“I know.” Nellie smiled, her scar crinkling like an angry snake as she pulled her lips back. “I did.”
Nellie gently handed the baby to Marie who held it, wriggling, in the air. “He’s a fine lookin’ little one, ain’t he?”
“He looks like his uncle—all that chestnut hair.” Nellie shrugged.
“How’d the boys do?” Marie asked.
“Surprisingly well.” Nellie nodded as she poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at Marie’s table. “You’d never have guessed that they were colored. They sounded for all the world like two Englishmen.”
“I done taught ‘em well. See, I don’t just dress the hair of them wealthy women in the Garden District for nothin’. What they don’t realize is that Ol’ Marie is studyin’ them but good. What I learn, I pass down to my folk. Ain’t no harm in that?”
“They’re quick studies.” Nellie replied, talking another swig of wine.
“So, what of that Mama Routhe and the French woman? Did you cut ‘em?” Marie asked.
“No need.” Nellie laughed. “Adrienne fell like a sack of gravel the moment I pushed her. As for the other one, she was too frightened to put up a fight.”
“So, they’re both livin’?” Marie frowned.
“Sure, they are.” Nellie shrugged. “I didn’t see any reason for bloodshed.”
“Them folk got a way of coming back at ya.” Marie shook her head.
“Believe me, they’ll never find this child.” Nellie smiled. “Or me.” She gulped another mouthful of wine. “You aim to keep your promise to me, don’t ya?”
“I do.” Marie said. “I ain’t never gone back on a promise.”
“Good.” Nellie sighed.
“Right now, though,” Marie continued. “You gotta finish the remainder o’ your end of it.”
“I will.” Nellie nodded.
“No. Right now.” Marie said firmly.
“Fine,” Nellie snorted. “Where is the Italian man?”
“He’s in the far back bedroom. Got the bleedin’ stopped. He’ll be expectin’ ya.” Marie winked.
“Very well,” Nellie grunted, rising from the table.
“That’s my girl.” Marie grinned.
Once Nellie had left the room, Marie sat in the already warm chair that the scarred woman had just vacated. She cradled the baby in her arms.
“Poor little thing,” Marie cooed. “Don’t know that ya got the blood of a lunatic in your veins. Well, we’ll just get all the sickness right out of you.”
At that very moment, in the mists of the French Quarter, Mr. Punch took a deep breath and threw up his hands helplessly. “What do you mean that Arthur ain’t Colin’s father? Who else?”
“Not Arthur,” Barbara wept.
“Well, Good Lord, Barbara! How many men were you with?” Punch moaned.
Barbara looked at Arthur who grinned.
“Coo!” Punch shouted. “What’s goin’ on? You’re startin’ to make me angry, you are. And, you know how I get when I’m angry. I wanna hit people with sticks and such. So, let’s just get to talkin’ so I don’t have to find somethin’ to hit you with.”
“It was a game to her, Your Grace.” Arthur said with a mock respectfulness in his voice.
“What was, Arthur?” Punch hissed.
“I’d bring fellas to her.” Arthur nodded. “She loved it. They’d give me a little somethin’ for my trouble and for the pleasure of…”
“I understand.” Punch interrupted him. “At least, I think I do. Hell, I don’t know how all that sort of thing works. My head was carved from wood. But, that don’t got nothin’ to do with this, I ‘spose.” Punch sighed. “Well, if I am understandin’ this correctly, what you describe ain’t no game, it’s what’s called…errr…what’s it? What that Ogress does. Whorin’! Was you a prostitute even before you came to America?”
Barbara sobbed loudly.
“In your mum’s house?” Punch shook his head. “With all the servants watchin’.”
“Not all of the servants.” Arthur winked.
“Shut yer gob!” Punch spat. He cleared his throat, “but among them men, you also…well, didn’t you Arthur?”
“Sure, often.” Arthur nodded.
“So how do you know you ain’t the baby’s father?” Punch asked. “Not that I’m eager for you to be. In fact, I’d like it better if you weren’t.”
“See, Your Grace,” Arthur began.
“Oh, quit callin’ me, ‘Your Grace,’” Punch growled. “You know well enough I ain’t nobody’s grace. You know I’m not the Duke, but someone jus’ usin’ his body, so don’t demean me with your false charm! Just tell the truth for a change!”
“Fine, you loon.” Arthur shrugged. “I can’t father no children. Got kicked by a mule when I was…”
“Never mind.” Punch waved his hand in the air. “I don’t want to know ‘bout your soft parts.” He looked at Barbara. “So, why’s this a problem for you? Ain’t like you didn’t know what he was doin’ when he brought men to visit ya. So what if he ain’t the baby’s father? Only serves to make sure the little fella ain’t gonna grow up to be evil.”
“Don’t you understand?” Barbara moaned.
“Now, would I be standin’ here in the fog askin’ you questions if I understood?” Punch mumbled.
“He lied to me!” Barbara cried.
“And this is surprising why?” Punch squinted.
“Oh, I know he’s a cad and no good. But, the one thing that I always thought was that he’d tell me the truth. Me! Well, when I became with child, he insisted it was his and told me that if I loved him, I’d follow his directions. He’s the one that insisted that I sell the child because he couldn’t raise it.”
“Ah.” Punch nodded sarcastically.. “So, if you’d thought the baby was someone else’s, you’d have not put him in a sack and brought him to America to sell?”
Barbara looked at Mr. Punch, dumbfounded.
“Well, that’s what you did! No sense in usin’ pretty words to describe it.” Punch shook his head. He turned to Arthur, “And you? Why? Why tell her such a thing now?”
“She kept calling it ‘our’ baby. I just couldn’t bear to hear it any longer.”
Punch’s cheeks flushed with anger and he took a step backward.
“I’m gonna start hittin’ people.” Punch muttered to himself. “I just know I am.” He raised his voice. “Listen to me! I’m done with the whole lot of ya! Arthur, you’re just a monster! You there—whatever your name is. I don’t know you, but you just look stupid and I don’t like you. And, you, Barbara. This is all your fault in the first place! If you weren’t so wild and reckless, we’d not be here. But, no. You had to go be a slut and a thief! And, all this time, I been sayin’ that I gotta keep the promise that me master made to his dead beast of a mum. Well, I don’t! Rot here! The lot of ya! I’m goin’ to get that baby whether he’s born of Arthur or jolly Prince Albert! I don’t care! He’s mine now, see! Mine and Robert’s. I’m through with all of this!”
Punch continued to rant, turning his attention to Arthur. “Very well, you rascal. You tell your ginger girl that she can bloody well keep that diamond. I don’t care! Me master’s got a trunk full of diamonds, and most of ‘em aren’t even blue! Which—I don’t know—must mean somethin’, I guess. Keep it! Kill each other over it! Do whatever you want! Barbara, get out of my house. I want you gone by the time I get back!”
“If that’s what you want,” Barbara said, wiping her eyes.
“Yes!” Punch shouted. “Now, get out of my sight all of ya before I rip a tree from the ground and start hittin’ people with it!”
With that, Mr. Punch turned and walked in the direction he suspected Marjani and Robert had gone. As he walked, he muttered, “All I wanted was to be nice and kind. Came all the way to America and got burned and shot and cut and sick and treated badly. Meanwhile, them fools are all cryin’ over stuff they done to themselves and makin’ trouble where there don’t need to be any.”
Arthur, Barbara and Gerry stood in silence, listening to Punch chatter as he walked away.
“He really is barmy,” Gerard muttered.
“Shut up.” Arthur spat. He looked at Barbara. “Looks like you don’t got nowhere to go. Wanna come with us, Pet?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Barbara said stiffly.
“You’re still my wife.” Arthur nodded.
“I have something else entirely in mind.” Barbara hissed.
Did you miss Chapters 1-275? If so, you can read them here.
