The Royal Ghost Read online

  Richard’s association with Nellie had given Mina some disquiet, not because she disapproved of Nellie, who was as charming and clever as she was voluptuously lovely, but because of the explosion that would devastate the Scarletti household should Richard decide to marry her and Louisa discover her origins. In the event, Richard had recognised that Nellie was an expense he could not afford, and they had agreed to be merely good friends. Soon afterwards she had made a marriage that provided her with a respectable position in Brighton society.

  Nellie’s husband Mr Jordan and his business partner Mr Conroy were purveyors of high-class clothing of every description, Mr Jordan attending to the gentlemen, Mr Conroy to drapery and accessories, and Mrs Conroy to the ladies. Nellie had assured her husband that she was the best possible means of showing off new fashions all about Brighton, thus sending the ladies into a frenzy of jealousy and creating an immediate demand. Since Mrs Conroy resembled a short barrel with tight staves, Mr Jordan took the point. Having the pleasure of escorting his wife to public and private events where he was the envy of every man in the room, he was content to grant her every whim. Earlier that year, during the craze for spirit mediums and the pre-eminence of Miss Eustace in particular, Mr Jordan had made himself most unpopular in Brighton, as an uncompromising sceptic. Since then he had been rather better tolerated, the sudden downfall of Miss Eustace, the company of his delightful wife and her strict admonition that he must never utter the words ‘I told you so,’ being important aspects of his ascent in the town’s estimation. They often attended musical recitals hosted by Mrs Peasgood and, as members of that refined circle, would therefore have been invited to view the continental wonders of Mystic Stefan.

  Nellie was not one of those wives who liked to stay at home and manage the household. She and her husband occupied what had once been his bachelor apartments above the shop, but this, she had informed him, was a temporary arrangement. The rooms were quite insufficient to hold fashionable gatherings, there was no suitable boudoir for her personal use, nowhere to decently house a ladies’ maid, and far too little space for the wardrobe she wished to acquire. Mr Jordan had been charged with finding a house that would please his wife, and making the profits to pay for it.

  Thus Nellie, when not delighting society, was often to be seen riding about the town in her smart little carriage, or taking tea in all the best locations. The weather continued fine and clear, and the little equipage arrived at Montpelier Road where the driver assisted Mina into a seat beside Nellie, who wrapped her in a soft blanket in case the October air was too chill for her fragile bones. Now that Nellie was a travelling advertisement for Parisian fashion, or at least that part of it that came to Brighton, there was something more subtle in her dress. The colours were refined, the taste impeccable, the art used to display her womanly form to its best advantage spoke more of husbandly pride than the theatre, and the jewels were real. Nellie, Mina realised, was the only beautiful woman she knew who had never recoiled from her deformity, but then during her time on the stage she might well have seen worse and stranger sights.

  ‘There is a new teashop open which entices with its lovely aromas and delicate cakes,’ said Nellie. ‘I have secured a table. We slender ladies must indulge ourselves on mouthfuls of delicious air or lose our waistlines.’ They set off at a brisk rate. ‘Your brother called on me the other day; has he told you of his grand theatrical scheme?’

  ‘He has, though I am not convinced it will come to anything.’

  ‘I am already appointed to be Mrs Fitzherbert to his Prince of Wales, and he has received a promise from Rolly that once his current engagement is over he will give us his Napoleon. I am pleased to take part as a favour to a friend but Rolly has a less certain existence and if there are to be many performances he will require a fee or a share of the ticket sales. I hope Richard knows this.’

  ‘I doubt that he has given it a thought.’

  Nellie’s laugh told Mina that she had already reached that conclusion. ‘Well, I am sure some arrangement can be made.’

  ‘I hope that you are happy with Mr Jordan,’ Mina asked cautiously.

  ‘I am as happy as it is possible to be with Mr Jordan,’ smiled Nellie. ‘It is a love match. I love his money and he loves everything about me.’

  ‘Have you been invited to view the demonstration of Mystic Stefan at Mrs Peasgood’s?’

  ‘We have. Is he highly recommended? I have never see him.’

  ‘Nor I, but I would be so grateful if you could attend and let me know what you think of his performance. He is being promoted by Mr Arthur Wallace Hope. I suppose you know that that gentleman has been a caller at our house.’

  ‘All Brighton down to the very last puppy dog cannot fail to know it.’

  ‘It seems that Mystic Stefan is a friend of Dr Lynn who was at the Pavilion last year, and who has recently introduced him to Mr Hope.’

  ‘The name is not familiar, but some theatrical artists change their names if necessary – usually to avoid creditors. Mr Hope, however, has made quite a name for himself amongst conjurors.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Something between a nuisance and a laughing stock. Did you know that he and Dr Lynn are good friends? They dine together when in London, and disagree on almost everything, but that does not seem to affect their regard for each other. Dr Lynn insists that he is a conjuror pure and simple, working with specially prepared apparatus and practised sleight of hand. When Mr Hope refused to believe this Dr Lynn took the unusual step of demonstrating to Mr Hope how some of his illusions are created. He even revealed the secret of the Japanese butterfly trick, but still Mr Hope would not be persuaded. He believes that Dr Lynn is a medium who, without realising it, performs his miracles with the aid of spirits. Mr Hope has been known to openly decry those conjurors who he believes deliberately and knowingly pervert their great spiritual gifts to make money on the popular stage. He has said as much about Monsieur Baptiste, who offered to place Mr Hope in a cabinet and run him through with swords, but he has not taken up the invitation.’

  ‘Perhaps he believes that Mystic Stefan is also a medium.’

  ‘If he is promoting him I have no doubt of it.’

  Mina was digesting this observation as their carriage reached the teashop, which had been decorated in a style appropriate to the origins of its tea. She walked in assisted by Nellie, and not for one moment did she feel that her companion was using her as a foil to her own beauty or was displaying her as one might a pet marmoset. Once settled at a table with a cloth that winked white in the sunlight, tea was brought and served in thin cups decorated with peonies, accompanied by tiny meringues dipped in chocolate, and almond-crusted macarons arrayed on a silvery pagoda.

  ‘I can see why Mr Hope is so generous to Mystic Stefan if he believes he is a medium, but I also feel that another purpose is being served with the conjuror as his instrument,’ said Mina. She told Nellie of Mr Hope’s intention to see Miss Eustace free, his request for a signed paper, and the dangers to herself if she refused. ‘Mystic Stefan is a part of Mr Hope’s campaign to persuade me to his way of thinking. I had not imagined I was an object worthy of his attention, but it seems that when gossips talk of the exposure of Miss Eustace it is my name that is mentioned. If I was to change my mind about her it would work strongly in her favour. Nothing escapes his attention. He makes eyes at Enid and my mother and has expressed an interest in Richard’s play. I should mention that he has heard of Miss Foxton, but so far has not connected her or Lady Finsbury with you.’

  Nellie was sufficiently adept at disguise that no one in Brighton had identified her as either the dowdy Miss Foxton or her lustrous sprite, but many of those who had seen the one public appearance of the elegant Lady Finsbury had also met Mrs Jordan, and commented on the resemblance.

  ‘Mr Hope tells me he believes Lady Finsbury does not exist,’ Mina continued. ‘Part of his action in support of Miss Eustace is a claim that the event hosted by Lady Finsbury which showed Miss Eustac
e to be a fraud was in itself a fraud. Thus far he has not attempted to discover the lady’s true identity, but I am concerned that someone might mention to him that you resemble her.’

  Nellie seemed untroubled by this prospect. ‘Ah yes, the tangled web of deception. It is true, I am told that I do slightly resemble Lady Finsbury, although I am always at pains to state that we are not related. She and Lord Finsbury are now abroad and will remain there permanently, so comparison will not be possible. Of course when I was Lady Finsbury I did not anticipate becoming Mrs Jordan or even settling in Brighton. Neither did I anticipate the enquiries of a man such as Mr Hope. Mostly, if one looks the part and acts the part, then it is accepted that one is the part. People believe whatever suits them and even pass it on to their friends without troubling themselves to establish if it is true or a lie. I am not sure why that is, but it is a valuable thing to know.’

  ‘What should we do? So far he has not asked me who Lady Finsbury is, but he is sure that it is I who hired her impersonator. He can easily prove that there is no such title, if he has not already done so, so it is useless to have her return to Brighton. It is only because he still hopes that he can persuade or force me into declaring that Miss Eustace is genuine that he does not attack me outright. I am still being assiduously wooed in that respect but I know he is gathering resources to fight me if needs be. If you were obliged to admit the imposture would that not threaten your marriage? How much does your husband know of your past?’

  ‘He knows of my part in Miss Eustace’s arrest, and applauds it. I have also confessed my association with Monsieur Baptiste and he has forgiven me everything, but we do not speak of my past and he would not have it broadcast in town. We must bide our time and hope that the truth of Lady Finsbury will not be explored. If it is – well, I know Mr Hope and his kind, they think themselves very clever but the cleverer the man the more easily he is duped.’

  ‘He must guess that I and my family would not willingly go to a séance and so has invited us to one by a subterfuge. Who knows what Mystic Stefan might do? Bring messages from my father, perhaps. But you will come to the performance?’

  ‘I would be quite desolated to miss it, although my husband is currently in Paris, buying silk. I doubt that Mystic Stefan will demonstrate anything new, but even if I could say how his tricks are done, it would be useless to inform Mr Hope. Anyone who does so would simply be added to his growing list of potential converts to spiritualism.’

  Mina sighed. ‘I feel sorry for Mr Hope. He has had terrible losses in his life, seen so much of senseless slaughter and cruel disease; so many young men sacrificed in vain. I have no wish to take away a belief which obviously brings him comfort, but I will not have that extortionist freed from prison unpunished so she can ruin other lives.’

  ‘Dear Mina,’ said Nellie, affectionately. ‘Your concern does you credit, as does your generosity to a man who clearly means you no good. Do, I implore you, take care.’

  ‘That is what Dr Hamid says.’

  ‘He is a wise man. Too wise ever to have tempted me, but I admire him as one might admire a finely bound dictionary.’

  ‘I am very fortunate in my friends,’ said Mina. ‘I could achieve nothing alone.’ She was suddenly reminded of a phrenology head showing which parts of the brain were the seats of the various faculties. If the four friends were part of one brain then Dr Hamid would be wisdom, Richard adventurousness, Nellie imitativeness, and Mina imagination. She hoped that together it would be enough.

  Twenty-Two

  Nellie’s carriage brought Mina home to her front door. As she turned the key she was greeted by an unexpected sound of laughter, not the little trills that rang out in response to the irresistibly amusing activities of the twins, but fits of helpless merriment. Mina pushed open the parlour door and saw her mother trying unsuccessfully to stifle her peals of mirth with a lace-edged handkerchief, while Enid, also laughing, was being led around the room by Mr Arthur Wallace Hope, his hand tenderly cupping her elbow.

  ‘I do believe you almost have it, Mrs Inskip,’ said Hope.

  ‘Yes, yes, you are very near, Enid,’ gasped Louisa, dabbing her eyes. ‘Oh dear me, I never saw such a thing!’

  ‘There!’ said Enid, impulsively, and pointed to a small vase on the mantle shelf. A narrow-waisted confection, like Enid herself, it was as pink as a sweetmeat and decorated with roses. Mina knew that it usually stood as part of a cluster of similar vases, but that morning it had been moved to shelter modestly beside the much larger figure of a porcelain dog.

  ‘Oh, that is well done!’ exclaimed Hope, ‘a very quick success! You have a singular talent, I congratulate you.’

  Enid snatched up the vase, but then seemed uncertain what to do with it and looked about her.

  ‘Allow me,’ said Mr Hope and, taking it from her hand, he replaced it on the mantle shelf, very near to where it had been before.

  ‘Whatever is this?’ asked Mina.

  They had been so wrapped up in the activity that none had seen or heard her enter and all now turned to look at her.

  ‘Why Miss Scarletti, I am delighted you have returned in time for our little diversion,’ said Hope. ‘We are conducting an exercise in the power of the mind. “The willing game” it is called. And it will be all the more amusing and interesting if there are more players. Please do join us.’

  Mina entered the room with some trepidation. Had Mr Hope called expecting to find her home? If he had been disappointed, then he had certainly made good use of his time. Was the willing game an innocent amusement, or did it have another more sinister purpose? Another idea for a story crossed her mind but would have to wait to be committed to paper. ‘How is it played?’

  ‘We begin by appointing a game leader.’

  ‘That is Mr Hope!’ declared Enid.

  ‘But only for today, as it is the first time of playing,’ said Hope, modestly. ‘In future games anyone might be appointed. The company generally takes it in turns. Then one of the number is chosen and leaves the room for a few minutes. While that person is absent the other players agree on a task for her to perform. She might be asked to guess an object that is being thought of, or find something that has been hidden, or as you have just observed, moved to a new place. When the chosen person returns to the room, she is told what it is she must do, and then the game leader places a light touch on her arm while the others fill all their thoughts with the agreed task. They “will” her to understand and then complete it.’

  And now Mina could see exactly where this was tending. ‘So the object of the game is for the idea of the task to flow from the minds of the players into the mind of the person who was absent?’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Hope cheerfully. ‘How astute you are!’

  ‘But what is the purpose of the game leader?’

  ‘He or she acts as a channel through which the thoughts are conducted.’

  ‘The player might guess the task, of course, without any such communication.’

  ‘That is certainly possible, given enough time and after many false guesses, but if the task is accomplished quickly and easily then we may be sure that some “willing” has taken place. I have always found it goes better and faster when the players are related. This is excellent evidence, which in my opinion amounts to scientific proof, that there has been some transference of thought.’

  ‘Surely if the players know each other well, they will be better able to guess,’ Mina pointed out.

  Hope gave a slight smile and a casual shrug. ‘To guess, or to read thoughts, whatever you prefer to believe. Both are possible.’

  ‘Enid is very adept at the game,’ said Louisa, with quiet motherly pride.

  ‘Yes, I nearly always get it right!’ Enid exclaimed triumphantly. Mina decided not to cite the pressure of Mr Hope’s guiding hand as the most probable reason for this success.

  ‘And you, Mrs Scarletti, have also shown a rare talent for it,’ added Hope gallantly.

  Louisa simpered, and
patted her hair as she always did when enjoying the flattery of a gentleman. The pale blonde waves were still captured in a widow’s cap, but it was vanity surely that allowed a lock to escape only to be artfully restrained by a pretty comb. She wore, and would probably wear to the day of her death, an oval locket which housed a greying curl of hair, cut from Henry Scarletti’s head as he breathed his last, but she had recently added a small brooch at her throat, silver, decorated with tiny pearls, a treasured gift from Henry on the occasion of their betrothal.

  Hope turned to Mina. ‘I am sure that you would also be very successful.’

  Enid narrowed her eyes and bit her lip.

  ‘Oh, do you think so?’ Louisa protested. ‘Mina always has her head full of stories and never listens to anything I tell her.’

  ‘I believe that Miss Scarletti listens to you more than you might imagine. A loving daughter always does.’ He gazed at Mina imploringly. ‘Do try. It would please your mother so.’

  Mina felt trapped. She could hardly decline after such a request. Refusal or failure would be an insult to her mother, and if she succeeded in any measure then Hope would use this to try and persuade her that she had mediumistic abilities. For a few moments she considered the advantages of feigning exhaustion, illness or possibly death, but knew that she would not convince Hope that she was doing anything other than avoiding the invitation.

  ‘I am eager to try it,’ she said at last. ‘Tell me, how long must I remain outside the room?’

  ‘Only a minute or so. I will knock on the door to call you,’ said Hope, opening the door for her. It was a courteous gesture, but Mina felt both indulged and subtly controlled. It was not a pleasant sensation.

  Standing in the hallway, with the closed door separating her from her family and Mr Hope, Mina was conscious of the whispering that must be happening in the parlour, and wondered what was being planned. How she wished that Richard might arrive at this very moment with his disruptive clatter, but he did not. It occurred to her as she waited that during the turns of the game that had already taken place, Mr Hope had, as a result of the requirement for the brief absence of one player, spent a not insignificant amount of time closeted in the parlour with alternately her mother and her sister, and she wondered what if anything had been said on matters that did not involve setting tasks for the absent player to perform. All too soon Mina was summoned back into the room, to be faced by Louisa and Enid with unreadable expressions, and Mr Hope with the kindly smile she had come to know and distrust.