‘I know,’ she sighed, ‘but I don’t feel I can stand by and do nothing. I really don’t know what to do. If Mr Beckler is doing something underhand, then it is at the instigation of his patron, Mr Hope, or at least something that he believes will please Mr Hope. Richard told me that Mr Beckler does not own the premises in Ship Street. The purchase was made with the help of a large loan from Mr Hope. He owes him a great deal of money. He dares not offend him.’
‘I can see that, although a better man might have stood up to him no matter the cost. So, what is it you believe your brother is involved in?’
Mina described the new project of photographing the grave sites in the Extra Mural Cemetery.
Dr Hamid considered this information. ‘And thus far your brother has done no more than locate the graves and make some sketches at the behest of his employer?’
‘Yes. Thus far.’
‘Well, he cannot be blamed for that. Even if Mr Beckler has some nefarious scheme in mind, all your brother has done is carry out an apparently innocent request from his employer.’
‘I was wondering —’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘If I told you which gravesites they were, perhaps you could suggest a reason why those were chosen?’
Dr Hamid folded his arms and gave her a stern look. Mina knew that expression. He had been drawn into her investigations several times, often much against his will and better judgement, and he knew it was going to happen again. Yet he also knew that if he did not advise her, it would not put an end to her efforts. It occurred to her that just as she felt bound to protect Richard from his often reckless and thoughtless behaviour, Dr Hamid felt, probably in memory of his dear late sister Eliza, an obligation to protect Mina. She felt grateful to have such a good friend and thought how much better a thing it was for a gentleman to be purely a friend and not a husband.
‘Very well,’ he said at last, ‘I will tell you what I know, as long as it does not betray any confidences, or contravene my professional obligations.’
Mina had copied the names Richard had given her onto a sheet of paper and handed it to Dr Hamid. ‘I see you came prepared for my acquiescence,’ he said, with a glance of amused resignation before studying the list.
Mina observed his features as he read, the slight frowns of puzzlement, the signs of recognition or failure to recognise.
He took a deep breath. ‘Mrs Eleanor Honeyacre, as we both know, was the first wife of Mr Honeyacre of Hollow House. I did not know her well, but she was brought here on occasion for relief from her symptoms during her final illness. Anna attended her. Mr Aloysius Phipps was, I assume, one of the Phipps family of solicitors?’
‘He was. I believe he founded the firm.’
‘I can tell you nothing about him, though. Porterson-White — the name is familiar, but I don’t believe I ever met her. I have a vague memory that she was a lady of some wealth, and there was a lawsuit concerning a will. I must have read about it in the newspapers. But it was very many years ago, and I assume that it has been long settled. Frederick Soules. There is a manufacturing chemist of that name. That is as much as I can tell you.
‘Now, Mr Hector Samprey I did know, as he was a patient of mine. He died about five years ago. He was a landowner who built many of the better properties in Sussex. Some years before his death, he and his wife were involved in a carriage accident in which Mrs Samprey was killed and he injured his legs and back so severely that he was unable ever to walk again. That is a matter of public knowledge. His visits here were to ease his pain with massages and herbal vapour baths.’ Dr Hamid mused on the memory. ‘I felt great sympathy for him. His fortune brought him no pleasure. He was a devoted family man who grieved for the loss of his wife, and there was a son, his eldest, I believe, for whom he had great hopes, but who died in very sad circumstances. A wayward boy who fell in with some dangerous and desperate criminals and came to a bad end. I sometimes wonder if Mr Samprey’s death was due less to his declining health from his injuries, than his great sorrow, and his wishes to be with his poor wife.’ His face clouded a little as it always did when he thought of his own late wife. ‘In his last weeks he knew he was dying, but the cruel loss of his son hastened his end.’
‘Do you know any of the other names?’
‘They are not familiar to me.’
‘I thought Mr Veale might be related to the confectioner’s business which is listed in the town directory.’
‘That is certainly possible.’
‘And Mr Mulgrew? There is no one of that name in the directory.’
‘He is a mystery. But if you are so eager to discover more, why not take a walk in the cemetery? It is a very peaceful place, and much recommended for a quiet stroll and contemplation.’
‘Is that your new prescription?’ asked Mina with a smile.
‘It is. In fact, there is a book by a Mr Bishop which describes recommended walks for the visitor.’
‘That sounds delightful. I have only ever visited the cemetery to lay flowers for my father, and Mother has always been so distressed on those occasions that we were unable to do more than that and came straight home. Perhaps after the betrothal celebration when our visitors have left, I will find a little quiet time for myself.’
Dr Hamid was expecting another appointment, and Mina thanked him for his counsel and departed. On her way home, she visited a bookshop and purchased a copy of Mr John George Bishop’s Strolls in the Brighton Extra Mural Cemetery. But nothing could bring her as much peace as having finally unburdened herself of her horrid secret.
Her route home took her past the confectionery shop of Veale and Sons, and she decided to go in. Mina had never entered the shop before, although the window display was extremely enticing. As soon as she crossed the threshold her senses were assailed by a variety of perfumes, the aromas of sweet chocolate, boiled sugar, vanilla, rose, and violets. There were well-dressed young ladies behind the counter in crisp white aprons and starched caps, and an older lady looking on with a managerial eye. A temperance notice behind the counter assured customers of the purity of all ingredients used in their stock of comestibles which were guaranteed to be free of any intoxicating liquor. Mina was able to move about at her leisure, inspecting what was on offer. The young ladies smiled politely, although there was no denying the way their glances lingered on her tiny tilted body and awkward gait.
The countertop supported tiered cake stands with whole chocolate cakes, ready to be cut into elegant slices, iced fancies decorated with candied fruit, fresh custard tarts, and crisp wafers dipped in caramel, but the main delight of the shop was its magnificent array of sweetmeats, which provided something to suit every pocket. There were jars of glistening barley sugar twists, smooth striped peppermint humbugs, boiled sweets in a multitude of colours heaped high like a sultan’s jewels, sugar coated almonds, trays of creamy fudge and slabs of dark toffee, so hard it had to be broken up with miniature hammers. Below the countertop, under glass, were displays of Veale’s premium cream-filled chocolates. These were either sold by weight or in special giftboxes in white, pink or mauve, printed with the name of Veale’s and depicting what treasures lay within.
Mina thought that since she was intending to meet Nellie, who often treated her in the best teashops, she would purchase something to consume on their outing, something that could easily be shared as they walked. Unsure of what flavour to buy, she eventually asked for a quarter of a pound of vanilla creams, which she took away in one of the shop’s decorated paper bags.
She wrote a little note to Nellie suggesting a visit to the cemetery, and later that same evening received a reply saying that the carriage would come to collect her the next afternoon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the morning of the betrothal luncheon, Mina arrived early at the Grand Hotel to reassure herself that every detail was in place. The table was set with a brilliant white cloth and silver cutlery, the decorative arrangements were fresh and colourful, and at one end of the obl
ong room appropriate seating and music stands had been made ready for the string trio. The walls were adorned with framed displays of Miss Hooper’s pressed flowers, which Mina was obliged to admit were either insipidly faded in colour, or of no colour any plant ought rightly to have. Miss Hooper had evidently not made a study of botany since each plant was not given either its common or Latin name, but had been accorded some fanciful title, presumably of her own devising; ‘fairy flowers’ and ‘sky blossom’, and ‘touch me not’.
Mina had arranged for a posy of fresh flowers to be there ready for Edward to present to his bride-to-be, and she received them with a blushing smile before laying them by her plate. Every so often she inspected them, as if assessing how they might appear after their decease.
The placing of the diners gave Mina a better opportunity to observe her new family connections, and she saw little glances of understanding pass back and forth, transmitted from person to person as if by invisible telegraph. If Miss Hooper required guidance, she would look at Mrs Gostelow and only then would she convey her wishes to Edward, all unspoken but no less powerful for that.
Mina’s mother assumed her preferred place at the head of the table with Miss Hooper to one side and Edward to her left, where she could bombard them with opinions and advice uninterrupted. At a more comfortable distance, Enid regaled Richard with her determination to enter the high life of London and establish herself as the fashionable hostess of glittering events. Richard’s career, Mina’s activities and her own children did not feature in her conversation. Her husband’s occasional praise of the delights of healthy exercise on the open road met with a fond smile of acknowledgement before an immediate return to the topic in hand.
The meal consisted of poached fish, roast game, and an apple charlotte, after which a stroll on the seafront to settle the stomach would have been refreshing. However, due to the importance of the occasion and Miss Hooper’s suggestion, which Edward accepted without question as a command, the company was taken to Ship Street in two cabs, like some grand procession.
Mr Beckler greeted them with a series of polite obeisances, and large friendly smiles, which were not a pretty sight, as he had strange carnivorous-looking teeth, but Mina’s mother seemed not to have noticed this and greeted him warmly. They were conducted to the studio, where there were velvet draperies as a formal backdrop, and a row of chairs, the subjects being flanked on either side by pedestal plant stands topped with vases of fresh flowers.
Mr Beckler employed all his experience in photographing family groups, and circled around them, busily arranging, advising, making careful placements, and then checking through the lens of the camera until they were all situated according to his requirements. Mrs Scarletti interrupted occasionally, stating where she preferred both herself and others to be placed, but he merely smiled indulgently and ignored her. When she attempted to order people to move according to her wishes, he continued to smile and talked of lighting and shadows and angles and exposure times in such bewildering detail that he could not be contradicted, and Mrs Scarletti eventually announced that she thought that he was quite right and this was what she had been saying in the first place.
The final arrangement of persons was as near symmetrical as could be achieved with so many people of differing sizes. Unusually Mina was not placed far to one side to languish as a forgotten creature at the edge of the portrait. Edward and Miss Hooper were seated in the centre, Mina’s mother sat beside Edward, and Mina beside Miss Hooper. Richard, Enid, Mr Inskip and Mrs Gostelow stood at the rear. More pictures followed, with Mr Beckler expertly inserting the dark frames into the camera, then extracting the exposed plates protected from the light. In addition to the group he also took a picture of the affianced couple, and another of them with Mrs Scarletti and Mrs Gostelow. Enid and Mr Inskip were also immortalised as a couple. The final picture was of the Scarlettis: Edward, Richard, Mina and their mother.
Mina was not sure if her dislike of the photographer was causing her to imagine things, but she thought that Mr Beckler spent more time over that last portrait than the previous ones. He made several little adjustments to the camera, using the winding handle to raise and lower it. As he did so, there was a little snigger from Enid, who seemed to think this was due to Mina’s lack of height.
The photography done, Mrs Scarletti was quick to compliment Mr Beckler, who departed with the glass plates for immediate development, saying only that the prints would be available for inspection on the following day. Edward fussed a little over this as he had hoped to go home next morning, where his desk called to him, but Miss Hooper persuaded him to stay on to see the finished pictures and he agreed. Richard made an appointment for them to come and view the prints in the afternoon, while Miss Hooper amused herself by examining frames.
Richard, sensing that some family duty might be assigned to him if he remained with them, chose to return to his post in the shop. The remainder of the party drove back to Montpelier Road, Edward fretting all the way about the lost day of business.
Mrs Scarletti chattered unceasingly about how relieved she was that it was all done, since the strain on her nerves had been intense and she was sure she was about to suffer one of her headaches. Mina was not sure how she felt. Yes, it had gone as well as could be expected, and her second encounter with Mr Beckler that week had at least been in company where the discomfort had been minimised, but there was something in his manner that disturbed her, and she could not describe even to herself what it was.
For once there was no opposition to Mina’s plans for that afternoon; in fact, it appeared that no thought at all had been given as to how she might like to amuse herself once the betrothal celebration and photographs were over. Miss Hooper had instructed Edward to round off her special day by conducting her and Mrs Gostelow on a tour of the sights of Brighton, before enjoying a late supper at the hotel. Enid had demanded that her husband accompany her on a visit to the premier fashion shops in town, if only to look them over and complain that they were not up to the standard of London. Mrs Wheedon was taking the children out to enjoy the sunshine and sea air, leaving Mrs Scarletti to nurse a maternal headache.
At the appointed time, Nellie’s little carriage drew up in Montpelier Road and Mina, clutching her copy of Mr Bishop’s Strolls and one of the potted table decorations she had taken from the Grand Hotel, and with the bag of Veale’s vanilla creams in her reticule, left the house and climbed aboard. Even if Richard was at work that afternoon, and she was under the eye of her dragon, Nellie knew better than to arouse suspicion by entering the Scarletti home. Nellie was, as always, perfectly groomed, and dressed in the best summer style, a brightly patterned costume in light silk with a large straw hat trimmed with ribbon. In anticipation of their walk, she carried a parasol of matching fabric ornamented with lace. There was no sign on her complexion that her face had ever been touched by the Italian sun.
Mina, settling comfortably beside her friend, found herself facing Nellie’s new maid, Miss Fletcher. She was about sixty years of age, with a dried, bony, withered look of an aged vine that enveloped and crushed the life out of everything it encountered. Her expression was cold, stern and intensely watchful, and Mina realised that she would be observing not only her mistress, but also herself for any sign that secret messages might pass between them.
Nellie appeared to be cheerful enough and expressed her great delight at seeing Mina again. She was making the best of her position, tied to a husband who did not command her affection, given every comfort in life apart from the feeling of being loved, admired for her face and figure but nothing else. Mina did not have the option of marriage, having been told long ago that her health precluded it, but even if it had been a possibility she felt unable to imagine inviting or enduring such a fate.
The conversation covered the usual politenesses: enquiries as to the health of the parties, and a discussion of the weather. Mina gave an account of Edward’s betrothal celebration, and Nellie stated that she adored Italy in su
ch vague terms that Mina gathered that she had hardly enjoyed herself at all.
‘How is Zillah faring?’ asked Mina. She almost mentioned Hollow House but stopped herself just in time. To reveal that she knew Richard’s news might have excited suspicion in Miss Fletcher. ‘You told me in your letter that she had been unwell while you were in Italy.’
‘She is in perfect health, now,’ said Nellie. ‘I have sent her to Hollow House to look after Mrs Honeyacre.’
‘I assume that the ghosts, such as they were, are no longer troublesome.’
Nellie smiled, since there had been, after all, no evidence of any haunting. ‘Zillah is far too sensible to allow such superstitions to bother her. She is comfortably settled, and very cheerful in the company of her good friend Miss Pet.’
Miss Pet, who, like the second Mrs Honeyacre had once been in the theatrical profession had adapted her talents as a dresser and costume maker to that of a ladies’ maid. A quiet, shy girl, she and Zillah had formed a touching friendship during the eventful stay in Hollow House the previous January.
‘And Mrs Honeyacre — I trust she is also well? When is the happy event due?’
‘A first child is always a nervous time, but she is well and strong, and hopes to become a mother in about three months. But Zillah will stay on for a while after that.’
‘I had hoped to pay a visit if it is not too inconvenient. Now that the weather is fine, and I am recovered from my indisposition, it would be a good opportunity to see Hollow House at its best. January was not its most attractive month, and the company then left something to be desired.’
‘You mean Mr Beckler who you found to be such a nuisance. And now here he is in Brighton. I do hope that you have not been troubled by his attentions,’ said Nellie.
‘I have made it very clear to him that I find his mere presence detestable,’ said Mina.
To her surprise, Nellie laughed. ‘Oh, do take care, my dear; that is the very thing calculated to arouse a gentleman’s interest.’
The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6) Page 8
