The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton

The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton

by Elizabeth Speller


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The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton by Elizabeth Speller

"Leisurely and absorbing . . . a series to be savoured."—The Guardian (UK)

When Great War veteran Laurence Bartram arrives in Easton Deadall, he is struck by the beauty of the crumbling manor, venerable church, and memorial to the village’s soldiers. But despite this idyllic setting, Easton Deadall remains haunted by tragedy. In 1911, five-year-old Kitty Easton disappeared from her bed and has not been seen since. 

While Lawrence is visiting, a young maid vanishes in a sinister echo of Kitty’s disappearance. And when a body is discovered in the manor’s ancient church, Laurence is drawn into the grounds’ forgotten places, where deadly secrets lie in wait.

"Speller’s follow-up to her acclaimed debut, The Return of Captain John Emmett, is a well-crafted mystery with intriguing historical details and measured pacing that creates suspense. Fans of Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs series and readers who enjoy well-drawn characters in historicals will add this to their wish list."—Library Journal 

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780544002036
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Publication date: 06/01/2013
Series: Laurence Bartram Series , #2
Pages: 418
Sales rank: 822,961
Product dimensions: 5.42(w) x 7.88(h) x 1.09(d)

About the Author

ELIZABETH SPELLER studied Classics at Cambridge. She has written for various publications, and has taught at the universities of Cambridge, Birmingham, and Bristol. She divides her life between Gloucestershire and Greece.

Read an Excerpt


Laurence Bartram was waiting for a late connection at Swindon station. It was a bright April day and he had been glad to leave London: a city teeming with the crowds drawn in by Empire Exhibition fever. Now, as he looked beyond the water tower towards the vast marshalling yards and busy workshops of the Great Western Railway, the metallic clangour, the smell of oil and coal, and the distant shouted exchanges of railwaymen filled the air. There was order in the rows of trains in their cream and brown livery and then the tidy terraces of railway cottages, but behind them the sweep of the hills to the southwest rose, bigger than all of it.
  Once settled on the train, Laurence felt in his pocket for the three letters he had brought with him, all of which he needed to respond to. It was the one from William Bolitho, an architect, asking him to look at Easton Deadall church that had intrigued him and brought him on this journey. Alongside the church, Lydia Easton, who had the small estate of Easton Hall, hoped to create a maze to remember the many men from the village who had died during the war. It was an odd sort of memorial Laurence had thought, re-reading William’s letter. But Mrs Easton was also improving the estate workers’ cottages. William had been sanguine; he wrote that the job was basically roofing, painting and installing water closets. But planning the geometry of a maze had evidently been some compensation for the more mundane improvements and recently Mrs Easton had raised the possibility of a new window in the church to commemorate her late husband. ‘I’ve sketched ideas – found a London man to do the practical stuff – but I’d really appreciate it if you could come and take a look at the church itself,’ William had written. ‘The building has charm. But it’s an odd sort of a place, clumsily restored last century but recently one of the workmen was scraping off some decaying floor covering, when he started to expose quite an elaborate geometric design beneath. I sense it’s very old and don’t want to damage it with our rather basic skills. Do come and share your expertise.’
  Laurence pulled out his watch as the small branch line train finally approached Marlborough. It was twenty-five minutes late. As the engine slowed, Laurence’s eyes fixed on a single woman who waited on the platform with a boy beside her. Eleanor Bolitho was hatless and coatless. Since he’d last seen her her long red hair had been cut into a thick bob. Her son, Nicholas, was pulling her towards the engine, but Eleanor’s eyes were passing up and down the carriages, her hand shading her eyes from the spring sunlight.
  Three or four other people got off the train and an elderly porter moved purposefully towards him. Laurence handed over his suitcase just as Eleanor saw him and waved heartily, pointing him out to her son. She reached Laurence and flung her arms around his neck, almost knocking his hat off.
  ‘William will be so pleased you’ve come,’ she said. ‘What a stroke of luck you have so many breaks and that you know everything there is to know about churches.’ She made it sound as if his being a schoolmaster had been an intermittent pastime, but her enthusiasm was flattering.
  ‘Laurence is a teacher,’ she said to Nicholas, ‘so I expect he’ll want to practise on you and will be very strict.’
  The boy, slim and dark, looked up at Laurence and smiled tentatively.
  ‘David – he works on the estate – has driven us over,’ Eleanor said. ‘As the train was late he’s gone off to deliver something for Lydia but he’ll be back any minute. I’ll tell you all about the place, on the way, but I know you are going to like Easton. Later you can start to think about the church – William thinks it’s jolly old. Don’t let him make you do it today. He tends to sweep everybody up into his enthusiasms. See, even I’m doing it.’
  ‘I hope I can be as useful as he thinks.’
  Laurence was very keen to see the church for himself. He didn’t know the village and the church was not in any books, perhaps because it had been deconsecrated for many decades before Mrs Easton’s dead parents-in-law had petitioned their bishop to bring it back into use. According to William Bolitho’s letter, there were rarely any services now.
  ‘How’s Mary?’ Eleanor asked, with what she probably thought was nonchalance.
  ‘Committed,’ he said, wryly, thinking of one of the other letters he had with him. ‘Tell me what lies ahead,’ he said, changing the subject.
  ‘Well, I can’t tell you what a blessing it’s been, Frances and her sister inviting us here,’ Eleanor said. ‘You’ll like Frances – she’s clever and straightforward – but she’s a bit stuck at Easton Hall, I think. She ought to be making her own life not hanging around like a Victorian spinster on the edge of somebody else’s, but . . .’ She shrugged.
   ‘And her sister, Mrs Easton?’
  ‘Lydia.’ Eleanor sighed and then spoke in such a low voice that he could hardly hear her at first, but he realised it was Nicholas she was trying to protect although the small boy had moved away to watch house martins feeding their chicks in a nest under the platform roof. ‘She’s lovely. Gentle, kind, frail. Seems . . . a bit detached at times, not in a cold way, but just not part of us all, increasingly so in the last few weeks. She’s not forty yet but she’s slightly rheumatic and with her poor health and of course her beastly, tragic life, she looks older, poor woman.’ She stopped as if expecting an immediate response. ‘You remember the Easton case of course?’
  He didn’t.
  ‘Lydia’s quite a bit older than Frances – they’re only half-sisters. They were both born in America, not that you can tell – they’ve been in England most of their lives. She must have married Digby Easton twenty years or so ago. They had just one child: Katherine – Kitty. Before the war, when Kitty was five, she disappeared.’
  She shook her head. There was a sudden exhalation of steam and the train started to pull out. Nicholas was jumping with excitement. Eleanor turned and smiled as she watched him but then her face changed. ‘It’s unimaginable, losing your only child and never having any idea of what happened to them.’
  As the train disappeared, the stationmaster let Nicholas wave the flag. Eleanor’s eyes never left him.
  ‘But that’s how it was,’ Eleanor said, turning back again. ‘They left her in bed, asleep, and in the morning she was gone.’
  ‘Good God,’ Laurence said, the whole overwhelming story taking time to sink in. ‘William said they’d lost a child, but I’d assumed there’d been some illness. I can just remember the case now I think. I suppose I was at Oxford.’
   ‘Poor Lydia,’ Eleanor said, standing up. ‘She never saw Kitty again, never had another child and then war came and in 1917 Digby was killed.’ Eleanor stopped, as if still shocked by the enormity of Lydia’s loss. ‘Did William mentioned the memorial maze? Most of the men in the village were lost in France as well,’ she continued eventually. ‘The usual stupid thing: they all joined together. Solidarity. Brotherhood.’ Her voice was simultaneously scornful and perplexed.
  ‘Many of them were probably in reserved jobs, too,’ Laurence said, following her down the platform. ‘Farmworkers and so on. Though indoor servants and keepers – I suppose they had to go.’ But most of them were also probably bored with their small lives, he thought. It had all seemed such an adventure at first.
  Eleanor reached Nicholas and took his hand. ‘Digby was company commander, I think. Julian in effect was his number two. As in life, so in death. The youngest brother – Patrick – has had a minor problem with his heart since childhood and despite his efforts was passed unfit for active service, I gather. The Easton men went to war together and died together.’
  ‘But Julian Easton came back?’
  ‘Frances says much changed. And I think they’re struggling to work the estate. Easton Deadall is a village of widows, children and old men. They only really have David – he’s our driver today – to lend a pair of strong hands around the house and gardens.’
  ‘He survived too?’
  ‘Well, yes, obviously.’ She gave him an amused look. ‘Local, but not one of the Easton boys. He was a sapper, I think. Apparently he saved Julian’s life under fire. Of course neither man talks about back then.’ She glanced at him. ‘Rather like you.’ But she patted his arm affectionately. ‘The only other survivor was a chap called Victor Kilminster who couldn’t face returning and ran off to New South Wales. Julian helped him resettle, I think. But I heard he’s due to come back soon. Julian’s rather grumpy about it.’
  But Laurence was scarcely concentrating as his mind returned to Kitty Easton and he slowly recalled more of the story of the disappearance. It had been front-page news for a while but then international tensions had consigned the Easton child to history everywhere but Easton Deadall.
  ‘And the little girl – they didn’t think she could have gone off by herself?’ he said, very quietly. ‘Five isn’t that young.’
  ‘Possible I suppose.’ She let her son go ahead. ‘But she was in an upstairs room in the middle of a corridor. Her nanny slept in the next bedroom. The house was locked up and Kitty was frightened of the dark apparently.’ She bit her lip. ‘So, possible, but unlikely. And they searched everywhere. How far could a five-year-old have got in the middle of the night?’
  While Laurence was serving in France he had lost his wife in childbirth and the baby had died with her. For the last months of the war he had not cared whether he lived or died; he was probably a liability to others, but the cynic in him believed his survival was certain once life had no value for him. But to lose a living child and never know what had happened to her was, as Eleanor said, hard even to think about.

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The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton 3.8 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 10 reviews.
deadeye_76 More than 1 year ago
Started a little slow for me. It didn't set the hook immediately. However, the character development is outstanding and things really pick up and speed to a good finish. I liked it and hope the author continues the Bartram series.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Enjoyed the mystery, social themes of a by gone era, and depth of charaters.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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AnonMI More than 1 year ago
I am nearly to page 105 and am bored absolutely stiff so far.  I've read many mysteries over my lifetime, but there are few that I can honestly say I never finished because I was bored and the book not worth reading.   I'm determined to read through this entire book although right now, if it were not an ebook and was hard copy, it would be sitting on a shelf ready for recycling. I will trudge on, hoping that those of you who have said it was a great read know something I've yet to learn.  If I eventually change my mind,I will let you know.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very well written atmospheric suspense. I highly recommend it for readers who enjoy post WW1 old English manor/village Agatha Christie- like historical fiction.
JacksonvilleReader More than 1 year ago
I'm hooked on Elizabeth Speller's novels. I very much like books based in this time (pre-and post-WWI), but the type of unfolding of events and personal stories to reveal the ending. Very much like Maisie Dobbs books by Jacqueline Winspear. I look forward to more by Speller.
IYamVixenBooks More than 1 year ago
Rarely do I read a book that compels me to immediately go out and find the next in series. THE RETURN OF CAPTAIN JOHN EMMETT, the first in the Laurance Bartram series, was one such book. I enjoyed the pace of the book, the character studies, and the bit of mystery that was there. I could only hope that the second in the series would be as superb. And it was. This one is set a few years after the first book. Laurence has published his architectural book of churches in England and has become a teacher at a local school. He is invited by a friend to come have a look at a church that was discovered to have additional intriguing aspects while being restored. It's part of a larger project Laurence's friend has taken on for a wealthy family in the country. Laurence arrives to find that the church and the restoration project are indeed intriguing, but not as much as the wealthy family. There is a pall of sadness over the family members, sadness brought on by the unexplained disappearance of a young daughter of one of the two sisters living in the house. The daughter has been missing for some time, since she was five, gone in the middle of the night and never seen again. No one knows if she's alive or dead. Her mother behaves as if the child will be coming down the stairs any moment. The rest of the family gently enables her belief. Laurence begins to find information that various members of the family would wish remain hidden. So there is more to the mystery than the disappearance of a young child. I really cannot wait to read more of this series. I hope the next books comes out soon.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Moaned loudly and cu.mmed (ive gtg)