Chapter 105:
Low Spirits
“It can’t be.” Gerard shook his head. “Gamilla would never touch a drop.”
“I can smell the alcohol on her.” Robert shook his head. “And,” he paused. “Something else…some antiseptic aroma.”
“But, Dr. Halifax.” Gerard protested, kneeling down next to Gamilla. “She wouldn’t.”
Robert sighed. “Speaight,” he said to the butler.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Would you please go inform the others that Gamilla has been found and that she’s quite all right?”
“Of course, Doctor.” Mr. Speaight nodded.
“If you would, please, wait in the Servants’ Hall. We may need your help carrying Gamilla up to her room.”
“Yes.” Speaight smiled.
“Thank you.” Robert nodded.
Once the butler had left, Mr. Punch looked to Gerard.
“Last night,” Mr. Punch began. “Did Gamilla find ya so she and you could talk ‘bout your argument?”
“No.” Gerard shook his head. “I’d gone to my room and was talking with Charles. I didn’t know she was lookin’ for me.”
“I had suggested that she should.” Robert sighed.
“Perhaps when she couldn’t find ya, she was upset after your argument and…”
“And, took a drink, Your Grace?’ Gerard shook his head.
“It’s possible.” Mr. Punch said softly. “Sometimes when folks is upset, they want to make themselves feel better and…”
“I of all people know all ‘bout that, Your Grace.” Gerard interrupted. “I drank ‘way my whole young days, but…not Gamilla. Where’d she even get any whiskey?”
“It’d be easy enough to come by,” Robert shrugged. “The whiskey tray and the cordial tray were in the drawing room when His Grace and I retired. If Finlay had brought them down and left them in the pantry, it’s possible that…”
Mr. Punch nodded. “She coulda jus’ grabbed a beaker, and, bein’ upset, decided she’d try to make ‘erself feel better.”
Gerard stood up and extended his hand. “Could I see the beaker, Sir?”
“Sure.” Mr. Punch nodded, offering the vessel to Gerard.
As Gerard took the stoneware beaker, Violet returned to the vestibule, followed by Finlay who carried a bowl of warm water for her.
“Here you are, Doctor.” Finlay nodded.
“Set it down on the table.” Robert pointed to the narrow wooden table which stood against the wall between the doors to the wine cellar and the silver vaults.
Finlay glanced down at Gamilla and clucked her tongue. “Poor dear.”
“Thank you, Finlay. That’ll be all.” Mr. Punch interrupted before the footman could continue. He made sure to speak as Julian would.
“Oh, Gerard, I see you found your beaker.” Finlay smiled as he walked past Gerard. “I meant to bring it to you last night, seein’ as you left it out all full like that. Thought maybe you’d like to have your cup o’ warmth when you turned in for the night. But, I forgot all about it.”
“Your mug?” Robert tilted his head to one side.
Gerard nodded. “It is mine.”
Mr. Punch squinted through the darkness at the beaker. In fact, he had seen Gerard with it before. The simple beaker had a transfer printed portrait of Queen Victoria on it—a souvenir of her 1852 Silver Jubilee. It was a favorite of Gerard’s who often kept it nearby filled with tepid tea and lemon.
“But, I didn’t leave it out. It were with my gear—my brushes and polish and such. Where I always keep it! And, I sure didn’t leave it out with nothin’ in it, ‘specially not whiskey.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Finlay smiled. “We’re all grown men. We all like a drop now and again.”
Violet cleared her throat, frowning at Finlay.
“Violet,” Robert said quickly. “Will you go warm Gamilla’s bed, please? We’ll bring her up shortly.”
“Of course, Dr. Halifax.” Violet sniffed, exiting the vestibule. She cast a final derisive glance at Finlay as she left.
“Finlay,” Robert began once Violet had left, “are you accusing Gerard of drinking?”
“I’m not accusing.” Finlay replied plainly. “I don’t see how it’s any great crime if the man likes a drop now and again. We all do.”
“I haven’t had a…” Gerard fumed, so angry he could barely speak.
“It’s no concern of mine.” Finlay continued. “Even if Gerard likes to put a few drops of med’cin in his whiskey. Not like it does ‘im any harm.”
“What medicine?” Robert asked.
Finlay put his hand over his face as if he’d made a mistake. “Oh, nothing, Sir. I don’t know what I’m sayin’.”
Robert looked at Gerard who was clearly livid.
“Finlay,” Mr. Punch began, in Julian’s voice, “please explain yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” Finlay shook his head.
Gerard took a deep breath. “Dr. Halifax, Your Grace, when Charles broke his wrist, I took some of the medicine you gave him for the pain. I took it for a few days without you knowin’. Charles and Gamilla knew ‘bout it, and, they made me stop. The bottle was returned to you because I knew I was wrong in doin’ it. I was just curious, is all. But, I stopped.”
“I see.” Robert nodded.
“How did you know about that, Finlay?”
Finlay cleared his throat.
“It happened long before we left for Scotland.” Gerard added.
“I musta heard Charles talkin’ about it with Gerard or somethin’, Your Grace.”
“Is that it, Finlay?” Robert asked.
“Well, Sir.” Finlay looked at the floor. “Maybe I seen him slip a few drops in his mug.”
“You did not!” Gerard bellowed. “You’re a liar! Like when you said I was drunk the other morning! I wasn’t!”
“Well, Gerard.” Finlay shook his head again. “You’re awfully clumsy for a sober man. And, now, here’s your girl—passed out on the floor with your beaker filled with whiskey and God knows what else.”
Mr. Punch rubbed his forehead with his left hand. He noticed Finlay glance at his rings. Punch frowned. “I think that will be all for now, Finlay.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Finlay bowed his head before exiting.
“Your Grace, Dr. Halfax,” Gerard began urgently. “I ain’t had a drop o’ drink in I don’t know how long, and ‘cept for them few days in London, I didn’t touch that medicine. I knew I done wrong and I ain’t done it ‘gain. And, even if I did, I wouldn’t have left my beaker out full of liquor and medicine, and ‘specially not where Gamilla woulda drunk from it. I wouldn’t do anything ever to hurt Gamilla. Not ever! You gotta believe me.”
“We do believe you.” Mr. Punch spoke up. “Don’t we, Chum?”
Robert sniffed. “We need to carry Gamilla to her room.”
“Dr. Halifax?” Gerard gulped.
“Gerry, I know how you feel about Gamilla. I truly do. I know you wouldn’t harm her.”
Gerard nodded.
“However, this isn’t the first time Finlay has accused you of drinking.”
“But, I haven’t!”
“Of course you haven’t.” Punch said soothingly.
“I can see why Gamilla would drink from your beaker. But, I can’t understand why it was filled with whiskey.”
“Finlay done it!” Gerard said. “He wants me to look bad. He probably filled my beaker with whiskey do he could ‘find’ it and try to make me look like a rummy. But, Gamilla got at it first. She ain’t got no experience with spirits like that and it made her sick before she even knew what she were drinkin’. I could kill him for hurtin’ her!”
“Now, now…” Robert said. “Why would Finlay want you to look bad?”
“He wants my job!” Gerard argued. “He wants to be close to you and His Grace like me and Charles are. He wants a nice, soft job in London. You said yourself how he was jealous.”
Robert smiled. “You’re right.” He patted Gerard’s shoulder. “But, we don’t know that it was Finlay who filled the beaker.”
“And we don’t know that it wasn’t.” Mr. Punch added.
“You gotta believe me…” Gerard began.
“Gerard, I believe you.” Robert said finally. “However, I have to say, I’m disappointed to learn about the medicine.”
Gerard looked at his shoes. “I know. I’m terrible sorry ‘bout that.”
“Sure you are, Gerry.” Mr. Punch said gently. “We know.”
“For now, however, let’s worry about Gamilla.”
“Yes, Sir.” Gerard said softly.
“Let’s see if we can’t get her to her room.” Mr. Punch suggested.
“I’ll carry her, Sir. She’s so small and light.” Gerard gulped.
As Gerard bent down to lift Gamilla, she moaned slightly—her eyes fluttering.
“Let’s turn her over.” Robert said.
The three of them helped to roll Gamilla onto her back.
“Oh…” Gamilla moaned. “My head.”
She opened her eyes slightly and squinted.
“Where am I?” She asked throatily.
“You’re quite safe,” Robert replied. “You’re at Grange Molliner. In the cellars.”
“How’d…” She coughed. “Oh, my head. What happened?”
“You seem to have had some spirits.” Punch whispered.
“Spirits?” Gamilla muttered. “I don’t…”
“Do you remember?” Mr. Punch asked.
“I…” Gamilla groaned. “I just…”
“Who gave you the whiskey, Gamilla?” Robert asked.
“Gerard did.” Gamilla mumbled.
Punch and Robert looked at Gerard.
“I didn’t, Sir.” Gerard shook his head. “I didn’t.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-104? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 106.
“I can smell the alcohol on her.” Robert shook his head. “And,” he paused. “Something else…some antiseptic aroma.”
“But, Dr. Halifax.” Gerard protested, kneeling down next to Gamilla. “She wouldn’t.”
Robert sighed. “Speaight,” he said to the butler.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Would you please go inform the others that Gamilla has been found and that she’s quite all right?”
“Of course, Doctor.” Mr. Speaight nodded.
“If you would, please, wait in the Servants’ Hall. We may need your help carrying Gamilla up to her room.”
“Yes.” Speaight smiled.
“Thank you.” Robert nodded.
Once the butler had left, Mr. Punch looked to Gerard.
“Last night,” Mr. Punch began. “Did Gamilla find ya so she and you could talk ‘bout your argument?”
“No.” Gerard shook his head. “I’d gone to my room and was talking with Charles. I didn’t know she was lookin’ for me.”
“I had suggested that she should.” Robert sighed.
“Perhaps when she couldn’t find ya, she was upset after your argument and…”
“And, took a drink, Your Grace?’ Gerard shook his head.
“It’s possible.” Mr. Punch said softly. “Sometimes when folks is upset, they want to make themselves feel better and…”
“I of all people know all ‘bout that, Your Grace.” Gerard interrupted. “I drank ‘way my whole young days, but…not Gamilla. Where’d she even get any whiskey?”
“It’d be easy enough to come by,” Robert shrugged. “The whiskey tray and the cordial tray were in the drawing room when His Grace and I retired. If Finlay had brought them down and left them in the pantry, it’s possible that…”
Mr. Punch nodded. “She coulda jus’ grabbed a beaker, and, bein’ upset, decided she’d try to make ‘erself feel better.”
Gerard stood up and extended his hand. “Could I see the beaker, Sir?”
“Sure.” Mr. Punch nodded, offering the vessel to Gerard.
As Gerard took the stoneware beaker, Violet returned to the vestibule, followed by Finlay who carried a bowl of warm water for her.
“Here you are, Doctor.” Finlay nodded.
“Set it down on the table.” Robert pointed to the narrow wooden table which stood against the wall between the doors to the wine cellar and the silver vaults.
Finlay glanced down at Gamilla and clucked her tongue. “Poor dear.”
“Thank you, Finlay. That’ll be all.” Mr. Punch interrupted before the footman could continue. He made sure to speak as Julian would.
“Oh, Gerard, I see you found your beaker.” Finlay smiled as he walked past Gerard. “I meant to bring it to you last night, seein’ as you left it out all full like that. Thought maybe you’d like to have your cup o’ warmth when you turned in for the night. But, I forgot all about it.”
“Your mug?” Robert tilted his head to one side.
Gerard nodded. “It is mine.”
Mr. Punch squinted through the darkness at the beaker. In fact, he had seen Gerard with it before. The simple beaker had a transfer printed portrait of Queen Victoria on it—a souvenir of her 1852 Silver Jubilee. It was a favorite of Gerard’s who often kept it nearby filled with tepid tea and lemon.
“But, I didn’t leave it out. It were with my gear—my brushes and polish and such. Where I always keep it! And, I sure didn’t leave it out with nothin’ in it, ‘specially not whiskey.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Finlay smiled. “We’re all grown men. We all like a drop now and again.”
Violet cleared her throat, frowning at Finlay.
“Violet,” Robert said quickly. “Will you go warm Gamilla’s bed, please? We’ll bring her up shortly.”
“Of course, Dr. Halifax.” Violet sniffed, exiting the vestibule. She cast a final derisive glance at Finlay as she left.
“Finlay,” Robert began once Violet had left, “are you accusing Gerard of drinking?”
“I’m not accusing.” Finlay replied plainly. “I don’t see how it’s any great crime if the man likes a drop now and again. We all do.”
“I haven’t had a…” Gerard fumed, so angry he could barely speak.
“It’s no concern of mine.” Finlay continued. “Even if Gerard likes to put a few drops of med’cin in his whiskey. Not like it does ‘im any harm.”
“What medicine?” Robert asked.
Finlay put his hand over his face as if he’d made a mistake. “Oh, nothing, Sir. I don’t know what I’m sayin’.”
Robert looked at Gerard who was clearly livid.
“Finlay,” Mr. Punch began, in Julian’s voice, “please explain yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” Finlay shook his head.
Gerard took a deep breath. “Dr. Halifax, Your Grace, when Charles broke his wrist, I took some of the medicine you gave him for the pain. I took it for a few days without you knowin’. Charles and Gamilla knew ‘bout it, and, they made me stop. The bottle was returned to you because I knew I was wrong in doin’ it. I was just curious, is all. But, I stopped.”
“I see.” Robert nodded.
“How did you know about that, Finlay?”
Finlay cleared his throat.
“It happened long before we left for Scotland.” Gerard added.
“I musta heard Charles talkin’ about it with Gerard or somethin’, Your Grace.”
“Is that it, Finlay?” Robert asked.
“Well, Sir.” Finlay looked at the floor. “Maybe I seen him slip a few drops in his mug.”
“You did not!” Gerard bellowed. “You’re a liar! Like when you said I was drunk the other morning! I wasn’t!”
“Well, Gerard.” Finlay shook his head again. “You’re awfully clumsy for a sober man. And, now, here’s your girl—passed out on the floor with your beaker filled with whiskey and God knows what else.”
Mr. Punch rubbed his forehead with his left hand. He noticed Finlay glance at his rings. Punch frowned. “I think that will be all for now, Finlay.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Finlay bowed his head before exiting.
“Your Grace, Dr. Halfax,” Gerard began urgently. “I ain’t had a drop o’ drink in I don’t know how long, and ‘cept for them few days in London, I didn’t touch that medicine. I knew I done wrong and I ain’t done it ‘gain. And, even if I did, I wouldn’t have left my beaker out full of liquor and medicine, and ‘specially not where Gamilla woulda drunk from it. I wouldn’t do anything ever to hurt Gamilla. Not ever! You gotta believe me.”
“We do believe you.” Mr. Punch spoke up. “Don’t we, Chum?”
Robert sniffed. “We need to carry Gamilla to her room.”
“Dr. Halifax?” Gerard gulped.
“Gerry, I know how you feel about Gamilla. I truly do. I know you wouldn’t harm her.”
Gerard nodded.
“However, this isn’t the first time Finlay has accused you of drinking.”
“But, I haven’t!”
“Of course you haven’t.” Punch said soothingly.
“I can see why Gamilla would drink from your beaker. But, I can’t understand why it was filled with whiskey.”
“Finlay done it!” Gerard said. “He wants me to look bad. He probably filled my beaker with whiskey do he could ‘find’ it and try to make me look like a rummy. But, Gamilla got at it first. She ain’t got no experience with spirits like that and it made her sick before she even knew what she were drinkin’. I could kill him for hurtin’ her!”
“Now, now…” Robert said. “Why would Finlay want you to look bad?”
“He wants my job!” Gerard argued. “He wants to be close to you and His Grace like me and Charles are. He wants a nice, soft job in London. You said yourself how he was jealous.”
Robert smiled. “You’re right.” He patted Gerard’s shoulder. “But, we don’t know that it was Finlay who filled the beaker.”
“And we don’t know that it wasn’t.” Mr. Punch added.
“You gotta believe me…” Gerard began.
“Gerard, I believe you.” Robert said finally. “However, I have to say, I’m disappointed to learn about the medicine.”
Gerard looked at his shoes. “I know. I’m terrible sorry ‘bout that.”
“Sure you are, Gerry.” Mr. Punch said gently. “We know.”
“For now, however, let’s worry about Gamilla.”
“Yes, Sir.” Gerard said softly.
“Let’s see if we can’t get her to her room.” Mr. Punch suggested.
“I’ll carry her, Sir. She’s so small and light.” Gerard gulped.
As Gerard bent down to lift Gamilla, she moaned slightly—her eyes fluttering.
“Let’s turn her over.” Robert said.
The three of them helped to roll Gamilla onto her back.
“Oh…” Gamilla moaned. “My head.”
She opened her eyes slightly and squinted.
“Where am I?” She asked throatily.
“You’re quite safe,” Robert replied. “You’re at Grange Molliner. In the cellars.”
“How’d…” She coughed. “Oh, my head. What happened?”
“You seem to have had some spirits.” Punch whispered.
“Spirits?” Gamilla muttered. “I don’t…”
“Do you remember?” Mr. Punch asked.
“I…” Gamilla groaned. “I just…”
“Who gave you the whiskey, Gamilla?” Robert asked.
“Gerard did.” Gamilla mumbled.
Punch and Robert looked at Gerard.
“I didn’t, Sir.” Gerard shook his head. “I didn’t.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-104? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square, Chapter 106.
2 comments:
I want Finlay to pay! And Ellen too!
I think you may getnyour wish, Marsha...one day.
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