The Lost Clue - Abridged Edition
Page 1
ABOUT THIS BOOK
(30 Chapters, 68,000 words)
Living the life of a wealthy man, Kenneth Fortescue receives devastating news from his father. But he is only able to learn incomplete facts about his past, because a name has been obliterated from a very important letter. Two women are vying for Kenneth’s attention — Lady Violet, the young daughter of Lady Earlswood, and Marjorie Douglas, the daughter of a widowed parson’s wife.
Written in 1905 by the much-loved author Mrs. O. F. Walton, this edition has been lightly abridged and edited to make it easier to read and understand today. This romantic mystery story gives an intriguing glimpse into the class extremes that existed in Edwardian England, with wealthy titled families on one side, and some families living in terrible poverty on the other.
The Lost Clue
Mrs. O. M. Walton
First published 1905
This Abridged Edition ©2015 Chris Wright
Illustrations ©Simon Wright
E-Book ISBN: 978-0-9932760-2-6
Also available as e-books from
White Tree Publishing
are abridged editions of
two more Classic Romances
by Mrs. O. F. Walton
(see end of this e-book)
Was I Right? e-book ISBN: 978-0-9932760-1-9
Doctor Forester e-book ISBN: 978-0-9932760-0-2
and by Charles Sheldon
In His Steps e-book ISBN: 978-0-9927642-9-6
Paperback editions of all four books
are available from
most internet book sellers
This book is a work of fiction. Named locations are used fictitiously, and characters and incidents are the product of the original author's imagination. The names of places and people are from the original work. Any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
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Table of Contents
Cover
About Book
Introduction
Chapter 1: In the Arcade
Chapter 2: A Difficult Position
Chapter 3: Captain Fortescue's Promise
Chapter 4: A Troubled Night
Chapter 5: The Safe Opened
Chapter 6: The Two Envelopes
Chapter 7: A Walk Through Borrowdale
Chapter 8: Honister Crag
Chapter 9: A Finished Chapter
Chapter 10: Goodbye
Chapter 11: Daisy Bank
Chapter 12: A Walk
Chapter 13: Black Country Roses
Chapter 14: Mother Hotchkiss
Chapter 15: The Old Oak Cupboard
Chapter 16: 156, Lime Street
Chapter 17: The Blotted Word
Chapter 18: A Strange Letter
Chapter 19: Words to be Remembered
Chapter 20: Grantley Castle
Chapter 21: The Photo of a Friend
Chapter 22: Lord Kenmore
Chapter 23: Mr. Northcourt's Opinion
Chapter 24: A Most Charming Girl
Chapter 25: The Picture Gallery
Chapter 26: Waiting for the Answer
Chapter 27: A Christmas Journey
Chapter 28: Another Chapter Closed
Chapter 29: Watendlath Forget-Me-Not
Chapter 30: The Missing Word Found
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Introduction
This romantic mystery for adults is by Mrs. O. F. Walton, the well-known author of children's books such as A Peep Behind the Scenes and Christie's Old Organ. It has been lightly abridged for this edition to help the story flow more smoothly. The storyline remains unchanged.
The wife of a clergyman, Mrs. Walton and her husband lived for some years in Wolverhampton, a few miles north of Daisy Bank described in detail here. Many of the descriptions must come from Mrs. Walton's own familiarity with the area. The railway cutting at Daisy Bank is still there today. Enter "Daisy Street, Bilston, Staffordshire" into Google Maps, and on the satellite image the path of the old railway line can be seen coming in from the north at the junction of Daisy Street, Ash Street and Rounds Road. The station used to be just across the road. The neighbourhood is now a mixed residential and industrial area.
In some people's eyes, Mrs. Walton is only connected with mawkish stories like Little Dot, where a young girl wanders around a graveyard, watching funerals and cheerfully facing an early death. The Lost Clue is one of Mrs. Walton's later works, and readers can be assured that no children were harmed in the writing of this book!
This story was written and takes place around 1905, a time of social extremes, when some people were enormously rich and influential but many were living in unbelievable poverty. The formal way in which people addressed each other in those days, even within the same social stratum, is accurately portrayed here. More importantly, inside these pages we get a glimpse of both sides of the rigid class division in England in the Edwardian era (1901-1910). And it was a division.
There is a Victorian hymn that we still sing today: All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small. We go on to sing about purple headed mountains, little flowers opening, and the pleasant summer sun. It's a much-loved hymn, but there's a verse in the original that I can remember singing as a child in a country church that goes: The rich man in his castle, The poor man at his gate, God made them, high or lowly, And ordered their estate.
In other words, the verse seems to teach that God made us to be either rich or poor, so it is how we are meant to remain. I suppose it made the rich feel less guilty about their way of life, and the poor were told that they must stay in their place and not cause trouble. I can't imagine anyone singing that verse today, and I doubt if it is included in any recent book of hymns.
Two world wars helped break down the gulf between these class extremes, due in large part to so many young men going to war and either never returning, or returning to other work. Of course, not all the wealthy exploited the poor, and not all the poor lived in squalor. In Britain, Quakers like the Fry, Cadbury and Rowntree families, who made their fortunes through chocolate, saw their wealth as a way of helping the needy. They built good housing, schools, libraries, shops and churches for their workers, and were certainly not alone in doing this.
Many families of all social standing kept servants, cooks and domestic helpers. Although this can seem exploitive to us today, the system provided employment, food and shelter. We must remember that this was a time when there was no state welfare system to provide a safety net. It was the relationship, in both directions, between employer and worker that was so important in Christian witness, just as it is today.
Chris Wright
Editor
Chapter 1
In the Arcade
IT WAS the busiest time of the day at the ever-busy New Street Station in Birmingham, as the London express came thundering in. It had rushed on like some great monster of the deep, flying through air instead of water, puffing, snorting, panting, but never once stopping after leavin
g London, until it came running triumphantly into Birmingham, having accomplished its journey of over a hundred and twelve miles in the short space of two hours.
As it steamed in, a long line of expectant porters awaited its arrival. As it began to slacken its speed they kept their eyes fixed on the line of first-class carriages, for that way lay tips. There was a dining-saloon on the train, and the first-class part of it was well filled. Most of the passengers were, however, going on further; but one man, with a long kitbag in his hand, came to the carriage door and prepared to alight from the train.
The porters made a rush in his direction, eager to relieve him from his burden. The man selected one of the group and handed him the bag.
"Where for, sir?"
"The Midland train north. Which platform will it be?"
"Number 5, sir."
The man thought for a moment. "Let me see; it starts at 5:30. An hour to wait, I believe."
"Not quite, sir. You're a bit late. It isn't often the express loses a minute, but she's five minutes late today."
The traveller took out his watch to compare it with the great station clock, and then followed the porter up the steps to the bridge. On platform 5 he dismissed the man, who departed with a satisfied expression as he pocketed double the sum which he had expected to receive.
For some minutes the young man of twenty-five paced the platform restlessly. The shriek of an approaching train, the rattle of a departing one, the rumble of the porters' trucks, the shouting of the newspaper boys, the ceaseless rush of people in all directions; all these distractions tired him, for he had much on his mind.
He was accustomed to London streets and London stations, which were often louder than this. He did not mind noise at other times. He resolved to leave the station and take a walk in the city until it was time for his train. He left his bag at the Midland Luggage Office, climbed the long flight of steps, and made his way to the street beyond.
As he did so, more than one person turned to look at him. He was a man who, even in a crowd, attracted attention. Tall and well built, he was every inch a soldier. But it was not that which caused the passers-by to notice him, and look after him as he walked on. It was not so much his upright figure as his extremely striking face, with its refined features, which made him a marked man. His dark hair, hazel eyes, long eyelashes, aquiline nose, and short upper lip gave him a decidedly aristocratic appearance, which could not fail to strike the most casual observer.
He turned into Corporation Street. The shop windows were all lit up. It was December, and dark at half-past four. The street was crowded, for it was close on Christmas, with people gazing into the brilliantly illuminated windows.
A row of flower sellers stood in the road at the edge of the pavement, and he stopped to buy a bunch of violets from a girl who looked tired and cold. He did not want the violets, but he was touched by her face, and he gave her three times the price that she asked for them.
Then he turned into the Arcade, which was a blaze of electric light. All the shops were displaying choice and attractive articles suitable for Christmas presents. In a niche in the wall, near one of the toy shops, an old man stood on a pedestal. He was dressed in red cloth, trimmed with swans-down, with long white hair and beard, and a cocked hat on his head. He was supposed to represent Father Christmas, and he too looked cold and tired as he stood motionless as a waxwork figure, taking no notice of the busy scene around him.
A group of children had gathered at the foot of the pedestal, looking up into his face with admiring glances, hoping to beguile him to fill their stockings on Christmas Eve with all the things their hearts desired.
On the right-hand side of the Arcade were several jewellers' shops, a glittering mass of beauty. Tiny electric lamps illuminated the countless sparkling and costly articles exposed for sale, and made them even more bewitching and tempting than they would appear by daylight. The door of one of these shops opened just as he passed it, and a young lady, stylishly dressed, came out of it. She caught sight of him immediately, and put out her hand as she exclaimed, in a surprised voice,
"Captain Fortescue."
"Lady Violet, I never dreamed of seeing you. What are you doing in Birmingham?"
"We're staying with the De Courcys, only six miles out, and we've come in to do a little Christmas shopping as we shan't have much time after we get home. Isn't it strange we should meet?"
Kenneth Fortescue tried to conceal his surprise at seeing this aristocratic young lady, whom he knew well, here at the crowded shops.
She smiled at him warmly. "Why, we haven't seen you since that time in the Riviera. Come and speak to mother. She is in this shop buying my younger sister Maude a bracelet. Mother promised her one for Christmas, and she thought Maude had better choose it herself. But she can't make up her mind, and I was coming outside to look at one we saw in the window. Come in, and give us your advice."
Captain Fortescue followed Lady Violet into the jeweller’s and saw her mother and sister standing at the counter which was covered with bracelets of every variety, all of them sparkling with jewels exceedingly beautiful and costly.
"Mother, whom do you think I found in the Arcade? Look here."
The elder lady turned round. "Captain Fortescue, is it possible? I'm delighted to see you again. We haven't seen you for months. Where are you stationed now?"
"I'm at Aldershot at present, Lady Earlswood, but we're likely to be moved soon. I wrote to your son Berington, but he hasn't answered my letter."
"Naughty boy. He's a shockingly bad letter writer. He always was. But what are you doing in Birmingham?"
"I'm only passing through," said the captain, looking at his watch. "I'm going on by the five-thirty, Lady Earlswood."
"How lucky we just met you. Now you must come and see us soon. We're having a large house party for Christmas. Are you able to join us? Berington will be at home."
"Yes, do come," said Lady Violet. "It will be like having those wonderful days in the Riviera back again, and I want you to see the photos I took then. They have come out splendidly."
Captain Fortescue smiled. "I should like to come, but I'm afraid it is impossible."
"Is it really quite impossible?" asked Lady Earlswood. "Do try to arrange it."
"I'm afraid I shall not be able to do so. You see, my father appears to be in some sort of difficulty -- in fact, I am going there to see him now. I had a letter from him yesterday morning, written apparently in good spirits, and then today I had a wire begging me to go at once. If he is ill and needs me, of course whatever leave I get I must spend with him."
"Yes, of course, but it may not be that," said Lady Earlswood. "He may want to see you for some other reason. If so, do let me know. Just send me a line or a wire with the one word 'Coming.' That will be quite enough."
"Thank you, Lady Earlswood, I shall certainly not forget. Now I must leave Lady Maude to choose her bracelet and hurry back to New Street."
"Must you really? Can't you have tea with us at Fletcher's? We are going there in a minute or two."
The captain looked at his watch again. "I'm afraid not. I shall miss my train if I do."
He said goodbye to them, and walked quickly down the Arcade, but young Lady Violet came to the door again to look at another bracelet in the window -- at least, so she said; but her eyes, when she got outside, were certainly not turned in the direction of the brightly lit shop window.
"How little they know," Captain Fortescue said to himself as he went down the crowded steps to Platform 5. "I sometimes think I ought to tell them that I am not one of their standing in society."
Chapter 2
A Difficult Position
KENNETH FORTESCUE was in good time for his train, and secured a corner seat in the carriage. He had bought a book at the stall and opened it when the train started, but he read only a few pages. He was wondering why his father had sent for him so urgently.
When he was last at home he had thought his father was aged and altered,
and therefore he had suspected that illness was the reason of his summons. The letter received yesterday contained no hint of his father feeling indisposed at the time of writing it. So why this sudden call to return home at once?
His father was a man who had "risen," as people were accustomed to say when they spoke of him. And yet he had not risen. Certainly his position in life was altered, for instead of being a miner, obliged to work hard for his daily bread, he had been able to buy a large house, with servants. How this had been accomplished, even his son had not the remotest idea.
His father was exactly the same uneducated man that he had been in his days of hard work and poverty. He could barely read or write, and he never made the slightest effort to improve in either. He cared for little but eating and drinking. He domineered over his servants and dependants at one moment, and spoiled them the next. He was lavish in his expenditure at times, and at other times would haggle over a halfpenny. He had not even learned to speak good English.
No one realized all this more than Kenneth Fortescue, yet it gave him a pang even to harbour the thought of it for a moment, for his father had been good to him in many ways. He had shouted at him and blustered at him from his youth up, but he had never begrudged him anything. He had lavished money in the most generous way on his son's education. When he was seven years old his father had sent him to the most expensive preparatory school that could be found. From thence he had gone to Eton, and in due course had passed into Sandhurst. No nobleman's son had ever had more spent on him. The best coaching that London could produce had been his; he had been given every opportunity, every possible advantage.
Kenneth Fortescue had been gazetted to a cavalry regiment, and his pay consequently was far from adequate for his expenses; but no money that he needed was withheld from him. A handsome allowance was supplemented by numerous checks to supply the wherewithal for various outgoings in the way of travelling or pleasure.
The Honourable Evelyn Berington, Lady Earlswood's younger son, his friend throughout the whole of his Sandhurst course, had far less money to spend than he had. This made Kenneth Fortescue feel that, whatever his father might be, and however much his lack of refinement might jar on him, it was his bounden duty to give him the affection and respect due from a loyal and grateful son. Besides which, Kenneth Fortescue was a man with a deep Christian faith. He knew the requirements of the Fifth Commandment. He knew that, so far as it was possible for him to honour his father, that honour must be readily and cheerfully given.