Punch's Cousin, Chapter 213

“How did…” Mr. Punch began.


“How’d we find you?” Iolanthe smiled. “It wasn’t too difficult. I have a special arrangement with the hotels in this city.”

“That don’t surprise me,” Mr. Punch grunted.

“All we had to do, really, was ask if anyone had seen two Englishmen, a colored woman and a baby.” Ulrika smirked.

“Did you really think that you could hide from me in my own city, Your Grace?” Iolanthe laughed.

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Ulrika chuckled. “It isn’t the first time Iolanthe’s been in a hotel room with two gentlemen.”

“Nor you, Ulrika.” Iolanthe growled.

“I really do hate both of you—so very much.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “I gotta say, I’d rather invite the Devil himself into me room than either of you.” He sighed. “And, ain’t it queer that the two of ya have become so chummy?”

“Anything is possible when two women are united in one cause.” Ulrika answered, pushing past Mr. Punch and entering the room.

“Here!” Punch moaned. “Get out!”

“Oh, isn’t it sweet, really?” Ulrika scowled at Robert and the child who lay asleep on the bed. “It’s like a painting. What would we call it, ‘The Abductor and Child’?”

“We ain’t abductin’ nobody.” Punch snorted. “The boy is ours.”

“He isn’t, actually.” Iolanthe clucked her tongue, entering the room as well.

“He sure as Hell ain’t Barbara’s.” Mr. Punch retorted.

“No.” Iolanthe shook her head. “He belongs to Mr. Edward Cage.”

“He ain’t no sack of dry goods nor some carriage what belongs to no one. Just because you sold him don’t mean that he has to stay where he was. What’s it to you anyway? Huh? Ain’t like Mr. Cage is gonna take you to court to get his money back! He don’t want nobody to know where he got the boy! Coo, he’s my kin, he is. Got me blood in his veins and he belongs with me.”

“And the doctor?” Ulrika chuckled.

“Where I go, so does the doctor.” Mr. Punch snarled.

“Touching.” Iolanthe replied, starting to walk toward the bed.

“No!” Mr. Punch grabbed her by the arm. “Now, listen to me, Ogress. I’ll kill both of ya before I let you put one of your grimy fingers on that child.”

“Like you did with Arthur?” Ulrika grinned. “The people you ‘kill’ don’t stay dead.”

“This time, they will. I learned how to do it proper from you, Ogress. You killed me master’s mum and you killed Naasir. And, isn’t that a damn pity because now he ain’t here to keep me from killin’ both of you right now like what he done with Arthur!”

“You wouldn’t hurt us.” Iolanthe laughed, wrenching her arm from Punch’s grasp. “You’re too much of a coward and you’re far too soft.”

“But, he’s no fool, is he, Iolanthe?” Ulrika winked. “He’s not the utter imbecile that he appears to be.”

“No,” Iolanthe smiled. “He’s no fool. He’s a right smart gentleman. And because he’s so smart, he’s going to make sure we get what we want.”

Meanwhile, in the creaking hull of some foreign-bound ship, Arthur huddled next to the very man with whom he’d previously been fighting.

“Now, Gerard, you know what we’re gonna do?” Arthur said, his eyes wild as he clutched the man’s’ hand in his own.

“I do, Artie, me boy.” Gerard beamed.

“Ain’t this is sight better than fightin’?” Arthur grinned broadly, his yellow teeth shining in the lamplight.

“A lot more profitable, yes.” Gerard nodded.

“We’ll dock soon. You get the rope. I’ll get the iron.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-212? If so, you can read them here.

Goal for the Day: Know Your Body

This morning, Bertie awoke with an upset stomach. I can always tell when his stomach is bothering him because it’s, frankly, noisy. Over the past nine years, this has happened countless times. Westies have delicate stomachs. I’ve learned how to combat his upset stomachs and can quickly get rid of them and make him, once again, a happy boy. And, he is, now, quite a happy boy.


But, I was thinking that I’m not nearly as attuned to my own body as I am Bertie’s. Sometimes, if I have an upset stomach or a sore throat, I don’t have the slightest idea how to deal with it or make it go away.

So, I’ve decided to pay better attention to my own system. I think it’s a good idea for anyone. Your body sends you cues that are, actually, easily interpreted, if you pay attention. We could all develop a better sense of what our bodies need to function at their best so that we can all be happy boys and girls.

Object of the Day: An Antique Amethyst Stickpin

Amethyst, the most precious member of the quartz family, has been used in jewelry for many centuries. The stone’s hardness allows for it to be durable, yet, easily carved and it offers a brilliant sparkle which is the perfect complement to other stones. Though we tend to think of amethyst as being purple, it does come in other colors. Green amethyst has become a popular stone in contemporary jewelry design.


Our Victorian forebears frequently used amethysts. Combined with emeralds, diamonds or pearls, it was often used in Suffragette jewelry which was worn to represent the colors of the cause—purple, green and white. The Victorians believed in assigning meanings to gemstones. Since the word “Amethyst” literally translates to “without drunkenness,” it was believed that the wearer would be protected from intoxication. Similarly, the amethyst was meant to guard the wearer from evil.

This beautiful stickpin features a large cushion cut amethyst surmounted by a glittering European cut diamond. Its design suggests mid-to-late Victorian sensibilities, and I like to believe that this shimmering purple stone really does promote a healthy life. Anything this attractive must have some power for good.

Painting of the Day: “A Dress Rehearsal,” by Albert Chevallier Tayler, 1888

A Dress Rehearsal
Albert Chevallier Tayler, 1888
The Lady Lever Art Gallery, Liverpool

This is one of the many paintings based on the contemporary French naturalistic style which were collected by Lord Leverhulme to advertise his line of soaps. Once the paintings had been employed as images in his ads, Leverhulme brought the paintings home and gifted them to his wife. After her passing, the collection became the centerpiece of The Lady Lever Art Gallery.


Leverhulme used this scene by Albert Chevallier Tayler as an advertising image. He was drawn to this scene of a young bride modeling her wedding dress before her nuptials. Tayler, an artist from Cornwall, specialized in these sentimental domestic scenes and images of working class and pleasant families. This was just the sort of theme that Leverhulme wanted for his advertisements, and found much success with them.

Sculpture of the Day: A German Ivory Bust, circa 1700

Ivory Bust
German, 1700-1725
Carl August van Lücke
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This unusual sculpture as well as its plinth are both carved from ivory. The plinth has been stained to create contrast between it and the bust. Carved from a single piece of ivory, this miniature sculpture is the work of German artist Carl August van Lücke, the Younger.


The figure is tenderly sculpted with a great attention to detail. The folds, bows and ruffs of her tight corsage have the look of fabric while her skin and hair mimic the textural appearance of the real thing.

Person of the Week: Lauren Lane

C.C. Babcock, Maxwell Sheffield’s long-suffering business partner, lived in a perpetual state of unrequited love throughout six seasons of The Nanny. Chastity Claire’s portrayer, Lauren Lane, however has had her love requited—her love for theater.

Best known to world-wide audiences for her roles on television programs such as Hunter, L.A. Law and The Nanny, Miss Lane is much more than the cool, attractive blonde that she plays on the small screen. An accomplished and extremely versatile actress, Lane is one of the brightest stars of the American stage. Her ability to fully realize a character is legendary. Now, she teaches those skills to eager young actors at Texas State University in San Marcos Texas.

For all of the many hours of delight she’s brought us with her own work and for the many more hours of joy she’s fostering through her teaching, Lauren Lane is our “Person of the Week.”

Treat of the Week: Sumptuous Spice Madeleines

The madeleine is a small sponge cake which originated in the Loraine region of France. These plump, delectable cakes are famous for their distinctive shell-like shape which comes from being baked in a pan with shell-shaped depressions.


Two different stories surround the naming of the madeleine. Some believe that they were named for Madeleine Paulmier, a Nineteenth Century pastry chef. Others think that Paulmier was a cook in the Eighteenth Century who worked for the father-in-law of King Louis XV of France who named the wee cakes in her honor. Regardless of their origin, these wonderful cakes often represent France in bakeries around the world.

Instead of the typical sponge cake madeleines, my mother has created a wonderful variation with spice-cake madeleines. With a mellow spice flavor and a dusting of powdered sugar, they are the perfect accompaniment to a rich pudding, such as the butterscotch pudding pictured here, or on their own. Not only are they delicious, they’re inspirational.

Celebrated author Marcel Proust wrote of madeleines in Remembrance of the Things Past. Proust rhapsodized about tea and madeleines as symbols of the persistence of beautiful memories.

Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me, when one day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate, a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory--this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature as theirs. Whence did it come? What did it signify? How could I seize upon and define it?