Chapter 22:
A Way to Ruin
Speaight
volunteered to go downstairs to the morning room to offer Lady Constance
refreshment while the Duke readied himself for his visitors. On his way from the Duke’s bedchamber,
Speaight narrowed his eyes at Charles, letting the Duke’s valet know that his
superior disapproved of the overly-familiar way in which the man had spoken to
the master of the house.
Nevertheless,
Charles and Gerard stayed behind after Speaight had left. The two men could sense their master’s panic
and, for a moment, both dispensed with the usual protocol and addressed the
Duke as their friend.
“I don’t know if
this is a good idea for you,” Gerard warned, adding, “Your Grace” to the end of
the statement.
Mr. Punch shook
his head, glad to be able to speak as himself instead of as Julian, if only for
a moment.
“What choice
have I got?” he shrugged.
“We could just
send them both away.” Charles
suggested. “That had been your first
instinct, Sir.”
“When it was
just the man,” Punch nodded. “He’s an
un-titled stranger what just barged into me house, he is. It’s easy ‘nough to dismiss him, it is. Only the woman—she’s a lady, the daughter of
a Countess, and part of Society. I know
that Countess Hamish, I do. She’s a
talker, that one. If I send her daughter
away without receiving her, that’s all the countess will need to say terrible
things ‘bout me—if she ain’t already. I
know they’re talkin’ all over the City of Westminster. Even Prince Albert himself has heard it. And, don’t you know, Countess Hamish has
spoken a lot of what’s been said? How
can I tell Speaight to send Lady Constance home without her bein’ all hurt and
offended and runnin’ to her mum? Then,
won’t she talk? And, not jus’ ‘bout me,
but ‘bout Robert and Colin, too. We don’t
need people wonderin’ where I got Colin.
It’s gonna be hard ‘nough when he grows up and folk start noticin’ he
looks an awful lot like a Fallbridge for bein’ adopted. Don’t you think they already think he’s me
sister’s son? I can’t give folk anymore
chances than they already got to gossip by what goes on in this house.”
“But, Sir,”
Gerard urged. “We can simply tell her
you’re not able to receive her now and that she could come back another
time. That way, Dr. Halifax can be
there, too.”
“Or, we could
wake the doctor,” Charles suggested.
“No.” Mr. Punch sighed. “Poor man watched ol’ Lord Glencaron breathe
his last but a few hours ago. Let the
poor fella sleep.”
“But, sir.”
“I ‘preciate
it. I really do.” Mr. Punch interrupted. “Only there’s things what you don’t
know. See, yesterday I got a letter I
did—unsigned, it was—statin’ that someone was gonna go to the papers and the
Crown and tell ‘em I’m mad. We can’t ‘ford
no more ill words ‘bout this household.
Not now.”
“All the more
reason not to see this woman, Your Grace.
And, especially that Victor Geddes.
Maybe he’s the bloke what sent the letter.”
“Dr. Halifax
thinks it was Hortence what sent it.”
Mr. Punch whispered.
“She can’t read,
Sir.” Gerard groaned. “How could she send a letter?”
“With the help
of that bloke in the vestibule.” Charles
frowned. “I’ll throw him out on his ear.”
Mr. Punch smiled
at the thought. But, then, he shook his
head. “I gotta see him. If he’s gonna threaten me and me family, I
gotta see him. ‘Sides, maybe he’s just some
fella what’s come for charity or some such…
We don’t know.”
“Please let me
awaken the doctor,” Charles urged again.
“At least let him talk to this Geddes man while you chat with Lady
Constance, Your Grace.”
Mr. Punch sighed. “I can’t.
I’m a man. I ain’t a puppet no
more. And, what’s more I’m a Duke. If I can make jewels for the Queen and run a
household, I can do this. I’m the head
of this household, I am—whether I want to be or not—and as such, I gotta take
care of things what’s difficult.”
“You won’t be
convinced otherwise, Sir?” Gerard asked.
“No.” Mr. Punch
smiled. “But, I truly do ‘preciate that
you two fellas is so loyal to me.”
“We owe you
everything, Your Grace,” Gerard said softly.
“And, I owe you
two a lot, too.” Mr. Punch replied. “Now,
Gerry, how ‘bout you go down and take the Geddes fella into the library less
Speaight gets on ya.”
“Yes, Sir.” Gerard nodded. “I’ll stay with him until you come down.”
“And, I’ll stand
just outside the library door.” Charles
offered.
“Good of
ya. Speaight’s gonna want ya to carry,
he is, only, tell ‘im I asked you to guard the door if he asks.”
“Yes, Your
Grace.”
“Now, go on, I’ll
be down in a tick.” Punch said.
The two footmen
scurried downstairs.
Mr. Punch took a
deep breath and studied his reflection in the mirror.
“Look at that
chap in the glass, then.” He muttered to himself. “Looks like a Duke.” He grunted.
“Feels like a puppet.” He
wandered over to his writing desk and picked up the small porcelain figure of
Harlequin which sat on the corner.
“You got a fine
life, don’t ya?” He said to the colorful
figurine. “Just sittin’ there on your wee porcelain stump—smilin’. Ain’t got to worry ‘bout nothin’ do ya? Well, I gotta go talk to folk, I do. And, I gotta pretend to be me master when all
I want to do is…”
Punch grinned,
feeling the weight of the figurine in his hand.
“Could just knock ‘em both on the head with ya.” He snorted.
“Ah—you’d break. Porcelain ain’t no good for hittin’.” Frowning, Mr. Punch set down the
figurine. “Wouldn’t solve nothin’
anyway.”
Exhaling, Punch
made his way down the stairs, passing the library door where he waved at
Charles who had taken his post. Down the
last remaining flight to the morning room, Punch muttered softly to
himself. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”
He paused at the
morning room door, fixing his face into his “Julian expression,” and, then,
slowly opened it.
Lady Constance
stood in the middle of the morning room—dressed in a frothy day gown of pink
lace which Punch thought rather clashed with the color of her dull blonde
curls. He disliked her immediately.
“Well, Your
Grace, good morning,” Lady Constance cooed.
“I’m terribly sorry to come unannounced, but I was just passing by and I
thought, ‘I’m simply dying to see the Duke and what he’s done with Fallbridge
House.”
“Good morning,
Lady Constance,” Mr. Punch answered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster
while still maintaining Julian’s manner of speaking. “I actually call it Molliner House after my
late father, Sir Colin Molliner.”
“Oh, how…loyal.” She smirked.
“This room is just charming.” Lady Constance continued.
“Thank you,”
Punch replied dryly. “Please, make
yourself comfortable.” He gestured as regally as possible to the settee in the
center of the room.
“Who did you
contract as your decorator?” Lady
Constance asked.
“I did not
employ a decorator.” Punch answered.
“You devised
this scheme on your own?”
“Yes.” Mr. Punch
nodded, still mimicking Julian.
“How unusual for
a man, but your kind are very clever with these things.”
“My kind, Lady
Constance?” Mr. Punch raised an eyebrow, trying his best to maintain his
composure.
“Well, I mean,
of course, because you’re a jeweler…and artist.
And, then, there’s your people.
As I recall, your late mother, the Duchess, was always so clever with
interiors.” She said quickly.
“Of course,” Mr.
Punch answered.
“I do hope I’m
not keeping you from anything,” Lady Constance continued.
“Breakfast,”
Punch muttered.
“Pardon me?”
“Of course not.”
Mr. Punch quickly covered, returning to his Julian voice. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit,
Lady Constance? Surely you didn’t come
just to see the house when your own home must, certainly, be similar.”
“If only it
were. Our house is so drab compared to
yours. I love this scheme. I may copy it.”
Mr. Punch
nodded.
Lady Constance
looked slightly pained and terribly uncomfortable. She took a deep breath. “Well, I do have something I’d like to
discuss with you, Your Grace.”
“Yes?”
“Is your…well, I
understand that you have a companion. Is
he about?”
“He is not
receiving at the moment.”
“Pity. I’d like
to meet him. I hear he’s a very good physician.”
“Yes, he
is. Thank you.”
“You see, I’ve
come on something of a mission.”
“Yes, Lady
Constance.”
“You and your…friend…have
not been to any events this Season. In
fact, no one has hardly seen you at all since you’ve returned. When we read that you’d visited the Prince
Consort, Mother said to me that we should really extend a neighborly invitation
to you and Dr. Halifax. So, we concocted
a little scheme, Mother and I.”
“Oh?”
“At the end of
this month, we’d like to host a dinner party in your honor.”
“How kind,” Mr.
Punch replied. He glanced around the
room quickly and took inventory of all of the things with which he could strike
Lady Constance across the skull. No, he
wasn’t actually going to do it, but the idea both comforted and pleased
him. “We’d be delighted.”
“Of course, you’ll
receive an official invitation, but as I said, I was passing by and thought I
would just love to ask you in person.”
“Certainly. Thank you, Lady Constance.”
“I must say, you’re
looking very well. I thought, since we
hadn’t seen you, that perhaps you were ill.”
“I’m not ill at
all.”
“Clearly, though
I must say you look different than I remember you.”
“How so?”
“I can’t really
say,” Lady Constance responded, looking over the sharp edge of the long,
pointed nose which sat crookedly in the center of her pinched, equestrian
face. “You just look different.”
“Time abroad
will do that.” Mr. Punch nodded.
“I suppose.” She rose.
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer.
I’m sure you must have dozens of important duties ahead of you
today. Knowing that you’re so eager to
come to our little dinner, Mother and I will finish the guest list today.”
“How wonderful,”
Punch replied, rising as well and walking to the bell push, eager to be rid of
the woman. He rang quickly.
“I think we’ll
also invite the Baron and Baroness Lensdown.
Do you remember them, Your Grace?”
“I can’t say
that I do.” Mr. Punch stopped in his tracks, looking sideways at Lady
Constance. “Not well.”
“I understand
that you’ve just taken on their old governess.”
Lady Constance said slyly.
“Ah, yes, of
course.” Mr. Punch nodded, again growing
uncomfortable, but trying his best to maintain his impersonation of Julian.
“I’m sure you
and the baron will have much to discuss.”
“I have no
doubt.” Mr. Punch forced a smile.
He nearly
chirped with excitement when Speaight appeared at the door.
“Speaight, will
you escort Lady Constance to the door, please?”
“Of course, Your
Grace.” Speaight nodded.
Lady Constance
looked a little miffed to have had her line of questioning cut short.
“Good day, Lady
Constance. Thank you so much for your
visit.” Mr. Punch smiled, this time genuinely relieved.
“Yes. Good day to you, Your Grace.” The woman
responded tersely as Speaight showed her out.
Mr. Punch
lingered behind the open morning room door for a moment after glancing up the
stairs to the library door where Charles still stood at attention.
“Bugger,” He
muttered in his own voice. “Now I gotta
go to a dinner in someone else’s house.
What a queer way to ruin such a fine thing as eating.”
He snorted, shaking
his head.
“Well, that’s
done.” He grumbled. “Now, on to the
fella.”
Did you miss
Chapters 1-21 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?
If so, you can read them here. Come
back tomorrow for Chapter 23.
