Quiet you two!” Mrs. Pepper shouted through the pass-through from the servants’ dining room. She poked her head into the kitchen. “I won’t have no more of that talk in my kitchen!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Pepper.” The girls said in unison.

“Just because the masters are out, don’t mean you can sit on your arses all mornin’. Jenny, we still got that dough to knead and them potatoes want peelin’ for upstairs dinner.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pepper.” Jenny sighed.

“She tol’ you, then.” Ethel stuck out her tongue.

“As for you, Ethel…” Mrs. Pepper stormed into the kitchen. “I seem to recall a stack of dishes still from our breakfast sittin’ in the scullery. I suppose you done ‘em?”

“No, Mrs. Pepper.” Ethel yelped.

“Then, how is it you got time to sit at my table wastin’ the mornin’ with Jenny?” Mrs. Pepper grinned.

“Sorry.”

“I should say you are.” Mrs. Pepper said firmly. “Furthermore, you two, I won’t hear you talkin’ ‘bout that poor soul, Mr. Barrett.”

“He were terrifyin’, Mrs. Pepper.” Ethel gasped. “He scared me.”

“I know he did, Girl. But, that don’t mean we should make him our fun. You know he’s Miss Barrett’s brother.”

“Poor Miss Barrett,” Jenny clucked her tongue. “What a sad burden.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’s already sensitive ‘nough ‘bout ‘im.” Mrs. Pepper snapped. Her expression softened a bit when she saw how frightened the two girls looked. “Listen, you, I know what it’s like to be your age. I know I bark a bit, but you know I’m just lookin’ out for ya.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pepper.” Ethel smiled.

“What else were you talkin’ ‘bout?” Mrs. Pepper asked.

“The masters, Mrs. Pepper,” Jenny spoke up. “Think of it! They’re sittin’ with Her Majesty right this moment.”

“The Queen!” Ethel added. “Her Majesty who was in our very own house just yesterday. Wish I’d known…”

“Why?” Mrs. Pepper laughed. “Would ya have put on your finest gown and joined ‘em in the morning room?”

“No.” Ethel smirked. “But, I coulda snuck up to the gallery and had a look at her.”

“What’s she like, Mrs. Pepper?” Jenny asked.

“Well, how should I know?” Mrs. Pepper guffawed.

“Ain’t you never seen her?” Jenny continued.

“I did—once. When she were first married—a young bride with rosy cheeks. She was so beautiful and one could just see how much in love she was.”

“Ain’t it grand?” Ethel sighed.

“What’s that, Girl?” Mrs. Pepper said softly.

“To be in love?” Ethel smiled.

“It’s a fine thing, yes.” Mrs. Pepper said.

“I see how His Grace and the doctor look at one ‘nother. Is that how the Queen looked at Prince Albert?” Jenny asked.

“I only saw her—and not up close.” Mrs. Pepper shrugged. “But, when folks is in love, that’s the way they look at each other.”

“Is that the way you looked at Mr. Pepper?” Jenny asked.

“Jen!” Ethel shook her head.

“What?” Jenny shrugged. “Ain’t no harm in askin’! You don’t mind, do ya, Mrs. Pepper?”

“I don’t mind.” Mrs. Pepper shook her head. “Sure, that’s how I looked at my poor, late husband.”

“You loved him terrible much, then?” Jenny asked.

“I did.” Mrs. Pepper replied.

“Do ya miss ‘im?” Jenny continued.

“Well, ‘course she does, then!” Ethel moaned. “What sort of thing is that to ask? What are you like, then?”

“I miss him, Jenny.” Mrs. Pepper nodded.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pepper.” Jenny whispered.

“Now, go on ‘bout your work.” Mrs. Pepper mumbled.

“Still, it is excitin’, isn’t it?” Ethel smiled. “We’re makin’ dinner for two men who are with the very Queen right now!”

“It’s a fine thing, Ethel.” Mrs. Pepper replied, unable to keep from smiling. “We should all be proud. Go on, now.”

The two girls skittered off, leaving Mrs. Pepper alone in the kitchen.

“Jenny! If you’re not headed to the larder for them potatoes, I’ll…” Mrs. Pepper tottered into the servant’s hall. Before she could finish her mild threat, a knock at the area door interrupted her.

“Stuff and nonsense…” Mrs. Pepper mumbled as the knocking grew more persistent. She looked around. Answering the area door was not really her place. Usually the answering of doors was the stuff of Speaight, Gerard or Charles. Seeing, however, that none of the men were anywhere nearby, Mrs. Pepper wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the door—grumbling the entire way.

She opened the door cautiously and peered up at tall, thin, young man with sandy-blond hair and a light growth of beard.

“Pardon me, missus.” The young man said sheepishly. “I were told there’s a position for a page that wants fillin’.”

Mrs. Pepper wailed with laughter, wrapping her arms around the young man’s waist.

“Georgie!” She shrieked happily. “Ever the silly goose!”

“Thought maybe you’d not know me, Ma!” Georgie laughed. “I grown a lot since you last seen me!”

“My boy!” Mrs. Pepper cooed, pulling the young man into the house. “However did you know we need a page?”

“Auntie Abigail tol’ me.” George smiled.

“Why ain’t ya at the factory, then?”

“Got sacked, Ma.”

“What’d you do?” Mrs. Pepper narrowed her eyes though the bottom half of her face was still smiling.

“Nothin’, Ma! Honest! They got a machine what puts the edge on the hose now. Don’t need me. I went to see Auntie and she told me that you said your master were lookin’ for a page. You always write how you like workin’ here. Thought maybe you could help your youngest get work. Besides, I missed your cookin’.”

Mrs. Pepper blushed. “Sure, Georgie. I’ll talk to the masters. Wouldn’t that be somethin’? Me own boy right here at Number 65?”

“I’d like it a lot, Ma.” George smiled.

“Not more than me, Georgie.” Mrs. Pepper said, embracing her son again. “Never more than me.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-54 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 56.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 55

Naasir staggered up the back staircase in the main house, clutching the railing in his hand as he went. His head throbbed and he felt quite dizzy.


“This is how the Great Man of the Rocks must feel,” Naasir thought to himself.

He hurried down the corridor, watching his feet as he walked—his shoes shined in the amber light of the morning sun which lazily flooded through the oval-shaped window at the end of the passage. Gently, he knocked on Julian’s bedroom door, and, then, he entered to find the room empty.

Next, Naasir went to Robert’s room and knocked.

“Enter.” Robert said from within.

“Good morning, Dr. Halifax.” Naasir said politely.

“Naasir,” Robert rose from the chair where he’d been reading. “Whatever are you doing? We told you to take a day of rest today.”

“I know, Sir, however I must continue with my duties. Without that, I have nothing.”

“Nonsense, man.” Robert smiled. “Without your health, you have nothing. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. If you’ll recall when we found you on the red hill, we insisted that you stay abed today.”

“I feel quite fine, Sir.” Naasir nodded. “I would like to continue with my duties.”

“You don’t look fine, Naasir.” Robert responded. “You look tired. You’ve been very badly beaten. I do wish you’d return to the cabin and let Gamilla and Gros Chidi look after you.”

“I cannot.” Naasir answered, “If you’ll pardon me.”

“What’s troubling you?” Robert asked. “Has there been more sign of the men who carried you off?”

“No, Dr. Halifax.” Naasir took a deep breath. “In my slumber, I dreamed awful dreams. I dreamed that The Great Man…Lord Fallbridge, I mean…was in danger. I dreamed that he’d been taken like I was. This morning I find him not in his room.”

“Lord Fallbridge is in the nursery with Mr. and Mrs. Halifax and the baby.” Robert smiled, “Or, to be more accurate, Mr. Punch is in the nursery. I haven’t really seen Lord Fallbridge since we arrived in Marionneaux.”

“Oh.” Naasir sighed. “So, he’s quite safe?”

“As safe as any of us are.” Robert nodded.

Naasir nodded slowly.

“You wish to see it for yourself, don’t you?” Robert grinned. “You do care for His Lordship.”

“I do, Sir.” Naasir bowed his head.

“I can understand that.” Robert chuckled softly, stifling a cough. “Come with me.”

Naasir followed Robert through the corridor and up a short flight of stairs to the nursery in the house’s round turret. They paused outside of the open door to see Julian seated cross-legged on the floor with the child in his lap. Though the body was Julian’s, the voice was distinctly that of Mr. Punch.

“Here, Nephew Chum, you got yourself some bright eyes, don’t ya?” Punch cooed at the baby who looked up at him adoringly.

He spotted Naasir and Robert. “Good morning, Chums! Only what’s Naasir doin’ outta bed?”

“He wanted to make sure that you’re safe,” Robert winked.

“Ah, right then. Quite fine, I am. Dressed meself and all, this mornin’.” Punch nodded. “Just playin’ with the little one. Talkin’ to him and such. Havin’ a nice time, we are. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Mr. Punch, I would say that we are,” Cecil laughed.

Adrienne nodded her head. “That we are.” She turned to Naasir, “I’m so glad you’ve been returned to us. I was quite overjoyed when Robert and Mr. Punch returned with you. How fortunate they were to find you on La Colline Cramoisie. My husband’s brother is quite correct, however, you do need to rest. We will wish to speak with you about what happened, but first, you must take care.”

“I will, Madame.” Nassir bowed his head. “I am most humbled by your concern.”

“We all must look after one another in this life, mustn’t we?” Adrienne smiled.

“Yes, my dear, we must.” Cecil put his arm around his wife.

“Come here, Naasir and look at me nephew!” Punch whooped. The baby giggled happily. “He’s a fine little chap!”

“He is that, Sir.” Naasir smiled, feeling relieved that all was as it should be—at least for a moment.

“He don’t do much though do he?” Punch laughed.

“He does what he should,” Adrienne chuckled. “He is still a baby, dear Mr. Punch.”

“Right.” Punch nodded. “Only he’ll be a big man one day like his father and like me chum. He’ll be a big fine man what can sing and do good works. Here, why don’t we sing?”

Punch smiled at the baby. “You want to sing with me? I like to sing. Naasir sang with me once. Didn’t ya?”

Naasir nodded.

“What shall we sing, then?” Punch asked, tickling the infant’s stomach. The baby gurgled with joy. “Shall we sing the song what me master sung to his sister when she were a little one? Only she didn’t ‘preciate it, what with her bein’…” Punch paused. “Only I won’t be sharin’ me opinions ‘bout that one with the likes of you, little chum. No. That sorta thing ain’t for little ears.”

Cecil guffawed. Adrienne blushed.

“Right then,” Punch tickled the baby again. “Let’s sing. Robert?”

“I shall just listen, if you don’t mind.” Robert smiled.

Punch frowned—just for a brief second—and grunted, “Sometimes, Chum, I wonder if you’re any fun at all.” He looked at baby Fuller. “Here, what do ya think o’ yer Uncle Robert?”

Fuller reached for Julian’s finger and tugged on it.

“That’s me boy.” Punch hooted. He began to sing. “In Scarlet Town, where I was born, there was a fair maid, dwellin’. Made every youth sigh well-a-day. Her name was Barbara Allen!”

The baby cooed.

Naasir moaned.

Robert quickly grabbed the man’s arm to keep him from falling over.

“Oh dear!” Adrienne rushed to Naasir’s side. “This is why you should be in bed, Naasir. Cecil, help Robert bring the man back to Chidi’s cabin. I’ll have Gamilla bring you some broth.”

“No, Madame.” Naasir shook his head. “If you’ll pardon me. I’m so sorry.”

Tears welled in Naasir’s eyes.

“What is it, Naasir?” Robert asked.

“Did me song upset you?” Mr. Punch asked, still sitting on the floor with the baby. “It’s not a bad song. Sure, it’s about a cruel lady, but in the end, the red rose and the briar entwine. It’s pretty, it is.”

“That was the name of the beauty who helped me last night.” Naasir answered, still shaking. “Her name was Barbara Allen.”

“She told you that?” Cecil asked. “She told you her name was ‘Barbara Allen’?”

“Yes, Mr. Halifax.” Naasir said softly.

“What did this beauty look like?” Robert asked.

Naasir pointed to Julian. “Like His Lordship. She had his eyes.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-54? If so, you can read them here.