And why go to the effort of sending the letter, and the musical box too, if the sheet music sufficed in relaying the desired message? Perhaps the letter was a screen or disguise, in case someone opened the package, making it appear a harmless gift.
The letter mentioned three separate composers: Mendelssohn—whose piece was the focus of the musical box—Bach, and Haydn’s brother.
Why would someone writing a false letter mention all three? If Haydn’s brother and Bach were the inspirations for the sheet music, could their names be a clue? Or even a code in and of itself?
She brought the letter with her and went searching for a library. She had no doubt the Sherards would have one. Only a week ago, she would have assumed if they had a library it would merely be an ornament for appearance, but she knew better now after her conversation with Mamma.
The thought of calling someone “Mamma” again warmed her from head to toe. It all seemed like a dream, so strange and new. But she wouldn’t have woken up in Mary’s room if it were only a fantasy.
She found the library without issue and went encyclopedia hunting again. Would Haydn’s brother have his own listing? She pulled the proper volume from the shelf and flipped through the pages. Yawning, she skimmed over Franz Joseph Haydn’s section until she found his brother’s name: Michael. She licked her finger, thumbing forward a page or so. There. Michael Haydn.
She scanned the entry: Younger brother of Franz Joseph Haydn. Born in Austria. Skilled composer of church music. Intimate friend of Mozart. She yawned again, her eyes drifting over a small diagram showing a few measures of music with notes from G to a high B with every conceivable note—flat andsharp—between them.
Beneath each note was a letter of the alphabet. The notation included every letter and some symbols which were unfamiliar to her. Her exhaustion melted away as she dragged her finger down the page to find the relevant paragraph.
In 1808, Haydn developed a type of chromatic cipher with symbols for thirty-one letters of the German Alphabet. Each letter corresponded with a symbol in musical notation. Due to enharmonic pitches, the cipher can only be understood as visual steganography, not via musical sound, which presents as atonal and dissonant.
Based on the diagram, the letter A would correspond with the note G, and the letter B with G sharp. Was this what H.M. intended? She packed up the encyclopedia and the letter and returned to the sitting room, intent on finally deciphering the sheet music.
She settled onto the floor, arranging her skirts around her and turned over a new sheet of paper. With careful lettering, shewrote out Haydn’s cipher, skipping over the parts of the German alphabet she didn’t recognize. She was writing out the W line when Byron came into the room, yawning.
“So it wasn’t a dream. You did stay the night.”
Mira nodded, finishing Y with a flourish. “Mamma insisted that I stay in Mary’s room.”
Byron’s eyebrows practically flew into his hairline. “Mamma?”
She smiled up at him. “Your mother and I have found common ground.”
“I... see.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped farther into the room. “And how did the search go?”
She set the pencil down. “We talked with Elvina, one of the thieves we met in the ruins? Apparently, an older gentleman that matches Hoddle’s description is staying with Sibyl.” She pulled out the slip of paper with the address.
He read over it. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“It was a joint effort.” She smiled. “I now understand where you get your investigative instinct from.”
Byron tucked the address into his pocket, hiding his own tired smile. “Well, regardless, we have a lead now, thank goodness. I’m getting absolutely nowhere with the sheet music. But now that we know where he’s holding her, we just need a plan of attack.”
Mira shook her head. “He’s expecting us to deliver the documents to his post box. If we show up at Sibyl’s house, won’t it be dangerous for Mary?”
“What else can we do?” He threw an arm out in frustration. “I’ve tried just about every combination of musical ciphers that I know—Porta’s, Bach’s, Philip’s, Amadi’s—and I can’t make any headway on it.”
Mira lifted the encyclopedia and set it closer to him on the low table. “I looked up Haydn’s brother and found this.”
He sat beside her on the floor, pulling the book closer to him. “A chromatic cipher,” Byron mumbled and ran a hand over his face. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Musical ciphers are meant to be heard in the music, not merely seen.”
“Shall we try it?”
He let out a long breath. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
They worked through the first few measures of the piece and when no words became clear, they moved on to the measures following the BACH motif. It still didn’t work.
“I’m beginning to believe there are no secrets in this music and the documents must be somewhere else in that house,” Mira said.
“No, there must be something we’re missing,” Byron said. “Why did you look up Haydn’s brother?”
“It was in the letter.” She pulled it out, handing it over. “I thought it strange that Maureen’s great-uncle mentioned three composers.”
