Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 80

Chapter 80: 

History 

Ellen furrowed her brow as she read from the Duchess of Fallbridge’s journal:

28 October 1820 

Freezing. Johnny Donnan came to tend the grate. At first he would not speak to me. I imagine that Colin has warned him against it. Still, he could not resist me after a few moments. He turned and our eyes met. Had it not been for the intrusion of his son, Finlay, we would have, surely, been able to converse. I watched through the cottage window later as Johnny beat Finlay with a branch he had cut from a nearby pine. The thrill it gave me almost made me forget for a moment the terrible discomfort of all of this. I wished that I could have been nearby or, perhaps, close enough to smell the boy’s tears. There is a certain strength in the boy which I find appealing. Even at just ten years he shows some of his father’s strength. Would that he could spend some time with Julian, I think my son would be improved by Finlay’s masculine presence. Nevertheless, Colin would never approve of his son consorting with the children of the staff. I suppose that I should cast an eye of contempt of such a friendship, but history shows us that we Fallbridges have always had a weakness for the lower classes. 

Ellen closed the book angrily, wishing she could throw it across the room. She didn’t dare. To begin with, the sound might wake the others, and now that the castle had finally fallen silent, she was loathe to think of suffering the cheerful sounds of the others again. Similarly, she couldn’t risk any damage to that precious tome. She hugged the book to herself and grinned just as the door to her chamber scratched open.

“Miss?” Gamilla whispered, poking her head in the door.

“Gamilla…” Ellen rasped, trying to make her voice sound as if it was coated with disease.

“I done saw the light under the door. Are you still feelin’ poorly?” Gamilla asked, cautiously entering.

“Yes, terribly.” Ellen nodded.

“I could get ya some tea, Miss.” Gamilla smiled.

“Oh, no…that wouldn’t help.” Ellen replied softly. “But, thank you. Gamilla, I don’t know what I’d do…I’d just be lost without you. Sometimes I believe you’re my only friend.”

“That ain’t true, Miss,” Gamilla shook her head. “We all care ‘bout you.”

Ellen sighed.

“Are you readin’?” Gamilla nodded—pointing to the book. “Looks terrible old. What is it?”

“This?” Ellen coughed. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just reading…my journal.”

“Your very own journal?”

“Yes.” Ellen lied. “This one is…it’s one I’ve used. Sometimes I like to read my thoughts—what I was thinking or feeling at any given point.”

“Oh.” Gamilla smiled. “I always wanted to keep a diary.”

“You should. Oh, yes, you should.” Ellen replied. “In fact, look in my wardrobe.”

“Miss?”

“In the writing slope at the bottom of my wardrobe is a blank journal which I purchased before we left for Scotland. I want you to have it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, Miss.”

“Yes, yes you could. It’s a very fine one, too. Leather-bound with gold on the edges.”

“All the more reason, Miss Barrett.” Gamilla said humbly.

“I insist. Your first journal should be special. And, Gamilla, you’ve been so kind to me.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ special.”

“Oh, you certainly have. I wish to thank you.”

“But, you brought me them flowers that time and…”

“Gamilla, I insist.”

“Yes, Miss.” Gamilla answered sheepishly. She went to the wardrobe and found the writing slope of papier mache inlaid with mother-of-pearl and hand-painted with roses and forget-me-nots.

“What a fine lap desk.” Gamilla grinned.

“It was a gift from my eldest brother when I first became a governess.” Ellen answered, faking a cough. “There—right under…yes…you’ve found it.”

Gamilla retrieved the journal.

“Miss, it’s too pretty.”

“You must have it.” Ellen insisted. “Take a pen, too. You’ll find three in there. Take the blue one. I’ve just changed the nib.”

“Yes, Miss.” Gamilla responded emotionally. “I just…I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You can thank me by using it.”

“I…” Gamilla said shyly. “I’m not so very good at writin’.”

“But, you read quite well. Gamilla, I’ve heard you reading to Colin.”

“You have?” Gamilla replied with palpable embarrassment.

“You forget my room is right off of the night nursery.”

“Of course.” Gamilla nodded. “Still, I ain’t so very practiced with writin’. Anyway, I wouldn’t know what to write.”

“Just write your thoughts. Write what you’re thinking and feeling. I often write about what I’ve seen and heard during the day and then let my thoughts develop from the events of the day.”

“I could do that.”

“For instance, what happened today?”

“We came here to this castle—like a storybook. And, the masters was so happy. I saw them together…they were talkin’ all close and smilin’. And, then they went for a walk. When I saw ‘em through the window comin’ back, they was holdin’ hands and lookin’ so sweet and glad.”

Ellen grinned. “That’s exactly the sort of thing you should write.”

“And, then, I could say how we all thought you was lost and how we all worried and how sad I was to know you was sick.”

“You’re too kind.” Ellen coughed again.

“No…” Ellen shrugged.

“You’re very dear, Gamilla. Too dear, in fact, to be up this late. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Well, Miss.” Gamilla sighed. “Since the masters done went to sleep, I didn’t want to stay in the nursery—what with it bein’ right next to His Grace’s chamber.”

“Are they in the same room?” Ellen asked.

“Well…” Gamilla looked at the floor. “The doctor’s room is so far away and I think he likes to be close to His Grace and Colin.”

“I see.”

“I hated to leave Colin, but I didn’t wish to intrude on the masters. But, what if Colin should wake and need me?”

“The Duke will hear him.”

“True.” Gamilla nodded.

“So, you can go to your room and rest.”

“I done.” Gamilla sighed again.

“Do you not like your room?”

“It’s a fine room.” Gamilla smiled. “Biggest room I ever had to myself. But, that’s just it, Miss. I never slept alone before. See, I always had another girl with me. Either my own sister when she was alive or, then, at Mr. Fontanals place, there was six of us in our cabin. When I worked for Mr. and Mrs. Halifax, I shared a room with Lena and, then, in New Orleans I was either with Meridian or Marjani. At home, I share with Vi. See, I’m used to havin’ someone next to me. So, I can’t sleep by myself.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I thought maybe I could borrow Dog Toby for some company. But, you know how His Grace likes to have Toby in his bed. I didn’t dare ask.”

“I understand.”

“So, I thought I’d go to the larder for a snack. Mrs. Pepper said she done left me some biscuits in there case I got hungry, and, then, I saw your candle and thought I’d see if you was feelin’ any better.”

Ellen nodded. “You know, I can think of one person who would like to keep you warm tonight.”

“Miss?” Gamilla’s eyes widened.

“Gerard.” Ellen winked.

“Oh…” Gamilla looked awkwardly at the floor.

“I’m sorry, Gamilla.” Ellen laughed. “I don’t mean to tease you.”

“That’s all right, Miss.” Gamilla smiled naively.

“If I wasn’t so very ill, I’d invite you to stay with me.”

“Oh, it ain’t nothin’, Miss. I’m ain’t a baby. I’ll fall asleep some time soon—if I get tired ‘nough.”

“You certainly will.” Ellen smiled. “You know, you might take your journal to your room and try writing in it. Maybe it will relax you. You can write about all you saw and heard today.”

“And, it’ll be good practice. My handwritin’ ain’t good. Looks like a child. I reckon Colin could write better.” She chuckled. “Have you see Dr. Halifax’s hand? It’s so beautiful. The Duke, too. But, I reckon that’s because he can draw so beautiful. I wish I could do that…”

“Yes.” Ellen nodded, slight impatience evident in her voice.

“Oh, poor Miss Barrett. Here you are, sick in bed, and I’m goin’ on.”

“It’s fine, Gamilla.”

“I’ll take to my room, then.” Gamilla nodded. “Thank you so much for this.” She held up the journal.

“And, thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

“Good night, Miss.” Gamilla smiled.

“Good night.”

Gamilla left, clasping the lovely journal to her breast.

After the maid had gone, Ellen scowled. “Little idiot.”

Again, she opened the Duchess’ journal and began reading. Without warning, her door scraped open again. She looked up in surprise, but the expression quickly faded to one of relief and, then, finally settled into a glare of irritation.

“I wondered how long you’d be!” Ellen snapped at the person who’d entered. “For once your tardiness served you well. That little African came in here without knocking. If she’d found you in here there’d have been Hell to pay. Lock the door.” She pointed. “And, you’d best have what I asked you for.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-79? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 81 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.