Mr. Punch cautiously peered over the side of the bassinette. He looked over at Robert and Cecil who were standing to the right of the room. Robert grinned broadly. Cecil, on the other hand, looked rather nervous.
“Mr. Punch,” Adrienne smiled, “I’d like you to meet Fuller Douglas Halifax.”
“How’d ya do?” Punch nodded Julian’s head at the baby.
Punch squinted. “He don’t answer. See, I knew he’d not like me.”
“Oh, Punch, my dear,” Adrienne couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s still too young to talk. Babies don’t talk until they’ve grown a bit.”
“Oh.” Punch said. “He don’t talk.” Punch smiled. “I can see how that might be nice.”
Punch got a little closer and leaned over the infant who reached out his arms.
“Crikey.” Punch laughed. “Kinda nice lookin’, isn’t he?”
“He wants you to pick him up.” Adrienne smiled.
“How’d ya know?” Punch asked nervously. “Not talkin’ and all.”
“He communicates in his own way.” Adrienne said.
“Now, now, my dear,” Cecil said quickly, “if Mr. Punch doesn’t want to hold Fuller, he doesn’t have to.”
“Who says I don’t?” Punch frowned. “I didn’t say one way or ‘nother. Didn’t know the little thing wanted holdin’.”
“You may pick him up if you like. Just make sure to support his head.” Adrienne said softly.
“What’s wrong with his head?” Punch’s eyes widened.
“Not a thing.” Adrienne giggled. “It’s simply that babies can’t support their own heads.”
“Kinda helpless, isn’t it?” Punch responded quietly. “Makes you want to take care of it.”
“We prefer to refer to Fuller as a ‘him,’ as opposed to an ‘it.’” Adrienne responded cheerfully.
“I see.” Punch continued to look at the child. “So, ‘e’s gonna grow up to be a man? A man what’s got legs and arms and strength—huh?”
“That’s the plan.” Cecil said. He, too, began to smile again.
“Well, then.” Mr. Punch sighed. “I think that’s a fair thing and all. Yes, maybe I would like to hold it…errr…him.”
Adrienne lifted Fuller and placed him gently in Julian’s arms as Mr. Punch made a considerable effort to make sure the child’s head was supported.
“Soft and warm, he is.” Punch grinned. “Smells nice, too.”
The baby cooed and tugged at Julian’s lapel.
“Not made a wood, are ya, little human?” Punch smiled at the baby. “You’re made a people stuff. How nice for you. Now, you take care of that head of yours. See, I know about that sorta thing what with me head bein’…” Punch paused. “But, that ain’t for the likes of you, little people. No. You should be told about happy things. I know some happy things, I do.” Punch thought for a moment. “Like I can remember when me master went to London in lived in a big house all his own. He had shiny things then what he made into even shinier things like this here ring.” Punch gently wiggled Julian’s left index finger so that Fuller could see.
The baby was mesmerized by the sparkle of the diamond.
“Now, that’s a nice thing, isn’t it?” Punch continued. “I want for you to have nice things and to have that same look ‘bout you what you got right now. That kinda happy look so that you’ll know that you’re a nice thing yourself.”
Cecil sniffled and looked away.
“Here, what’s with him?” Punch asked.
“I think he’s touched to see his son treated with such kindness.” Robert answered for his brother.
“Oh.” Punch nodded. “Not bein’ ‘specially kind, I’m not. Just tryin’ to let the little human know that he got folk what like him. Even if I ain’t a real man. I’m still kind of a man.”
“You’re most certainly a man, Mr. Punch.” Robert said, his voice hoarse.
“What this?” Punch said with considerable alarm as he looked at the baby. “He’s got wetness comin’ out his mouth! Did I break him?”
Adrienne chuckled, “No, not at all. He’s doing what babies do. They tend to drool a little.”
“I see.” Punch said. “Kinda messy things, then. ‘Spose he’ll get over it?”
“Yes, he will.” Cecil laughed.
“You got yourself a nice little people here.” Punch said to Adrienne. “Now, you talk to him, don’t ya?”
“Yes. Every day.” Cecil answered.
“Glad ta hear it.” Punch nodded.
“Well, then,” Adrienne said to the baby as she took him from Julian’s arms, “Fuller, say ‘good night’ to Uncle Punch.”
Punch’s eyes widened happily. “Uncle Punch?”
“Of course,” Adrienne said as she laid the baby down. “Robert is his uncle, and, now, so are you. And, when we meet Lord Fallbridge, he will be Fuller’s Uncle Julian. Our son is quite fortunate—in you, he has two uncles in one.”
“Never been uncle to nothin’ afore.” Punch coughed. “Only how’s he gonna say ‘good night’ to me when he don’t talk?”
“Give me your hand.” Adrienne said.
Punch offered Adrienne Julian’s hand.
“Hold out your finger.” Adrienne said as she guided Julian’s hand toward the baby. Fuller grabbed Julian’s finger in his tiny fist.
“Here!” Punch whooped. “He’s got a grip on him, then!”
“That’s his way of saying ‘good night.’”
Punch grinned, taking Julian’s finger back. “What do ya know? Sleep well, small people.”
Robert laughed. “What do you think of my nephew?”
“He’s me nephew, too. So, rightly, I think he’s a fine wee chap.”
“That he is.” Cecil laughed. “Now, I suppose you two men must be starved. Let’s retire to the dining room and take some sustenance.”
“That’s the way to do it.” Punch smiled. “Only what ‘bout Naasir? I ‘spose he’s hungry too what with being a human and all.”
“I’m sure Naasir has eaten with the rest of the servants.” Cecil answered.
“What? Can’t he eat with us?” Punch asked.
Cecil looked at Robert—confused.
“Our Mr. Punch doesn’t quite understand why people need to be separated because of their lot in life.” Robert said.
“Don’t make sense.” Mr. Punch shrugged. “But, long as he’s been fed, I ‘spose it’s all right.”
“I’m sure he has.” Adrienne answered.
“Interestin’ place, this is.” Punch continued as they walked downstairs. “Full a heads and babies and things to eat.”
“I’m pleased that you like it.” Cecil laughed.
“So, you made these men?” Punch asked. “Gave ‘em heads an’ all?” He pointed to the busts in the corridor.
“I did.” Cecil answered.
“Can you fix a head what’s been broken?” Punch asked.
“I imagine that I could, Mr. Punch.” Cecil nodded.
“Huh.” Punch grunted.
Adrienne, Robert, Cecil and Mr. Punch walked into the elegant dining room. Its walls were painted a deep coral color—brilliant against gleaming white moldings. In the center of the room hung a glimmering crystal chandelier with blazing candles. The long cherry wood table was set with fine crystal and china and the sideboard brimmed with peculiar foods the likes of which Punch had never seen, but the smell of which appealed to him.
“Coo.” Punch hooted. “Look at all that.”
Cecil pulled out Adrienne’s chair so that she could sit at her place at the head of the table. Upon sitting, she reached for the linen napkin to place it on her lap. As she did, something fluttered out of it.
Adrienne shrieked!
“What is it, my darling?” Cecil asked quickly.
Adrienne could not speak. Trembling she pointed to the thing on her lap.
A long, deep-purple feather lay across her fine gown.
“Dear God,” Cecil hissed. “That woman has been in my house.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-49? If so, you can read them here.
