Mr Scarletti's Ghost Read online

  ‘But of course,’ said Louisa, and finishing the cake, gestured to Simmons to bring her another.

  Mr Bradley put aside his teacup, dabbed his lips with a napkin, rose to his feet and smiled. ‘Do not be afraid, Miss Scarletti,’ he said.

  ‘Is there something I should be afraid of?’ enquired Mina.

  He laughed. ‘Oh, no, nothing at all! I merely wish to touch your hand very lightly. You may or may not know this, but touch is one of what we call our five senses, and these tell us all that we need to know. I can use that sense to see and understand what others cannot. When I touch your hand, you will experience an extraordinary feeling, as the divine power, which reaches out through me, a humble vessel, meets your own immortal spirit.’ He adopted a more serious look. ‘I must first reassure you that we of the Church abhor any suggestion that the healing power we are privileged to convey comes from anywhere but on high.’

  ‘Oh, I had never thought it otherwise,’ said Louisa. ‘Can people be so envious and so cruel as to say such things?’

  ‘I regret that is so,’ said Mr Bradley, with the air of a martyr, ‘but you, dear lady, are too kind and too perceptive to think other than what is manifestly right.’ He gestured to Mina to rise, then as she eased herself from her chair, he gave a little gasp of dismay, darted forward and offered his arm. ‘My apologies, dear young lady. Let me assist you. Your spirit is so strong that I had quite forgotten your – er—’

  Mina rose to her feet unassisted, declining to complete the sentence and letting the awkward moment hang in the air.

  ‘Mina, dear, you must do whatever Mr Bradley asks of you,’ said her mother, sternly. ‘I do not want a repetition of your behaviour before those kind doctors who tried so hard to help you.’

  Mr Bradley stood facing Mina, offered her his hand with the palm upward, cupped as if it held a gift, and raised his eyebrows and nodded to show that she must place her hand in his. Mina did not care for Mr Bradley’s mournful glistening eyes and neither did she relish the thought of touching his skin, but she complied for her mother’s sake, going no further than resting her fingertips lightly on his. He smiled, taking her reserve as an expression of modesty. A few moments passed, but Mina did not experience an extraordinary sensation, which was not a matter of great surprise to her.

  Mr Bradley, who clearly needed to demonstrate that something very remarkable was taking place, took a deep breath and tilted his head back, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. Louisa, one hand pressed to her bosom, stared at him with a look of rapt admiration and just a little hint of excitement. She seemed to be holding her breath. There was a brief pause for the better increase of anticipation.

  ‘Oh but this is most wonderful!’ exclaimed Mr Bradley suddenly – his face suffused with an expression of great joy. ‘Miss Scarletti, I can see your spirit form most clearly – it clothes you in a beautiful glow, soft like the most delicate amber. And I can tell you, my dear young lady, and I know how much this will gladden your heart – that your spirit form, the one that you will wear for eternity after you have passed the veil, is as straight and tall as anyone could desire!’

  ‘But Mr Bradley,’ said Mina, with a mischievous smile, ‘why would I wish to be other than I am?’

  His fingers moved back quite abruptly, and he looked astonished, then he shook his hand, almost as if Mina’s touch had stung him.

  ‘Mina, whatever can you mean by that?’ demanded her mother. ‘This is so like you, to be wilful and impertinent. Really, I hardly know what to do with you sometimes.’

  ‘Oh, please do not fret, dear lady,’ said Bradley, recovering his composure, ‘and above all, you must not blame yourself. I can see that your unfortunate daughter labours under an affliction of the mind, one that threatens to eat into her very soul. I do believe that she cannot help what she is saying.’

  ‘But can you help her?’ asked Louisa.

  ‘The bodily—’ he paused, ‘deformity, I can do nothing for. Only the Almighty will cure her after she has passed. But I can at least intercede with the Lord to ensure that her case becomes no worse.’

  Mina’s mother gave a sigh of gratitude, as if he was making a promise that had not already been offered by more human agencies.

  ‘While she remains in the flesh, however, there is a disturbance in her spirit which I may be able to ease.’

  ‘Oh please do try,’ exclaimed Louisa. ‘I would be so very grateful!’

  ‘I will pray for her,’ said Mr Bradley magnanimously, ‘but Miss Scarletti must also work to heal herself. I advise her to pray both morning and night, and as often throughout the day as possible. And she must come to my meetings, which I intend to hold every Wednesday afternoon at Christ Church, where my little group of the devout will sit and pray and let the healing powers of the Almighty bathe them in delight. You will be there too, I hope, dear lady?’

  ‘Oh, you may count on my attendance,’ said Louisa eagerly, ‘and Mina will of course follow your guidance.’

  Mina saw that she was about to be encased again, in a device not of plaster or steel, but no less restraining for that. She was not averse to prayer, and already prayed night and morning; for the ease of her mother’s sorrows, for the souls of her father and her sister Marianne who had faded away from consumption ten years ago, for Edward’s success and Enid’s happiness and for Richard to find whatever his butterfly attention sought. Now it seemed that she must also pray for herself, but she could think of nothing she lacked that she might wish to pray for. She did not look forward to joining Mr Bradley’s assemblage of the unhappy matrons of Brighton.

  Mina, although she did not consider herself to be worldly, was under no illusions as to why her mother’s mood would be lifted by visits from a single gentleman of independent means ten years her junior and of moderately acceptable appearance. If she was honest with herself there was nothing about Mr Bradley to which she could object, especially since in one day he had brought about the improvement that Mina had been attempting unsuccessfully for a year. He was not, as far as she could see, trying to woo her mother, neither was he attempting to extract money from her; he was, she thought, a man of little or no talent who lacked occupation, and was trying to court popularity by telling people what he imagined they wanted to hear.

  It transpired later that week that the Reverend Mr Vaughan, Vicar of Christ Church, was not amenable to Mr Bradley holding his devotional meetings on church premises. The reverend had heard some of the church ladies talk about promises of healing, and despite Mr Bradley’s protestations of Christian piety, had detected a potential whiff of brimstone in the arrangement. Mr Bradley was obliged to look for other situations, and so it was decided that the meetings would be held in the Scarletti front parlour, a simple gathering for which the invitations and planning of refreshments occupied Mina’s mother for a full three days of perpetual agitation.

  Two

  The first meeting was graced by five lady visitors and two gentlemen, who kept Rose and Simmons busy with constant demands for tea, bread and butter, biscuits, sponge cake and fruit, consuming enough to feed a funeral party even before the proceedings had begun. Mr Bradley, bathing in the glow of admiring faces, and thrusting out the suspicion of a developing embonpoint, allowed himself to take centre place, and lead the company in prayer.

  Having invoked the power of God, and being satisfied that he had not inadvertently summoned a more diabolical spirit, Mr Bradley then proceeded to the healing, which was no more than inviting his little group of devotees to sit in silence and contemplate what infirmity they wished to be cured, while he walked about the circle, allowing his hand to hover over the head of each person. There were a few pitying glances at Mina, the assumption being that she would be asking for divine intervention to straighten her back, something not even Mr Bradley’s disciples deemed remotely possible.

  Mina was not thinking of herself at all, but was taking advantage of the quiet time to compose a new story about an incubus, which preyed on virtuous widows,
and which in her mind’s eye looked very like Mr Bradley. Could her mother not see that this man’s presence in their house was an insult? Where were Mr Bradley and his pretensions when her father was dying? Where was his healing power when Marianne had lost her fragile hold on life at the age of twelve? It was she for whom Mina had first started writing stories of magic and adventure, stories in which her sister was the golden-haired heroine.

  Marianne lived on in print, for unexpectedly, Henry’s business partner Mr Greville had offered to publish the stories for a new venture, the Scarletti Children’s Library. Mina was invited to visit the office and saw packets of little books piled high on shelves, some of them books that her father had never dared bring home, with stories of brigands and murderers and haunted castles, all illustrated by woodcuts. These appealed to Mina’s taste and spirit rather better than pious tales in which the worst sin that anyone might commit was vanity. When Mr Greville suggested that she might like to write him a story about a child who gave her last penny to a ragged boy, Mina was already eagerly perusing The Goblin’s Curse, and was lost forever to the world of morally improving literature.

  The peace of the little circle was broken only by the gurgling of Mrs Bettinson’s stomach and the gentle snores of a Mrs Phipps, an elderly lady who was a regular attendee at gatherings of every kind, and slept through all of them, although she always succeeded in being awake when refreshments were served. Mr Bradley then proceeded to what he announced was ‘a special healing’, which amounted to no more than his going about the circle again, taking each lady briefly by the hand, and placing his fingertips on the forehead of each gentleman. He then led the company in a final prayer, and suggested that they all needed more tea.

  One of the company, a Miss Whinstone, was a lady of Louisa’s age, but less well favoured by the hand of time. Since emerging from the period of mourning appropriate to the loss of her beloved brother, she had invariably dressed in the same unflattering shade of bronze, which was reflected in her skin and gave her cheeks a sickly yellow cast. Her face was drawn into a permanent frown of anxiety, and she always appeared to be flinching from something. Miss Whinstone had arrived with trembling fingers clutching a copy of the Brighton Gazette, which was open at the page of town news, but she did not refer to it until the meeting was drawing to a close.

  ‘Mr Bradley,’ she whispered, confidentially, ‘if I might seek your advice …’

  ‘But of course!’ he exclaimed. ‘How might I assist you?’

  She hesitated, then pushed the paper towards him. ‘I have read— I have seen—’

  ‘Ah,’ said Mrs Bettinson, whose steely gaze missed nothing, ‘yes, a most extraordinary thing, but ungodly, I fear.’

  ‘And yet there is the involvement of Professor Gaskin, who I understand is a scientific gentleman of some note,’ said Miss Whinstone, meekly.

  ‘He is said to be one of the most scientific men in the world,’ Mr Bradley assured her, ‘and I am confident that he would not lend his name to anything ungodly.’

  Mrs Bettinson looked unconvinced.

  ‘Science,’ announced a Mr Conroy, a portly gentleman with a red face, ‘is a very remarkable thing.’ He hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, thrust out his lower lip, and stared about the room in case anyone chose to contradict him.

  The assembled company agreed to a man and woman that science was indeed remarkable.

  Louisa, who did not read newspapers in case they affected her nerves, and had not had one in the house for some years, tried her best to look as though she knew what everyone was talking about, without success. Mina could see the early signs that her mother might be obliged to plead faintness to avoid embarrassment, so she quickly but politely borrowed Miss Whinstone’s newspaper, and read the article aloud. The company fell silent. Mina had a sweet, clear reading voice, and no one felt inclined to do other than listen to her.

  IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FROM WILLIAM GASKIN, FRS, PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS

  Professor Gaskin is honoured to make it known that the noted spirit medium Miss Hilarie Eustace will shortly be visiting Brighton where she will be pleased to offer demonstrations of her powers entirely gratis. Professor Gaskin, a founder member of the famous Ghost Club once patronised by the late Mr Charles Dickens, has devoted many years to the study of ghostly phenomena, and his experience enables him to state with considerable authority that Miss Eustace is entirely genuine. She has been subjected to numerous rigorous tests, all of which prove without a doubt that she is a medium of unusually consistent and convincing ability. Miss Eustace has demonstrated on very many occasions the production of spirit rappings and moving lights, all of which occur while she is in a trance. The agent of these manifestations is her spirit guide, Phoebe, a creature of the most extraordinary and angelic beauty who, when conditions are favourable, appears before astonished onlookers clad in glowing raiment. Professor Gaskin has himself seen this spirit rise from the ground, float through the air, and then melt slowly into nothingness, a sight which can only create the most profound amazement in anyone privileged to witness it. Next week’s Gazette will announce details of where Miss Eustace will be conducting her séances, and how the public might apply for tickets.

  ‘It seems,’ said Mr Conroy, with a throaty laugh, ‘that you have a rival, Mr Bradley.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Mr Bradley, cheerfully. ‘If you imagine that I am jealous of this lady’s powers or her ability to command the attention of the public then you very much mistake me. If she can indeed perform all that she claims to do, and it appears that Professor Gaskin has proved that she can, then I will gladly add myself to the number of her devoted admirers.’

  ‘Then you have not seen her demonstrations?’ asked Mina, and there was a general clamour in the room to the effect that Mr Bradley, if he had not already seen the miraculous Miss Eustace, ought to do so as soon as was practically possible.

  He raised a hand to speak and the room at once fell silent again. ‘I have not seen the lady, and it might be advisable if I was not to. Imagine, if you will, the consequences that would follow if two persons, both of whom are able to act as receptacles of supernatural power, were in the same room and one of them was to enter the trance state, which is a most perilous condition.’ He paused dramatically to allow his listeners to consider the dreadful results that might stem from that situation. ‘Of course I would do nothing to deliberately harm Miss Eustace, but suppose that by my very presence, I was to quite unintentionally attract forces that were drawn to her in her receptive state, and were more than the delicate frame of a lady could endure.’

  ‘Why, it could kill her!’ exclaimed Miss Whinstone, the tea in her cup vibrating like a choppy sea.

  ‘Or at the very least induce catatonia. She might never waken again. Such things have been known.’ Bradley shook his head, regretfully. ‘No, much as I would wish to witness one of her demonstrations, I dare not, but I can see no objection to anyone else attending. I understand that she created a very great sensation when exhibiting in London only last week. I spoke to a lady who was present on that occasion who was so overcome by powerful emotions when she tried to tell me what she had seen that she was quite unable to find words to describe her experience. You are very fortunate that Miss Eustace comes here now, for if she was here in the autumn season you would not be able to get near her for dukes and earls and countesses.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Miss Whinstone, ‘but my doctor says that I have a weak heart and a rheumatic stomach – from eating too much, or possibly from eating too little, I forget which – and I think if I was to see Miss Eustace I would catch the most terrible fright. And perhaps it might kill me, so I had really better not go.’

  ‘She wouldn’t frighten me,’ said Mrs Bettinson, and the other ladies suggested that they felt the same, apart from Mrs Phipps who, having finished her tea, had fallen asleep again.

  ‘But isn’t it all poppycock and playacting?’ said a Mr Jordan, grunting and looking at his watch, somethi
ng he liked to do every few minutes for no reason that anyone could discern. He was a smartly turned-out gentleman of about thirty who had said very little throughout the afternoon, contenting himself with an expression of deep scepticism.

  ‘If it is, the lady gains no advantage by it,’ said Mr Bradley, reasonably. ‘Of course there are persons who pretend to be mediums and attempt to play tricks on the public, but there is one sure way of knowing them. It is really very simple, they will do nothing without first being paid.’

  Mina’s mother had expressed no opinion about Miss Eustace, and after the meeting only commented that she had to wonder if such a person could be wholly respectable. Nevertheless, she told Mina to arrange for a regular delivery of all the popular Brighton newspapers and was later seen perusing them with interest. In a matter of days the dreadful Miss Eustace passed through a process of metamorphosis in which she became by stages the dangerous Miss Eustace, the alarming Miss Eustace, the uncommon Miss Eustace, the fascinating Miss Eustace and finally the astonishing Miss Eustace. One evening at nine o’clock on the hour, a hired carriage arrived in Montpelier Road and Louisa Scarletti and Mrs Bettinson boarded it in a state of very considerable excitement.

  ‘I do not know why this should be,’ said Mina’s mother, ‘but it has been my observation that men who are very clever and whose words repay the most earnest attention are often very ugly, whereas those who have been favoured with a handsome countenance have nothing in their heads worth speaking of.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Mina, ‘men with attractive faces see no reason to cultivate their minds, and men with good minds exercise them so often they have no time to make themselves handsome. But do you speak of Mr Bradley? He seems to me to have neither good features nor a mind that is out of the ordinary.’

  Her mother looked displeased, but Mina did not mind that. It was the morning after the visit to Miss Eustace, and Louisa, in command of the breakfast table, already looked plumper and rosier as if, like Brighton, she had been painted for the summer season. Mina wondered if her mother’s year of melancholy widowhood that had followed her husband’s death had in recent months been less a genuine affliction than a craving for the solicitude of friends. Now, with other things on her mind, she had turned her natural vitality to other projects.