Dear Cousin

October the 3rd, 1911

Dearest Cousin Cecil,

I find myself waking each morning, fondly reminded of one thing or another – whether the trill of a songbird, or the chittering of a squirrel, or the scent of a fresh pinecone, or even the brisk and sprightly rain – from my lovely time with you and the rest of the clan over this past summer. Headingsbrook Manor, with its rolling fields, its fresh woods, its docile sheep, and its jolly denizens, will forever hang upon my heart. I cannot stress just how grateful I am that you not only invited me to summer with you, but then insisted I do so when I was foolishly reticent. Indeed, I am forever grateful that you undertook such pains to research our family, tracing it so many generations to the past, and that you were able to find me here, all the way on the other side of the world.

I have a favour to ask, but before I continue, I must tell you, I was in the shops today and I came upon a gentleman with a pipe. The pipe was a stunning polished cherrywood, and he was surrounded by an aura of the most pleasing scent, of warm afternoons and sun-dappled hills, of stories well told by a well-spoken storyteller, of a grandfather’s mountainous patience and a fondness that stretched to the horizon. I was reminded at once, of course, of Great Cousin Barnaby!

His time as a lighthouse keeper endlessly marvels me – and how such a vivacious man could dedicate the prime of his golden years to such a lonely, if noble, pursuit! – and yet, there is undoubtedly something enchanting about watching the churning grey fury of the ocean each day. And when he recounted his time in the Boer War, why, I felt like I was truly there. The heat, the locals, the politics, the adventure of the campaign trail – yes, I could see it all. I daresay, I’ve even found myself singing God Save the King, much to the good-natured consternation of my neighbours!

Likewise, I frequently find my memories rambling the hills of the countryside, as we did so often of an evening. Prior to my departure from my home, I was amply warned by friends and neighbours to ‘beware the dreadful English weather!’ But I must say, the warnings were much overblown, and I could not imagine a milder and more welcoming clime. Neither too hot nor too cold, neither too dry nor too wet – in my estimation, just perfect. Indeed, even the city! I found Southampton to be a lovely place, wholly undeserving of its reputation.

I must thank you specifically for the hunting expeditions you took me out on. We do not have anything nearly so exciting to hunt here as the fox, and I found it to be both thoroughly thrilling and gentlemanly refined. I regret only, that we did not actually chance upon a fox, but they are sly creatures, are they not? I additionally regret, wholeheartedly and miserably, having mistook your foxhound, Bosco, for our quarry, and having shotgunned him forthwith. Not a moment goes by when I do not mourn that noble hound!

In summary, I am eternally grateful for the time I spent with you and your kin – who are also my kin, more removed – and it has given me a surfeit of good cheer. I did mention earlier that I did have a small favour to ask, and I do so hate to impose further upon you, but I would be remiss if I didn’t at least ask. So: have you perchance come upon a small key?

Yours always, Gladstone

***

November the 11th, 1911

Dear Cousin Gladstone,

It was a pleasure to host you, and a greater pleasure to meet you in person, finally. Is there a greater treasure in the world, than to cast your net wide and discover you have kin living across the pond? I think not!

As I’ve already told you, and I must stress this, I understand Bosco was an accident. Truly, it could happen to anyone! And if I made any unduly loud exclamations at the time, or voiced an unfortunate profanity, I swear to you, I must have been seized by the vicious spirit of the moment – and I meant nothing by it. The old boy died doing what he loved best. I should simply have taken more heed of your being new to the sport, and the blame – if any such exists – rests solely on my shoulders. I pray you think no more of it!

There may also have been a small misunderstanding with Great Cousin Barnaby. While my heart is warmed to hear that God Save the King has caught your fancy, I’m afraid Barnaby’s stories were less meant to inspire, and more meant to caution. You see, he is a lighthouse keeper precisely because of his time in the Boer War. Barnaby, the poor man, is haunted by the nightmares of his time there, and the misdeeds he found himself embroiled in. In confidence, I believe he has cleaved much too tightly to the drink.

Now, as to your question, I must say I’m rather perplexed. ‘Have you perchance come upon a small key?’ I found the query quite baffling, and when I ran it by Milly, she suggested it was a riddle. Alas, we spent a fortnight working at it, and even asked Horatio, Belle, and the others, but we couldn’t quite crack it, so I am no longer so sure.

I regret I must answer your question with one of my own: is this a riddle? Or were you referring to an actual key? And if so, what kind of key? I feel as though I’m holding the X that marks the spot, but I’m missing the rest of the map.

Yours, Cecil

P.S. What reputation does Southampton have?

***

November the 23rd, 1911

Most Magnificent Cecil!

I have breathlessly awaited the arrival of your next letter, and now that I have it, your kind words warm the tips of my frigid fingers.

First, I have terrific news for you! I know what you said about Bosco, but I know too that you’re being kind, as only the well-mannered English may be. Truth be told, I myself am haunted by that poor hound, and when I close my eyes I can still hear the report of my gun, and then his arrested yelp, and then the still quiet of the woods. And then, yes, a string of profanity from yourself, though I do fully understand it under the circumstances, and I do pray you don’t lose any sleep over it.

My good news is, I have found a replacement for Bosco! Indeed, I have. I was meandering through the docks of New York one night, when I came upon some rather raucous lads, engaged in the most vigorous kinds of activities with their trusty hounds. I tell you, these dogs were the spitting image of Bosco. In spirit, at least, for they looked nothing like him. I’d never seen the kind before, and the men said they were call pit bulls. With some quick thinking and sharp negotiating, I was able to secure a specimen, which I am attaching to this letter. I hope Bosco II finds you well – Merry Christmas!

I apologize for the ambiguity. The key is not a riddle, it’s a key. I think I dropped it while I was at Headingsbrook Manor, or on the trails. It’s smallish, plain, and made of iron, I think. Fits into your palm, and into a lock. Let me know if you’ve seen it.

Yours foreverly, Gladstone

P.S. I pray you get this letter quickly, for I fear what would happen to poor Bosco II if he was left in port too long. You know what they say about dogs and Southampton.

***

December the 10th, 1911

Dear Gladstone,

I have drafted and redrafted this letter a number of times, and I must say I am very grateful to Milly, who is ever level-headed and even-tempered, and keeps me to a straight path.

When I said that Bosco was in the past, both forgiven and forgotten, I meant it. I certainly did not expect – or want – you to ship a dog from New York! And so you understand the alarm I felt when I read your latest correspondence.

And now, imagine my alarm, when I went down to the shipping office, to receive not one dog, but one crate of dogs. Gladstone, you sent me twenty of these horrid pit things! This is madness! The beasts are gargantuan, and they look like they’ve come straight from a battlefield. And they are utterly feral! I have no idea why you would send so many, nor do I know which one you were referring to as Bosco II, but as soon as the crate was opened, the mongrels attacked the dock workers and fled for the city. As far as I know, they are still running rampant through the streets of Southampton, and the alleys have become unsafe for anything on two legs or four.

Gladstone, I implore you: forget about Bosco and do not try to make any more amends! There are no amends to make!

Forgive me if the tenor of this letter is a little curt, but I must admit, it has been a stressful span of days.

Now, as to your original inquiry about the key. We are all sorry that you’ve lost your key. I asked around but nobody’s seen it, or remembers any such key at all from the summer. Though, ‘smallish, plain, and made of iron’ could describe a great many kinds of keys. Is this key of particular importance to you?

Merry Christmas, Cecil

***

December 23rd, 1911

Beloved Cecil,

What dreadful news you write of! Wild dogs running rampant through the streets of Southampton – I guess the rumours of that city were true! I pray you and yours are safe, and keep far away from that dreadful town. It’s like my father always said, ‘Never trust a dock worker.’

I’m sorry to hear about Bosco II. I’ll keep an eye out for another dog.

May you have a most jubilant of New Years!

Yours in perpetuity, Gladstone

P.S. The key is for my house.

***

February the 16th, 1912

Gladstone,

I thank you for the New Year’s wishes, and I extend the same to you.

I apologize for the delay, but with the holidays the post office has been rather back-logged here. What do you mean when you say the key is for your house? Did you only have the one? If so, who have you been staying with? Is it those McGills you’ve spoken so highly of? Or did you have a locksmith craft you a new one?

Also, once again, and I stress, do not buy any more dogs! In fact, in a bizarre twist of fate, both Milly and myself have developed a severe – fatal even – allergy to dogs.

Yours, Cecil

***

February the 29th, 1912

Exalted Cecil,

So you’ll recall, we had that one weekend in August where we sampled a bevy of single malt whiskeys, up at that nice rustic cottage – and those friends of yours came up, the Bents and the Wilsons – and then we got to talking about heirlooms and such. And I mentioned I had those heritage doorknobs, made of real brass.

I said they’d been in the family for generations. Well, I mean, not in my family, but they were in the family of the man I bought them from for generations. Two generations. And now they’re in mine, which in an extended sense means they’re in your family too.

So you’ll agree, these are quite the treasure. I didn’t want to risk a brutish locksmith mangling them so I declined to hire one’s services. Anyway, my father always said, ‘Never trust a locksmith.’

I didn’t want to be a nuisance to the McGills either. I’ve just been sleeping outside.

Yours forever and a day, Gladstone

***

March the 12th, 1912

Gladstone!

What the devil do you mean, ‘sleeping outside’? Please, tell me you don’t mean you’ve actually been sleeping outside, since you arrived back in America? When you have a perfectly suitable house right there!? Tell me this is some New York slang.

Rather alarmed, Cecil

***

March the 24th, 1912

Most Radiant Cousin Cecil,

Yes, outside outside. Just on the lawn.

Until eternity, yours, Gladstone

***

April the 5th, 1912

Dear Gladstone,

I am mortified at this news! I wish you would have mentioned this sooner, or better yet, said rubbish to the doorknobs and taken advantage of your own house! The idea of my poor cousin sleeping out of doors through the winter chills me to my core.

I have conscripted all of my friends and neighbours, and we have canvased all of my properties, and the hills, and the paths, and the woods, scouring them for your key. My search has turned up an estimated five hundred smallish, plain, iron keys, which I’ve put in a box.

I cannot stomach the idea of you continuing to suffer like some wild beast, and so I have decided to bring these keys to you personally, so that we may sort the matter out once and for all. Milly has found us passage on a passenger ship bound for New York, and leaving on the 10th of April. You may expect us in New York on the 17th, aboard the RMS Titanic.

Worried endlessly, Cecil

***

April the 5th, 1912

Most Resplendent Cousin Cecil,

Found my key! Turns out it was in my pocket. Hope I didn’t worry you.

Anyway, you guys should visit some time!

Yours until the Day of Judgement and Beyond, Gladstone