After some hesitation, she calculated that as long as she stayed at the end of the chapel, near to the door, and exercised her special talent of hiding behind persons larger than herself, she would be able to observe the service without Mr Hope noticing that she was there.
She crept in, and took a seat beside an extra-large lady, who was in conversation with a slightly smaller lady, picked up a hymn book and bent her head over it, perusing the contents with great attention.
The service began with a brief encomium from a clergyman, regaling the mourners with the long career of Mrs Ragdon, her devotion to helping others, her goodness, her selflessness, her essentially spiritual life. There was a hymn for which the congregation was asked to stand, and even so far removed Mina could hear Mr Hope’s baritone boom above every voice in the chapel.
They were seated again, and the lady to whom Mr Hope had been speaking rose and went to stand at the little lectern.
‘My sister,’ said the lady, ‘was a saint. She was placed on earth for one purpose, and that was to help others. Countless numbers had cause to be grateful to her, countless individuals came to ask her for the answers to the questions that most troubled them, and all without exception received comfort and reassurance. Many were sick and were healed. Even when Mary was struck down by disease, exhausted from her valiant work giving her own strength to those she felt needed it more than she, even when unable to see or hear or speak, she was bathed in an atmosphere of special grace. Her fame was not diminished, her powers never left her. Those who came to pray by her bedside had their prayers answered. I do not feel now that I have lost my sister. Her soul is in heaven, where she continues her holy work. But I feel her presence is here still; she lives in my heart, and her example will guide me for the remainder of my earthly life.’
There was a murmuring of approval amongst the congregation.
There followed a reading from the Bible, and then Mr Arthur Wallace Hope stepped up to speak. Mina shrank further back into the shadow of the extra-large lady.
‘I first met Mrs Ragdon some years ago, on my return from the Crimea,’ said Mr Hope in his best lecturing voice. ‘She was then at the height of her powers. She told me of the tragic death of her husband and how she had for a short time lost all her motivation to live. Then, as if by a miracle, his spirit came to her, and urged her to live on, as she had important work to do. God’s work. Since then, she has been an example to the world. Her gifts were unparalleled, her achievements without equal. She could see both into the future and the past. She could heal the sick. She will live in fame forever. It was my honour to know her.’
Mr Hope resumed his place. As the congregation rose for a final hymn, and the parade of the coffin out of the door, the slightly smaller lady whispered to the extra-large lady, ‘What did Mr Ragdon die of?’ There was a guttural rumble which might have been a cough or a laugh before the answer came. ‘Vice.’
Mina realised that the parade would take Mr Hope past her, but fortunately he was on the other side of the chapel from herself. He had taken the arm of Miss Mulgrew and was patting her wrist comfortingly. All his attention was therefore devoted to the sorrowing sister, and he did not notice Mina’s diminutive presence.
Mina waited just inside the chapel door for the moment when she could depart unseen by Mr Hope. Instead of attending the interment, however, he turned and made his apologies to Miss Mulgrew, then bowing respectfully he boarded a waiting carriage, presumably, thought Mina, on his way to one of his speaking engagements.
She decided to join the little procession, which headed for the open grave. Once the brief service was performed and the coffin lowered, little clusters of people gathered about Miss Mulgrew, who remained in steadfast good humour. Mina was unsure of whether to approach Miss Mulgrew for a conversation or wait for another more appropriate moment, but then Miss Mulgrew chanced to notice her. Making her excuses to the sympathetic faithful, she came to speak to Mina. Her expression was not especially friendly.
‘Miss Scarletti, I believe?’
‘You are correct,’ said Mina.
‘I am somewhat surprised to see you here, unless of course you have come to pay your respects to a genuine medium?’
‘I was never acquainted with your sister, but I am always respectful to those who bring peace and comfort to others. I have been told that she did a great deal of good in the world.’
‘She did,’ said Miss Mulgrew, proudly. ‘She numbered amongst her devotees all the most renowned personages in the town. They all flocked to see her.’
‘How gratifying,’ said Mina. ‘I wonder — did my good friend Mr Honeyacre of Hollow House ever consult your sister? He is a great student of matters spiritual. I must ask him when I next see him.’
‘Oh, I can assure you, he did. I remember him well. He brought his first wife to see us when she was suffering in her last illness. She was very weak, and in great pain much of the time, but she never complained. She always said that her visits gave her great relief. She was an angel on Earth, and it was always certain that the Lord would soon take her into his Heavenly choir, but with the blessing of my sister, her passing was eased.’
Another connection, thought Mina. She decided not to push further with her questioning on that subject in case it aroused suspicion. ‘You have some wonderful memories,’ she said. ‘Perhaps, dare I suggest it, your sister’s career should be memorialised in a volume? It would be a monument to her work and a benefit to society.’
Miss Mulgrew smiled agreement. ‘I am no writer, but my late brother was. He led a simple and blameless life, devoted to study. He wrote a great number of religious tracts. It was always his belief that Mary was a great mystic and holy healer. He wrote a short history of her career.’
‘Was your brother Mr Robert Mulgrew? The respected scholar?’ exclaimed Mina.
Miss Mulgrew looked gratified at Mina’s response. ‘Indeed, that is he.’
‘I am familiar with his writings. Was his history of Mrs Ragdon ever published? I have not seen it for sale or in the library.’
‘He had a number of copies privately printed. A dozen, perhaps. They are mainly in the hands of the family and close friends.’
‘Then I suppose there are none for sale. What a shame.’ Mina took a card from her reticule. ‘Miss Mulgrew, you may not know this, but my brother Edward is a director of a publishing house in London. He publishes histories and works of scholarship. I would be delighted to recommend that he take a look at your brother’s book with the object of bringing out a new edition.’
‘Oh,’ said Miss Mulgrew, taking the card. ‘That is very kind of you, I will consider it.’
‘I am surprised that this has not been suggested to you before.’
‘Indeed. I presented Viscount Hope with a copy when he visited Brighton last year, and he is a very renowned author, yet he has not suggested that my brother’s little work merited a wider edition.’
Mina was silent for a moment. ‘Miss Mulgrew, if there is a copy of the book in your possession which I might purchase or borrow, I would regard it as a very great favour.’
‘Certainly. I will see what I have.’ Miss Mulgrew handed Mina her card. ‘I wonder — would you attend our next séance tomorrow evening?’
Mina hesitated. ‘Will Viscount Hope be there?’ she asked, trying to make it appear that she was eager to meet him, rather than the opposite.
Miss Mulgrew smiled indulgently. ‘I am very sorry, but no. I did invite him, but he is engaged to deliver lectures every evening for the next week. He may be free to visit us in future, but I cannot guarantee it.’
Mina stared at the card. ‘I would very much like to attend. Forgive me, I am not used to such invitations; many mediums are fearful of me.’
‘Your reputation is well known, but you will find nothing to disturb you. We have an excellent medium. She is the best in England, perhaps the world.’
‘Do I know her?’
‘No, it is my sister. A little matter such as dea
th does not diminish her powers. Her work continues.’
The mourners were departing, and Miss Mulgrew took her leave expressing how eager she was to receive the renowned Miss Scarletti at the forthcoming séance. Mina remained in the cemetery and with the aid of her map was able to discover both the graves she had been looking for. The Bawtree grave recorded the burial of the young woman who had died from the falling gate, her mother who had passed away some ten years previously and also her father, the man who had blamed the Clover family for his daughter’s death, and who had died only six months ago. Given that the father was no longer demanding redress from the Clovers for the death of his daughter, Mina wondered if it was likely that Septimus Clover would feel any urgency in resolving the dispute by contacting the spirit of the deceased.
The Clover grave was rather more interesting. Sacred to the memory of Mrs Elizabeth Clover, beloved wife of Samuel, only sister of the late Hector Samprey, much mourned by her seven children, nephews and niece. Septimus Clover, Mina now realised, was first cousin to the Samprey brothers and sister. Mr Hartop had mentioned that young Mr Clover’s family had been troubled. But had he meant the Clovers or the Sampreys? This discovery opened up new possibilities.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mina hired a cab from the cemetery gates, and on her way home reflected on what she had discovered. She now addressed her thoughts to the possibility that Mr Clover’s enquiries of Lady Brighthelm related not to the Clovers at all, but to the Samprey family, his deceased uncle and aunt, and the murdered cousin.
The Samprey monument had been one of those photographed by Mr Beckler, and even though Mina had not seen the picture she felt sure that it would show deceased Sampreys convening amicably about their tomb. As a family member, Mr Clover might have seen or at least been told about that photograph and this might well have inspired him to consult a medium. It had not inspired the Sampreys to do so, but not everyone was agreeable to consulting a medium. Mr Clover’s interest in the history of his family was understandable. But why had he been so agitated? What questions had he asked the medium to answer? As far as Mina was aware, the only death in the family which was not fully explained was that of his aunt, Mrs Samprey. Was this what concerned him? Had her death been a pure accident? The result of negligence? Or something more sinister?
Mina felt sure that Miss Hartop, avid collector of gossip and scandal, was well acquainted with the turbulent history of the Sampreys. If as Lady Brighthelm she had hinted that she might be able to reveal the truth behind the death of Mrs Samprey, that could have provided a motive for someone to silence her.
Mina decided to write a letter.
Dear Mr Hartop,
I do hope that Miss Hartop is well on her way to recovering her health in full.
I hope you will not object to my asking some questions which may or may not have a bearing on these unfortunate recent incidents. Would Miss Hartop be able to recall if any of her clients as Lady Brighthelm asked her to contact deceased members of their families who had expired under particularly notable circumstances?
Assuring you of my very greatest good wishes,
M Scarletti
Mina received a reply the following day.
Dear Miss Scarletti,
Thank you for your enquiry. My daughter is gradually regaining her strength, although her voice is still very weak.
I asked her your question, and she was able to tell me the following which she thought especially interesting.
She recalls a very persistent gentleman who sought to contact the spirit of a cousin regarding a lost will which he felt sure would be greatly to his advantage. She did not know how the cousin died, and he refused to supply a name, but the behaviour of the gentleman did not recommend him to her. The spirit had few words to say, and the gentleman left in a dissatisfied state and did not return.
A lady, who wore a ribbon which proclaimed her to be a devotee of the temperance movement, hoped to discover that her late husband had not been addicted to the consumption of alcohol, as had been alleged, but had been done to death by unnamed persons. The husband’s spirit told her that he was in heaven where he drank only sweet water. I think the widow was a little mollified by that thought. Hannah also recalls that she received a little box of chocolates from the lady, which she consumed without ill-effect.
Also, Mr Septimus Clover, as we know, visited a number of times. He was very anxious to contact the spirit of his late cousin, Hector Samprey junior. That was a death that upset all the family. The sister, Clarissa Samprey, actually dreamed about the murder before the family knew of it, a circumstance which she still finds highly disturbing. I believe young Mr Clover was hoping to soothe Miss Samprey’s anxiety on the subject by discovering more about the events of that night. I know Hannah had promised Mr Clover a conversation with his deceased cousin in due course, and he was keenly anticipating this, but Hannah needed time to establish a path to the spirit. The attack happened before she could do so.
Hannah has informed me that as a result of her illness, her powers have quite evaporated. Whatever one might feel about the brief flowering of her abilities, I for one am relieved that her career as a medium is over, as I have felt that it drained her energies. I have asked Mr Beckler to place a sign in the shop window for the information of her clients.
Respectfully,
H Hartop
The information about Clarissa Samprey was an unexpected development, but Mina had had little time to consider it when Richard took her aside just as she was preparing to go out to Miss Mulgrew’s séance and handed her a magazine. It was a recent edition of a weekly publication, The Spiritual Banner.
‘Where did you get that?’ Mina demanded.
‘It was at the shop. Beckler was reading it. Mr Hope insists he should. I don’t think it cheered him up much. But he thought you ought to take a look at it.’
‘I’ll read it when I am back,’ Mina said, going to lock it in her desk with her private papers.
‘Umm,’ said Richard. ‘There’s something on the last page you really ought to see.’
There was a disturbance in his look and tone of voice that made her comply. The last page was for correspondence, on which was a letter headed How shall we bring the disbelievers into the fold?
It is a sad fact that there are so many scientists and materialists in the world who cannot use their intelligence to see the truth. How may we save them by showing them the truth of the world of the spirit when they are so blinkered by prejudice? Alas, after many years I am obliged to think that this is an impossibility, and I should better utilise my energies to advise those who are as yet undecided rather than try to change the minds of those with entrenched opinions. Worst of all are those who undoubtedly have the power to converse with the spirit world but reject their own abilities and do not develop them. I have learnt to ignore them, but there are some who one ignores at one’s peril, those who are using their powers to oppose or even harm the great and the good in this world. I name no names. They know all too well who they are. They will stop at nothing, even murder, to work their evil. But they should beware, for I know them and will stop them. We must all be vigilant.
AWH.
Mina flung the publication into her drawer and locked it.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Richard, nervously.
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To a séance with a dead woman,’ said Mina.
She put on her bonnet and went out.
Miss Mulgrew lived in a first-floor apartment on West Street, attended only by a maid. It was the kind of accommodation usually occupied by respectable persons who placed themselves above any hint of trade but were obliged to live frugally. There were three rooms, a small parlour, with facilities for making tea, and two others, one of which had been the sickroom of Mrs Ragdon, and was now her shrine. Washing and cooking amenities were shared with other residents.
There was a small group of persons attendi
ng, and all were silently conducted to what had been the bedroom of Mrs Ragdon. The bed was made with fresh white linen and covered with a spotless quilt. There were pillows edged in deep lace frills, and a nightgown and nightcap were laid out ready for the occupant who would never come. The nightstand still bore bottles of salves and a water jug. If other more personal items had been employed in the care of the patient, these were not on display.
Mina was well aware that the burden of caring for a stricken sister must have been both exhausting and expensive. She could not blame Miss Mulgrew for using the fame of Mrs Ragdon to continue the gatherings even when the medium had been unable to conduct a séance herself.
The mantlepiece and several small tables scattered about the room were crowded with items of religious significance, crucifixes, statuettes, bibles, and little notelets and printed cards, which Mina assumed must be gifts from the grateful. There was also within easy reach the famous china teapot. One item could not help but catch Mina’s eye, a framed photograph. It was a picture of Robert Mulgrew’s grave in the Extra Mural Cemetery, and standing beside it there was a familiar figure. Mina did not have available the bound copy of the author’s collected tracts, which she had seen in the library, but she judged that the image beside the grave and that in the volume were not merely of the same man, but identical. She decided that it would not be a good idea to point this out.
Chairs were placed around the bed, and all present were asked to take a seat, lay a hand upon the quilt and silently pray.
The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6) Page 21
