Of Secrets, Letters, and Lions

she had more experience in snooping. It was a quiet affair apart from her saying “Don’t step there, the floorboard’s loose,” or “Really, do keep up Hanna!” I was impressed that she had the forethought to leave the door to the study unlocked. We crept in and began our work.

  I shut the door behind us. The window in the study was situated on the right side of the house and large enough to let in the moonlight. I had no trouble making out the majority of titles on the shelves. While I knew what we were looking for, I doubted that I could find anything in any of the books. I started with the As and worked my way down, taking a book off the shelf, turning towards the window, flipping through the pages, and then placing the book back. I had no luck until I got to the Cs. “Stages of Death, by Doctor James Chattawal and Doctor Henry Walsh” Once again I turned to the window and flipped through the pages. I did it slowly this time, for Henry Walsh is Father’s friend who he is seeing now; perhaps the book might relate to current events. The book was quite thick, but unlike the ones I had been looking through so far, this one was filled with charts. “Abby! Abby, come here.”

  Abby placed her papers down and stood next to me. “Look at this. Does that not look like the chart that was on the scrap of paper? We only had a portion of it, but I am sure it matches!”

  Abby was thrilled of course, “Yes! It looks just like it, take the book with us; we’ll lock the door after we leave, no one will be the wiser. I think I’m on to something myself. I’m starting to think that Father didn’t burn all the letters after all!”

  By the end of the night, we left with no less than four books, twelve newspapers, and ten papers that Abby swore were a part of the burnt letters. We made it safely to our rooms, hid our findings and I went to sleep.

  I was woken by Mama worried that and I were both sick, because we had been in bed so long. She ordered soup for both of us and insisted that we rest and stay warm, lest the cold make us catch any worse than our current illness.

  I ate my soup under Mama’s constant care, and Abby was moved into my room, so that the two of us would at least have company. The last time the two of us were sick together we were put in the same room for the same reason. It seemed to do the trick as Abby and I were well within three days. And seeing that we are not sick, I’m sure we will recover just as quickly.

  Our day was spent reading and sleeping. I fell asleep many times while trying to read one of tomes that I took from Father’s study. Finally I decided to sleep and when I woke it was time for more soup. I dutifully ate it and then went back to reading, this time “Stages of Death”. It was a disturbing book, simply because of it’s subject. Filled with drawings of people cut open, organs dissected and labeled, and the stages of discomposure of the body took up a vast amount of the book. I managed to read up to page forty without loosing my meal. Abby made fun of me, saying that I really was going to get sick if I kept reading. After that I skipped the next fifty or so pages until I came across the chart that we suspected was part of our scrap.

  It was detailed with circles connected to boxes, both filled with notes, some of them appeared to be Latin. As I followed the lines, and circles and boxes I discovered why this book was referenced in the letter. If Vandenburg really was revived some how, as Abby seems to think, then this book explained a possible theory. I still think it’s nonsense, or would like to, but Doctor Walsh is a trusted doctor in his field of human biology.

  I’m sorry to say that I didn’t share my discovery right away. I knew how excited Abby was about our findings but the very idea of it disturbed me so much that I couldn’t share it. If I showed her that chart, then she could be right, and I just couldn’t admit to something so awful.

  It wasn’t until a full three days later that I took her aside and showed her my discovery. During the three days I waited Abby became quieter, and was constantly writing letters to someone. Whenever I asked about them she quickly covered the papers up and shooed me off.

  I feared that this discovery would make her wild. But her reaction was much worse than anticipated. Instead of lighting up and chattering my ears off, she read it quietly nodding and even scribbled down some notes. “Very interesting. I’ll have to copy it tonight.” She took the book, placed her notes in it and took it to her room. When she came back she seemed more like her cheerful self and we played a round of Backgammon. I’m starting to worry about her. I do believe she’s taking all of this far too seriously and will force things out of hand.

  During supper Mama told us that Father would be staying another week at Doctor Walsh’s. We were all disappointed by this, perhaps Abby more so than Mama and I. I believe that Abby will question Father the moment he returns home. It will be quite a sight! I’m looking forward to his return, even if we must wait a week longer than anticipated.

  Oh, please do tell your brother that I got his letter and that I will reply to it soon! I do so appreciate the letters that you both send me. You both are true friends, and comforts to me.

  Ever your friend, H-

  The following letter has many tearstains and places of smudged ink. Although some parts have been scratched out, these have been included in this form of the letter so that it may be read in its entirety.

  March 1st

  I’m not sure how to say this Cecily. I hardly know what to write. I hardly think I can write my hands are shaking so. I’m afraid that this note will be just the start of many tragic ones. I would not blame you if you did not wish to be privy to such things.

  Oh how I wish you were here with me! Then you might be able to do something! I doubt that there is anything you can do, not while you’re in America! Abby and I are distraught and Mama is completely beside herself. I don’t suppose there is anything to do other than to tell you…Father passed. He is no longer with us.

  Yesterday the servants woke us early to receive unexpected visitors. Mama was about to have a temper until she saw who it was. Doctor Walsh stood on our porch, his hat off, balding head exposed to the early wind. His son, Ambrose stood beside him, a perfect portrait of a gentleman.

  It was the doctor who spoke first. “Mrs. Hunt, I’m, I-I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

  “Surely you aren’t going to stand there in the wind? Do come in, please. Is this about my husband?” Although she was polite, I couldn’t help but notice how thin Mama’s lips were becoming. When I looked closely I would have wagered that she was trembling.

  “I’m afraid so Mrs. Hunt.” He was quiet and refused to say what had happened until we were seated in the parlor. “Mrs. Hunt, your husband is dead.”

  “No. How? How is he dead? How!” Mama stood up clutching the edge of her chair. I stood up to assist her, although I could scarcely hold myself up. She collapsed back into the chair murmuring “My husband. Oh my husband…” I hardly noticed Abby excusing herself and Ambrose following her.

  When Mama and I had collected ourselves Doctor Walsh explained.

  “Mrs. Hunt, your husband was a dear friend of mine as you and your daughters know. He was a great man and a wonderful writer of medicine. One of the best no doubt. Unfortunately, I asked his assistance on something I should not have and he was glad to volunteer. A long time ago, a doctor friend of mine and I had a theory…about death.” He paused to test our reactions. Mama was silent, showing no signs of emotion. I said nothing, although it seemed to me that Abby and I were already informed of his opinion.

  He sighed and carried on. “I do hope that I don’t upset you or your daughter Mrs. Hunt but I do feel that as of now you have a right to know. That you…ought to know.”

  “I understand, please continue.” Mama’s voice was soft, but she spoke with strength.

  The doctor nodded his head and continued. “My friend and I, he is dead now sadly, we were studding the affects of post mortem and the changes that the body underwent. Unfortunately something went wrong. My friend decided to add some things into the fluids that we were using without my knowledge. Because of this, something terrible happen
ed to the body. Mrs. Hunt, there have been times…there have been times in the past where the dead do not always stay dead.”

  I gripped the handle of the seat until my fingers ached. This, for good or ill, was our confirmation.

  Mama surprised me though. “I understand Doctor Walsh, please continue.”

  I had expected her to banish him from the house, but perhaps she was curious in her own way. Perhaps I do not know my mother as well as I thought.

  The doctor nodded, continuing, “I came into the lab one day and the body on the table was blinking, asking where he was.”

  Mama and I both gasped and stared at the doctor in utter shock.

  “It is true then! The books. Please excuse me.” I darted out of the room past Ambrose and Abby and into my own. I had forgotten that Abby had taken the book into hers. When I realized this I rushed back to my sister. I demanded that she bring the book to me and join the conversation. She did as I required, so I came back with a book, my sister and Ambrose following me. I opened to the page and showed it to the doctor.

  “Do you recognize this chart sir?” I said.

  “Why yes, yes. Indeed I do. This is the chart that Chattawal designed. It was very accurate as far as we could tell. I must say I’m impressed with your notes.” He said examining the sheets of paper that were tucked in the book, “I didn’t realize that you were so knowledgeable about this subject.”

  “I beg your pardon sir but I’ve no notes on the subject.”

  “Those are mine.” Abby said.

  Everyone turned to her, and Doctor Walsh smiled. “You two are his daughters after all. These notes are very well done Abigail. I’m very impressed. I would certainly like to hear how you came to discover them some time. But I think it might be more profitable for all if I continue?”

  He explained to us that the medicine made the man come back to life and over the course of twelve months, he and doctor Chattawal studied him. Chattawal wanted to continue experiments in this field, while Doctor Walsh refused. Chattawal took his notes and vials and went to continue his studies on his own. He vanished and was never heard from, and presumed dead. On his own Doctor Walsh thought that the most humane thing to do was to kill the corpse yet again. He tried in various ways, finally resorting to beheading followed by cremation, which worked.

  Unfortunately the story doesn’t end there. The formula that caused the corpse to revive itself found it’s way into the drearier parts of London. It is assumed that Lord Vandenburg took some of this liquid and drank it, because its effects are similar to that of opium. It also sickened the body, which is why the lion would not touch it. “The body smelled so putrid, so rank to the animal, that it had no notion of biting him.” Doctor Walsh explained.

  “But why has the lion not been caught?” Abby asked.

  “Ah, I think you know that as well as Ambrose and I do.”

  “Because he is undead?”

  The doctor and son nodded. Ambrose took over the conversation. “Yes. Some how, we believe that Lord Vandenburg took vials of the potion with him from his nightly adventures, the potion got into the animal’s water, most likely to act as a sedative. The lion had not been affected by it before now, until it was killed by one of the huntsmen. When this happened it somehow escaped again.”

  “But this doesn’t explain how the gate closed behind him.” I put in.

  “I beg you stop gentlemen.” Mama said. “Girls! What in heaven’s name are you talking about? Explain yourselves!”

  Abby winced and looked at me. I nodded. “Mama, we’ve been snooping. It was my idea, but I just wanted to see what was wrong with Father.”