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As a child, Chatsworth Osborne Jr was taught many things growing up: "always cheat on your income tax", "never give a sucker an even break" and, most relevant for our story, "do not open the gold-trimmed photo album unless Mumsy gives permission". Such an odd thing to tell a child. DON'T open the secret, shiny, sparkly book? It's like telling a beat he can't touch the freshly pressed Thelonious Monk LP!
And yet, through it all, that promise was kept. There were times of temptation, but Mumsy's wrathful demeanor was enough to keep even the naughtiest Osborne at bay. She was very clear he was to never lay not even one nasty little finger on that book until she goes off to seize control of that big equity market in the sky.
But that's nearly eighty years in the future! Who can even wait that long!
What's in that book that's so special anyway?
The secrets to Osborne success? No, that's good ol' American know-how.
The truth that Moms is centuries old and uses the essence of the mob to keep her youthful? No, everyone knows that.
Chatsworth... as a BABY?! Eugh, perish forbid...
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Years pass and slowly Chatsworth all but forgot about this book that so desperately haunted him in his youth. It wasn't until one fateful morning...
"CHATSWORTH!", that booming voice could only come from one woman.
"Yeeees, Mumsy?" Chatsworth replied in the most unintentionally annoying way possible.
"I'm here to announce that, as planned earlier in the year, I will be departing for India shortly. I trust you know what that means?"
Chatsworth gasps, eyes widening. "You're leaving ME to watch the Osborne estate?? Oh, joyous day!". Chatsworth leaps to embrace his mother when she stops him mid-leap.
"Of course not you wretched boy! I'm leaving you in the care of Tremblay. After last time I dread to think what horrors you'd plague upon the New England colonies!"
Normally he'd protest about how he's a grown man and can certainly be responsible, but it struck him as odd how Tremblay is staying. Normally he's with her on these excursions, like the pale, gaunt shadow he is.
"But Moms, who will join you if not Tremblay? What if those tigers decide you're their next meal?"
"Oh, they wouldn't dare! Besides, I'll have Vidaglio with me. I realize now that he hasn't received proper rifle training. One's chauffeur can never be too prepared!"
With that, a familiar car beeps outside.
"Oh, there he is! Always exactly eight minutes early. Chatsworth, dear, remind me to take two cents off his pay. I asked him to be exactly eleven minutes early! And try not to be too reckless. Tremblay's been a bit under the weather and I can't afford to replace another butler!"
The mother and son say their goodbyes in their own unique ways and... silence. Completely and utterly quiet. It's something Chatsworth never noticed before; the way the polished marble seems to hush any peep or pip. Normally the sounds of the servent's footsteps echoing would provide some comfort. But the eerie deafness of the foyer had other plans. Ordinarily, this would be Chatsworth cue to go run amok with Tyler or go make fun Dobie and his crew for being poor... but something else came to mind. With Mom gone and Tremblay ill... who's to stop him looking at the book?
Before he could fight his devious urges, there he was in front of the bookshelf. Way up on the 36th shelf on the 3rd bookshelf on the right wall stood the large and imposing album that plagued his dreams. It was right there. Untouched, unguarded. Chatsworth quickly glanced over both shoulders. No one would notice if he took a quick peek, right? Just one little page...
Like a child stealing from the cookie jar, he eagerly snatches the book from its spot on the shelf. Oh, how nasty he was, disobeying mother. But he needs to know! What's so damn secret about family pictures?!
He opens the first page and... a faded copy of a daguerrotype of an empty plot of land? Below was captioned "The future site of our new manor". The next set of prints showed the progression of the Osborne manor being built, from foundation to finale. It still looks the same to me?
Next were some photos of presumably his ancestors. A few looked familiar, likely due to their busts being out in the garden. He should know their names, but they escape him. Their clothing is so drab. They must have been some of the first to come to Central City.
Chatsworth inevitably became enraptured by this hidden history. As the pages turned, his fear of being caught melted away as he became oddly transfixed on these vignettes of a bygone era. Each one carefully ordered chronologically. Each having a caption written with the date in a lovely handwritting. Someone cares for this book deeply. It doesn't appear to be Mom's script. But it does seem familiar.
Now came the part he was most excited for, the part that would feature him! As he neared his birthdate, he flew through the pages at a quicker rate. He didn't care for whatever odd contraption was being built in the previous pictures, he wanted to know if he truly was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. But... something's not right. It's clearly around when he was born but...
No pictures of any infant revealed itself. All that he did see was something vaguely scientific. If Zelda was near, she'd correctly assume it to be a Petri dish. The caption only reads "Success!". What is? What am I looking at?
Next page.
Dated approximately four weeks after the previous. No longer a dish, but this strange glass tube. Another photo showed a close up of the poppy seed-sized object inside. It was a, frankly horrifying sight. It was a pale pink, had tiny beady black eyes, a little tail, and some thin rope connecting the front of the object to the side of the tube which had a strange, fleshy substance on it. His stomach turned. It took a lot for Chatsworth not to get sick just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. What animal is this? Why were we growing them? The hell is that thing?
The next page made his heart sink deep into his guts. His blue blood turned ice cold. Further along, now four more weeks afterward. The shape of the creature, now about bean-sized, was more recognizable. The tail disappeared and now we're left with a pink, beady-eyed creature with a large, bulbous head. Little nubs tucked into its body. The rope now thicker. This was an embryo. The caption confirmed his fears.
"Welcome, Chatsworth Jr."
The next pages were a blur. This had to have been a sick joke. He didn't even register his mother's or Tremblay's faces, nor could he even recognize himself. All he saw were the stages of a boy growing in some sort of secret lab. Before long, he was at the end. The final picture was still him, eyes still closed, in the largest chamber yet. Next to the photo was a note.
"Chatsworth Jr. turned 13 on that day. Clarissa wanted to wait one more year. Initially I hesitated, but his father passed a week before this was taken. We didn't want to bring him into the world soon after such a tragedy. I cannot wait for you to see the world, it is such a wondrous place."
It's all Tremblay's handwriting. All of it. But before it could click,
"Erm, Master Ch-"
Chatsworth let out an incredibly loud yelp, nearly dropping the book. How long was Tremblay there? Panting, he grabs his chest.
[huff, puff] "Damnit man... don't do that", all the class and etiquette left him along with his soul.
"My apologies, sir. Might I ask what you're doing?"
Chatsworth wanted to lie so badly, but the butler could very clearly see the forbidden tome in his hand. He wanted to say he was just organizing, something he never did. It would be foolish to say anything else.
"Well, you caught me I suppose", Chatsworth forced a chuckle. Tremblay's expression did not change.
"I-I'm sorry. I truly am. I don't know what possessed me. I... I promise I only saw the first page!"
"Don't lie to me, sir"
An uncomfortable silence was between them. The marble pillars like tall spectres looming over them, waiting to snatch their next victim. It could have been a minute or five hours. Tremblay spoke,
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I'm willing to answer any you have. I promise I won't tell your mother"
Chatsworth practically threw himself onto his only real paternal figure in his life. Perhaps it was the relief of knowing he won't be in trouble, or the genuine absurdity of it all finally clicked, but he nearly began to sob as he hugged the gaunt gentleman tightly. Chatsworth has always been very physical with his love, but the sheer vulnerability of it all was surprising. Eventually, Chatsworth lifts his head up to meet Tremblay's. One question immediately came,
"Is it true? Is any of this true? Am I really a... lab experiment??"
"I wouldn't call it that, per se. It's more like... you see I have a background in biology and chemistry, believe it or not. Your mother needed an heir, but didn't want to go through the rather nasty progress of childbirthing, you see. So I used my expertise in modern science to assist her in that. Eurgh... the less said about that, the better. But on the bright side, she had full control over your traits. Ever questioned that birthmark on your back?"
"I suppose now that you mention it...", Chatsworth never thought it was strange to have a birthmark in the exact shape of a dollar sign. Figured that was coincidence.
"But... this did answer a burning question of mine. I always did wonder why I couldn't remember my life before 14. Or, at least, I thought. All my recollections were cloudy then. I suppose the thick premium quartz glass assisted in that."
A small grin formed on Tremblay's face. "Perhaps so. This'll be our secret, okay?"
"Yes indeedy-doo! And remember, if you break the promise, it's off to the gallows with you!" Chatsworth gleamed with that big, dumb grin on his face.
"Egads!" Tremblay jested.