A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 35

Chapter 35
Still Hands


Violet's eyes fluttered open and she gasped as she realized that she was still with Morgana.  As she looked around, she began to see that she was in a part of Fallbridge Hall which was utterly unfamiliar to her.

She didn't want to spook her captor, so she tried to remain as calm as possible though her heart was beating so fast as so loudly that she could both feel and hear it in her ears.  She shivered in her loose night shift.  

Surprisingly, Morgana seemed to notice Violet's chill and removed her own shawl with her pincers, draping it over Violet's shoulders.

"Thank you,"  Violet nodded.

"Welcome."  Morgana replied in a raspy voice.

"My name is Violet."

Morgana nodded.

"What are you called?"

"Morgana."  She rasped.  

"A pretty name."

"Too pretty."  Morgana awkwardly sat on the floor next to Violet.  "For me.  For...for long, they called me...Wh'Lobster Girl."

"Because of your hands?"  Violet nodded.

"Not hands."  Morgana snapped.

"I'm sorry."  Violet said softly.  "Do they hurt you?"

"Not as much as...other things."  Morgana answered.  "Hands.  Your...hands are...pretty."

Violet shook her head.  "Just working hands."

"Still hands."

"Yes, you are correct."  Violet paused.  "Why did you carry me off?"

Morgana was silent.

"You don't mean to harm me, do you?"  Violet asked.

Still, Morgana was silent.

"I can see that you're not a bad person."  Violet continued.

"I've...hurt...before."

"Who 'asn't?"  Violet smiled.  "I know I 'ave."

"You...never killed no one?"  Morgana frowned.

"Well, no."  Violet shifted her weight.  "But, I know folk what 'ave.  Now, Morgana, I fancy me-self a good judge of folk and I can see by your eyes you ain't a bad lady."

"I'm a...monster."

"Here, what for?"

Morgana held up her pincers.

"So, ya look a little different."  Violet shrugged.  "Now, you listen to me, my master is a fine, gentle, kind generous man who don't judge people based on what they done nor where they come from nor how they look.  He can help ya and he'll do so gladly because he genuinely cares.  He's different 'imself, he is."

"Who...is your master.  The dark one or the flame-haired one?"

"You've seen 'em?"  Violet smiled.  "Both are, I s'pose.  But, really, the auburn-haired one is.  He's the Duke of Fallbridge.  This is his house.  We all work for him.  The other gentleman is the Baron Colinshire.  The Lady, M'Lady is the Duke's sister.  I'm her maid."  For a moment Violet thought about patting Morgana's pincer, but thought better of it.  "See, they're all three fine people and all three of 'em kind.  The Duke will take good care o' you as he does all o' us.  We, all o' us love 'im.  We love all o' them upstairs.  If you take me to them, they will ne kind to you, I swear it."

"The...Duke..."  Morgana lowered her head.  "Will not be kind to me."

"Whyever not.  Miss, I seen 'im be kind to folk what done him horrible wrongs.  Why'd he not treat ya with kindness when ya ain't realy done nothin' to 'im?"

"I...am...his...mother's...sister..."  Morgana rasped.  "At least that's what I am told."

"Oh.  All the more reason he'd be kind."  Violet said.  "You're His Grace's kin."

"She hated him.  That's what...Miss Blessum said...she said...I am to hate him, too..."  Morgana sighed.  "I cannot...see him.  You must stay with me."


Did you miss Chapters 1-34 of A Recipe for Punch?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 36.