Chapter 69:
In Scotland
“I got somethin’ for ya,” Mr. Punch smiled as he walked into Robert’s bedchamber. He set a parcel on the bed and walked over to hug his companion.
“I hope it’s a room adjoining yours.” Robert sighed.
“Don’t ya like this room?” Punch asked with wide-eyes.
“I do.” Robert nodded, “but it’s rather far away from you and Colin.”
“Sorry ‘bout that, Chum.” Punch replied. “The old place were built in pieces, it were. Like I said. Weren’t planned out too well. Certainly, ol’ Hiram Molliner weren’t too concerned ‘bout keeping a family in one place in the house.”
“Well, just know that I’ll be visiting quite a lot.” Robert laughed.
“I s’pected.” Punch giggled.
Robert looked around the room with its tall, leaded lancet windows, heavy stone mouldings, rich embroidered hangings and monumental mantelpiece supported on columns topped by capitals featuring the scowling faces of mythical beasties. “This room is larger than the house in which Cecil and I grew up.”
“I like them animals.” Punch narrowed his eyes. He walked over to the mantel. “Good day, angry lion-face…”
Robert watched with amusement as Punch tried to chat with the carvings. Mr. Punch gave up after a few minutes.
“Not too friendly,” Punch shrugged. “I got beasties in me own room, too. Thankfully, Colin doesn’t. I don’t think he’d care for ‘em too much bein’ jus’ a baby an’ such.”
“Has Colin settled in?” Robert asked.
“Sure,” Punch smiled broadly. “Mrs. North did such a fine job makin’ me ol’ dressin’ room into a nursery. Gamilla’s in there with him now.”
“Good.” Robert grinned. “And, the others?”
“Miss Barrett, Charlie, Gerry, Mrs. Pepper and Speaight are all out in the servants’ hall. Mrs. North said she’s show ‘em to their rooms and acquaint them with the estate.”
“I do hope they all get on.” Robert nodded.
“Me, too.” Punch mumbled. “Here…”
“What?” Robert smiled.
“I got ya somethin’!” Punch grunted.
“Oh, yes.” Robert shook his head. “I was distracted.”
“Open it.” Punch pointed to the parcel.
“What is it?” Robert picked up the package. “It feels like a good many things in one parcel.”
“Open it an’ see!” Punch moaned giddily. “What are you like, Chum? Give me a present and I tear into it. You’re so calm.”
“But…I don’t deserve a present.”
“Sure ya do!” Punch chirped.
“Your renewed health is the best gift I could ask for.” Robert replied. “And, then, this trip…”
“Open it!” Punch snorted.
Robert did as instructed, undoing the paper in which the gift had been wrapped and holding up—with considerable confusion—a plaid garment of red blue and gold.
“Do ya know what it is?” Punch tittered, clapping his hands together.
“I fear that I do.” Robert said slowly.
“It’s a kilt!” Punch exclaimed, jumping up and down and doing a little jig. “A kilt! Ha! I had it made for ya when we first talked ‘bout comin’ here all them weeks ago. It’s the Molliner tartan and all! All for you, Chum!”
“But…”
“Put it on…” Punch continued happily.
“I wouldn’t know how…”
“Take off your breeches and put it on.” Punch smiled. “Look…it ain’t just a kilt. I got ya all you’ll need. Look—see that thing? It’s called a ‘sporran.’ It hangs from that chain ‘round your waist. You know—over your…well, you know. Stuff. And, then, there’s your kilt pin and a ghillie shirt to wear and them shoes—those are called ghillie brogues. And, look, there’s a wee knife and all. You’re to wear it in that sheath at the top of your hose. It’s called a ‘sgian dubh.’ Don’t know why you’d need a knife on your thigh, but, if ya do, there it is. I s’pose if you’ve got an extra big potato to eat or somethin’…oh! Or sausage! That makes sense.”
Robert nodded.
“Got one for me-self, too.” Punch grinned.
“Thank you.” Robert replied.
“Don’t ya like it?”
“Oh, I do.” Robert nodded. “Only…well, how am I to wear pants with this?”
“You ain’t!’ Punch whooped, jumping up and down again in another little jig. “That’s the best part, it is!”
“But, I’m a doctor from Wimbledon.”
“And, I’m a Duke from Yorkshire. And, most of the time a wild puppet-man from Belgravia. What’s your point, Chum? Fact is, you’re in Scotland. And, I want you to look it.”
“But…”
“Oh, come on, Chum.” Punch groaned. “Ya got cute knees and all.”
“Have I?”
“Best knees I ever saw on a bloke.”
“How many blokes’ knees have you seen?”
“Aside from me-own?” Punch asked.
“Yes.”
“Well…mostly just me own.” Punch sighed. “Now, listen, Robert, I got ya this and you’re gonna wear it. Un’erstan’?”
“Very well.” Robert rubbed Punch’s arm. “I thank you very much. I shall wear it with pride.”
“Damn right you will.” Punch laughed.
“Frankly, in order to keep you in this humor, I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Good!” Punch chirped. “Put on your kilt and I’ll go put mine on and I’ll show you ‘round the estate!”
“Can’t we tour in our breeches?”
“No!” Punch laughed. “You said you’d do whatever I want. That’s what I want.”
“It’s still a bit chilly, dear Punch.” Robert frowned slightly.
“You’ll get used to it.” Punch winked.
“I suppose I will.” Robert chuckled.
“Hurry, now!” Punch cheered, rushing toward the door to go to his own room. “I’ll see you in five minutes.”
“Anything you say, my dear.” Robert smiled. “Anything.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-68 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 70.
“I got somethin’ for ya,” Mr. Punch smiled as he walked into Robert’s bedchamber. He set a parcel on the bed and walked over to hug his companion.
“I hope it’s a room adjoining yours.” Robert sighed.
“Don’t ya like this room?” Punch asked with wide-eyes.
“I do.” Robert nodded, “but it’s rather far away from you and Colin.”
“Sorry ‘bout that, Chum.” Punch replied. “The old place were built in pieces, it were. Like I said. Weren’t planned out too well. Certainly, ol’ Hiram Molliner weren’t too concerned ‘bout keeping a family in one place in the house.”
“Well, just know that I’ll be visiting quite a lot.” Robert laughed.
“I s’pected.” Punch giggled.
Robert looked around the room with its tall, leaded lancet windows, heavy stone mouldings, rich embroidered hangings and monumental mantelpiece supported on columns topped by capitals featuring the scowling faces of mythical beasties. “This room is larger than the house in which Cecil and I grew up.”
“I like them animals.” Punch narrowed his eyes. He walked over to the mantel. “Good day, angry lion-face…”
Robert watched with amusement as Punch tried to chat with the carvings. Mr. Punch gave up after a few minutes.
“Not too friendly,” Punch shrugged. “I got beasties in me own room, too. Thankfully, Colin doesn’t. I don’t think he’d care for ‘em too much bein’ jus’ a baby an’ such.”
“Has Colin settled in?” Robert asked.
“Sure,” Punch smiled broadly. “Mrs. North did such a fine job makin’ me ol’ dressin’ room into a nursery. Gamilla’s in there with him now.”
“Good.” Robert grinned. “And, the others?”
“Miss Barrett, Charlie, Gerry, Mrs. Pepper and Speaight are all out in the servants’ hall. Mrs. North said she’s show ‘em to their rooms and acquaint them with the estate.”
“I do hope they all get on.” Robert nodded.
“Me, too.” Punch mumbled. “Here…”
“What?” Robert smiled.
“I got ya somethin’!” Punch grunted.
“Oh, yes.” Robert shook his head. “I was distracted.”
“Open it.” Punch pointed to the parcel.
“What is it?” Robert picked up the package. “It feels like a good many things in one parcel.”
“Open it an’ see!” Punch moaned giddily. “What are you like, Chum? Give me a present and I tear into it. You’re so calm.”
“But…I don’t deserve a present.”
“Sure ya do!” Punch chirped.
“Your renewed health is the best gift I could ask for.” Robert replied. “And, then, this trip…”
“Open it!” Punch snorted.
Robert did as instructed, undoing the paper in which the gift had been wrapped and holding up—with considerable confusion—a plaid garment of red blue and gold.
“Do ya know what it is?” Punch tittered, clapping his hands together.
“I fear that I do.” Robert said slowly.
“It’s a kilt!” Punch exclaimed, jumping up and down and doing a little jig. “A kilt! Ha! I had it made for ya when we first talked ‘bout comin’ here all them weeks ago. It’s the Molliner tartan and all! All for you, Chum!”
“But…”
“Put it on…” Punch continued happily.
“I wouldn’t know how…”
“Take off your breeches and put it on.” Punch smiled. “Look…it ain’t just a kilt. I got ya all you’ll need. Look—see that thing? It’s called a ‘sporran.’ It hangs from that chain ‘round your waist. You know—over your…well, you know. Stuff. And, then, there’s your kilt pin and a ghillie shirt to wear and them shoes—those are called ghillie brogues. And, look, there’s a wee knife and all. You’re to wear it in that sheath at the top of your hose. It’s called a ‘sgian dubh.’ Don’t know why you’d need a knife on your thigh, but, if ya do, there it is. I s’pose if you’ve got an extra big potato to eat or somethin’…oh! Or sausage! That makes sense.”
Robert nodded.
“Got one for me-self, too.” Punch grinned.
“Thank you.” Robert replied.
“Don’t ya like it?”
“Oh, I do.” Robert nodded. “Only…well, how am I to wear pants with this?”
“You ain’t!’ Punch whooped, jumping up and down again in another little jig. “That’s the best part, it is!”
“But, I’m a doctor from Wimbledon.”
“And, I’m a Duke from Yorkshire. And, most of the time a wild puppet-man from Belgravia. What’s your point, Chum? Fact is, you’re in Scotland. And, I want you to look it.”
“But…”
“Oh, come on, Chum.” Punch groaned. “Ya got cute knees and all.”
“Have I?”
“Best knees I ever saw on a bloke.”
“How many blokes’ knees have you seen?”
“Aside from me-own?” Punch asked.
“Yes.”
“Well…mostly just me own.” Punch sighed. “Now, listen, Robert, I got ya this and you’re gonna wear it. Un’erstan’?”
“Very well.” Robert rubbed Punch’s arm. “I thank you very much. I shall wear it with pride.”
“Damn right you will.” Punch laughed.
“Frankly, in order to keep you in this humor, I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Good!” Punch chirped. “Put on your kilt and I’ll go put mine on and I’ll show you ‘round the estate!”
“Can’t we tour in our breeches?”
“No!” Punch laughed. “You said you’d do whatever I want. That’s what I want.”
“It’s still a bit chilly, dear Punch.” Robert frowned slightly.
“You’ll get used to it.” Punch winked.
“I suppose I will.” Robert chuckled.
“Hurry, now!” Punch cheered, rushing toward the door to go to his own room. “I’ll see you in five minutes.”
“Anything you say, my dear.” Robert smiled. “Anything.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-68 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 70.
6 comments:
I LOVED THIS CHAPTER. Too, too cute.
Thank you, Matt.
How sweet and funny! They deserve some fun after what they just went through.
I agree, Marsha.
I know I'm probably going to sound like a freak,but in my head Robert is really hot, so I like the idea of him in a kilt.
That's not freakish. That was rather the point of the conversation.
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