Of Secrets, Letters, and Lions

by A.E. Moseley

because it is expected of him, and he complains profusely about them when he does.

  “Abby, what nonsense are you talking about?” I demanded catching up with her.

  “And do you really want to know? You who is so focused on local gossip, music and fashions in hopes of finding a husband? You positively shock me sister!”

  As she was laughing I finally understood why she vexed Mama so much. The things she says! “Well, you are the one who always likes surprises so you may consider my interest one of them. Now, what are you blathering on about?”

  Abby looked around and pulled me close to the bushes, although there was only a gardener across the lane, too far away to hear.

  “Lord Vandenburg is dead.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Lord Vandenburg is dead!”

  It is here that I must explain to you who Lord Vandenburg is, as I’m sure you’ve only heard of him in passing while you were in London. Lord Vandenburg is one of the richest men in the country but one of the most corrupt as well. It is well known that he spends time with many ladies of the night, bribes many politicians, and that he fully supports the abuse of animals in zoos; something the Queen intensely opposes. He also is rather famous for being one of the only men in the country to own a lion and feed it himself. Those that do own one tend to hire someone else to do the feeding. There are many more flaws that I could list but some of them are birthed more from rumors than fact.

  Lady Vandenburg is about thirty years younger than the lord and was once great friends with Mama. That was before they had a falling out, many years ago. I’m not sure who started it or what it was about, but Mama has forbidden talk of them.

  “And how did you find this out? Does Mama know?”

  “Of course not, you goose! It came in the newspapers and you know how Mama never reads those.”

  “That’s because Father says everything worth knowing. But you don’t read them either.”

  “Oh yes I do. Just not when anyone is awake.”

  “Abby! You’ve been the one sneaking about the house at night? I should go to Mama right now!”

  “Oh, but don’t! Please! As I’ve said, I know why Father has gone to see Doctor Walsh. You want to know too don’t you?”

  I stared hard at Abby, my face hot with anger. Oh how many hours of sleep I have lost because of this girl! I fanned myself and nodded. “Continue, but make it good Abigail our you will regret your sneaking around!”

  “Fair enough. Well,” she said taking my arm in hers, “Lord V. has died and so the estate goes to the son as we both know, oh wouldn’t Mama be thrilled if you married him.” She giggled, “But here is where things become interesting. Lord V had a lion as everyone knows, and it was the lion that was the cause of his death!”

  “Well that can hardly be a surprise Abby, as we all know he whipped the animal viciously and took pleasure in starving him.”

  “I do believe that it was you that said a lady never interrupts another?”

  I suppressed a sigh. “Continue.”

  “Well, as I was saying, the lion killed him. But the strange thing was is that it has escaped.”

  “But that’s impossible, everyone knows that the gates are to high for it to jump and that Lord Vandenburg locked the gate behind him incase it would try to escape.” I know all this because Father had written an article on it for the Queen before Mama and Lady Vandenburg had their row.

  “So how did it get out?”

  “I don’t know, and that is the mystery. Lady V. found her husband’s body torn to pieces, bloody and scratched, but not a single tooth mark on him.” She said emphasizing her words by curling her hands into claws.

  “The lion didn’t eat him?”

  “No, it just attacked him and somehow escaped.” She shrugged.

  I was starting to get frustrated again. So the lion escaped through a hole or something reasonable. Soon enough the big game hunters will shoot the animal down. “Abby, what is the point? What does this have to do with Father?”

  “Well, I’m not fully sure, but in the letter from Doctor Walsh he said that they must discuss the events surrounding the death of Lord V.”

  “You were in his office, reading his letters? Abby!”

  “But don’t you see? There is something going on that the newspapers haven’t discovered. Doctor Walsh knows what’s going on, and he and Father are best friends, so who better to discuss events with?

  “Were, Abby, were. They haven’t spoken sense their doctoring days. It makes no sense for Father to spend a fortnight with an out of touch friend simply to talk about an event.”

  “Again you are mistaken my dear sister. Did you forget that Doctor Walsh is the brother of Lady V? And although Mama had the falling out with her before either of us was born, she’s made it clear that we aren’t to talk about her. So father kept those letters secret to keep from offending her! Don’t you see? They’ve never been out of touch!” She then assumed a new less jovial posture. She stood straight, a finger to her lips, a typical posture when she was thinking deeply. I watched her until she took her finger down, and shook her head. “Yet it still doesn’t make sense.”

  I patted her arm gently in encouragement. “Maybe I can help you make sense of things by helping you keep a leash on your imagination.”

  She ignored my comment. “If Father is going to see a friend to talk of a story, why did he lock himself away from us? Even Mama’s dislike of the Vandenburgs wouldn’t force him into hiding. He would have stated it in a simple manner let that be that. Not only that, but I saw burned letters in the fireplace in his office, and you know that he always files his letters. Never burns them. He’s too practical.”

  “Something you did not inherit from him I can tell.” I somehow was able to change the topic, but my thoughts wondered. I was still skeptical. We did not know everything that went on in Father’s office, nor did we need to, yet Abby seemed to think she was on to something.

  Abby has always been the adventurous one, getting into trouble while I take pleasure in following the rules. But I feel that I need to be a sister and more than that, a friend to her. She has always been such to me, despite all my flaws. If she got into trouble someone would have to get her out of it.

  Oh what should I do? Please, you must have some advice for me. I assure you that it will be considered, no matter how flawed you may think it is. I am coming to rope’s end here.

  Your troubled friend, H.

  February 28th

  I am sorry for not writing sooner Cecily, but I assure you that your letter did not get lost. I have taken your advice and decided to help Abby. We have been working diligently on “Father’s Mystery” as we call it for the past weeks. Things on that front have only become stranger!

  Soon after I received your letter, Abby took it upon herself (I tried to talk her out of it) to gather all the scraps of paper from Father’s fireplace. Normally the servants would clear the hearth but Father had locked his office before leaving. I didn’t know this until I caught Abby picking the lock! I lectured her and asked her what Mama would say, but she ignored me, telling me that “clues must be gathered at any cost”. I fear that if she does not get married that she will become a criminal!

  Of course I couldn’t let her do the work on her own, as I had promised myself that I would give your idea a try. Besides, if someone didn’t help her, she would have no doubt been found out and how do you think that would end?

  Our first task was to sift through the hearth in the study and find any readable papers. This was much harder than anticipated, for some scraps had the start of “Amb-” or “Vand-”, while others had numbers or fragments of charts. Whenever we found those, Abby would search meticulously for any matching pieces. Ultimately we came back to our rooms with very little in ways of clues but plenty of soot. Mama caught us on our way to our rooms (but not near the study, thank heavens!) tracking soot and of course her suspicions were aroused.

  But here Ab
by came to the rescue. I have always admired Mama for being such a wonderful storyteller, but I did not know that Abby had inherited that trait from her. Best of all, Mama believed everything she said, and told a servant to clean up our soot. She then demanded that we change our clothes, as “ladies shouldn’t walk about dirty”.

  After we changed clothes Abby and I met in my room to discuss our findings. She always insists on using my room for meetings of any sort as I have one of the best views in the house.

  “From what I’ve been reading in the papers, Mr. Vandenburg died early in November. The odd thing is, he was properly buried, yet he’s been seen about town ever sense mid January. And you know as well as I that the Vandenberg’s can afford a clear plot of land to be buried well away from the sewers, so his body certainly could not have been washed up. Not to mention the fact that he has such an ugly nose if the pictures are correct, so no one could possibly be mistaken for him.”

  “Abby! True as that may be, you still shouldn’t talk of him so. Besides, it’s bad luck and manners to speak ill of the dead.”

  “Well, as long as you admit I’m right.” She muttered. Before I could add anything she continued. “But what do you think makes him walk about? Some skilled puppeteer? A very ugly man robbed the theater and wanted to pretend he was rich? What’s oddest of all is that multiple witnesses have seen him and he has greeted them by name. And very few have the connections to associate with Mr. V. What do you think?”

  I sat on my bed dumbfounded. Where did these ideas come from? I have honestly begun to fear for my sister. I remained silent until I knew I could remain composed “We need more answers. There must be something in Father’s study that you’ve missed. We need more answers before jumping to any wild conclusions Abby.”

  We sat in silence for a moment. Abby took out the scraps and occupied herself by trying to figure out how the pieces of paper might fit together while I debated what to do.

  Should I continue to help her? Would it truly be the right thing to do? What would Father do? Should I write to our bother to ask for his advice before continuing to help? Would it be too late? What if Abby ended up in a ward because of this?

  I finally spoke. “What about Mama? She believed you the first time, but I’m afraid she’ll be suspicious a second. I doubt you could come up with another convincing story.” I sighed before continuing. I knew the next words would seal my fate. “Perhaps we should go at night? I believe I heard the servants commenting on how bright the moon was last night and that there would be a full moon tonight. We’ll take some candles and matches for when we get to Father’s study but we should know our house well enough to wonder around without them.”

  Abby was jovial. She agreed and the two of us made a list of things to look for. We decided that because so many of our scraps alluded to Vandenberg and his death, we should be on the look out for medical charts and anything relating to death. This part was Abby’s idea as she thinks this all started because of the death of Lord Vandenberg. Our candles were short and would burn quickly, so time was of the essence. I suggested I look through the books and Abby through the desk. She had the ability to snoop through papers and place them back as they were without a hint of her ever being there. I have no such skills and thought it better to leaf through the books.

  The rest of the day was vexing as Abby could hardly sit still, and Mama forced us to sit with her as one of her friends called on her for tea. It was Mrs. Daniels and I’m sure you remember her. Her sense of humor has not improved, nor has her breath or sense of style.

  Finally, the house was dark and quiet, and the servants were all asleep in their quarters. Abby snuck into my room where we had stored our candles and matches. I let Abby lead the way, as