HOME | DD

Description
        In the coming days, the entire Manor was preparing for the cold days of winter. The pantries were stocked, the heavier curtains put over the windows, and other such necessities, for the region in which the Loffemoore Manor was situated was infamous for its bitter, hard winters. On one such busy, chilling afternoon, I spied a lonely figure inconspicuously dawdling around the grounds from the window. I hastily grabbed up my coat, instantly suspecting who this apparent stranger was, and anxious f losing this opportunity, rushed out the door. I proceeded through the grounds with a quick step, my breath frosting the air. The familiar face looked up, still full of aged beauty even while swaddled by wraps, shawls, and scarves. Immediately she turned and nervously walked in another direction. Pursuing her, I cried “Madam! Please hold only a moment. I believe I can be of service to you!” I hurried after her, but she had disappeared in the maze of shrubbery. I vainly searched up and down the pathways for a full half hour, but could find no sign on her. Cold and disappointed, I reluctantly returned to the house.
The days passed in their familiar routine,  but my thoughts on the mystery surrounding the Loffemoore Manor never subsided. Mr. Loffemoore still called for me in the evenings, though I did little else than sit in an armchair. One evening, I was standing near the windows, having walked the length of the room. Mr. Arthur had left the room momentarily- a rare occurrence -to retrieve his pipe, and I was awaiting his return. My eyes wandered to the gentleman's desk, where a letter's pages were half-hidden under a book. I would have immediately averted my eyes if the address had not been that of Mr. Gregory Foster. I was suspicious of their correspondence, and after their meeting on the riverboat, I was almost certain that their dealings were not of an honorable bent. Still, it went deeply against my beliefs to read someone's private correspondence. I am not proud of my actions, and there have been many days indeed when I wished I would have stayed true to my morals. I read the letter. I have always been a swift reader, it is one of my few skills. The effect of the letter was as follows.

“Esteemed Sir,

If the information you have given me is true and the particular madam of interest is indeed in the area's vicinity, it means our arrangements are almost completed. You sound preoccupied with the safety of our collateral. I am writing to insure you that our bargaining piece is indeed safe. I placed 'it' in a certain spot completely exempt from suspicion, and any possible escape, where I can guard it daily, indeed, practically every hour of the day. You need have no fear, Gregory, the mademoiselle in question will never discover our leverage, cunning and sly as she may be. Rest up well, Gregory, you soon shall need it.”

This letter disturbed me exceedingly, but as I heard footsteps in the hall, I stuffed the letter back into its place and hurried to my seat. Mr. Arthur seemed quite pleased and jovial that evening, but I could do nothing but sit in a confounded silence. Although it was late before old Mr. Arthur would allow me to quit his presence, I  sought out  Ms. Thuman before she retired. This simply could not be allowed to wait. She seemed surprised and indeed, slightly wary of my so excited countenance, for it was very rare that I was thus. Nonetheless, she listened with patience as I told her of the letter and its contents. I was quite feverish as I spoke and stumbled over my words, and I'm afraid, made very little sense. In the end, however, she understood the idea of the my thoughts and was quite struck by it.
“So you don't believe, then, that his business with this madam could be of an honorable, ordinary sort?”
“No, madam, I do not, thought it grieves me to confess it.” I had grappled with the matter every way and it seemed very improbable to me, considering the old gentleman's words and tone, to find that he was indeed innocent and of noble character in this matter.
Ms. Thuman took a moment to ponder this, her eyes flitting every which way, a tumult obviously taking place inside her head.
“What do you suppose, Mr. Vincent, that this leverage might be? If you read the letter's contents correctly, which I have no doubt that you did, they do refer to this...bargaining piece in rather strange terms, do they not?” She said slowly.
“I will not deny it, it was strange the way Mr. Arthur addressed the matter. I could think of no place where he spends hours of his time except in his study.”
“Perhaps it is an object in his study, then, that they speak of.”
“No...” I shook my head “He spoke of the impossibility of escape, which would seem, well, ludicrous if they were not addressing something with the capacity of movement.” We were both silent, for we both felt that beyond this point might be dangerous ideas. A living being, trapped as leverage for a dark and sinister deal? The idea was far too much to presume without proof, and I was not a man who often chased after presumptions. Still, living or not, it was a tangible object and Miss Patricia was absolutely bent on seeing it. I was reasonably uneasy about this, but after considering the circumstances, I could find no other option, and I was honest, I was transfixed by this mystery. We both agreed to endeavor to discover where Mr. Arthur was hiding the object of interest, and before she had time to bring up other uncomfortably romantic subjects, I bade her goodnight.