A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 68

Chapter 68
The Scavenger


"May I come in?"  Robert asked.

"Certainly,"  Morgana nodded as she tucked her pincers under her blankets.

"I was feeling a bit envious.  Everyone else has had a chance to sit and chat with you today, so, I thought I'd steal a moment to do the same."  He smiled.

"You're...you're all so kind to me."  Morgana replied.

"Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Oh, yes."  Morgana answered.  "Your Mrs. Pepper is such a fine cook.  Never before have I had such...such delicious.  Oh, yes.  Violet brought up a lovely, lovely tray for me.  I enjoyed it very much."

"If there's anything special you'd ever like, do let one of us know, and we'll be sure to let Mrs. Pepper know, Auntie."  Robert began.  He cleared his throat.  "I hope you don't mind if I call you 'Auntie.'  I know that you're not really my aunt, but..."

"I am to understand that you and Punch are to be thought of as the equivalent of wedded people.  Yes?"  Morgana smiled slightly.

"Well, yes."  Robert responded shyly.

"And, you consider Lennie to be like your sister?"

"Yes."

"Then, why should I not be your Auntie?"  

He grinned.  "I am glad.  Thank you."

"It is I who should be glad.  Never before have I been..."  She shook her head.  "So...wanted."

"You're very much wanted.  You see, my brother and his wife and my nephew--they are in America.  Until Punch and I found one another, I had no family left here."

"Now you have a large family.  You've Punch, your boy, Lennie, me, and that girl ward...everyone has a particular way of calling her."

"She's called Fern."  Robert answered.

"No, no.  There's a way of calling her."

Robert blushed.  "We tend to refer to her as 'poor, sad, strange Fern.'"

"That's it."  Morgana nodded.  "Why is that?"

"Because even by our standards--which are fairly generous--the child is strange."  Robert chuckled.

"Oh dear."  Morgana laughed a little, too.  "I suppose I shouldn't be amused."

"It's quite all right.  Fern finds it amusing herself.  It's one of the things which helps to make her so odd."  Robert shrugged.  "Now, I suppose I should leave you to your sleep.  It is late."

"I'm not tired.  Still...I...I... imagine Punch is waiting for you."

"He's chaperoning the post-dinner tete-a-tete of Lennie and Matthew.  I have no doubt he'll want rescuing soon.  I'd been sent up to look in on the nursery and thought I'd take the opportunity to look in on you as well."

"I'm glad you did."  Morgana sighed.  "Robert, you know she's coming for me?  My sister."

"I know."  Robert inhaled.  

"Talking of strange!  I never knew her!"  Morgana laughed.  "And, she's dead."  She shook her head.  "I'm the one they put in the freak show.  Imagine."

"Auntie,"  Robert leaned in.  "There's something else.  I didn't want to worry you tonight with it..."

"Oh, I already know."  Morgana shook her head.  "Ivy Blessum has gotten free."

Robert's eyes widened.  "How did you know?  I only just discovered it!  I haven't told anyone at all.  Not even Punch!  I went up to inspect the cell before I went to the nursery."

Morgana took a quick breath and help up her pincers.  "Robert, do you see the scars on my...on my...whatever you'd like to call them?  On my skin?  Half of these scars were made by Miss Blessum.  Burns and lashes, the bled and became infected.  I can feel her in every one of them.  When she's near, they itch.  I knew she was free.  They burned."

Robert nodded slowly.  "Whoever could have released her?  Jackson?  Gregory?"

"No, dear boy."  Morgana shook her head.  "No human hand did that."

"I didn't think so."  Robert sighed.  "I was afraid to say it."

"The same hands which locked you in that crypt freed Ivy Blessum."   Morgana continued.

Robert rose and pressed his hands together.  "I just want all of us to return to London."

"It will only follow us."  Morgana replied.

"Do you think so?"  Robert asked.

"The scavenger never stops until it is satiated."   Morgana sighed.



Did you miss Chapters 1-67 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back Monday for Chapter 69.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 68

Chapter 68: 

Grange Molliner 

“There it is!” Punch pointed to a crenellated tower in the distance beyond a massive grove of trees.

Robert peered out of the carriage window as they approached Grange Molliner.

“Won’t be but ten more minutes before we’re there.” Mr. Punch grinned. He squeezed Colin who sat in his lap and took the baby’s little hand very gently between his left thumb and forefinger. “Look, my boy, there’s your grandfather’s house. You’re named for him. Remember?”

The child gurgled happily at the sound of Punch’s voice.

“Look!” Punch continued. “We’re getting’ closer, Chum. You can see it better now.”

“It’s beautiful!” Robert’s eyes widened as the rambling castle grew larger as they approached. “It’s tremendous.”

“Pretty big, it is.” Punch nodded gaily. “See—the part in the center there with the tall rusticated tower. That were built ‘round 1390. Some say that the land were given to the Molliners as a gift from King Robert II. What do ya think ‘o that, my Robert?”

Robert chuckled. “So, the Molliners have always had an association with the Crown?”

“To a degree.” Punch nodded. “Our mum were always tryin’ to make sure Sir Colin knew that the Fallbridges were better connected—bein’ truly titled and all. But, the fact is, while William IV were a…shall we say ‘supporter’…of the Duchess of Fallbridge, our ma weren’t so much of a favorite in Court by the time Her Majesty Victoria took the throne, and our pa were very much liked by both the Prince Consort and the Queen.”

“I had gathered that by the way Her Majesty spoke of your late mother.” Robert nodded.

“Odd to think she’s my mother, too.” Punch sighed. “Only been recently what I concluded that since she were Julian’s ma, she were mine, too. Still…we ain’t gonna worry ‘bout her now. The Duchess of Fallbridge didn’t much care for the Grange. This is a place what’s all ‘bout the Molliners like me and Colin. And, I reckon…you, too.”

“I?” Robert smiled. “I’m not a Molliner.”

“Well, maybe not. But, if we were two folk what were married, you would be. So, we might as well think of you as such.”

“I’d not thought of it that way, but I rather like the idea.” Robert answered affectionately. “So, your mother didn’t care for this estate?” Robert studied the sprawling house at the end of the long, dirt drive--with its turrets, ogival arches, lancet windows and gothic ornamentation. “I can’t imagine why. It’s very impressive.”

“I always thought so. But, no.” Punch shook his head. “She always complained that it was too cold and that it was uncomfortable. Fact is, she hated an’thin’ havin’ to do with our pa’s side of the family. Called all the Molliners’ red-haired lunatics.” Punch blushed for a moment. “Which, in a way, ain’t too far from the truth, I s’pose.”

“You’re no lunatic.” Robert shook his head.

“Others would disagree,” Punch giggled, “but, I’m glad you think so. Nevertheless, there were a few Molliners what coulda been called lunatics. But, the same could be said of the Fallbridge side of the family.”

“Did your mother ever come here?”

“Only once I recall.” Punch sighed. “She came here once with pa. I were very small. They left me with…” Punch shuddered for a moment. “Nanny Rittenhouse.”

Robert frowned at the mention of the cruel, old woman.

Mr. Punch took a deep breath. “I s’pose I should say they left Julian. That were ‘bout the time what I developed inside him. So, I remember it all pretty well, I do. The duchess were ill. Kept to her room for several weeks—this were good for Julian, in a way. And, good for me, too, I s’pose. Then, one day, our pa came into the nursery and told Julian that he were takin’ the duchess of Grange Molliner and that they’d not be back ‘til winter. That made Julian sad. But, Sir Colin reminded him that he had his puppet to keep him company. I remember that.” Punch paused thoughtfully for a moment. “I remember he said that ‘Mr. Punch will look after you’ and that ‘you needn’t fear anything as long as Punch is there to guard you with his cudgel.’ Ha…I reckon I took it very seriously, I did.”

“You certainly did.” Robert replied sweetly.

“Well, after that, when they got back, the Duchess never returned here and would not even speak of the place.” Punch shrugged. He looked out of the carriage window. “Won’t be but a minute now.”

“1390 you said?” Robert asked, staring at the house.

“That’s right. The middle part anyway. There on the east, that section were added in 1662 by Sir Hiram Molliner, and, then, on the west, that and the orangerie were added in 1746 after the battle of Falkirk.” Punch whooped excitedly. “Coo! I dunno how I remember all that.” He laughed loudly, causing the child to look up at his father with clear amusement. “I just recall Sir Colin sayin’ it to Julian, I s’pose.”

“It’s nonetheless impressive.” Robert winked. He pointed out the window. “Looks as if we’re to be greeted.”

“Ah,” Punch nodded. “That’ll be Mrs. North waitin’ there in the black gown. She’s the housekeeper. Has been since our pa were a young man. Next to her with the ginger beard, I’m guessin’ is Johnny Donnan. He’s the groundsman. Them other few are maids and pages and such. I reckon the man on the end—in the handsome livery--is Finlay. He’s Johnny’s son and serves as footman. It’s a lean staff since no one lives here. But, I think Charles and Gerry will get on well with Finlay and I’m sure Gamilla will find friends amongst the other maids—least for the time we’re here. I fear Speaight and Mrs. North might have a bit of a tussle for power. I dunno the situation with the cook here, but I got no doubt that our Mrs. Pepper will dominate her within the first five minutes.”

“I’m sure of that.” Robert nodded. He looked up at Punch and gazed for a moment.

“What is it?” Punch smiled.

“Just seeing you sitting there with Colin on your lap and Dog Toby next to you…”

Punch nodded.

“Just a few days ago, I thought that…”

“I know.” Punch sighed.

“And, yet, here you are…bright-eyed with our son…about to introduce me to part of your family history…”

“Our family history…” Punch corrected him.

Robert inhaled deeply. “I’m very proud. I’m the proudest man in Scotland today.”

“Nah…” Punch winked. “Can’t be.”

“Why is this?”

“Because I already am.” Punch laughed.



Did you miss Chapters 1-67? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 69 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 68

Naasir shook his head and frowned. “I don’t know you anymore.”


“Sure ya do.” Cephas said quickly. “I’m the same Cephas I always been.”

“No.” Naasir responded. “The boy with whom I was raised would not have arranged to trade me for coins.”

“Our life ain’t so bad.” Cephas answered. “Mr. Fontanals—he’s a sight better than most of the folk ‘round here. He treats us fair. We could stay side-by-side.”

Naasir nodded to the silver tray which he still carried. “I must take this inside.”

“Naasir, I’m tryin’ for to protect you. Why shouldn’t I earn some gold for my troubles?” Cephas argued.

“You can’t protect me, Brother.” Naasir smiled softly. “What shall be, shall be. There’s no changing it.”

“That foolishness ‘bout your destiny again. You know those were jus’ stories mama tol’ us.”

“Some stories, Cephas, are true.” Naasir sighed. He looked to Hannah. “It has been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Hannah nodded.

“Goodbye, Brother.” Naasir said before walking into the house.

“What was that?” Hannah said sternly to her husband. “What kind of fool thing was that to do to your own brother. Can’t you see that man is taken care of right and proper by those English folk? Why’d you want him to sweat in the fields with us when he could wear a fine suit of clothes and do nothin’ but help some gentleman put on his boots?”

“Cuz,” Cephas grumbled. “They’re gonna take out his soul. That’s the cost of his comfortable life. Now, come on before we’s missed.” Cephas tugged at his wife’s hand, and they tucked into the greenery once again.

Naasir carried the tray up the back staircase of the Rittenhouse Mansion and walked quickly through the corridor. From one of the bedrooms, he heard a woman with a deep voice laughing.

“Really, Nanny, you are terrible.” The voice said. Naasir recognized the voice as Ulrika Rittenhouse whom he had seen earlier in the courtyard berating one of the servants.

Naasir grimaced. “That one’s going to be trouble.”

He knocked gently on the door to Robert’s room and entered.

“I’ve brought you some tea and cakes, Mr. Punch.” He said softly. “And some broth for when Dr. Halifax wakes.”

“Thanks, Chum.” Mr. Punch answered.

Marjani cleared a spot for the tray on the small table by the mantelpiece.

“The doctor’s dressin’ needs changin’.” Marjani said to Naasir. “Mr. Punch done said he’d prefer you doin’ it.”

“Of course.” Naasir nodded.

“Now, then, Mr. Punch.” Marjani began. “I’ll give you gentlemen some privacy. But, I’ll be back in awhile for to check on him.”

“Right.” Mr. Punch said. “Don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Punch.” Marjani smiled as she exited.

Naasir gently pulled back the covers and began to undress Robert.

“Can I help?” Mr. Punch asked.

“No, Mr. Punch. I can manage. I used to undress Sir Louis when he was abed—before he passed.”

“Me master remembers Sir Louis Alderton. Chums with our pa, he was.” Mr. Punch muttered. “Nice fella, was he?”

“Yes, Sir.” Naasir said.

“Worked for him for a long time?” Mr. Punch asked.

“I did.” Naasir said.

“Taught you what’s proper and what ain’t, did he?”

“Yes.” Naasir answered.

“Here, Chum,” Punch continued. “Marjani told me the story what’s about ‘The Great Man of the Rocks’—that story what you told us ‘bout. She said that ‘The Great Man’ is travelin’ with two princes—one dark and one light. Are you a prince, Naasir?”

“In a way.” Naasir smiled. “Yes.”

“Huh.” Mr. Punch grunted. “Don’t got no crown.”

“One doesn’t need a crown to be a prince, Mr. Punch.” Naasir said, slipping a clean nightshirt over Robert’s head. Robert mumbled and opened his eyes.

“Listen,” Mr. Punch said, coming over to Robert’s side. “You go back to sleep. You gotta get better you do.”

“Where I am?” Robert murmured.

“Some big house in Marionneaux. Don’t matter now. Just sleep, understand.” Punch answered softly.

Robert coughed and shut his eyes as Naasir gently lowered him back onto the pillows.

“So, he’s the other prince, is he? The light one?” Mr. Punch asked.

“That he is,” Naasir nodded. “That he is.”

“Coo.” Mr. Punch sighed. “Then, we got some big things facin’ us, don’t we?”

“That we do.” Naasir smiled. “Now, Mr. Punch, perhaps you should also get some sleep.”

“Don’t need sleep.” Mr. Punch mumbled.

“Perhaps not, but Lord Fallbridge does.”

“Sleepin’ in here.” Mr. Punch thumped Julian’s chest.

Naasir grinned peacefully at Mr. Punch.

“I know what you’re thinkin’.” Punch muttered.

“Mrs. Rittenhouse has arranged a very nice room for you just across the passage.”

“Ain’t leavin’ here.” Mr. Punch frowned.

Naasir sighed. He took a cushion from a nearby chair and placed it on the floor in front of the fire.

“Will, you then, at least, lie in front of the fire and shut your eyes?”

“Here! Prince or no, I won’t have you givin’ me orders.”

“It’s not an order, Sir. Merely a suggestion.”

“Maybe I will.” Mr. Punch grumbled.

“You’ll be more help to Dr. Halifax if you don’t allow your body to become ill, too.”

“Only this place is full of creatures what’s bad.” Mr. Punch said. “Barbara and that Nanny and I didn’t much like the looks of those Rittenhouse humans. ‘Sides, who knows if them men what took you to be burned is around? Gotta stay alert, I do.”

“Marjani and I will look after you.”

“Huh,” Mr. Punch grunted again. “You’ll stay, then?”

“Just outside the door.” Naasir smiled.

“Fine, then,” Mr. Punch mumbled. “I’ll shut me eyes, but I ain’t gonna sleep.”

Punch curled up in front of the fire not unlike an obedient dog, and placed Julian’s head on the cushion. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

Naasir smiled with satisfaction. When he was certain that Mr. Punch was slumbering, he removed a small red sack from his pocket and placed it under Robert’s pillow. “This is to protect you. Keep away the sickness. Keep away the sickness. From one prince to another.”

With that, Naasir left the room and sat in the corridor on a long, hard bench. “Keep away the sickness.” He whispered to himself.

Meanwhile, further down La Colline Cramoisie, upstairs in the yellow house, Cecil awoke with a start—frightened from his sleep by a nightmare. He reached for Adrienne, but found her side of the bed empty and cold.

Cecil rose and put on his dressing gown. He walked up the small flight of stairs to the nursery expecting to see Adrienne feeding Fuller. Instead, he found that neither was there. On the table next to the crib, a purple feather sat next to a wrinkled handkerchief.

“Dear God,” Cecil gasped. “Please, help me.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-67? If so, you can read them here.