“
You most certainly will not.” Robert said firmly to Mr. Punch who frowned.
“If Cecil gets to go, I don’t see why I can’t.” Mr. Punch answered. “Chum, I can keep him from…”
“Cecil isn’t going anywhere either.” Robert said, interrupting Mr. Punch.
“Now, listen, little brother,” Cecil began.
“No.” Robert answered sternly. “Cecil, I understand your frustration, but I can’t allow you to let that color your judgment. You need to keep your wits about you. We have a plan. It’s a good one, I might add. So, there’s no reason to act rashly and diverge from what we’ve already decided.”
“Well, then.” Cecil sputtered. “I don’t suppose you’re going to stop me.”
Robert grabbed Cecil by the arm. “Is that a wager you’d really care to make.”
Mr. Punch whooped. “People! You’re a strange lot, you are. Always findin’ things what you wanna fight ‘bout. Here, I’m gonna say somethin’. Maybe you got no faith in what a puppet man’s gotta say, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”
Robert released Cecil’s arm. “Go on, dear Punch. We put a great deal of faith in your opinion.”
“I was gonna go with Cecil, I was. But, see, that was me thinkin’ with me heart. I learned somethin’. Can’t just go hittin’ things with sticks and firin’ pistols at ‘em. Look what we got with Arthur, what. Didn’t work out so well, now did it? I gotta say, me chum is right in what he says. If the two of you got a plan, then you’d best stick with it. See, that’s somethin’ you thought out already, it is. That’s gotta be better than goin’ off with rage in your heart. Nothin’ good’ll come o’ that, it won’t. Here, I understand what you’re thinkin’, Cecil, me chum. I do. But, you gotta think before you do somethin’. This ain’t no pantomime. What happens here is real and it’s permanent, it is. Ain’t no comin’ back from it. Ain’t no other Cecil waitin’ in a trunk, ready to come out if the first Cecil gets hurt. There’s only one of ya. And, you got a family to think of. Goin’ out with a pistol is only gonna get you hurt. What’re the rest of us gonna do if that happens?”
“I say,” Cecil grunted. “For a ‘puppet man,’ you’re awfully wise.”
“I learned a lot, I did.” Mr. Punch grinned. “Here, look at Toby. All curled up with me wooden chum, just sleepin’. Shouldn’t we be doin’ that? Now, Toby knows that when he wakes up there’s gonna be all sorts of challenges he’ll have. Don’t know what kind. Dog challenges, I ‘spose—like whether he should dig a hole in the dirt or whatever it is dogs think ‘bout. But, you don’t see him stalkin’ ‘round at night. No. He knows he’s got to be a good dog and take care o’ himself so that he can be with me and Robert and the whole bunch o’ us.”
Cecil looked confused. “Yes, of course, Mr. Punch. But, we’re not dogs. We’re people. Our challenges are far greater than where to bury our bones.”
“It’ll be your bones we’re buryin’ if you go out like you’re thinkin’.” Mr. Punch said plainly.
“Very well.” Cecil answered flatly.
“Adhere to our scheme, Cecil.” Robert said gently. “We’re going to be triumphant. We just need to be smart about it.”
“Here.” Cecil handed his pistol to Robert. “Take this. I’ll have no more lectures tonight.”
“Cecil…” Robert began.
“Don’t say another word.” Cecil grumbled.
With that, he went back to his room.
“I do understand.” Mr. Punch said to Robert once he was alone. “I found meself caught up in the spirit o’ what he was thinkin’, I did. It’s easy to run out and fight without thinkin’. But, it takes a brave man to be wise ‘bout how he protects his family.”
Robert smiled. “Well put, dear Punch.”
“Here, now, all this talk ‘bout plans and schemes. But, nobody’s seen fit to tell ol’ Mr. Punch just what they are.”
“We didn’t want to worry you.” Robert said.
“I’m worried anyway. Maybe knowin’ will help me not to worry. Remember, I got double the worry, I do. I got me own and I got Julian’s to trouble me. Might help me to know what’s goin’ on.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Robert sighed. “I’ll explain it all in the morning.”
“Not in the mornin’.” Mr. Punch shook Julian’s head. “Now.”
Meanwhile, at Miss Iolanthe’s Bawdy House, the Duchess of Fallbridge shrieked wildly.
“You’re married?” She screamed. “To whom have you been married.”
“To the father of my child.” Barbara answered vacantly.
“Which is?” The Duchess demanded.
“Arthur.”
“The footman?” The Duchess shouted. “Arthur? My Arthur?”
“What do you mean, ‘your Arthur’?” Barbara stuttered.
“Nothing.” The Duchess grunted. “How could you do this to me? How could you disgrace the family?”
“Why do you think I’m here, Mother?” Barbara said, he speech still slurred. “Why do you think I traveled across the sea to get away from you? Isn’t it better to think I’m dead than to think I’ve disgraced the family name? Go home, Mother. Go back to Fallbridge Hall and tell everyone that Lady Barbara is dead.”
“You’ve ruined us.” Pauline hissed.
“I’ve ruined…” Barbara growled. “What of Julian? Perhaps you should concern yourself with your son! He’s gone completely mad! He thinks he’s someone else.”
“It’s really quite charming,” Iolanthe smiled. “He is utterly insane.”
“You, hold your tongue.” The Duchess spat at Iolanthe.
“Temper, Your Grace.” Iolanthe winked. “That’s no way to speak to your hostess.”
The Duchess walked slowly to a chair and flung herself in it dramatically. “Everything is crumbling. This is not what I wanted at all.”
“Sometimes you just don’t get what ya want.” Iolanthe chuckled. “Sometimes, you can make it happen anyway.”
“I told you to hold your tongue.” The Duchess answered sharply.
“I’ll hold my tongue.” Iolanthe smiled. “After I tell your daughter who it was that murdered her father.”
“Keep quiet!” The Duchess growled.
“What is she talking about, Mother?” Barbara asked.
“Don’t call me ‘mother.’ I’m not your mother. I don’t know who or what you are.”
“Go to your room, Miss Allen.” Iolanthe said. “Assuming you’ve come to stay.”
“I have.” Barbara nodded.
“Get some sleep, then. Tomorrow’s gonna be right busy for ya.” Iolanthe winked.
Barbara stood awkwardly in the center of the room and stared at the Duchess.
“Go.” Iolanthe said firmly.
Barbara did as instructed.
“Now, now,” Iolanthe smiled at Pauline. “Looks like you got nothin’. Daughter’s a whore. Son’s a lunatic. Husband’s dead. Just you left—you and all that wealth. Maybe now, you’ll realize that I’m all you’ve got. Maybe now you’ll know that we have to help each other.”
“My daughter is dead.” The Duchess moaned. “Dead…”
At that very moment, back in Marionneaux, Marjani staggered out of the shack and fell to her knees in the cold, damp earth. She wailed horribly and beat her breast with her fists.
Several of the field workers rushed toward her, but stopped a few feet away—fearful of the Fever seeds.
“My baby is dead!” Marjani screamed. “My little girl is gone!”
“She’s gone to Heaven, honey.” One of the workers said. “She’s gone for to be with the Holy Mother.”
“How am I gonna tell that little girl that both her mama and her daddy are gone?” Marjani fell to the ground and clawed at it with her hands. “How am I gonna do it?”
Did you miss Chapters 1-108? If so, you can read them here.
