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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2009062-The-Adventure-of-Victoria
Rated: E · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #2009062
A fleeting socialite tries to find her long lost father through a series of adventures.
The Adventures of Victoria





Chapter 1

Victoria sat in her mothers’ garden amongst the flowers watching the day slowly slip by. It had been almost fifteen years since her father’s strange disappearance. She still to this day missed him so much; her mother rarely spoke of him anymore. She’d moved on years ago once she’d finished mourning. Her circle of social friends all suggested she move past it quickly and get over it. Well her mother Jane was not one to fall from grace in the face of her societal friends, quickly bucked up and became a cast iron ruler of the manor and always held her head high and acted distinguished while at nights Victoria could hear her weep through the walls as she longed for her long lost love.

Harland Maxwell was a self made millionaire. Through hard work and smart decisions he’d became one of the country’s founding fathers of the rail service which now flourished by ferrying all sorts of consumer goods and industrial items. Luckily Harland had the presence of mind to incorporate into his last will and testament that in the absence of his presence his wife Jane would take controlling interest in the company.

Jane uneasily accepted her new role as CEO of Maxwell transport services and with the guidance of old friends from other industries; she’d managed to take the company in a whole new profitable direction. Now MTS hauled passengers, mail, and even some military goods now and again when a viable contract was up for bids, last year alone profits rose eighteen percent. Something unheard of in the industry; especially during what economists call a recession.

Victoria had always attended private schools throughout England. Even as wee lass she fared better than most of the students she was surrounded with. She was brilliant in mathematics, science and history, her grades were always in the top two percent of the entire school which not only pleased her family but made her the envy of her friends as well. Victoria was never the social being her mother was; instead she became the polar opposite.  An introvert as it were. She’d spend her free time out in the garden surrounded with a stack of books and often sit for hours quietly reading and absorbing all the knowledge she could possess. Jane did worry so about Victoria and at how behavior would be looked upon by the other families of young ladies coming of age and coming out so to speak at the cotillions next spring. Victoria never paid attention to her mother’s desires for her to be a debutante instead she stayed true to her course and never wavered.

Of course this lead to a lot of arguments which Jane would never win, nor would the fiery eyed passionate youngster back down either. An outsider would often wonder who the real adult in these situations was but then again Jane was raised in a different time and had a different calling and she somehow needed the social attention to prove herself worth to the world, while Victoria felt the only one she had to impress was herself.

The post came early that day and as usual Victoria met the postman at the front gate and collected the daily deliveries only to be surprised at a box addressed to her. The rest of the stack of mail was to her mother or to the company most of it boring documents, letters and tax paperwork so she gave it no mind but today for the first time in a very long time she’d gotten a package and that was so very uncommon.  She returned the mail to the foyer table and quickly found her way back to the garden where she stared at the box. It was small, perhaps the size of a black board eraser and twice as tall. It was wrapped in plain brown wrapping paper and tied into a bow with twine. It all looked so uninteresting and plain yet she noticed no return address on the box and this fascinated her ever so much more. Carefully looking around for anyone who might disrupt her moment of enchanted curiosity she knew her mother was off the grounds at the office and the staff, well they never came out back to check on her. Occasionally the gardener would trudge through clipping here and there at the pristine hedges that hid the private garden away from the rest of the grounds.

Pulling ever so gently on the string then a little more and then some more the bow quickly unraveled itself and lay lip and lifeless under the box which she picked up and with a thumbnail alone she peeled the lone piece of scotch tape away from what she could see were professionally folded corners and opened to find a wooden box. Atop the box another piece of tape holding a key attached to a gold necklace.

She took the necklace into her possession and looked at the box. The grain of the wood had been polished to a brilliant sheen and the bright brass hinges on the back added to the vibrancy and beauty of the object. Surely whatever was inside was as beautiful and delightful as the container itself. Slowly she opened the box to find a folded piece of paper as the first thing to strike her attention. Taking the paper and unfolding it, she began to read:

My Dearest Victoria,

      It is I your father. I have only now found a way to contact you and wanted you to be assured I am both alive and well. I have missed you terribly. I am quite sure by now there are those possibly yourself included that have long forgotten about me and dismissed me as deceased however that is not true. What I have seen and found will change the world in so many ways. I have followed your education for many years and know you possess the same curiosity that drives me, which is why I am asking you for a leap of faith. Enclosed in this box is a ticket. Use it and at each destination you arrive at you will uncover clues as to my whereabouts. I ask however you keep this entirely secret and do not under any circumstances tell a single soul or else your very life could be at risk.

You’re Loving Father

Harland Maxwell Sr.



Victoria closed the letter and felt herself emotionally shaken by what she’d read. Every tear she’d wept and all the time spent mourning were for nothing. She cried, and then was angry, then finally at peace yet per her usual inquisitive and needing more answers. Taking the ticket she noticed it was open and she could use it at any time to board a competitor’s railway and go to her next destination. Why would her father not want her to use his railway? Was there a problem? Was someone in his own company wishing to harm him? Thoughts like this ran quickly through her mind. She noticed her anxiety level had risen exponentially since closing the letter. So many questions unanswered, so much displaced emotion. What was she to do and how? She knew mother would never allow her to run off on some fool hardy mission to find Harland. Yet knowing now that her father did not trust his own late wife with this adventure told her something was amiss. So with a renewed vigor she disposed of the paper and twin in the refuse bin and made way to her room as quickly as possible hiding the box close to her body. Once inside her room she carefully locked the door and again opened the box and nested on her bed as she rummaged through its contents. Beneath the letter she found five hundred pounds with a note attached ‘For Expenses’. She removed the money and unfolded it and counted its worth and at the bottom of the box a gold locket. Opening it revealed a picture of her as a child on one half and the other a picture of her father from just before his disappearance.

She removed the key from the chain and replaced it with the locket and latched it around her ivory neck and began to rummage for a ruck sack or some type of travel ready container for her belongings and things she’d need for the adventure at hand. She knew it was now or never; once her mother Jane returned from work it would be nearly impossible to slip away undetected.  After completing a short search she did indeed find a knapsack that would work for her adventure and she began compiling clothing and necessities for said trip not forgetting her diary/journal.

She quickly changed into her riding gear as it was the most rugged attire she owned. She felt the hat and crop unnecessary and once she’d finished she eased down to the kitchen and began taking apples, fruits and anything she could carry to aid her on her way. Soon before she realized it she was standing at the front gate of the manor hailing a carriage. It didn’t take long for one to come along and she instructed the driver to the train station which he obediently obliged and with a quiet anxiousness she was on her way.

The weather turned sour shortly into her trip as the clouds bunched and the rain began to sprinkle as it often did. However she knew the sweet sadness that was her home country was about to be left behind so instead of moping about she stayed positive about all the things to come and how after all of this her homecoming would be all the more sweet because she wasn’t coming home alone. One way or another Harland Maxwell would return to the manor and retake his rightful place with the family and his company and all would be well. Focused on the fact that all things happen for a reason, Victoria’s anger and distrust of her father, his past, or his intent was long gone as all that gave way to a longing for reunion and the complacent feeling of belonging once again.





Chapter 2

Steadily she retrieved her ticket and gave it a good once over. Her mind whirled at the thought of all the exotic places and peoples she was about to meet when all of a sudden a jar directly beneath her startled her, she felt strange as the carriage listed lazily to the right.  Quickly the driver opened the door, motioning her to step outside rather swiftly to which she complied and firmly placed her foot in the slippery mud that was the travel route to the train station, the pouring rain now soaking her to the bone gave her a chill as she looked at the broken carriage wheel. The weight of the carriage listing lazily caused stress on the yoke distressing the two horses that had pulled them along, so knowing what she did about horses, the quickly unhitched them and led them to a nearby fence post and tied them tightly as the driver went on his way for assistance.

After a scant few minutes it didn’t take Victoria very long to grab her bag and head up the rode in the sloshing mud and pouring rain. Looking at her surroundings she’d never walked this far away from home before. She had always traveled through this area in the confines of a secure carriage far away from the prying eyes of locals and their various animals whether domesticated or wild. Now she found herself feeling vulnerable and hurried her pace only to find that turn after turn in the road seemingly offered no more information that she had at the previous turn as to the time to her destination.

Still for her father she hoped this was worth it all. She knew mother would be furious and out of her mind with grief at her disappearance and she hated doing this to her but she was trying to be a dutiful daughter and do as her father asked. So this weight she knew she must carry until her adventure was finished.  After seemingly endless hours she arrived at the train station covered in mud and thoroughly soaked from head to toe. Finally she found some relief under the awning and spoke to the ticket master who asked to see her locket and once he was satisfied with her identity, he handed her an envelope that she quickly tore into and it read,

Dearest Victoria,

  Congratulations on making the move I knew you’d make. Now you’re destination is a two day train ride from your current location. You are to travel to the village of Inverness. From that location look to the brightest spot in the night to find your next clue, but be careful not to lose your head in the clouds…

Harland Maxwell Sr.

With the new information safely processed she gave her ticket to the ticket master and confirmed her travel route and itinerary. He dutifully punched the ticket one time in the appropriate location to confirm its validity to the on board ticket collector. After learning that the train she needed would not arrive for an hour she again inquired as to where to find nourishment and was directed to a small inn just down the road on the far side of the station. Quickly she pocketed her money and left her bag with the ticket master and made her way to sustenance and hopefully a warm cup of tea.

Soon she found a very modern home style structure which she entered and found a quaint dining room, bar, and a barkeep/waitress staring aimlessly into thin air when Victoria’s entrance bought her to life. She greeted her warmly and was received in kind. She was served a warm bowl of porridge and a side of kippers along with the warm mug of tea which she so greatly desired. Victoria noticed that the older lady had taken it upon herself to sit at her table directly across from her and quietly offered her a towel to dry on while occasionally glancing from Victoria’s face to her food as if to urge her to eat and then comment on its value to seemingly boost the older woman’s self esteem and prowess in the kitchen.

The porridge was excellent and although she had never grown accustomed to eating kipper she managed to eat it as well and the warmth radiated through her entire body which greatly elevated her mood and outlook for the day ahead. Once she’d eaten the duo spoke at great length about anything and everything but nothing too personal as to give away Victoria’s identity. The barkeep remarked on seeing black smoke in the sky in the distance and Victoria quickly produced her money to pay for her meal but the older woman refused by taking the girls hand and folding it closed with the money inside her hand. Her eyes and smile were tender and Victoria could not help but to hug the older woman who hugged her back tightly and with a finger tip way and a thank you she was out the door heading back to the station.

The rain beginning to clear now gave way to a dense fog to roll in from the moors painting an entirely dismal picture of the landscape that at times was one of the most beautiful she’d ever seen. She quietly hoped this was not an omen of things to come, but instead focused on retrieving her bag and producing her ticket and being welcomed aboard the train.

Once aboard she was directed to a common car where it was filled with seats for many, many people yet she was the only one aboard it seemed. So she sat quietly until the ticket taker returned and she inquired as to her sleeping quarters and was led forthwith. The ticket taker was not talkative nor showed any signs of social skills other than standing ominously and pointing in the correct direction. Other than that he didn’t either feel the need to communicate nor want too.

Her quarters were larger than she had expected and she quickly flopped onto the bed finding it harder than her bed at home and began to fidget and wiggle to find comfort and once she did sleep overtook her. She rose hours later in time for dinner and made her way to the dinner car where she ate quietly and alone. The train staff seemed minimal but none the less the speed at which they travelled seemed impressive none the less so she kept up hopes that she’d be with her father very soon. She repeated this process for two days remaining in silence and often jotting down her thoughts, hopes and dreams to while away the time.

The afternoon of the second day the train pulled into the station at Inverness where she disembarked bags in hand searching high and low for the next clue as to her path to her father. Having eaten well for two days she didn’t even think of finding lodging or food right away instead opted for some sightseeing and pausing to venture into some of the small shops around the area. She purchased several small trinkets which caught her eye and knew thinks like this were seldom seen back in England and being unique and not run of the mill was one of the many things that caught her eye and her attention; much like her Father who had a flair for the dramatic and a curious craving for the unusual. So as the tale goes Victoria thought as to her next clue and re-read the letter handed her and muttered its words aloud. ‘The brightest spot in the night’ and ‘don’t get your head stuck in the clouds’. These clues perplexed her as she walked along until a ship horn sounded through the fog and her attention called to the light house on the peninsula just beyond the town.  Excitedly she trudged towards her destination and arrived tired and winded yet excited for. The door was unlocked as she opened the old weathered wooden door and listened to the violent creak of the hinges as she peered into a dust covered simple room with a cot, desk, chair and oil lamp. It was apparent someone lived here but whom she did not know. She called out “Hello…” and awaited an answer which never came.

Upon the desk lay a long box approximately as long as her leg wrapped in the same manner as the previous package.  Looking around she didn’t see or hear anything strange so she quickly and loudly opened it up to reveal the same style box with the same key hole minus the taped key. She retrieved the key from her pocket and opened it up. Inside the red lining lay a large sword resting comfortably inside a decorative sheath. She slowly picked it up and slid it from its resting place and held it in her hand feeling the balance and tang of the blade and it reminded her of her fencing classes. This blade was exquisite, the handle felt as if it were made especially for her. She held it upward in her right hand while retrieving the folded note that lay beneath it.

With one hand she opened it, it read; “Defend yourself!”

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and twirled around instinctively and struck blades with a large burly man who reeked of rum and filth. He laughed at her revealing stained teeth not care for in ages. Pushing her away he shouted, “Let’s have a go lass!” With that she knew she had to fight. There he was between her and the door. Fleeing was out of the question now so with a hard swallow she assumed her position and the dance began. Amazingly it all came back to her; the parry and thrust movements. Knowing ones footing and how to stand as she was taught, the only down side of the battle for Victoria was the sheer massiveness and power of her opponent. Between blows she tried to reason and calm the attacker down but to no avail.

With a flick of his wrist he disarmed her, shoving her hard into the stone wall laughing. His breath stank and caused her stomach to rise it’s bile in preparation of expulsion but she used his closeness as his weakness and used her knee as only a lady could bringing the behemoths man down to his knees where she retrieved her sword, grabbed the box and ran out the door.

She ran until she was out of breath and nary a sign of her assailant. She felt lucky to be alive yet scared to death and exhausted. Now choosing discretion as the better part of her valor, she carried the box so as not to attract attention and found and abandoned farm at the edge of town. She entered the dreary premises and began preparing herself for the night ahead. With good reason she found timbers and used the dilapidated fire place and made a small fire to warm herself as sleeping on the cold damp ground had a way of bringing one to the edge of death if he or she wasn’t careful.



Chapter 3



Morning came quickly it seemed as Victoria’s eyes opened slowly to reveal her surroundings now that it was daybreak. The shack in which she’d taken refuge last evening was truly on the edge of collapse from neglect. She thought it was a thousand wonders that it did not fall and kill her in her sleep but luckily nothing bad had happened throughout the evening. Sitting upright she opened the sword box once more and removed the covered blade and lay it beside her and lifted the initial note and discarded it. Nothing else lay inside the box on the red felt covering, but still something did not seem right. She examined the lid of the box as well as above and below from all angles and then at the precise angle she noticed a set of small numbers etched into the grain of the wood on the end of the box.

Knowing this could not be coincidence she  read the numbers aloud so as to dedicate them to memory.

© Copyright 2014 johnnywhiplash (johnnywhiplash at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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