“
What’s happening to me?” Scaramouche roared.
“Looks like you’re not as mighty as you like to think.” Mr. Punch laughed, sitting down in the imaginary chair in which Julian usually waited in their internal “room.” He smiled as Scaramouche’s image flickered like a candle caught in a draft.
“You know nothing, Rogue!” Scaramouche screamed. “I shall exact my revenge on you and regain what I’m due!”
“Coo! You are an odd one,” Punch chuckled. “Seems to me you ain’t strong ‘nough to pull the wings off a fly, you’re not.”
Meanwhile, outside their body, Julian continued to rant to Robert.
“It’s terribly unfair, really.” Julian said, now pacing the floor of his bedroom and Robert watched. “I’ve never hurt a soul. Not really. Perhaps sometimes I’ve been curt or impatient. Perhaps I have seemed disinterested in other people, but it’s not a lack of feeling or caring on my part, it’s my inability to communicate, my overwhelming shyness. I’ve never harmed anyone nor have I taken anything that isn’t mine. So, why is it that I’m constantly giving more than I can to people who take it by force? I’ve never asked for much from life. Mother used to say that I didn’t deserve my title and my place. Perhaps that’s true. I’d have been just as happy as a laborer or in service—doing things for others, provided they left me along. I never aspired to be a Duke or to manage a great estate. I’ve never wanted to be responsible for the livelihoods of others. I’ve only wished for quiet, peace and distance, the freedom to live uninterrupted and explore the things which interest me—in my own quiet way. Yet, here I am.”
“Here you are?” Robert asked softly.
“Don’t mistake me,” Julian replied. “I’m grateful to you, I’m honored by your affection and friendship and I’d not trade that for anything. However, look at what’s become of me. I’ve been forced to travel to a foreign land where—though we share a language—we’re so vastly different than the natives. I’ve been badly ill-used and mistreated—abused! All because I was ordered to do so! All because I had to, once again, rescue my sister who, let’s be honest, has never had a kind word or deed for me. My body has been scarred and damaged and my mind…my mind! Well, words alone cannot begin to express what’s become of that! I’m so weary, Robert. I want to go home. Fallbridge Hall, Belgrave Square—I don’t much care. Just somewhere familiar. Somewhere in which I can be certain of myself and where I know what to expect!”
“That seems quite reasonable.” Robert nodded.
“You’re free to come with me. I think we could be quite content. Robert, we can even bring the child if at all possible. However, I think we must be realistic. We have no more legal claim to the boy than does Edward Cage. It’s not meant to be. I can’t explain how I know that, but I know it to be true. Yet, I can do nothing because I’m crippled!”
“Crippled?” Robert asked.
“Yes!” Julian growled. “By life! By myself…”
Inside their body, Punch watched as Scaramouche once again flickered. And, for a moment, he disappeared completely.
Punch whooped, thinking that Scaramouche was gone. But, the figure of the angry man returned—this time, much changed. He was the size of a puppet, a doll—small, but in perfect proportion to what he had once been.
Mr. Punch began to giggle wildly and walked over to the spot on the floor where Scaramouche stood, squeaking and stamping his tiny feet on the imaginary carpet. Punch picked up the struggling figure and tucked him under his arm as a child might carry a beloved toy.
“I think, maybe,” Punch laughed, “we’re getting things put back to rights.”
At that very moment, further up Royal Street, Iolanthe Evangeline sat on the bed in Ulrika’s room and, using her fingers, brushed Ulrika’s titian locks from her face.
“You know,” Iolanthe said contemplatively, “she’s beautiful in a rather masculine way. If only her neck wasn’t so damn big. And, her shoulders. It’s as if someone took a woman’s face and glued it to a man. Odd, but appealing. I’d have bet she’d have fetched quite a price at my house. I’m sure there are plenty of men who would have paid handsomely for an opportunity to ‘tame’ the wild ginger beast. Is that what appealed to you, Arthur?”
Arthur shrugged, gaping at Iolanthe, unsure what she wanted.
“When Odo returns,” Iolanthe grinned. “You and I will share a drink of wine and talk, yes? Your companion, too. What’s his name?”
“I’m Gerard, Miss. You can call me ‘Gerry,’”
“Oh, how darling.” Iolanthe smiled. “Tell me, Gerry, would you pay your hard-earned money for a night with this woman?” She pointed to Ulrika’s mumbling, incoherent body.
“I dunno, Miss.”
“Of course you don’t.” Iolanthe clucked her tongue. She sighed. “So, Gerry, what do you know?”
“Not much, Miss.” Gerard replied nervously.
“Do you know what a diamond is?” Iolanthe asked.
“I do.” Gerard said.
“Did you know that diamonds can be colors? Yellow, pink, purple, green…blue?”
“Yes, Miss.” Gerard said.
“Have you ever seen a blue diamond?” Iolanthe continued.
“I…” Gerard looked at Arthur.
“I see.” Iolanthe nodded. “Now, now, Arthur. Isn’t it time to hand the thing back to me?”
Did you miss Chapters 1-261? If so, you can read them here.
