The Lost Translation

This week was an anomaly, especially on Monday, as I slept in, and Charlotte received post. The reason as to why I slept in is because of Charlotte and her new friend, Miss Jane Marceau, whom she met at the theatre at Mr Harrison’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Yesterday, after Jane unexpectedly called upon Charlotte, accompanied by a gift of some beautiful violets to lend some colour to the house, they spent so long conversing that by the time she was ready to leave, Arthur insisted it was far too late for her to make such a journey to her lodgings, and she should stay the night. Although I had retired to bed earlier, I could ascertain that the girls conversation lasted long into the night by the low murmur of their voices, though not through the (unintelligible) words, no; only by the unmistakable sense of their happiness. 

Now onto the matter of her post- whilst it would be improper for me to write long paragraphs about boring private correspondences, this letter intrigued me, because it was addressed under her maiden name ‘Miss Charlotte Carlisle’, which quite caught her by surprise, and Arthur as well. 

As we sat around to a late breakfast with Alex (as he had arrived whilst I was still asleep) unfortunately for us we had received no letters inquiring for our aid, Arthur was unusually staring at Charlotte, who sat transfixed on the paper in her hand.

“Charlotte dear, are you quite alright? You’ve barely eaten since you opened your post, is there something wrong?” Arthur asked.

“No please don’t worry my dear. It’s about my brother’s fascination for classics, and by extent, his university years.” Charlotte replied, slightly hesitant.

“Nothing bad I presume?” Arthur cautiously asked

“Not necessarily, the university… want me to make a speech as because of his circumstances, he cannot.” Charlotte answered, gently folding the letter and placing it on the table.

I wistfully sighed “He really was fond of the stories of heroes: in fact, he was the one who gifted me ‘The Odyssey’ along with a pile of old newspapers.” I said with a smile.

“Do tell us more.” Alex offered, I could see he felt somewhat out of place, as he had not met Theodore, and so could not offer any consolation.

And so, Charlotte read us out the letter. Which stated:

“Dear Miss Carlisle, I hope this letter finds you in good health. I write to enquire into the possibility of you visiting the British museum this Thursday, for the unveiling of the new translation of the once thought to be lost Aeschylus’s Cassandra. We ask as your brother worked diligently on this translation up until his death, and he is not here to speak on the matter, we wished to extend the opportunity to you, as his dear sister, so you may share what he may have wanted known.

Kindest Regards, Mr Reuben Adair.”  

“Now you know what it says, what am I to do? How did Mr Adair even find this address, and if he found that, how did he not see the marriage announcement?” Charlotte fretted, slouching back in her chair.

“Do not feel you must go and give a speech, we can certainly go and take a look, as it’s only down the road, but don’t push yourself in writing something; I’d hate for you to fall ill, If you truly don’t wish to make a speech, I’m sure knowing your brother and those he is likely to have associated with, they all will have plenty to say. However, if you do want to, I can try and help with composing such a thing.” Arthur replied warmly.

“I feel I must, he was most passionate about his study. Even if it’s been many years since he was here. He had so much ahead of him, even if eventually father would have insisted upon a career in Westminster.” Charlotte resolved as she stood up and left us.

. . .

Soon enough, Thursday came around, and we travelled to the museum. It is a rather grand building, and I’ve been told you can explore the entire world in the confines of the one institution.

“Have you two received any cases this week?” Charlotte wondered.

“Not yet, I am sure one day soon someone may yet implore us for aid!” I responded enthusiastically. Alex seemed less enthused about it.

“How do you feel about making your speech? Did it take long to write?” Alex asked as we entered the grand hallway.

“I feel apprehensive about it, but the actual writing did not take long, the refinement on the other hand did. What if even after all of that work, I go up there and I cannot speak, what do we do then?” Charlotte exclaimed, glancing around at the moderately-sized crowd of people.

“We are all here to support you, are you sure you do not want me to help read it out?” Arthur said, gently holding her hand.

“No, it’s fine really.” Charlotte smiled. 

“Miss Carlisle?” A man’s voice asked. Charlotte froze like a startled deer.

“Indeed, I am her husband Mr Hawthorne. This is my ward Miss Darlington, and her friend Mr Moran.” Arthur said calmly, turning around to the well-dressed gentleman.

“My upmost apologies, I should have done more research! Congratulations on your marriage. I am just most grateful that you have come on Theo’s behalf, I’m Reuben Adair. I am sorry, I should have introduced myself first! I sent the letter, and I hope I did not startle you in any way. If I may ask Mr Hawthorne, are you the former detective?” Rueben queried nervously, as Arthur reservedly nodded.

“You were friends with my brother at university then?” Charlotte asked, a hint of scepticism in her voice.

“Yes, we were most close, in fact why not come and meet the rest of us!” Reuben smiled, giving us no chance to reply.

“Adair, the name is familiar. Do you have an older brother called Ronald per chance?” Alex asked, as we were led over to a small group of well-dressed young men.

“Ah yes, I admit I was not expecting to hear about him today, but yes, Ronald is my brother. How do you know him?” Rueben queried.

“Oh, I don’t know him, I just remembered my father once mentioned a man named Ronald Adair.” Alex said sheepishly, an awkward smile on his face. 

“Rueben, I’m unfamiliar with your company, please introduce us.” The tallest man snootily requested.

“Walter, Jules, Archibald. Meet Charlotte Hawthorne, nee Carlisle, Theodore’s beloved sister.” Reuben said, grinning.

“The one who was travelling?” The man with half-moon glasses asked, peering haughtily over those aforementioned spectacles.

“Yes, I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Charlotte said politely.

“Do you all study old stories then?” I asked curiously.

“Walter and I studied classics, and so we are most excited about this discovery, as along with Theo, we were in charge of translating it from Ancient Greek.” Ruben said about the tall man, before pointing to the one with glasses.

“Archibald was an English student, so he took over ensuring the text made sense once it was translated.” Before he could reach the third person, Jules, he was abruptly interrupted by his outburst.

“And if you had listened to my knowledge of History, you would have seen this is clearly a fake, such a manuscript cannot be genuine.” There was a strong sense of doubt in the way Jules spoke, a doubt that made it clear he didn’t believe the manuscript was authentic.

“How interesting.” Alex remarked, looking at the four of them shrewdly.

“Shouldn’t the reveal be soon?” I asked, looking over at the display case in the centre, covered in a dark cloth, with a few smaller cabinets to the side of the room.

“Indeed, any moment now.” Archibald offhandedly replied. 

At that moment, a Curator strode out of a small side room, an anxious expression across their face as they stood in front of the large display case.

“We regret to inform you that the presentation is delayed due to an unforeseen paperwork delay that we hope to rectify promptly.” To the sound of discontented murmurs and feet shuffling, the Curator scarpered, seeming very agitated and desperate for this delay to be occurring due to a mere issue with documents.

“Mr Hawthorne, you were indeed a detective; may you please aid us with this little mystery? Clearly, it seems the manuscript has vanished, or else the Museum would not be making such paltry excuses as to why this exhibition has not yet opened, which is not ideal given it’s importance.” Archibald requested with an animated air.

Arthur paused for a moment before replying, “Sadly I cannot, lend my efforts to this cause, but I shall pass you over to my capable cousin Miriam, and her associate, Mr Moran. They will be able to aid you.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot bear to think of such a thing befalling us and our hard work researching, I must take my mind off of this. Mrs Hawthorne, would you like to view some of your brother’s notes, we can talk about his passions, as you must have heard all manner of tales when he was home.” Rueben shakily murmured.

“Yes, that would be wonderful, I… I’d love to hear more about him, let us go Arthur. Leave Miriam and Alex to their work.” Charlotte replied with a hint of melancholy as the three of them walked off.

“The simplest solution is that the museum staff have simply misplaced it; you’ve seen the state of the Egyptology department, it is no wonder they’ve lost it. We should have kept a better eye on it.” Walter sighed. "What other universities did we invite? Oxford? UCL? Edinburgh? Perhaps they are simply jealous of our feat.” Archibald replied, taking a cautious look around at the other groups loitering about.

“Should we even care if they’ve stolen it? A fake manuscript isn’t worth much. The only valuable thing is the translation.” Jules muttered.

“Perhaps you are right, you two did ruin the beauty of the original Greek with your useless emotional embellishments, surely how it was written is how Aeschylus would have wanted it performed.” Walter stated combatively.

“Well feel free to do a performance all in Ancient Greek then, see how many people turn up. If we made it as bland as it’s written, then it wouldn’t bring crowds in, think of the renown it could bring us. Wouldn’t Theo have wanted that for us?” Archibald defensively retorted.

“No, he would have wanted people to enjoy it as it was written, but he wouldn’t have wanted us to fight! Maybe this is a blessing; if the English translation is gone, then we just retranslate it, and keep it more faithful.” Walter argued.

“Six years of our life perfecting it, painstakingly translating it. We can’t judge what Theo would have wanted, especially since he’s been dead two years already. He would have just been happy it was finished.” Archibald said, taking a deep calming breath.

“They say some of the newfound objects out of Egypt are cursed, perhaps this was too.” Jules ominously whispered. This was ceremoniously ignored by the group of academics.

“The four of them do not seem to be stopping this argument any time soon, where do we start?” Alex asked.

“The Egyptology department obviously, as they say it’s a mess, so it’s therefore the perfect place to hide something in plain sight! However, aren’t the discoveries simply marvellous, we absolutely must take this time to also examine what exhibits we should look around, after we have this mystery, all wrapped up.” I replied.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to go and ask the curator for more information, instead of going off of assumptions.” Alex pointedly remarked.

“Brilliant plan, we shall do that first.” I smiled.

. . .

Charlotte sat in awe as she read a page of meticulously written notes about the characters. “It’s remarkable just how neat his writing was, I had quite forgotten.” She smiled, with a hint of nostalgic longing.

“What is your favourite of the ancient stories?” Rueben asked.

“A difficult question. The one about the Queen?” Charlotte replied, a look of slight confusion. “Which Queen, was she a warrior? Did she lead her people? Or was she simply undone by her love for someone else? Cursed by the gods?” Rueben pressed unceasingly, a look of excitement crossing his countenance.

“That does not do much good in narrowing the list down does it? If I am correct, that is such the case for many of the Classical Queens.” Arthur interjected, noting Charlotte’s discomfort.

Clearly, this incessant line of questioning and focus on Charlotte overwhelmed her, and her previously concealed anxieties from the whole affair came fluttering abruptly to the surface.

“I should be honest with you Mr Adair, I was never as fond for these stories as my brother, and looking at these notes that showcase the depth of his passion, I feel a little lost. Like I am losing him a second time; I didn’t write to him on my travels, and so I know I must have missed out on so much of his life, it frankly feels rather unfair that you have asked me to speak about someone I don’t really know.” Charlotte stated tearfully.

“I did not mean to cause you any discomfort, I apologise. We all miss him greatly as well. If you would prefer instead, please do me tell of your travels, you must have seen many interesting places and many lovely people.” Ruben attempted to reassure and console Charlotte, clearly taken aback by the strength of her emotions, as she was otherwise a very reserved person.

“I would rather not, my tales are far from interesting, I was only in England over that time. However, would you be able to tell me more of my brother’s life at university, so I may ensure my speech does him justice?” Charlotte asked, her grip on her speech tightening. “Of course, if you would like I can also read through your speech as well.” Rueben smiled. 

. . .

“Excuse me, what has happened to the manuscript and its translation?” I asked, barrelling up to the curator, who stood uneasily in a shadowed corner.

“If you must know, it is missing, but do not fret, it will be found soon enough.” The curator replied with false bravado.

“Where was it last seen?” Alex wondered.

“I believe the Egyptology department, one of the young men who helped with the translation was showing it to a friend.” The curator said evasively.

“Which of them? Does this friend of theirs work at the museum?” I inquired.

“I am unsure. If you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” The curator answered, excusing themself, and walking off.

“To the Egyptology department it is then.” I remarked. The department itself proved to be even more of a mess than Arthur’s office, a rare feat indeed. As it is now our office, it is much neater, but I digress.

All across the room, there were boxes everywhere, stacks of paper strewn across the floor, with filing cabinets sitting overflowing. As we set about looking at the mess, we thought of motives as well.

“Fame, whoever did this clearly wants to become renowned.” Alex suggested.

“Perhaps, but there are better ways to be famous than resorting to a common criminal. Money, now that is always the major motivating factor is it not? But I suppose a fragile old piece of paper is hardly the lucrative endeavour most look for.” I retorted.

“There is an English translation of it as well isn’t there? Surely if that was half decent, it would fetch a decent sum, as wealthy people are always looking for new plays to watch.” Alex said, lifting the lid off of a wooden crate, revealing nothing of interest.

“So, this is the theory then; one of them wants money, so they steal the translation to sell to a playwright in the hopes of a lucrative run at the theatre.” I pondered, as a man made his way over to us.

“Excuse me is there anything I can help you two with?” He asked.

“Yes, did a young man come in here with a Greek play?” I answered.

“Indeed, a most interesting play.” The man replied, before swiftly turning and heading back to his work.

“It’s one of the young academics then, the question is which of them.” I said “Perhaps Archibald? He seemed rather eager for fame, didn’t he? And determined that the translation would bring them notoriety.” Alex deduced.

“I think Jules simply, as he protests far too much about the manuscript’s authenticity, what if it is mere deflection?” I pondered. 

. . .

“So, my brother enjoyed playing cards? Was he ever any good?” Charlotte said with a slight laugh.

“Oh yes, incredibly so, he was ever so good compared to me. No matter what game we played, I lost! Must run in my family, as my brother is terrible at cards as well; my losses must have funded our group outings, and other such things for many years. Perhaps that was why they kept me around for so long, even now I am just paying off what I owe. It’s all in good fun though.” Reuben smiled.

“What else did you get up to then? It all sounds incredibly exciting.” Charlotte inquired, as Arthur stood up suddenly, a look of clarity on his face.

“My dear, I must just go check on Miriam, to ensure she is not getting herself into trouble, you know how she is. Ever excitable.” Arthur proclaimed.

“I thought you said you were stepping back from her, are you quite alright?” Charlotte said concerned, her forehead creasing with confusion.

“Yes, yes, quite fine. Let Mr Adair tell you more about your brother’s most interesting life.” Arthur stated, rushing off.

“I am most sorry; he gets this way occasionally. Tell me did my brother go to any gentleman’s clubs?” Charlotte asked gently.

“It is perfectly fine. You know Mrs Hawthorne, for all your brother had to say, the card games, the evenings out, the endless chatter, what he wished for most was admission to that gentleman’s club in Pall Mall where silence is the only companion. He once told me he knew of a Greek interpreter who could put in a word for him, if your father’s name didn’t sway them first.” Rueben replied, as Charlotte got out her notes and a pen to add these personal touches to her speech

. . .

“Perhaps we should leave here, and go question them more, mayhaps they have worked it out, and whoever did it is ready to admit to it?” Alex said, as I caught sight of a tall pale man who looked entirely out of place amidst the crates.

“Or we go ask that man over there, surely his lurking is suspicious,” I wondered, Alex went unusually quiet as he looked over at the man.

“We should go, after all what about Charlotte? This is a major day for her, she needs our support.” Alex said uneasily.

“You may go, I am just going to look in a few boxes, and then I’ll meet you all back there.” I lied, picking up some paper off a nearby stack.

“Fine, just don’t take forever.” Alex said as he left.

Cautiously, I approached the impeccably dressed old man.

“Ah young lady, you are the detective are you not? Miss Darlington? I read of your exploits at the theatre.” The man smiled, the slight reptilian qualities to him were most unsettling. “Correct, and you are?” I asked nervously.

“No one really, a maths professor- I work at a small university. I came today with my students, and a friend of mine wished for me to double check some of his calculations.” He said calmly, stood next to an oddly sized wooden crate.

“How does maths correlate to the Egyptians?” I enquired.

“It doesn’t, but it is always good to know a wide variety of people. My apologies, I must return to my students, but it was wonderful to meet such a talented young lady. I’m sure when this story comes out, it will be most interesting indeed. Keep up the good work. One day, we may indeed meet again.” He stated, slinking off into the shadows. I stood there a moment, before turning around to see Arthur enter the room. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked as he made his way over to me and the piles of papers.

“Yes, more than alright, Reuben Adair has debts. Quite a fine motive for stealing a manuscript.” Arthur stated, pausing to catch his breath.

“How interesting, Alex and I found out that someone did indeed come in here with the manuscript. So, Mr Adair may have done it?” I replied, occupied and intrigued by the small crate the man had been standing by moments prior.

“So, he may have hidden it then? Given the state of disarray this department is in, it could be anywhere.” Arthur said, looking around at the clutter, as I surreptitiously read the top of the crate; ‘statue-miscellaneous.’ Something about the labels’ frantic handwriting, paired with the size of it, made little sense, and so I opened it to find nestled among the straw piles of paper, a valuation receipt on the top. I carefully sifted through the straw, before taking the pile of paper out of the crate. “Aeschylus’s Cassandra” a new play, translated and transcribed for stage by Adair, Bennett, Carlisle, Edwards and Morris.

“I have found the play! Contrary to the label, it is no statue. This clearly means whoever hid it wished to return for it.” I exclaimed.

“Good work, it seems I was not needed, as I suspected.” Arthur smiled as he pocketed the valuation slip.

Back in the Museum’s entry hall, the group were pacing anxiously, looking at every person who went past them, hoping for some clue.

“Perhaps we left it at back at the college?” Walter suggested.

“What were we reading yesterday then?” Archibald retorted.

“It does marvel me what a grip these stories have on the population’s imagination, when we still can’t validate the truth of the matters. All second-hand accounts.” Jules said.

“We have found it.” I announced, gently carrying in the pile of papers

“Brilliant.” they said in tandem.

“We are most grateful; this shall not be forgotten.” Archibald smiled as he looked through the pages, as Jules was saddled with the hefty pile of the original manuscript.

“Actually, I must ask, did you happen to invite any mathematics students to this presentation?” I asked curiously.

“No, there was no reason; why would we, we only invited Classics students from a few select universities, those from other subjects would not appreciate the nuance of such a story.” Walter replied haughtily or loftily, as Alex slowly made his way over to us with Charlotte and Mr Adair in tow.

“I think this delay may have aided me in finally completing this speech, Mr Adair was most informative.” Charlotte said proudly, folding over the corner of the page repeatedly. “Wonderful. I am most proud of you, as he would be.” Arthur said warmly.

“Mr Adair, we just have a few questions.” I said, gesturing to a discreet corner.

“I had expected such a thing.” He said hesitantly.

“Is it true you wished to sell the manuscripts to gain an income?” I queried.

“Yes, as horrid as that sounds, but I did not wish to cause anyone harm. in some ways I just wished to make the play most successful for Theo’s sake.” Reuben stated, taking a shaky breath.

“If I may, perhaps we needn’t intervene any further. Surely this is but a situation formed out of misunderstandings. If I have learnt anything today, it was that my brother valued his passions more than I could have imagined, and if we were to reveal to everyone what had transpired, then it would overshadow the magnitude of their discovery.” Charlotte interjected, looking down at her notes.

“I suppose there has been no real harm, and nothing has happened that has serious repercussions, so we could just leave it here; the mystery is solved, the documents are where they belong, we needn’t create any further drama.” Alex remarked.

“Fine, we shall do that on one condition. That is, when this presentation is over, you confess this to the rest of your group, and perhaps consider some alternative ways to monetise your new translation.” I added.

I sighed; there was no point in fighting such a thing, as it seemed everyone else merely wished for the day to move on.

“Thank you, all of you. I am so incredibly grateful that you have shown me such understanding. Mrs Hawthorne, if it would help to make any amends with you, I would be happy to carry on teaching you about classics- if your husband did not object of course. You seemed incredibly happy when we talked about them, and there are many more stories to share.” Rueben said, after regaining his composure.

“I see no issue with that, if she would enjoy such a thing, then we may come to an amiable arrangement in the future, perhaps it may in part solve your financial situation.” Arthur replied, smiling at his wife.

“Only if you tell me more about my brother.” Charlotte said with slight smile.

“If you wish that, then I shall oblige you.” Rueben answered, a relieved look on his face.

The presentation was a grand bore though, far too much about the complexities of translating an old language and making it pleasing to a modern ear, and far too little about the actual content of the story itself. But Charlotte’s speech at the end roused loud cheers from everyone.

“My brother Theodore had long loved the classics, since he could talk or write, he always found a way to circle back to the tales of old that encapsulated him so, the nights he must have spent reading by candlelight when he thought no one was awake but yet he was, just marked by a faint glimmer down the hall, More amusingly, I recall the numerous outings to the theatre, where he wished for some Greek tragedy as opposed to another Shakespeare. Today, by meeting those whom he worked so tirelessly with to produce this play, I feel immense pride, but also a regret that I know so little of my brother’s life far from home, and so I am thankful to everyone who through this project, shone a new light onto my brother. We all miss him, that much is clear, but he would not wish for us to live our lives clouded by sorrows we cannot shake, and instead he would want us to embark on our own odyssey and embrace whatever comes our way. I am sure he would have been overjoyed to have shared his passion with you all, and thank you for inviting me to speak on his behalf, together may we all move forward and be inspired to tell the truth just like Cassandra. No matter what others may think.”