A Recipe for Punch, Chapter 12

Chapter 12:
Mourning



"Do give my brother a kiss for me, and dear little Colin, too.  We'll gather in the Drawing Room before dinner?"  Lennie asked Robert before they parted company.

"Indeed we will."  Robert nodded before opening Lennie's door for her.

"And, try to see that Punch gets some rest.  I'm sure by now he's gotten into some elaborate puppet show with Colin, but he did look so tired."  Lennie continued.

"Not to worry,"  Robert smiled.  "Gamilla and I have our ways of convincing him.  Furthermore, Dog Toby is our co-conspirator as far as a nap is concerned."

"I'm glad to hear it."  Lennie chuckled.

With that, she closed the door to her suite and looked around.  The rooms had a peculiar smell to them--a faint scent of carnations which she'd noticed when Punch had initially brought her to the Coral Suite for the first time.  The aroma was stronger just then, however, and she found it rather overwhelming.

Looking for the source of the fragrance, Lennie wandered toward the dressing room and gasped upon finding Ivy--beige of face and of hair--standing in front of the line of wardrobes hidden behind drapery and screens.

"Your Ladyship,"  Ivy said stiffly, "I didn't hear you enter."

"Yes."  Lennie nodded.  

"I was just returning one of Her Grace's gowns.  A lovely beaded gown which she wore to the Huntsman's ball in '42.  I've been working to restore all of Her Grace's gowns, Your Ladyship."

"Oh?"  Lennie squinted.  "Whatever for?  I shan't ever wear them."

"No, of course you wouldn't.  They're not for you."  Ivy snapped.  She paused.  "I mean, they would not fit you.  Your figure is much more slight than Her Grace's.  Her Grace is tall and statuesque."

"Two things of which I've never been accused."  Lennie nodded.  "Just why are you tending my late mother's dresses?"

"For posterity.  Your Mother is a famous woman."

"She was, yes."

"Yes."  Ivy frowned.  "One day, people will wish to see the gowns she wore."

"I suppose."  Lennie replied.  "Well, then, if you'll excuse me, I should like to have a rest before dinner."

"Yes, Your Ladyship."  Ivy answered cooly.

Lennie stepped aside so Ivy could pass.

Ivy grinned, reaching toward her own, sagging throat.  "Did you notice my brooch, Your Ladyship?"

"I did."  Lennie nodded.

"It's a miniature of your mother.  Painted by Mr. Bone himself on ivory."  Ivy continued.  She removed the brooch and showed Lennie the reverse.  Do you see, here, behind the crystal.  After she died, I took and braided a lock of her lovely hair and saved it here.  Every day I wear it so she might be near me--just above my heart, at my throat, so that her words my come through my mouth."

"Oh--how...loyal."  Lennie answered.

"So carefully I braided her hair, making sure not to lose a strand."

"That's very touching."  Lennie inhaled.  She narrowed her eyes.  "Wait.  How could you have?"

"Your Ladyship?"

"You said that after my mother died, you took a lock of her hair.  How could you have?  My mother died on another continent.  She was interred there.  So, how could you have taken a lock of her hair to braid?"  Lennie asked.

"From her brush, Your Ladyship."  Ivy answered.

"I see."  Lennie nodded.

"I've mourned her every day, M'Lady."  Ivy sighed.

"I see that you have."

Ivy held out her hand.  "Would you like to have this?  Would you like to, Your Ladyship?  You could wear your mother's image at your throat."

"Oh...I...that's very kind of you, however, I could not take your brooch.  It means so much to you."

"You should have it."  Ivy widened her eyes.

"I couldn't."  Lennie shook her head.  "Thank you for the thought."

"I shall let you rest, M'Lady.  Perhaps one day while you're here, I might visit you in these rooms and tell you of your mother without...His Grace about."

"Perhaps."  Lennie replied.

"I could arrange your hair as I did hers--even if yours isn't as lovely as hers was."

"We shall see."  Lennie sniffed.  

"Have a fine rest, Your Ladyship."  Ivy smiled grimly.

"Thank you."  Lennie answered as Ivy finally left the suite.

Alone, finally, Lennie exhaled.  "Well--I...I don't think I'll ever rest again."



Did you miss Chapters 1-11?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 13 of A Recipe for Punch.

Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Always a Dozen More

Robert closed the door to the Duke’s room behind him, stepping out into the passage.  He leaned casually against the wall and patiently leveled his bright blue eyes at Hortence.  “Why don’t you begin, Hortence?”

“Sir?”  Hortence smiled.

“I’d like for you to explain to me why you and Miss Barrett are quarreling outside of His Grace’s chamber door.” He answered plainly.

“I was just cleaning here in the passage,”  Hortence lied.

“Cleaning?  Cleaning what?”  Robert looked at the maid’s hands which were empty.

She blushed.  She reached into her apron pocket and retrieved a soiled rag.  “I was just about to polish the brasses.”

“I see.”  Robert nodded.  He looked to Ellen.  “What have you to say, Miss Barrett?”

“She wasn’t cleaning, Dr. Halifax.”  Ellen replied firmly.  “I caught her listening at His Grace’s keyhole.”

“That’s a serious charge,”  Robert raised his eyebrows.  “Hortence?  Would you care to respond?”

“I would,” Hortence frowned.  “Sir, I wouldn’t like to think that you’d take this woman’s word for anything.”

“Why?”

“She’s a…”  Hortence’s eyes twinkled with glees.  “She’s an unclean woman, Sir.”

Robert’s eyes flashed with anger.  “I wish to hear no more.”

“But, I can tell you more, Sir.  Lots more…”

“That’ll do.”  Robert snapped.  “I want the two of you to listen to me.  Your master is preparing for his first visit with the Crown in months.  He will not be bothered with this foolishness.   Hortence, I want you to go to the servants’ hall and tell Speaight that I wish to speak to the two of you.  This isn’t the first time that your conduct has been brought to my attention, Hortence.”

“Sir!”  Hortence wailed.  “I ain’t the one what you should be concerned about.  This woman is in charge of the Duke’s child.  Is she the one you want with the boy?  I could tell you things ‘bout her…”

“I won’t hear them.”  Robert answered firmly.  “Now, go.”

With tears springing from her eyes, Hortence fled down the corridor and hurried down the stairs.

Robert took a deep breath and frowned, looking at Ellen.  “Miss Barrett, I’m very disappointed.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Sir.”  Ellen said quickly.  “It’s just that I saw her listening and I…I couldn’t let her. When I questioned her, Sir, she turned on me…lies, Sir.”

“Say no more about it.”  Robert shook his head.  “However, let me tell you this.  You have been put in a position in this household in which we have allowed you into our trust.  Yours is the most important role in the house.  You are responsible for our son.  Not only that, you have been awarded sensitive information.  I trust you will continue to show us that you’ve been worthy of our trust.”

“I think I have, Sir.”  Ellen sniffed.  “If I were not loyal to His Grace, I’d not have confronted Hortence when I found her eavesdropping.”

Robert’s anger softened a bit.  “This is true.  You must understand, especially knowing what you do, that I—no, all of us—most be protective of His Grace.”

“I do, Sir.”  Ellen replied.

“I apologize if I was harsh.”  Robert smiled.  “I do tend to become…”

Ellen shook her head.  “You needn’t explain, Sir.”

“Please return to the nursery.  If I were you, I would keep my distance from Hortence.”

“Oh, I shall.”

“By the way, I would not give any weight to anything she were to tell me.  I’ve long disliked the girl.  She was hired by Jackson—the butler at Fallbridge Hall.  She was already here when His Grace and I arrived.  In fact, she was employed before Speaight and the others.  I think, actually, she is a cousin of Jackson’s.  I had no hand in the decision of bringing her here.  However, I will certainly have a say as to whether or not she will remain.”

Ellen nodded.  “Sir, I do hope you know that I meant it when I said that I would do all that I can to protect His Grace.”

“I do.”  Robert smiled.  “Now, please return to the nursery.”

“Yes, Sir.”  Ellen replied, hurrying up the stairs to the nursery.

Robert sighed, shaking his head.  He inhaled and opened the door to the Duke’s room, smiling as he entered.

There, in the center of the room, dressed in his fine black velvet court suit, Mr. Punch/the Duke grinned with pride and joy at his companion.

“Look at me!”  Mr. Punch whooped.  “I’m all dressed, I am.”

Charles, who was standing behind the Duke, nodded proudly.

Robert’s voice caught in his throat as he studied Mr. Punch—his chestnut hair slicked back, his face freshly shaven.  “You look…” He choked a bit. 

“Is it good?”  Mr. Punch asked expectantly.

“It’s exceptional.”  Robert nodded.  “You’re exceptional.”

“A look like a Duke, then?”  Mr. Punch asked.

“You look like a Prince.”  Robert grinned, wiping his eyes.  “You look very handsome, indeed.”

“It were Charles what done it.  I didn’t want to do it.  But, I think it’s good, it is.”  Punch exclaimed happily.  “You like this thing?” he pointed to his crimson cravat.

“It’s perfect.”  Robert nodded.  “You’re perfect.”

“It’s itchy, it is.”  Mr. Punch giggled.  “Tickles me throat.”

“A pitfall of our fashion,”  Robert smiled.  “But, in your case, quite worth the sacrifice.”

“So, you’ll be proud to walk into Buck House with me?”

“I should think I’d be proud to walk anywhere with you, dear Punch.”  Robert said.

“Sir, we’ve only got His Grace’s pin and cuff buttons to finish.  Otherwise, I think he’s ready.”  Charles interjected.

“Thank you, Charles.”  Robert nodded.  “For everything.”  He walked over to Mr. Punch and brushed his hand against the Duke’s velvet shoulder.  “Now, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment, my dear.  I have one small thing which needs my attention downstairs.  I shan’t be long.”

“Here, what were all the commotion outside?”  Punch asked.

“Nothing to concern you,”  Robert shook his head.  “A little trouble with Hortence.”

Punch wrinkled his nose.  “Coo.  Don’t like that one, I don’t.  She’s sour.”  He stuck out his tongue, making a face as if he’d bit into a lemon.  He giggled and poked Charles in his stomach.  “What you think, eh?”

Charles chuckled.  “I don’t disagree, Your Grace.”

“What do the others think o’ her?”  Punch asked Charles.  “Do folk like her much downstairs.”

“She’s not well-liked, no.”  Charles shook his head.

“I say, then, get rid of her.”  Mr. Punch shrugged.

“That was my intention,”  Robert replied.  “I first wanted your permission.”

“You got it, Chum.”  Mr. Punch nodded.

“Well, then, I shall carry on.”  Robert smiled.  “And, so should you.  I shall return forthwith.”

“Good.”  Punch nodded quickly.  He looked at Charles.  “Here, you ain’t gonna spray me with that stuff what smells?”

“I thought I might, Sir.”  Charles replied.

“Aw.”  Mr. Punch groaned.

“Just a little, Sir.”  Charles continued.

Robert paused for a moment, watching the amiable scene of Mr. Punch and his valet.  He nodded in approval before slipping out of the room and hurrying down three flights to the servants’ hall.

There, Robert was not surprised to find Hortence causing quite a scene.  She stood in the middle of the staff dining room, wailing madly, shouting that “Everyone was against” her.

Speaight and Mrs. Pepper stood at a distance, watching.  Mrs. Pepper’s face was contorted into a contemptuous scowl—her hands wrapped in a dishtowel.  Speaight, as he usually did, looked both mildly amused and disdainful.

At the dining table, Gerard sat next to Vi—both of whom seemed to be enjoying the spectacle which Hortence was causing.  Robert could feel their distaste for the girl and their anticipation that she would be sacked.

Robert cleared his throat.

Gerard and Vi both stood up quickly.

“Sir,”  Speaight nodded.

Mrs. Pepper lowered her head, for a second, in respect.

Hortence spun around and spotted Robert, wailing at him.  “Oh, Sir!  Just hear me out!  You’re all against me!”

“Hortence, I’ve heard quite enough.  You are hereby dismissed.  Violet, will you please accompany Hortence to the attics and help her gather her things?  Leave your uniform on the bed and wear the clothes which you wore here.  Once you’ve gathered your things, you’re to be brought back here where Speaight will give you a week’s wages.  You will receive no reference.”  Robert said tersely.

“No reference?”  Hortence howled.  “How’m I to get another position?”

“You should have considered  that before you eavesdropped at the Duke’s door.”

“I’ll tell.”  Hortence growled.

“Tell what?”  Robert smiled.

“I’ll tell ‘em all.  I’ll go to the papers, I will.  I’ll tell ‘em all that the Duke’s a loon and that you and he are…!”

“Hortence!”  Speaight shouted.

Mrs. Pepper blushed.

“Shut your gob, you bitch!”  Gerard shouted.  He, then, immediately looked aghast at what he’d said.  “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Pepper, Vi.  Sir, forgive me.”

Mrs. Pepper sniggered and Vi looked at the floor.  Robert waved his hand in dismissal.

“I would be very careful what you say, Hortence.”  Robert snapped.  “Very, very careful.”

“Why?”  Hortence spat.  “All of Society wants to know what goes on here.  And, there’s lots to tell, ain’t there?  Not just you and the loon up there.  What about the governess?  Eh?  What about her?  Caught in her master’s bed before she came here.  If this ain’t a house o’ sin, I don’t know what is!  Oh, won’t Society eat it up?  What will Her Majesty say, then?  Eh?  Tell me!  I’ll ruin you and that mad monkey!  I’ll tell ‘em all what I seen!  I’ll tell ‘em about the embraces and the sweet cuddles I seen!  You two sicken me!  You’re both sick!”

“You have half an hour.”  Robert barked.  “Speaight—see that she’s gone.”  With that, he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs.

Once in the lavish entry hall, Robert paused, running his shaking fingers through his dark hair and taking a long, raspy breath.  Robert looked around the stunning foyer and imagined, for a moment, that its opulent walls were crawling with rodents—gnawing, invading and defiling their happy home.  He closed his eyes quickly and shuddered, recalling the squalor of his youth and the moment when he had once had to kill a rat which had come too close to his ailing mother. 

“Where there’s one, my boy,” his mother had said, “there’s always a dozen more.  Can’t just kill one rat.  Can’t just, not just…one rat.  Can’t just kill one.  Always a dozen more.”

He stood there for a moment, his eyes clenched shut.  Finally, he opened his eyes and took a long look at the perfect house, untouched and clean, before smoothing his waistcoat and sprinting back up to his dear Punch.

Did you miss Chapters 1-11 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?  If so, you can read them here.  Come back tomorrow for Chapter 13. 

Punch's Cousin, Chapter 12

“You’re my…champion?” Julian said as he sat down in a terribly uncomfortable wooden chair at the corner table in the “Smoking Room” of the Hyperion.


“I am.” Robert Halifax smiled. His smile was not like Arthur’s. This was a genuine smile. Still, Julian didn’t trust it. Smiles had a way of hanging in front of both teeming pools of danger and great empty voids. Julian thought of Punch’s smile.

“How do you figure?” Julian asked, fumbling with the ring on his index finger.

“Take that ring, for instance.” Robert pointed to Julian’s hand. “You designed it.”

“Yes.” Julian nodded.

“You were considered the new elite jeweler in Mayfair until last year when you departed.” Robert continued.

“Mr. Halifax, how does that…”

“Please, let me continue.” Robert Halifax held up his hand. “You left London to return to Fallbridge Hall. Officially, the explanation was that you had returned home to be with your family and assist in the preparations for Lady Barbara’s marriage. However, the real reason you left was because you were attacked at Covent Garden.”

Julian stiffened in his chair and looked intently at Robert Halifax.

“After that, you suffered from some…shall we say, issues with your nerves.” Mr. Halifax smiled gently.

“I imagine you have some point.” Julian responded in a deep voice which wasn’t entirely his own.

“I do. You see, Lord Fallbridge. You may not know me, but I know all about you.” Mr. Halifax said.

“I know that you’re on your way to Louisiana in search of your sister, Lady Barbara, who has fled England to escape her intended marriage to the Sixth Baron Marsden. I know that you are uncomfortable with any sort of travel and, in fact, feel quite out-of-sorts anywhere outside of your home. I know that you’re traveling with your valet, Arthur Mowbry, and that you booked your passage at the last minute.”

“These things are common knowledge, Mr. Halifax. You could have learned about that from any of the gossips who entertain themselves with the comings and goings of the people in my class.” Julian replied stiffly. “I think you are presumptuous to state that you ‘know’ me.”

“How could he possibly know me?” Julian thought. “I don’t even know myself.”

“I shall reveal all that I know in time, and I shall explain the reason that I can be so forward as well. Just be patient.”

“I don’t have to BE anything.” Julian rose from the table. “You are impertinent, Mr. Halifax.”

“Maybe so, Lord Fallbridge, but you need me.”

“I most assuredly do not.” Julian squinted, surprised by his forcefulness.

“Really? You intend to grapple with ‘The Elegant Ogress’ on your own?” Mr. Halifax smiled, extending his hand to Julian again in an attempt to get him to sit down.

“Pardon me?”

“Iolanthe Evangeline. They call her, ‘The Elegant Ogress.’ I am correct in my belief that your sister has been in communication with this woman?”

“You are.” Julian raised an eyebrow.

“Do you know who she is?” Robert asked. “Do you know what she is?”

“No.” Julian sat down again.

“She is…shall we say, a woman of ill-repute who runs a house for other such women. In New Orleans, I believe they would call it a ‘bawdy house.’”

“Barbara is going to…” Julian gulped, feeling the fire in his stomach again.

“Yes.”

“So, why is this Evangeline woman called, ‘The Elegant Ogress?’” Julian asked.

“Because she’s a murderess, dear boy, a butcher in the most elegant finery.” Mr. Halifax smiled.

Julian leaned back.

“I can help you.” Robert Halifax nodded.

“Why?” Julian asked. “What do you want in return?”

“I’ve told you enough for one day. We mustn’t overtire you. I’m sure you’re more than a little fatigued from…everything.”

“You can tell me now.” Julian said softly. “What is this all about? Who are…” Julian shut his eyes.

“Who are you to…” Julian opened his eyes again. When he did, Robert Halifax was gone. Julian looked frantically around the room. All he saw through the thick haze of cigar smoke was the door to the deck closing.

Julian rose and followed.

Squinting into the mist on the deck, he saw no one except a group of third-class passengers carousing near the rail.

Julian’s usual low-hum of anxiety once again was heightened to a roar. He staggered away from the rail, fearful of falling in.

Could he find his way back to his cabin?

He walked in what he hoped was the right direction and, for once, wished Arthur would appear.

As he walked he listened to those people by the rail. They were singing. Julian knew the song well. It was a folk song he used to sing to Barbara when she was a girl.

In Scarlet Town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin'
Made every youth cry well-a-day
Her name was Barbara Allen.



All in the merry month of May
When green buds they were swellin',
Young Jeremy Grove on his deathbed lay
For love of Barbara Allen.




He sent his man unto her then,
To the town where she was dwellin'.
"You must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen,


For death is printed on his face
And o'er his heart is stealin'.
Then haste away to comfort him,
O lovely Barbara Allen."



So slowly, slowly, she came up
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said when there she came,
"Young man, I think you're dyin'."

“Young man, I think, you’re dying…” Julian repeated to himself. “Young man, I think, you’re dying.”


Did you miss Chapters 1-11?  If so, yo can read them here.  Come back on Monday, August 9, for Chapter 13.