A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 66

Chapter 66
How Much Trouble?



"Oy,"  The new man called out.  "You there."

"Who's that?"  Mrs. Pepper squinted.

"I think it's the earl's valet, Mrs. P."  Maudie answered.

"Right,"  George Pepper nodded.  "Join us."  He waved the man over to the kitchens where he leaned on the counter talking with his mother and Maudie.

"Finally, some friendly faces."  Perkins smiled.  "These Yorkshire folk haven't had a kind word for me."

"Nor us."  Maudie shook her head.  "We keep to ourselves, Mr. Perkins."

"We don't even have rooms in the attics with the rest of the staff."  George nodded.

"Is that why that burly chap showed me to a room in a wing far off?"  Perkins squinted.

"Yes, Mr. Perkins.  His Grace made sure we were well taken care of.  He wanted us separate from the Hall's staff.  Seems that includes you as well."  Mrs. Pepper replied.

Perkins nodded.  "Can't say I mind."

"Has Lord Cleaversworth gotten settled-in, then?"  George asked.

"He has."  Perkins nodded.  "He's with your masters and Her Ladyship now.  I've not seen Mr. Iantosca nor Mr. Gurney.  Where've they gotten to?"

"Gerard's with his wife in the nursery at present."  Mrs. Pepper replied.  "Not sure what Charles is about.  Probably tendin' to somethin' for His Grace."

"I forgot how informal you all are."  Perkins smiled.  "Callin' everyone by their Christian names as you do."  

"His Grace doesn't stand on ceremony much of the time."  George shrugged.

"In that case," Perkins grinned.  "You all might called me Freddy."

"So we shall,"  Maudie nodded.

"In some households when we've visited, I don't even get the luxury of me own surname.  I get called by the master's."  Perkins sighed.  "Like I ain't a man o' my own."

"Here, you'll be happy to know, you're thought of as a person."  Mrs. Pepper smiled.  

"I'm glad of it."  Freddy Perkins began to relax.  "Say, who's the butler here.  It's not that big chap, is it?"

"Gregory?"  Maudie laughed.  "Mercy, no!"

"There ain't a butler here.  Not anymore."  George shook his head.

"Did ya bring Mr. Speaight with ya?"  Freddy asked.

"No."  Mrs. Pepper replied.   "His Grace only just dismissed the butler.  We're just making as best we can until a decision is made on the subject."

"Makes sense."  Freddy nodded.  "So, what's for fun in these parts?"

"Fun?"  George asked.

"Sure, what's for a lark?"

George shrugged.  "Dunno.  Who's got time for a lark?"

"Well, they go to bed, don't they?"  Freddy grinned.  "What do ya do at night?"

"Polish their boots, and then go to bed."  George laughed.

"There's a village, ain't there?  All great houses like this support a village."

"Course there is."  Mrs. Pepper answered with a hint of irritation in her voice.

"Well, then...what's there?  Must be a pub.  I like a good snort now and then.  Makes things interestin'.  I been hopin' there's a pub--one o' them dusty ones like you find up here."

"No doubt there is."   Mrs. Pepper answered.  "Only we wouldn't know.  We got things to do here.  Ours is not to go out at night without permission.  And, my George is a good lad and doesn't break the masters' trust doin' what he oughtn't."

"Sure, sure."  Freddy nodded.  "I wasn't suggestin' that he was, Mrs. Pepper."

"Speakin' of which,"  Mrs. Pepper said.  "George, maybe you'd best go find Charles and see if he don't need your help in layin' out His Grace's dinner things."  She looked to Freddy.  "It'll be time for the gong, soon enough."

"I understand, Mrs. Pepper."  Freddy replied.  "You'll be wantin' us outta your kitchen."

"Come, Freddy.  I'll show you back up to the earl's room."  George smiled.

"Mind yourself, Georgie."  Mrs. Pepper said firmly.

George nodded.

The two young men went off.

"Ah, Mrs. P., don't fret.  George is a good lad."  Maudie said gently.  "I s'pect Freddy is, too.  He's just talkin' as boys do.  After all, he is Lord Cleaversworth's man, and never was there a duller fella.  How much trouble could Freddy Perkins be, livin' in that household?"

"That's just the kind of household that breeds trouble."  Mrs. Pepper shook her head.  "The kind where the young men downstairs get bored."

"Well, then, our lad won't never get in no trouble."  Maudie winked.  "No time to get bored in our household!"



Did you miss Chapters 1-65 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 67.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 66

Chapter 66: 

The Announcement 



The announcement that the family and most of the staff would depart for Grange Molliner seemed to be the elixir that Punch required. With each passing hour, he grew stronger. Yet this newfound strength did not banish the specter of his recent infirmity—especially for Robert who continued to insist that they should call for the beadle.

“And tell him what, Chum?” Mr. Punch chirped.

“Tell him that you’ve been poisoned!” Robert urged.

“We got no proof o’ it.” Mr. Punch shrugged.

“A household of people who witnessed your weeks-long decline is not enough proof?”

“I coulda been ill.”

“You know that you weren’t.”

“But, it stopped as quick as it started.” Mr. Punch smiled.

“Because we threw those sugar cubes in the rubbish and replaced them with new ones.” Robert snorted.

“And, in doing so, gave up any evidence we mighta had.” Mr. Punch nodded firmly.

“That was Gerard’s doing…” Robert frowned.

“He didn’t mean no harm.” Punch grinned, walking over to put his hands on Robert’s shoulders—an act which Punch knew always calmed his companion. As always, it worked.

Robert sighed. “How can you be so steady?”

“Dunno.” Punch giggled, shrugging. “But, what kind of world is it? I mean, really? What kind of world is it when Mr. Punch is the voice of reason and the picture of steadiness?”

“The world that I love.” Robert mumbled.

“Listen, Chum. I feel better, I do.”

“I can see that.” Robert began.

“Eh…eh…” Punch extended his index finger. “I’m not finished. I feel better. Now, that don’t mean I forgot what just happened. But, I also know that we don’t got no proof that no one did any’thin’ to me. So…there ain’t much we can do ‘bout it. I know you believe that Mr. Barrett’s behind this. But, I ain’t so sure. I’m more of the mind that it were Tom workin’ for Hortence and Miss Stover. But, Tom’s gone. And, we ain’t gonna let no bad folk in the house no more. The folks we got are all good folk. Georgie is a good lad, yes? And, we know Gerry and Charles ain’t gonna do us no harm. Speaight and Mrs. Pepper—they’re gonna look after us. Even Vi, Jenny, Ethel and Hutchinson. We can trust all of ‘em. Besides that, we got Miss Ellen to look after Colin. We ain’t gonna let no one else in. Not no one. ‘Cept maybe the Queen.” He winked.

“Fine. I see your point. Well, one good thing to come of this is that we all have a better sense of how to keep the house secure.”

“Sure.” Mr. Punch said.

“And, now, we’re ‘bout to go to Scotland. This is our boy’s first time goin’ there.” Mr. Punch squinted. “Though, our boy is no stranger to travel. Think o’ it. Not even christened yet and he’s been to America and back already. He’s seen more of the world than most folks in London ever dream o’ seein.”

“Pity he won’t remember most of it.” Robert smiled.

“Here, you don’t know that.” Mr. Punch shrugged.

“You’re right, dear Punch.” Robert nodded. “In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if I know much of anything. All these weeks you’ve been suffering and it never once occurred to me that you’d been poisoned. And, now that we know, I don’t have a clue as to how to deal with it. Ever since William Stover’s death, I feel as if I have no control over anything. It’s not a feeling that I much enjoy, my dear.”

“You got control over quite a bit.” Mr. Punch smiled.

“Such as?”

“Me. Colin. Dog Toby.”

“Oh!” Robert laughed. “Now, that’s a lark. You, Colin and Dog Toby—each more stubborn than the last. I have no more control over any of you than I do the seasons.”

Mr. Punch chuckled. “Maybe so.” He paused, looking serious for a moment. “Chum, I reckon you got as much control as I got. Maybe we don’t need to control things. Maybe we jus’ need to share our moments with those what we love and take what comes together. I s’pose that’s the best anyone can do.”

“You continue to astound me.”

“That’s my aim.” Mr. Punch nodded. “Listen, you’re gonna like Grange Molliner, you are.”

“I am excited.” Robert smiled. “I’ve never been to Scotland. I would feel more at ease if I knew that the ordeal that you just endured was over. Dear Punch, won’t you consider…”

“Chum.” Mr. Punch said sternly.

“Very well.” Robert grumbled. “But, you should know that I’m going to watch your every move. I’m going to monitor every bite of food you take and every sip of drink. I’m going to sit up nights and watch you slumber and I’m going to wait in panic for you to take each breath—until I am entirely convinced that you’re out of danger.”

“Don’t s’pose I’ll be able to say anything to stop ya?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I’ll just have to find ways to entertain ya while you’re watchin’ me eat and drink and sleep.”

“Such as?” Robert smiled.

“Dunno. Off the top of me head, I’m thinkin’ o’ makin’ a puppet out of a potato.”

“I think we can do better than that.” Robert nodded.

“You think ‘ bout it, then.” Punch laughed.

“Oh, I will, dear Punch.” Robert teased. “I will.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-65 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 67.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 66

Barbara Allen laughed cruelly, “Just what do you intend to do, my lunatic brother?”


“Intend to cleave yer skull like what you did mine!” Mr. Punch shouted as he held the oil lamp over Julian’s head.

“I shan’t stop you.” Barbara smiled defiantly. “It will only complete the set of scars left behind from your friend.”

Mr. Punch drew Julian’s arm back as if he was going to hurl the lamp at Barbara’s grinning face. Instead, he dropped the lamp which shattered to the floor.

“Coward.” Barbara smirked.

“Not a coward.” Mr. Punch pulled Julian’s lips into a frown. “Smart, I am. Can’t do what you done. Not like bein’ a puppet where the next day Judy is back in the tent with me. Hurtin’ you would be forever, it would. Permanent. Can’t do it. Wouldn’t be clever. And, if there’s one thing that I am, it’s clever.”

“You’re a fool.” Barbara spat as the door to the room opened.

Carling Rittenhouse rushed in. She was followed by Adrienne and Cecil.

“Dear God!” Carling gasped. “My lamp! No sooner had I allowed you and this sick man to remain in my home than you start breaking things. Adrienne, you assured me that nothing strange would happen!”

Adrienne stammered, looking confused.

“It was I, Mrs. Rittenhouse.” Barbara spoke quickly, curtsying. “Lord Fallbridge kindly allowed me to come in to light the grate and I clumsily upset the lamp. I’m terribly sorry. You can take it from my wages.”

“I’ll do more than take it from your wages.” Carling hissed. “You’re dismissed! Pack your things and leave my property.”

“Only…” Barbara began.

“Only nothing!” Carling cried. “I want you out of this house.”

“Mama?” A small voice said from the doorway. “What’s happening? I heard shouting?”

A little boy—no older than four entered the room. His large green eyes were shockingly bright against a cascade of deep auburn curls.

“Rowan, darling.” Mrs. Rittenhouse demurred to her son, “I thought you were with your sister.”

“I am.” Rowan said, coming further into the room. “Who’s that?” he pointed at Robert. “Why’s he in bed?”

“That’s Mr. Halifax’s brother. He’s ill. He will be staying here for awhile.”

“Why are you yelling at the maid with the false hair?” Rowan Rittenhouse asked innocently.

“Never you mind, dear. If you’re with your sister, where is she? I told Ulrika not to let you out of her sight.”

“I’m here, Mother,” a deep voice called from the hallway. A young woman of about twenty entered. She was tall and broad-shouldered with a thick masculine neck. Despite her size, she was quite beautiful with the same startlingly green eyes as her brother. Her bright red hair had been carefully arranged upon her head—further emphasizing her trunk-like neck.”

“Ulrika, take your brother to Nanny.” Mrs. Rittenhouse commanded. “I’ll be down shortly.”

“Really,” Ulrika grinned. “What happened in here?”

“It’s not your affair, Ulrika.” Carling spat. “Go on, now.”

“Very well, Mother.” Ulrika sighed. She looked toward Barbara. “Come along Barbara Allen, I want you to lay out my gown for tonight.”

“Barbara is no longer staying here.” Carling Rittenhouse said firmly. “She’s clumsy and stupid and must be dismissed.”

“Mother!” Ulrika Rittenhouse stamped her foot loudly against the floor. “I won’t have it! You promised me that I could have a proper lady’s maid. You said that I could have any maid I wanted, and I want this one.”

Rowan Rittenhouse cringed.

Cecil, Adrienne, Robert and Julian/Punch all stared dumbly at the scene which unfolded before them.

“Mama,” Rowan Rittenhouse chirped. “We saw Mrs. Cage’s new baby. He’s a good baby. He’s my friend. His name is Holt and when he gets older, he and I will play and I can go to their place and…”

“Quiet, Rowan!” Ulrika snapped. “You little toad.”

“Ulrika, don’t speak to your brother that way.” Carling said sharply. “As for the maid, I have spoken. Now take your brother to Nanny and make sure that Afton is resting comfortably.”

“I will not!” Ulrika bellowed. “Not without my maid.” Her green eyes sparked with rage.

Carling Rittenhouse wrung her hands. “Very well, darling.” She said. “You may keep your maid. For now.” She narrowed her eyes at Barbara. “However, clumsy girl, if you break one more thing in this house, I’ll see to it that the overseer tans your hide. Remember your place in this house. You’re no different than any of the other servants even if your skin is a different color.”

“Yes, Mrs. Rittenhouse.” Barbara curtsied again. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked at Julian. “Pardon me.”

With that, Barbara and Ulrika flounced from the room followed by Rowan who quickly began to chatter again.

“Oh, my nerves. I’m on edge!” Carling moaned. “It’s too much. No one helps me. One minute Rowan is going on about something or other and Ulrika is shouting and little Afton is crying. And, now I have a sick man in my house.”

“Mrs. Rittenhouse,” Cecil began. “I wasn’t aware that Mrs. Cage had birthed another son.”

“Well, she did.” Carling spat. “Obviously.”

“Adrienne, were you aware that Mrs. Cage was expecting?” Cecil asked his wife.

“No, I was not, mon cher.” Adrienne answered.

“Well, she was.” Carling said with considerable exasperation. “A fine boy with a fine name. Holt Cage. It speaks of strength. Now, honestly, I just can’t stay in this sick room any longer. You may stay here as long as you need to recuperate,” She looked at Robert, “and your friend may stay with you. However, do try to be quiet. My nerves are ruined. Ruined. Good day.”

Carling fluttered out of the room.

“Welcome back, Mr. Punch.” Adrienne smiled.

“How’d you know?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I just know.” Adrienne said.

Mr. Punch sat Julian down on the bed with Robert. “Sorry, Chum.”

“For what?” Robert croaked.

“’Bout that ugliness with his sister.” Mr. Punch mumbled.

“Mr. Punch, I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” Robert said hoarsely.

“Not so sure.” Mr. Punch shrugged Julian’s shoulders. “Only I’m happy to know you think so. Like that you got pride in me, I do.”

Robert began coughing again.

“Here, now you’ve had ‘nough excitement. Time for you to get yourself some rest.”

“I agree.” Adrienne said.

“What did you mean just now?” Cecil asked. “That girl—she is, in fact, Lady Barbara?”

“Not no more. She’s some other creature what call herself Barbara Allen.” Mr. Punch sighed. “Some kind of monster. Don’t know. Just know that the baby what they call Holt Cage ‘as got to be her child what she threw away. Her child what she had with Arthur.”

“Your former valet?” Adrienne asked.

“Yep, me master’s footman what’s gone in the sea.” Mr. Punch nodded. “Killed the father of his sister’s baby, I did.” Mr. Punch began to cry. “Didn’t know it was wrong to do. Know better now.”

“Dear Punch,” Adrienne said sweetly. “Don’t think of it. We must rally for Robert’s sake.”

“Can’t help but think of it.” Mr. Punch sobbed. “Didn’t know it was wrong. Didn’t know.”

At that very moment, Barbara Allen was sneaking out of the Rittenhouse mansion. She ran through the cold evening air, pulling the wig from her head as she ran. She threw back her head so that her own dark hair came loose and fluttered in the breeze. Panting, she reached the stables and flung herself into a stall.

“He’s here.” She panted.

“I know.” A man’s voice responded.

“I thought he was going to kill me.”

“He’s barmy, that one.” The man grumbled.

“Did you post the letter?” Barbara asked.

“I did.” The man answered flatly. “She’ll be here.”

“Good.” Barbara smiled.

“Not to worry, pet,” The man grinned. “You’ll get all that you’re due, and then some.”

“Oh, I hope so.” Barbara sighed.

“We’ll see ‘em all dead.” The man said.

“Say it again.” Barbara laughed. “Say, it again, my love.”

“All dead—all of ‘em.” The man said gruffly.

“Oh, Arthur, I do love you so,” Barbara hissed, pulling the man into a deep kiss.



Did you miss Chapters 1-65? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 67 of Punch’s Cousin.