"LADY ELIZABETH IRIS DALTON"

                    Lady Elizabeth Iris Dalton
                        Peter Alden Yule

                            Chapter One


         When speaking of folks who have in some way influenced my life and indeed the lives of so many good people in our town, I would be sorely remiss if I didn’t tell you of “Lady Elizabeth Iris Dalton”. Now I don’t believe that there were more than a handful of local folks in our town that knew her by that name. When she first came to town, to be the new teacher at our school, she was just plain “Miss Dalton”.
I was in the ninth year of my education when she arrived and I would be her student for only a few more years.

         Miss Dalton was brought to our town by a committee made up of Mr. Adams, who owned the drug store, and the new minister at our church, and my Auntie and a few other good folks. She came to our town from Boston. Miss Dalton told us nothing of her background, or of her family, but she did let us know that she had done all of her learning in the best schools in Boston. She attended and graduated from the State College there with high marks. She also mentioned to us that she had been born in England.

         My earliest memories of her were that when she first came to teach, she was perhaps not more than twenty six or twenty seven years of age. Her appearance was always quite prim and she looked like a much older person. She wore narrow wire frame glasses, long dresses with high collars, and her hair was always combed into a tight bun that set at the very top of her head, held in place by two tall combs.

         Miss Dalton was shy and reserved and never seemed to be a leader at any of the town events, although she was always there always present at Church Picnics and town fairs and such. She had tremendous patience with every one in her classes and was always open minded and fair with every student. She was by all standards an excellent teacher in the model of a school “mistress” as might have been envisioned many years ago.

         Now when I said that she had influenced my life, it was not as you might think, with her being my school teacher and all. What I learned from Miss Dalton came about on the Fourth of July, after my last school years had ended. It was a beautiful and warm sunny Fourth of July day, and as was my custom, having a day off and all, I walked out the old road to do some fishing. About eight or nine miles out where the hard surface road ended and the dirt road began, off to one side of the road had been a farm. The farm house and all the buildings had burned to the ground and had fallen down years ago.  All that remained were some huge Lilac bushes around the old foundations, and a small pond that was fed by a mountain stream. That pond held the best trout to be found for miles around and it was my destination for the day.

         I walked very quietly along the road, being careful not to make a sound that would set the birds to flight. Their sweet songs echoed all along the road and down the hillsides and back again and added glory to the day. When I turned off of the old dirt road and up the path to the old farm house, I had put my school days, my chores, my concerns and cares all behind me, all now on hold. This was a great day to be alive, a great day to live in Oxnard Bow, and I was at peace within.

         With all of my senses now keenly alive within, I paused on the path for a moment. What is that sound? A sound as plain as day coming from the area of the old barn. I left the path and circled quietly around to the back of the old stone wall, and sitting there filled with tears and sobbing like a baby was Miss Dalton. I had never seen her like this before. I mean her hair was down flowing over her shoulders and she was not wearing her glasses and she was dressed like, well like a woman half her age. She was sitting with a cardboard folder on her lap tied up in a blue ribbon and holding in her hand a crumpled letter wet from her tears. I had no idea of how to help her or of what I should say to her, if anything at all. “Miss Dalton, are you hurt?” I shouted out to her. Well that sure startled her! She looked my way for the first time and her face flushed and she turned away from me wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she did so. “Peter, I thought I was alone out here. I wanted to be alone” she said. “Well I am sorry I’m here Miss Dalton, but are you okay, I mean I heard you crying?” That is all it took. She turned to face the wall and started crying and bawling all over again. I walked over to her, not knowing what to say or do, but somehow I managed to find a clean handkerchief deep inside my pocket and I quickly offered it to her.

         “Peter, I have been such a fool that all I can do is to cry. Heavens above, such a fool and I am supposed to be so smart. No, No Peter I am not injured, I am just a fool.” “I can’t tell you about it. This is all my fault,” she said as she held up the folder now in her trembling hand. “I have been so silly so ignorant and now I just don’t know what to do about it all.”

         “Well Miss Dalton, if I can help you in any way at all, I sure would be glad to do it,” I said.

         “Peter, no one can help me and even if they could I just don’t know how to explain it all.” “Miss Dalton, if you want to just talk about it, I might be able to help, or tell you who can.”

         She stood up and handed me back my handkerchief. She brushed away the straw from her skirt, and touched my shoulder. “Miss Dalton, why don’t you just walk over to the pond with me and if you want to talk, I will listen.” Together Miss Dalton and I walked the remainder of the path out to the pond. I knew that she was in need of a friend, and down inside I hoped it would be me.

















             Lady Elizabeth Iris Dalton

                          Chapter Two

         After a short walk we reached the edge of the pond. Miss Dalton had never seen this pond before and made several comments about the beauty and peace to be found in such a spot. She sat quietly enjoying the sunshine and the warmth of the morning. She had regained all of her composure and was no longer crying. Now I did not want to see her upset or in tears again, but certainly if I could help her with her problem, I wanted very much to do so. I set my fishing pole against a tree branch and turned my attention once again to my teacher, My Miss Dalton.’’          

         “Miss Dalton,” I said, “You were pretty upset back there and if I can help you I surely will.” Her reply was that being an unmarried lady, she did not have any real friends in town, and she went on to say that she always felt closer to her students than to others. “Peter, if I had a brother, I would want him to be exactly like you. You have always been honest with your friends and with me and I think you have become as fine a young man as I know. I just don’t think that anyone can help me with my foolish mistake.”

         “Well if I knew what it was then perhaps I could tell you who to talk to about it,” I exclaimed.

         “Well you might be right” she replied, “But first you will have to know a little more about me.”

         With these words Miss Dalton began her story. She had indeed been born in England which we all knew, but she went on to say that two days after her birth, her mother had died from complications in the delivery. Her mother was an American, a college girl from Boston who met her father while on a tour of England. The two fell in love and she married and remained with him for what she hoped would be forever. Her father took the loss of his young American wife very hard. Her father had been a man who married later in life and was nearly twenty years older than her mother. He could not imagine any way that he could ever raise a young motherless child alone, especially a girl child. He notified her Mother’s family of the death and in short time her Mother’s sister arrived in England from Boston to offer her help. Her Aunt eagerly sought the task of raising the child, and an arrangement was made by her Father that the young Miss Dalton would be taken from England back to Boston and raised there in a proper Boston fashion. Her aunt was married to a prominent Boston Doctor at the time, and lived well in the upper social circles of Boston society. Her Father would provide a substantial trust fund for her that would assure no financial burdens to her Aunt. Miss Dalton’s father was by all standards a very wealthy member of the English business community, and was known to be a very kind and loving man.

          Well so it was that Miss Dalton would be raised in Boston by her Aunt. Her Aunt remained for several months in England seeing to the young girl’s well being and allowing for a bond to form between her father and the young girl. In time the aunt and the infant Miss Dalton left for America.

         Shortly after the pair arrived in Boston, a great illness swept the community, and Miss Daltons Uncle, the noted Boston Doctor died from the disease. Her Aunt was now alone in Boston with the young girl to raise and was soon surrounded by the upper elite of Boston’s finest families offering help and advice. She was given a prestigious job at a leading historical society and a full time nanny was provided for the young girls well being. Miss Daltons Aunt notified her father of the unexpected changes in her life and was assured that he would come from England himself to offer more support if needed. His trip was twice delayed by business callings. It was Miss Daltons Aunt that suspected that Mr. Dalton may indeed have been a titled member of British Gentry and she coined the pet name “Lady Elizabeth Iris Dalton” for the young sweet child, promising her always that someday she would come into her own rights, and secretly hoping that it would one day be so.

         Perhaps she thought that one day when the girl came of age she would return to England and be received into the highest social circles there. That was her aunt’s dream and she would share it with the young girl in time to come. As the young Miss Dalton neared her second birthday her father had booked passage to the United States and would be there to see his growing daughter again. He would not be delayed and had passage booked on a brand new ship, The Titanic.

         Following the disaster at sea that rocked the world, Mr. Daltons’ estates and holdings were to be managed by a London Law firm. The payments to her trust fund continued and Miss Dalton grew up in a fine home with excellent schooling in the best traditions of Boston Society.

         I was beginning to understand Miss Dalton in a whole new light. Not just a teacher, but a real person as well, with a sorrowful childhood, but a strong background. She had never known her parents, and had no brothers or sisters, only her Aunt to be her family.

         When she graduated from college, a large sum of money from her trust fund previously controlled by her Aunt, remained in that trust and in total now passed on to her. She put the money into a Boston bank, on advice of her aunt and planned to leave it there. Her Aunt died, of pneumonia just one year after her graduation. Still, Miss Dalton chose not to use her inheritance. She elected instead to become a teacher in a small town and we were the lucky benefactors of her choice. At this point in her relating of her story to me I felt that she and I were forming a much closer relationship than she had had with anyone before. I was honored by her sharing and my respect for her grew deeper. I still did not know why she had been crying.

         It was nearing the noon hour and I offered to share with my teacher a small lunch that my own mother had prepared for me on that day. She sat quietly by the waters edge as I continued to cast my line in the hope of catching a fish. As luck would have it I did not even get a single bite. I spent my time, sitting close by Miss Dalton, hoping that our friendship would grow in the way that a brother and sister share in relation with one another. I hoped in my soul that I could learn more of her problem and assist her in finding a cure.

         We spoke of many things, of the town, of its people, of the founding of our town a century before. I told her of all the wonderful people that made up our town, of Eddie over at the garage, of Mr. Joe and the wonderful stick that he had given to me a year before. We spoke of the great memory Mrs. Ganz had for things that had happened in town. We were comfortable with each other and were becoming friends. By mid afternoon we had shared much and even found a few moments in which to share laughter. When she laughed, her face was radiant and young as any school girl and openly reflected the inner person that she had put aside in her teaching manners. We had all but forgotten the tears of the morning, when she reached for the bundle of papers still tied with the old blue ribbon.

         “Peter,” she said I do feel quite foolish over the mistake that I have made and I do think that if you promise never to speak of it, then perhaps you may be able to help me with it. Even to focus a new look on what has happened would be helpful and reassuring to me at this time, so if you promise I will share with you and you can help.” “I promise Miss Dalton, Yes, please let me help if I can.”

         All manner of thoughts again raced through my mind as I realized that I had made a new friend, and she would no longer be my teacher, but a trusting friend, willing to share with me.






















                        Lady Elizabeth Iris Dalton

                                Chapter Three

         She removed the ribbon from the file of papers and told me that her problem had begun with a single letter received two years earlier. The letter had bee sent to her from the Boston bank in which her trust fund had been established. The bank envelope simply enclosed a second envelope and a brief note stating that the sender had lost any means of reaching her and asking if the bank would forward the letter to her at her new address in town, which they did. “Peter, please do not think harshly of me but this is what started all my foolishness,” she said as she handed me the letter that had been forwarded to her.

         I saw that the letter was very neatly written on fine onionskin paper and had bees sent to her by a London law firm. The firm was known to her as the same one that so many years earlier had managed her fathers’ affairs and had forwarded monies to her trust fund. In the letter the writer stated that after several years of litigation and research of her fathers’ estate that he was pleased to inform her of the existence of a very large section of property still remaining in her fathers’ name. Several claims against the property had been resolved and now it appeared that the whole estate could be transferred into her name. The writer went on to say that the land and holdings were of exceptional value, quite high in fact, and urged her to allow his firm, with himself as trust agent to represent her interests in the matter of transferring and selling the property for her. The letter asked for consent and a speedy reply and nothing else.

         Miss Dalton had no-one to consult on the matter and so she responded in good faith asking the writer to do whatever was necessary to expedite the matter. She provided her new address and thanked the writer for his diligence in seeking her out. She mailed off her response and waited. “Oh Peter, I had such hopes, such foolish dreams on receipt of that letter.”

         Several weeks later she received a second letter again on the gold embossed letterhead of the London law firm. The writer, one Mr. Stanley Broom told her that he had begun to arrange for the transfer of title to her and that all was going well, however he would need from her a small sum of money as a retainer and to cover the costs involved. The amount requested was small in comparison to the overall wealth of the estate which she would soon own, but it was to my thinking quite large. The amount requested was two thousand dollars, (American funds). Now Miss Dalton confided in me that she had several times that amount in her trust in Boston, so she arranged for the wire transfer to the writer and sent him a letter thanking him for his efforts on her behalf, and for his letters. Miss Dalton sniffled a bit, and bit down on her thumb, and then began to cry once more. I returned my handkerchief to her.

She shuffled the papers in the folder and brought forth the next of the letters. “Peter, I can just not bring myself to read it again, so here you just read it to yourself.”

         This letter like the last had been carefully written with fine penmanship in a very warm and friendly manner, by the same Mr. Stanley Broom. He stated that he was most pleased to be of service to her as her agent, and went on to describe the estate and its’ properties. The entire package had been an ancestral home of the Dalton family going back to the seventeenth century. It was made up of several fine homes and over twelve hundred acres of land. He said he had the land appraised and announced to her that it would be estimated of a value exceeding one hundred thousand dollars in American funds. Mr. Broom was quite specific in telling her that he would travel from England to meet with her and to deliver the proceeds from the sale of the property to a private buyer in the not too distant future. In the last paragraph, Mr. Broom advised that a brokerage commission and certain legal fees in the change of title and recording of the matter in a proper way would be just over five thousand dollars more and that it would be necessary to transfer that amount as soon as was convenient in the same manner as had been done before.

         To me, a young naïve Peter Yule, and to miss Dalton now perhaps ten years my senior, it would appear that she had indeed been left a legacy of great value, and would soon inherit great wealth. She would certainly come into a fortune in a very short time.

         She handed me still another letter and told me that she had sent him the monies as requested; now nearly depleting her dwindling trust fund. She did not hear from Mr. Broom again for several months and so she wrote to him at his employer’s address whose name appeared on the letterhead. Several months more passed by until yesterday when she had received the letter from the firm. She urged me to read this letter as well.

         The letter was on the same letterhead as the previous ones had been, but was written in a very different hand:

         My Dear Miss Dalton;

                   It is with deep regret that I must inform you that a person no longer associated with our firm has taken excessive and illegal liberties in perpetrating a costly and shameful hoax upon you and several other clients similarly situated. Before giving you the details to which you are entitled be assured that Scotland Yard is investigating this matter to the fullest extent.

         From the letter it was very clear that a young man, a law clerk in the old established firm had gotten into the records of the estate and trust matters and had carefully planned and executed a swindle of Miss Dalton and others. He had kept all of her money. There was no estate, and to make matters worse, he had fled the country fled from England to “parts and places unknown” when the crime was first discovered.

         “Now you see Peter, now you see why I was crying. I have been such a fool. As innocent in such matters and as trusting as a schoolgirl with no common sense whatsoever. Now I ask you, what to do, what to do indeed.”

         

         








                        Lady Elizabeth Iris Dalton

                              Chapter Four


         What to do indeed? I now felt Miss Dalton’s loss and could understand her dismay quite clearly. She sniffled and shed a few more tears and after wiping them away, she smiled at me. “Well Peter here we are you just out of school and me still being your teacher. A bitter lesson for you and for everyone I fear. I shall not ever trust an Englishman again, and may my Father in heaven forgive me for saying it! Such a fool I have been and now it is all but gone, all hopes and dreams and the money, all gone and I have nothing left to show for it but a small bit of wisdom. Never trust in anything that you can not see or touch, never trust in a dream.”

         I pondered the dilemma before me and knew that Miss Dalton needed far more than I could offer. She had lost not only money but faith in mankind. She was very hurt and very ready to give up without a fight, blaming her own foolishness over and over again. I could not let this happen. “Miss Dalton, there is only one man, who everyone trusts when it comes to such matters and I think that you should go over and sit down with Mr. Adams. Why he knows just about everything to know in business and banking and he could probably help you.” 

         “Oh Peter, you are truly a good man and I think that we shall be friends for a long while. I don’t think that your Mr. Adams can help, but I am glad that I shared with you my foolishness. I feel that just in sharing ones problems a burden is lifted. I will consider your advice and give it some serious consideration.”

         Well there it was, all out in the open now and don’t you just know that at that very moment, with tears gone and troubles put to rest at that very moment my fishing rod sprung to life and I caught the largest fish I had ever seen in that old pond. Miss Dalton laughed and cheered with glee as I landed the fish and shared my joy at such a catch with her. We walked back to town together, and parted late in the afternoon. She was clutching her folder of papers and I carrying a beautiful big trout.

         I saw Miss Dalton several days later and she ran over to greet me.
She looked radiant and young again as I had first seen her in a whole new way several days before. She had taken my advice, and don’t you just know that Mr. Adams knew exactly what to do. He checked his calendar and announced to her that in just a few days some men would be coming up to town to go fishing with Bald Billie out in the woods. He knew these men well and knew that one of them was a big time lawyer from New York, with a tremendous knowledge of such matters. Mr. Adams would present her case to the man, for consideration.

         Before the week was out the men arrived and after spending several days in the woods they were brought back into town by Billie. After a short time one of the men walked over to Miss Daltons’ home, and sat with her on her porch. As he left he took with him the folder of papers that had been shared with me. Soon after the men left town, Miss Dalton walked down to the garage where I was helping to do some repair work.

         She was thrilled and sparkled with joy. The man from New York assured her that she would receive full recompense for her loss. She had been a victim of a crime that could only have happened by carelessness at the London law firm. He had dealings with the firm before and would surely be able recover her losses. She was sure that this man could be trusted and she was glad that she had shared with me and taken my advice. The man, who for so many years had come quietly into town to escape the clamor of the big city, would surely help without any costs to set right what had been done to the sweet and innocent Miss Dalton.

         It was wonderful news and I shared her joy. I asked Miss Dalton who this man was that had made her day so complete. “Oh she replied, I thought you knew. His name is Mr. Thomas Dewey. Mr. Adams says he may be the Governor of New York next year and someday he may be the President of the whole country.” Miss Dalton threw her arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek and everyone in town heard of it within hours.