His Father's Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 5) Page 5

  ‘Richard, please be serious.’

  ‘I am!’

  ‘Then be practical. Find some occupation which will enable you to earn your keep; something respectable that won’t have to be kept a secret from Mother, and then stay with it. That is all we ask of you.’

  He pouted. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘Other people in the world achieve it. Richard, you cannot go on like this forever — living a life of pleasure on other people’s money.’

  Mina’s heart sank, because from her brother’s expression that was exactly what he thought he could do.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mina never felt weaker than after the regular bedding and nightdress change and tepid sponge bath, delivered with brisk efficiency by Miss Cherry, but it was a wonderful relief when it was over and she could sink at last into laundered linen and newly plumped pillows, feeling very much as a monarch must feel when lying upon what he suspected might turn out to be his deathbed.

  Thus enthroned, she received the visit of Mr Marcus Merridew, the famous actor of Brighton.

  Mr Merridew entered every room as if emerging from the wings onto a stage where he was the acknowledged leading man. It naturally followed that the mere act of his appearing made him the admired object of all eyes. On his arrival, he stood for a moment, framed by the open doorway, looking like the portrait of a great benefactor, and gazing upon Mina with a tender and wistful expression, before extending his arms and bowing with deep respect.

  Mr Merridew, as Mina knew, had not one single hair on his head, which was as smooth and polished and pink as a sweet apple. In his recently acclaimed portrayal of Hamlet, he had been wearing a wig of long straight darkly melancholy locks but he was now displaying a torrent of golden curls that dipped almost to his shoulders, an echo of the long-departed wavelets of his youth that had once shimmered in the limelight, and made his legions of lady admirers sigh.

  ‘Dear, dear Miss Scarletti,’ he breathed, ‘how delighted I am to see you again, although the circumstances of this visit leave something to be desired. I hope and trust that you will soon be in good health, and when you are, we must take refreshments together at one of the select establishments of Brighton and talk about the delights of the town. I cannot as yet entertain you at my apartments as they are being extensively decorated and are quite unfit for visitors.’

  Miss Cherry brought a chair for the honoured guest and set it by the bed. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Merridew,’ she said, a little shyly.

  ‘Oh likewise,’ he smiled. ‘I am sure that your good care of my dear friend will soon restore her.’

  Miss Cherry blushed at the compliment, and was unable to prevent herself from blurting out, ‘My mother will be beside herself when she knows I have met you! She has seen all your plays!’

  Mr Merridew, with practised ease, looked not one whit offended at this reminder of his antiquity. ‘Please convey my very best wishes to your dear mother,’ he said, as he took his seat.

  ‘May I offer you some refreshment?’ asked Mina.

  ‘Thank you, but tonight I am attending a little soiree given in my honour, and I have been promised a veritable feast of delicacies. One must mind one’s figure, I am afraid.’ He patted his stomach, which still retained the lissom contours of his youth.

  ‘You look so very well,’ said Mina. ‘The stage is such an arduous profession.’

  ‘Why thank you, dear lady,’ exclaimed Mr Merridew. ‘She is indeed a demanding mistress but will not be denied.’ He still knew how to make the curls ripple with a toss of his head and patted them every so often presumably to reassure himself that they were still in place. ‘I have brought a little gift to cheer you.’ He brought a prettily coloured envelope from his pocket and handed it to her with a smile and a flourish.

  ‘Oh, what can it be?’ said Mina. She extracted a photograph — a portrait of Mr Merridew as Hamlet, inscribed to herself. He was arrayed in the military costume he had worn in the last scene of the play, standing in a fierce yet noble posture, and brandishing the sword with which he was about to defeat the entire Norwegian army. He was not, fortunately, displaying the decapitated head of Fortinbras, a grisly object which had, on the night when Mina had been in the theatre, elicited shrieks of alarm from the audience and caused one large and soldierly looking gentleman in the front row to faint.

  ‘How splendid,’ said Mina, ‘I must have it framed.’

  ‘There will be more!’ Mr Merridew promised. ‘My audiences clamour for them, there can never be enough. I am about to arrange for a sitting at the newest fashionable establishment in town to create a set of beautiful portraits in my finest costumes. There will be something to suit every taste.’

  ‘I will purchase them all, of course,’ said Mina. ‘And an album to put them in.’ Mina knew enough of Mr Merridew’s profession not to ask about his next dramatic offering in case he was to suffer the embarrassment of admitting that there was not one.

  ‘And I have news. My next engagement will be a season of poetry readings at a salon in the Royal Pavilion, accompanied by light refreshments. I do hope that you will be well enough to attend.’

  ‘I will be sure to do so if at all possible. The Pavilion is quite my favourite place in all of Brighton.’

  ‘As it is mine.’

  Mina seized the opportunity offered by this observation to discover more about the spirit medium who was being consulted by Mrs Vardy. ‘Mr Merridew, you are so very knowledgeable on all matters concerning the Pavilion, its treasures, and most especially its history. I have a question to ask you. I have recently been told of a lady who resides in Brighton and who claims to have been a member of the court of the late King William. She is called Mrs Barnham. Can you advise me — is her claim true, or is she merely a pretender?’

  Mr Merridew allowed a smile to slowly curve his lips and there was a teasing twinkle in his eyes. ‘Ah yes, the once famous Mrs Barnham. She is included in a little work I composed on ladies of the Royal Court at the Pavilion. But I have not heard that name for many a year. Is she still alive? She must be eighty or more.’

  Mina could not conceal her surprise. ‘Then she spoke the truth? She was a member of the court? I ask because it is so easy for someone to make a claim of fame and position in order to advance themselves, when there are regrettably few means of assuring oneself of the truth of the story. It is such a shame when people allow themselves to believe whatever they are told.’

  Mr Merridew was thoughtful. ‘If this is the actual Mrs Barnham and not an impostor, I can tell you that she was indeed at court, but not under that name. Her attendance there was prior to her marriage. And before she graced the court of King William, she was also well-known at the court of King George.’ He paused. ‘Extremely well-known.’

  The implication hung in the air during a long silence. Mr Merridew glanced at the nurse and then back to Mina, who understood his meaning, and mouthed a little ‘oh.’

  ‘Miss Cherry,’ said Mina at last. ‘I am not sure that Rose has been diligent enough in the soaking of the linens. I would be grateful if you could go and watch over her and see that she does it correctly.’

  Miss Cherry looked put out. She stared at Mina and Mr Merridew as if they were asking to be left alone in order to flirt. She rose to her feet, awkwardly. ‘I will do so, of course. But Mr Merridew, I feel it is my duty to advise you that Miss Scarletti must not be subjected to any excitement. She is still only recently out of danger.’

  ‘You have my word as a gentleman,’ said Mr Merridew, placing his hand on his heart, and giving the nurse a look that would have dissolved granite, ‘that Miss Scarletti will be cared for as she deserves, as a very great treasure.’

  ‘And now,’ said Mina, once Miss Cherry had left the room, ‘I wish to know all about Mrs Barnham.’

  Mr Merridew smiled, and adopted a heroic pose, that of a man about to declaim a work of great literature from memory.

  ‘In 1805’ he began, ‘the Prince of Wales, wh
o was then forty-two years of age, and still, so we are told, in the prime of his health and vigour, became greatly interested in a young actress, a Miss Margaret Green. She was then just eighteen and was appearing on the stage of the Theatre Royal Covent Garden where she was performing in a comedy, The School of Reform: or How to Rule a Husband in which she portrayed the virtuous Julia. The Prince at once demanded, and of course received, an introduction.

  ‘Miss Green’s powers of attraction were singular and undeniable, not only for the beauty of her face and form, which were considerable, and the refined elegance and good taste of her attire, but also the wit of her conversation which made her company highly agreeable to those of both sexes. It was said of her that she could persuade even the least susceptible of men to accommodate her every wish and achieve that without him so much as being aware of having fallen under her influence. Miss Green soon became a great favourite at court since gentlemen admired her and ladies found in her a good friend and trustworthy confidante. It is believed that when the Prince was in Brighton, she had her own secret apartment at the Royal Pavilion to which he repaired nightly to receive the consolation of her company.

  ‘Miss Green remained a constant presence throughout the Regency and was a particular comfort to the Prince during the long indisposition of his father. Unlike so many ladies of the court, she never clamoured for fame and position, and therefore never, as so many others did, fell out of favour. On the Prince’s accession as King George IV in 1820 her general popularity secured her position. Her skill in conversation never declined, and she was also adept with playing cards, being much in demand by the ladies of the nobility for the telling of fortunes.

  ‘On the death of King George in 1830 it was found that he had made arrangements for Miss Green to receive a small pension and his successor King William IV generously permitted her a minor role at court. This continued until King William’s death in 1837, after which she was no longer seen in royal circles.’

  ‘And Miss Green became Mrs Barnham?’ asked Mina.

  ‘She did. Our good and gracious Queen on her accession to the throne examined the royal finances and when she discovered that pensions were being paid to former mistresses, put an end to them. Miss Green received a small sum in lieu, and a letter to the effect that her attendance at court was no longer required. She was not in a position to protest. Soon afterwards she became the wife of Mr Barnham, a maker of ships’ instruments. Their modest income was enhanced by her skills in fortune telling. And then came the fashion for table tipping and she saw her chance to make money from mediumship.’

  ‘Then this lady may well be who she claims,’ said Mina. ‘But I am not sure that she still performs table tipping. I have been told that she has a machine that receives messages from the spirits.’

  This was news to Mr Merridew. ‘Does she now?’

  ‘I would very much like to see something like that, but of course it is not possible at present. Perhaps — I hardly like to ask — but could you make some enquiries for me?’

  ‘But of course, I should be glad to do so.’

  Mina reflected that an unfortunate result of her reputation for exposing mediumistic frauds was that many mediums refused to admit her to their presence, whether they were conducting a séance or not, and disguise was for her, not an option. Was Mrs Barnham sufficiently confident of her powers to admit a sceptic to her circle, or could she even be, and this was a possibility Mina did not dismiss, a genuine psychic? Time would provide the answer.

  ‘But I think it would be best if you did not mention my name. Yours opens doors, but in the world of the spirit mediums mine closes them.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Mina had a new inspiration. ‘In fact — why not make it known that you are writing a book about life at the court of King William, and wish to consult her? Nothing is more probable, and she is bound to be flattered. You might even offer to dedicate the volume to her.’

  ‘Flattery is one of the great arts,’ said Mr Merridew with a smile. ‘The sign of a true master is knowing when to paint it thick and when to brush it thin.’

  ‘In fact, your book should be the whole of your story. When asked, its subject should come easily to your lips.’

  ‘Have no fear, I will know my part well and perform it to perfection. But tell me, do you know anything to the detriment of this lady? Do you think her a cheat?’

  Mina paused, as she was unsure how much she ought to reveal of her true interest in Mrs Barnham’s circle. ‘As to that I have no information,’ she said. ‘I wish to satisfy my curiosity, not only concerning the lady herself and her unusual methods, but also those who believe in her. Think of it as a study to amuse me in these idle times. I am sure it will do me good to interest myself in something.’

  ‘Then I am content to be your eyes and ears.’

  ‘Only I would prefer it if we did not speak of this matter in front of Miss Cherry or Rose. They might consider the question likely to overheat my brain and cause a relapse, which is nonsense of course. And say nothing to Richard. Not a word, or he will only tell everyone about it, and then he will be very sorry he did so, and it will be impossible not to forgive him.’

  Miss Cherry returned reporting that she had made a careful examination of Rose’s steeping of the linens and corrected her in her methods. She took her seat again. There was a look in her eye which suggested to Mina that she would be hard to remove a second time.

  ‘And now,’ said Mr Merridew rising to his feet in one elegant movement, ‘it is with great regret that I must take my leave of such charming ladies. But do not fear, I shall return!’ And so, with much bowing and gestures of appreciation, he departed.

  Miss Cherry, still looking a little pink about the ears, although that might possibly have been the effect of the hot water steeping the linens, drew her book from her apron pocket and opened it. ‘The History of Butterflies’ she announced.

  Mina leaned back on the pillows and allowed her mind to flutter pleasantly through speculation.

  How, she asked herself, might someone alleviate the sufferings of Mrs Vardy and her son? Only one course of action came to mind. The situation stemmed directly from the disappearance of Mr Jasper Holt in 1864, and his unknown fate. The answer was therefore to discover the location and history of the missing man, thus putting an end to uncertainty, morbid fear and suspicion. The truth might prove to be mundane, scandalous or tragic, but Mina believed that if someone wanted the truth then they had to be prepared from the start to discover that it was not the one for which they had hoped. There would of course always be some people who even when faced with the undeniable truth would refuse to believe it and prefer their own creations, but she couldn’t help that.

  Mr Jasper Holt, like Mina’s brother-in-law Mr Inskip, was either alive or dead, but unlike Mr Inskip it was possible for him to be both at once, since he was legally dead, but could be alive in fact. The combination of threatened bankruptcy and a recent and substantial policy of insurance strongly suggested that when he set out on his boat trip, he had intended either to end his life, or as the Brighton and Hove Insurance Company clearly believed, falsify his death.

  Mina knew nothing about policies of insurance, but she thought it logical for a number of reasons that no payment would be made in the event of a death by suicide. If Mr Holt intended his family to benefit under the policy, therefore, his real or false death had to appear to be an accident. And he had to be demonstrably dead, rather than merely missing or he would be, as had been proven, a mystery without any solution other than a seven year wait.

  The question therefore was how had Mr Holt planned to prove himself dead without actually being dead? A man in his profession would have had no bloated corpse easily to hand to impersonate him, so he was obliged to disappear under circumstances that led to the inevitable conclusion that he was dead. In other words, he needed a reliable witness to his demise. Enter Mr William Sutherland, experienced boatman, as either criminal accomplice or innocent associ
ate to add veracity to the tale.

  Mina reflected that she knew nothing about Mr Sutherland other than that in 1864 he had owned a small yacht which he was willing to sell and knew how to sail it. Mr Holt, if still alive would be in his fifties but she did not know Mr Sutherland’s age, occupation or place of residence. These facts might be discoverable, but there were other things she might never know. What was the true character of Mr Holt? What for that matter were the true characters of Mrs Vardy and Mr Sutherland? Were their innocent faces merely masks of deception?

  When Miss Cherry had finished the history of butterflies she was about to embark on the subject of fancy needlework, when Mina asked if she might have her letters to read again. The letters had been placed in a box on her desk, one that contained her personal papers, and to which only she had the key. Miss Cherry brought the box, and Mina once more studied Mrs Vardy’s letter. What could she glean of the missing Mr Holt? His son was very attached to him, suggesting that he had been a kind father. His actions also showed that he was a man determined to support his family although whether from love, a sense of duty or both, was unknown. Not having the means to do so, he had undertaken a desperate plan to ensure their future comfort. If he had cared nothing for his wife and sons he would, as men sometimes did, have simply deserted them.

  It could not have been any part of his plan for the insurance money not to be paid. Which left the question of what had the plan actually been? Had he intended a later return to his wife and children under another name? Was Mrs Vardy an accomplice?

  The courts had been willing to believe that since nothing had been heard from him for seven years since his disappearance, he should be regarded as deceased. Would such a man, if alive, even if he was in hiding from fear of discovery and imprisonment for fraud, have found some means of contacting his family? Had he in fact done so?