August Smithson from THE CURIOUS STEAMBOX AFFAIR

From: August Smithson

Simon,

I have spoken with Benge and am in agreement that this forest mystery must be investigated.  He was, as usual, irritated by my speaking to him and I am quite sure he disliked my insistence upon voicing my own opinion.  I did notice through the library windows his dark glower as he stormed away from the forest.  My assumption that he had discovered something untoward was completely on the mark.

I am admittedly curious over his description of his discovery, river-side.  Since I have finished my legal tasks, I offer my services.  Benge is, again, less than pleased with my interest.  I did placate the Savage somewhat by assuring him that a second pair of eyes might prove useful.  I also agreed that any interference of a MacBean nature would be less than helpful.

But it is your property, hence the request.  I do not wish to cause you alarm or worry.  I think this investigation should conclude itself without anything greater than an amble in the woods.  I am willing to tolerate the less than cheerful presence of the Indian, simply to put our minds at rest that this is indeed nothing with which to concern ourselves. 

I have informed Benge to expect me, should you give approval.  Even if he sets out without me, I feel certain I would find him in no time.  Despite my distinct lack of pleasure in wilderness rambles, I am willing to accompany him.  At most, I should be able to return with a report that is not marked by strange mystic phrases and supernatural assumptions, which is always a dread with regard to Benge.

Get to know The Merry Gentlemen in THE CURIOUS STEAMBOX AFFAIR by Melissa MacGregor

From: Dog Benge

Simon,

I have found something in the woods, something that disturbs me.  If it is not too much to ask, I would like permission to investigate further.  I have no need for the entire group to accompany me, and only ask your permission considering it is your property I am investigating.  Be assured that I do not initially see any dangers, nothing to cause alarm.  I have noticed something strange near the river, an impression of pathway that I do not believe was intended by your estate.  It might be nothing more than a wild animal trail (although I see no evidence in that quarter).  It could be a sign of illicit use by trespasser, but again, I do not know enough detail to provide more information.

I know you wish for a communal dinner, but I will not be able to relax without such investigation proceeding.  Please do not alert the others.  This is delicate forest business and the last thing I would wish is for Hamish to ruin evidence with that heavy tread of his or for Gordon to chase away all forest creatures with his loud voice.  The MacBeans continually prove themselves less than helpful in such initial investigations, and I urge you specifically to not include them in this particular endeavor.

Again, I would reassure you that this is likely nothing to be concerned with.  I simply ask for an excused absence from dinner and your blessing to proceed.  I shall, of course, update you with any discoveries made.  I feel certain this is precaution only, a result of my suspicious nature.  But you know that I will not rest until all doubts are proved false.

I thank you in advance for your permission and understanding.

Gordon MacBean gives his approval.

From: Gordon MacBean

I think a communal dinner would not be too much to ask.  I for one would greatly enjoy it, as I did not travel North to spend my time in solitude.  I hold little interest in the forest pursuits of the Indian.  I care little about exploring a place where I have spent much of my time through the years.  I care even less about invading my cousin’s personal suite or barn.  It seems a rude hobby to assume, particularly for those who are guests in Ian’s home, but I suppose no damage resulted from such escapade.

I much prefer to spend my days here in merry conversations and suchlike.  I enjoy snooker and cards and would request an opponent other than my brother.  I spend enough time with Hamish as it is, and do not care for his slow, methodical approach utilized during such pursuits….believe me, it makes for truly dull game play.  He is also a very sore loser, so it would be in my best interest to suggest other players join us.  Hamish’s ire, as you know, can make even the best game of snooker ruinous.

So, dinner, yes, would be nice.  If I am forced to play cards with my brother again, I truly might decide to accompany the Indian on his tedious forest walk.  I might collapse from abject boredom, but even his silent company would be better than that of my brother.

Hamish MacBean replies. . .

From: Hamish MacBean

Simon,

I think that a communal dinner is not too much to request, considering your exquisite hospitality.  This estate never ceases to delight me.  I have so enjoyed reacquainting myself with the various parlors and such.  In many ways, I prefer your place to the MacBean retreat.  You have done much with the upkeep, have made terrific strides in modernizing.  My brother will pompously state otherwise, will extol the Highland virtues of our crumbling castle, but as for me, I much prefer the modern comforts you have improvised.

And so, a dinner appointment would be nice and I believe not too much to ask, considering.

I myself would ask, however, that the interest in my flying craft be kept to a minimum.  I know you are interested in the creation, and I can certainly understand such curiosity.  But I cannot approve of your discussions with my brother, your ideas on modifying the craft for Gentleman use.  Keep in mind, the King promised it to me, should I name it.  I have done so (Elijah’s Chariot) and while I am amenable to utilizing it now and then, should the Gentleman need arise, I have no intention of its becoming one of your pet gadgets, something that is eventually regulated to our below ground meeting space, pieces asunder once enthusiasm wanes.

Fitting it with weapons? Is that what Gordon mentioned? Forgive any impudence, cousin, but I find that entire concept abhorrent.  This is a mode of travel and travel alone, not one of your war machines.

I anticipate dinner. 

Simon Trantham has a request. . .

From:  Simon Trantham

Gentlemen:

Please consider attending dinner tonight.  I have asked that it be served late, so as to accommodate all.  While I certainly intend for everyone to make themselves comfortable and at home while visiting my estate, I have found myself suddenly lost in solitude.  Normally, this is a nice occurrence for me.  I certainly enjoy the time away from my brother.  But I do think it would be nice if we collectively gathered at least one time a day during the duration of this country escape.  Before I am subject to your complaints over such a request (particularly yours, Smithson) let me assure you that I have no intention of presiding over set conversations.  There are no particular social requirements, no specific dialogues planned.  I would simply like to share a meal and some fine wine and perhaps cigars.  Conversation will be conducted as each sees fit.

I thank you in advance for humoring me with this request.

Tony Martino from THE CURIOUS STEAMBOX AFFAIR by Melissa MacGregor

From: Tony Martino

I have half a mind to return to the south barn.  I possess no interest in what my friend witnessed, in the trappings of a crazed scientist.  Cauldrons and vials hold no delight for me.  Much of what Hyde does in his spare time (truly, everything he does) is uninteresting.  I only attended Sully’s folly to humor the man.  I have no desire to torment your poor brother, and would have granted his request in leaving that particular area alone.  But Sully took offense, as only Sully can.  My accompaniment on such excursion, I assure you, was to simply insure that no damage was caused to our absent host’s property.

I have always believed that your brother holds a great burden upon his shoulders.  That burden consumes him, and requires no additional increase from me.  Hyde and I have always gotten along in a sense.  I let him be.  He grants me that same privilege.  This estate is sprawling and comfortable, and it seemed an easy enough request to leave the south barn alone.

And as I have said, caldrons and such do not interest me.

What interests me however, and what has kept me awake this night are the tiles that line the floor of that converted barn.  I will require another look to confirm my suspicions, but I feel sure such look will validate what I already believe. Those tiles, Trantham, are particular to my family in Venice.  They are created by a certain craftsman for our Palazzo needs.  Such things might seem inconsequential to you, or unimportant, but I fear a very great offense has occurred.  Either that particular craftsman has forgotten his oath to my family, in which he promised to create such tiles only for us, or something more dastardly has occurred. A shipment gone awry? One that fell into the hands of your brother?

I make no accusation.  I simply must look at the tiles again.  And the chandelier.  It seems very familiar to me.

August Smithson enjoys the country?

From: August Smithson

You have exceeded my every expectation in this escape from civilization as we know it.  My suite of rooms is sublime, with every comfort.  The well-stoked fireplace was most appreciated upon arrival, as was the full decanter of whisky arranged on a table hearth-side.  I was pleased to be awarded a view that overlooked the back garden.  I always do appreciate the great rambling expanse of lawn, pastoral as it might be.  And that ridiculous fountain you have installed – the great three-tiered monstrosity!  

Where you found it I may never know, but I feel sure it is Venetian in influence.  Garish and bold, and are those stone fishes spewing water every which way? I cannot tell for sure from my window viewing, and I hardly care enough to wander outside for closer inspection.  As you know, I am not the wandering type and so I am content to create my own descriptions of the truly terrible addition to an otherwise stately view.

Your library holds no equal, and I offer no complaint over your literary offering.  And it is quiet, deeply quiet, enough for me to finish the last of the work I brought with me.  Of course I was not disturbed by others.  Our friends are not the literary sort, at least as far as I have noticed.  O’Sullivan with a book? Hilarious thought.  And so I was left amid a delicious silence, seated before the grand mahogany desk.  This was a wonderful solitude, one not interrupted by the many complaints of my sisters.  Nor was it troubled by the high spirits of our common friends.  Delightful.

This was a pleasant day, one interrupted only by the arrival of luncheon.  To have finished my legal tasks this early? I am astounded!

Perhaps I should spend more time countryside.  Fewer distractions might prove useful to my productivity.