A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 95

Chapter 95
Monsters


George covered William with the young man's bloodied blanket, shaking his head. 

"Such ceremony,"  Ivy croaked.

He looked up, but said nothing.

"You didn't even know the lad for more than two days."  Ivy continued.

Again George didn't respond.

"Or maybe you knew him better than I think."  Ivy grinned.

Georgie rose angrily.

"Ivy, please."  Morgana intervened.  "Y...you've done enough damage.  Do...kee...keep quiet."

"When did you find your tongue, Morgana?"  Ivy scoffed.  "For all those months, you never said a word to me.  All you did was grunt and growl...and scratch."  She ran her bony hand over the scabbed-over scratch on her face.

"I h...h...had no reason to speak to you."  Morgana answered.  "You treated me as a m...monster, I acted as such.  You...you and Jackson and Qui...Quick just assumed that I was dumb from the start, and so, I...I...let you continue to think so.  By doing so, I let you reveal your true selves to me, your sourness, your plans, your evil."

"I won't say that's not clever."  Ivy conceded.

"How do you think I...I...survived in a traveling show for as long as I did?"  Morgana explained.  "There are two kinds of monsters in the world, Ivy.  The fir...first are those you can see, those who make you gasp, who...who turn the stomachs of the beautiful people and make them uneasy--those of us who are different or ugly.  Then there are the monsters who look like everyone else.  They are the o...ones who are truly dangerous because they are creatures of pure hatred.  They cannot be so easily detected, no, no, not at first.  They are the ones we must fear because they do the most damage.  You--you are of the latter.  I, of the former.  M...my kind, Ivy--we are harmless.  Your kind...yours are the ones we must keep caged, yet we cannot because you outnumber us and blend into the world s...so easily."

"Poetry."  Ivy sighed.  "Sheer poetry in this damp place underground...with a corpse, and the cook's son."  She shrugged.  "No, no.  It's good.  At least you're putting your face to good use before we slice it from your skull."

George had had enough.  He rubbed his eyes.  "What's to stop me?"  He said softly.  

"What?"  Ivy shook her head.

"You may 'ave been luck 'nough to topple William, but you can't do it again."  He said a little louder.  "You're a thousand years old.  I..."  He became louder still.   "I could take one o' them rocks and crack your head.  Or...I could merely punch ya in the jaw and take that knife from ya and do the same to you what ya done to William."

"Go ahead and do so."  Ivy smiled.  "Do so if you wish."

George nodded.  "I think I will."

"It shan't help you."  Ivy continued.  "Hargrave and Causer and guarding the exit.  On the other end of the tunnel--at Lottie's--her men are waiting for you.  You won't escape.  Kill me if you will.  I shall only be reunited with M'Lady.  In fact, you'd be doing me quite a service.  You'd release me from this dull little party."

"Georgie,"  Morgana said gently.  "T...try to ignore her."

"She's so horrid!"  George said with considerable frustration.

"I...I...know."  Morgana nodded.

"I s'pose no one would know better'n you."  George replied.

Just then, the chamber brightened a little as they heard the sound of the trapdoor open and boots on the ladder rungs.

"Down there with ya!"  They heard Hargrave growl.

"Fred!"  George gasped as a groggy Fred Perkins descended into their prison. 

The door slammed shut.

"Me master's not gonna like this."  Fred slurred.  "You was right, George...that Gregory's a bad lot."



Did you miss Chapters 1- 94 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 96.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 95

Chapter 95: 

Mourning 

Mr. Punch and Robert bounded into the nursery to find Gamilla holding the baby close to her. She looked panicked and pale.

“Sirs!” She said frantically, hurrying over to them.

Mr. Punch took Colin from her.

“We heard a cry.” Robert said quickly. “Is anything amiss?”

“Yes.” Gamilla nodded.

“Were it you what cried?” Mr. Punch asked.

“No.” Gamilla replied. “I done heard it, too. Dog Toby did as well. He barked an’ all.” She pointed to the terrier who stood at attention near the nursery door. “I run out to look, and, then…”

“What is it, Gamilla?” Robert asked. “Who was crying?”

“I don’t know.” Gamilla shook her head. “I run out into the corridor and I didn’t see no one. I didn’t wanna leave Master Colin, so I stayed close to the door, but, when I was jus’ ‘bout to go in, I done saw it…walkin’ at the end of the passage, Sir. Just in front of the window.”

“It?” Robert raised his eyebrows. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t know, Sir.” Gamilla sighed emotionally. “I don’t…” She took a deep breath. “Your Grace, Dr. Halifax, you both done known me long ‘nough for to know that I ain’t a girl who jus’ thinks she sees things…”

“Of course you’re not.” Robert smiled.

“Well, Sir, I swear I done saw a man—all in white from head to toe with a funny glow ‘round him. He was moanin’ all kind of low and funny-like he was mournin’. He done walked right past that window.” She pointed to the end of the passage.

“What did he look like?” Punch asked.

“Like I said, he was all in white. His face was as white as his coat. Only thing on him what wasn’t white was the knife he held in his hand. His right hand.”

“Knife?” Robert squinted.

“Coo.” Punch muttered, sitting down in the low, soft chair in the corner of the room. He arranged Colin comfortably in his arms. “I wonder…”

“Wonder what, dear Punch.”

“Our pa used to tell me stories o’ the ghost of Grange Molliner.”

“Ghost.” Robert grinned. “Rubbish.”

“Is it, Sir?” Gamilla asked.

“Certainly.”

“Didn’t you once say the same thing ‘bout Marie Laveau?” Mr. Punch looked up seriously. “Didn’t you once say it were rubbish what Marjani told ya, too—‘bout how she could hear folks’ thoughts? But, didn’t you yourself hear what Marjani were thinkin’ on more than one occasion?”

Robert took a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

“So, why’s it so much rubbish to think there’s a ghost in this castle?”

“Well, it’s just that…” Robert began. He paused and shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that without being a hypocrite.”

“What about this ghost, Your Grace?” Gamilla asked.

“Well,” Punch whispered. “When Julian were a boy, his nanny…” he frowned, recalling Agnes Rittenhouse, Julian’s former governess. “She’d tell him stories of the family ghosts. There’s said to be a ghost here at Grange Molliner. The ghost of one of me pa’s ancestor’s what was stabbed to death on the tower. Nanny’d tell little Julian these things and they scared him terrible much. Didn’t scare me none, but poor Julian was terrible scared. Nanny’d say how he’d wander the grange with a knife, lookin’ for the man what killed him.”

“Why was he killed?” Gamilla asked.

“Lucas Molliner was his name. He was killed for tellin’ a secret.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “The story goes that Lucas would kill any man what tol’ a secret he’d promised to keep and that he’d keep hauntin’ the castle ‘til he found the man what done ‘im in.” Punch sighed. “That weren’t the only haint what Nanny told Julian ‘bout. She said there was ghosts at Fallbridge Hall, too—specters and shades what would watch Julian in his bed at night. She told him that the only way to keep ‘im safe were to…”

Punch stopped, his face flushed, and, for a moment, he looked as if he might be ill.

“What, dear Punch?” Robert said softly.

“That the only way to keep him safe were to boil the evil out of him in the very hot, hot bath. That way, them shades wouldn’t smell the evil on him and they’d pass him over.”

“Oh, my dear.” Robert frowned.

Punch forced himself to smile. “But, that were long ago and that woman is dead. Ain’t no one gonna hurt me or you or Colin or Gamilla. See, I never saw no ghosts. Poor Julian, between that nanny and his ma, he were convinced he saw ‘em. There were one time…” Punch trailed off again.

“Yes?” Robert asked.

“Dunno.” Punch shrugged again. “I forgot what I was sayin’.”

“That must be what I saw.” Gamilla mumbled. “That ghost of Lucas Molliner.”

“Gamilla…” Robert tilted his head to one side.

“Chum,” Punch interrupted. “We heard the moan. You and me and Dog Toby. We all heard it. So, it ain’t as if Gamilla were the only one. Sure, we didn’t see what she did, but we heard it.”

“I know, but…” Robert began. “Surely, it was something logical. Perhaps you saw one of the…”

“Who, Sir?” Gamilla asked seriously. “It was a man. All the men here were with you just when I saw the fella.”

“I suppose so.” Robert replied. He looked confused. “I’m not quite sure how to proceed.”

“What’s there to do?” Punch smiled. “Can’t lock a ghost out.”

“No.” Robert answered. “I do think that I’ll have a look around.”

“I’ll go with you.” Mr. Punch stood up and gently placed Colin in his bassinette.

“I’d rather you stayed with Colin and Gamilla.”

Mr. Punch shook his head and walked to the bell pull, ringing it. “I’m goin’ with you. Gerard can wait with Gamilla and Colin. We’ll just wait for him to come up.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Ain’t nothin’, Gamilla.” Mr. Punch smiled. “Now, you listen, whatever it were that you saw, we ain’t gonna let nothin’ hurt ya. If it were a ghost, then, just remember that it were just somethin’ from the past and what’s past can’t touch ya.”

Gamilla grinned.

Mr. Punch nodded his head and wished that he believed what he had just said. Together, they waited for Gerard.

Meanwhile, the Baron Lensdown crept into Ellen’s room.

“Hurry,” Ellen whispered anxiously, handing the man a damp flannel to wipe the waxy white make-up from his face. “You’ve got to get back into your own clothes. Finlay is expecting you.”

“Stop rushing me.” Lensdown mewed.

“Do you want Finlay to see that you’re deceiving him?” Ellen asked. “That you’re leading him into a false sense of security and, all the while, helping me?”

“He’s not going to know a thing.” Lensdown huffed. “As far as he knows, I’m in here presenting you with the ultimatum which he suggested.”

“He’s no fool.” Ellen said, helping Lensdown remove his bright white coat and waistcoat. She reached up and snatched the white powdered wig from his head. “You know he’s counting the minutes since he saw you come into the house. He’ll only linger in the Servants’ Hall for so long before he comes up to look for you.”

“He won’t suspect a thing.” Lensdown sniffed.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because he’s in love with me.” The baron replied.

“He doesn’t know how to love. My brother is only preoccupied with hatred.”

“I know otherwise.” Lensdown nodded.

“Hurry.” Ellen snorted. “Did the African see you?”

“Yes.” The baron answered.

“Did anyone else?”

“No.”

“I wanted the Duke to see you.”

“Well, he didn’t.” Lensdown snapped. “The doctor was with him. I didn’t think it was safe.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” Ellen nodded.

“Have you convinced Finlay to dispose of those two valets?”

“Yes.” Ellen smiled. “We’re so close, my darling.” She pulled him into a kiss, but he pulled back quickly.

“I must hurry.” He smiled. “As you said.”

“Of course.”

“I’m to meet with Finlay tomorrow morning while the Duke is talking with the staff about their attire for the ball.” Lendsown continued as he changed his clothes. “I’ll tell him that I spoke with you and that you were appropriately intimidated.”

“Wonderful.” Ellen nodded. She reached beneath her pillow and retrieved a small glass flask. “Take this.”

“Is it…” The baron asked.

“It’s enough. I took it from the doctor’s bag when last he checked on me. Put this in her tea. She won’t notice it.”

“She won’t taste it?”

“No.”

The baron looked blankly at the bottle.

“Ellen, there must be another way. I don’t…I don’t think I can kill her.”

“Why not?” Ellen snarled.

“It’s murder.”

“You’ve done it before!” Ellen growled. “And, this time, you’re much older and wiser. You won’t have to fear being caught this time.”

“Ellen…”

“There’s no other way, Victor!” Ellen said. “Now get out of here before Finlay starts to become suspicious. Go to your right and slip out the courtyard door. You can make your way through the shrubbery unnoticed. No one will be in this part of the house at the moment.”

“What if I’m caught?”

“Don’t get caught.”

“But, what if I am?”

“You’ll think of something, my dear. You always do.” Ellen smiled.



Did you miss Chapters 1-94 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 96.

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 95

With Fuller nestled in Adrienne’s arms and Cecil napping by the fireplace—full of the delectable breakfast that they had enjoyed, Robert surveyed the drawing room. The floor was strewn with bits of colored paper and ribbon. Mr. Punch sat in the middle of the floor playing with his new puppet and having a grand time entertaining Toby with a personal pantomime. Punch was muttering in his usual way as he played, making the puppet dance awkwardly with his injured hands. The dog didn’t seem to mind the fact that Mr. Punch’s soft chatter was barely recognizable as actual words. Toby could tell that his master was happy, and that was enough for him. Robert hoped the Mr. Punch’s master was just as joyful—wherever he was, somewhere inside the body that they shared.


So as not to disturb Mr. Punch and Adrienne, Robert rose slowly and walked to the sideboard at the rear of the drawing room where Cecil had placed the basket of “treats” that Agnes Rittenhouse had brought earlier that morning.

He studied the contents of the basket. Oranges, walnuts, hard biscuits and sticky cakes were tucked inside. Some of the contents were wrapped in tissue. The fruit gleamed with an unnatural sheen as if it had been coated in oil. Robert ran his finger across the surface of one of the oranges and sniffed it.

He was startled when a wooden head crept around his shoulder and tapped him on the neck with a cool, hard nose.

“Whatcha doin’, Chum?” Mr. Punch said either as himself or in an attempt to make the puppet talk. Robert wasn’t sure which.

“I’m just inspecting this so-called gift.” Robert smiled.

“Not thinkin’ ‘bout eatin’ it, are ya?” Mr. Punch asked.

“Hardly.” Robert grinned. “I’ve already been poisoned once in the last six weeks, I don’t fancy another go at it.”

“Let’s just get rid o’ it.” Mr. Punch shrugged, still holding the puppet aloft.

“We will,” Robert said softly. “In time. But, first, I’d like to examine it a little closer. I’m going to take it up to my room.”

“Here, what for?” Mr. Punch asked.

“Because, dear Punch, if the contents of this basket are poisoned, I’d like to discover with what they’ve been poisoned.”

“What’s it matter? Bad stuff is bad stuff.” Mr. Punch said, tapping Robert again with the puppet’s wooden head.

“That’s true,” Robert nodded slowly. “However, perhaps by figuring out what this is, we can use the same weapons to fight our enemies.”

“Not gonna do nothin’ bad, are ya?” Mr. Punch frowned. “We know how that goes, don’t we? Look at what happened with Arthur. Eaten up with pain, we both was—thinking I’d hurt him.”

“I don’t intend to harm anyone physically, dear Punch.” Robert smiled. “However, this could be just the thing we need to see that those who have harmed us are brought to justice.”

“But, we’re playin’.” Mr. Punch frowned. “It’s me first Christmas. Can’t we play for a spell?”

“We’ll play.” Robert nodded. “Just let me take this out of this room. I’ll return.”

“Good, cuz look at all them lovely toys what Fuller got for himself today. We gotta help him play with them when he wakes up. And, Toby wants some attention, too, he does. Ain’t no good just me playin’ with him, he wants his Uncle Robert, too.”

“We’ll have a grand time. I promise.” Robert said reassuringly. He picked up the basket and headed for the entry hall. “I will return forthwith.”

Mr. Punch grunted and went back to his spot on the floor.

“What is he doing?” Adrienne whispered.

“Dunno ‘xactly.” Mr. Punch said quietly so as not to wake Cecil or the baby. “Doctor stuff, I ‘spose.”

Adrienne looked concerned.

“Here, Lady Chum, while Cecil’s snorin’, let me say how sorry I am that Barbara stole them things from ya.”

“I knew the risks when I invited her into this house. I’d so hoped I could help her.”

“She always stole things, she did.” Mr. Punch continued. “When she were a little thing, Nanny took her to the village. That’s before me master moved to London and still stayed at the Hall—before our pa went on all his voyages. Me master were ‘bout twenty –somethin’ then. Barbara went into one of the shops in the village with Nanny and she stole chocolates and licorice. But, what was the shopkeep to do? Couldn’t scold little Lady Fallbridge. Just let her take what she wanted and Nanny said nothin’ ‘bout it at all. Not a word. Barbara bragged to me master, she did. Julian were ever-so angry. He scolded her, but Her Grace told him not to. That’s when it started. First licorice, then other things. Silver brushes and shiny things. Don’t know why I’m surprised she stole the diamond from her own brother. She’s always been a bad lot.”

“Even the worst of us can be redeemed.” Adrienne sighed.

“You really believe that, then, Lady Chum?” Mr. Punch asked softly.

“I have to, Punch.” Adrienne nodded.

At that very moment, Barbara Allen was growling at Agnes Rittenhouse.

“I’m not your charge anymore, Nanny.” Barbara spat. “I will not be led anywhere by you—least of all by the command of Ulrika Rittenhouse!”

“Haven’t I supported you?” Miss Rittenhouse said. “Didn’t I accompany you here? Without my assistance, you’d never have rid yourself of that child, you’d never have gotten a place in my cousin’s household. You’d not be where you are today were it not for me.”

“That’s hardly an endorsement for your kindness!” Barbara grimaced. “Look at me! I’m freezing on the streets. The diamond is missing and my husband is…” She frowned at Arthur. “All you’ve done is gotten me into a terrible spot.”

“I’ve gotten you where you wanted to be.” Agnes narrowed her eyes. “You wanted to associate with this Evangeline woman. This was your plan! I’ve helped you. Now, I have orders to bring you both with me.”

“You take your orders from that red-haired bitch now?” Barbara hissed.

“You’ve given me no choice, Lady Barbara.” Agnes responded.

“Don’t call me that!” Barbara said angrily. “My name is Barbara Allen!”

“And a fitting name it is, too.” Miss Rittenhosue responded.

“You know that woman has my…” Barbara began.

“That’s enough, Pet.” Arthur grabbed Barbara’s arm.

“Let go of me.” Barbara struggled.

“You want this to be done with, don’t you?” Arthur continued.

“I want nothing more than to return to New Orleans and to Iolanthe Evangeline—with what I’ve promised her.”

“Then kindly do as the old hag says.” Arthur grinned.

Agnes scowled.

Arthur whispered in Barbara’s ear, “You want the bloody diamond, don’t you?”

Barbara winced.

“Then, come on. This is workin’ out just as I wanted.” Arthur winked.

Meanwhile, in the mansion at the crest of La Colline Cramoisie, Ulrika Rittenhouse sat at her writing table and scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. She tried to disguise her handwriting, making deliberate, child-like letters.

When she’d finished, she grinned and read her work aloud.

Dear Mother,


This madness is too great a burden for me to carry. I am a lost soul. Nothing can save me. You will be comforted to know that I will suffer no more.


With affection.


Julian, Lord Fallbridge

Did you miss Chapters 1-94? If so, you can read them here.