A tall, very plainly dressed young woman stood in Kitty’s shadow and Mina recalled that she had been at the wedding, giving delicate attention to the bride’s gown and coiffure. Miss Pet, for that must be she, had a modest eye and a curious posture, as if ashamed of her height and wanting to conceal it.
Mina could not help glancing up at the façade of the house as she approached the shelter of the porch and it was then that she saw the figure at an upper window of the stone built wing. A woman, she thought, clad all in flowing white, the face indistinct through the rain and the misted glass. She looked up at Dr Hamid, on whose arm she was leaning, to see if he had noticed the figure, but his attention was on herself. ‘I hope the journey was not too tiring for you,’ he said. ‘The sooner we are inside the better.’
‘A warm fire and a hot drink will soon restore me,’ she reassured him and looked back at the window, but the figure had gone. Mina had the presence of mind to note which window it was; one at the furthest end of the property. Could the lady in white be another visitor, she wondered, or a maid preparing the guest rooms? It would be foolishness to think she might be anything else.
‘Oh, come in, come in, do!’ exclaimed Mr Honeyacre, ‘I am sorry the weather has been so unfavourable. We must hope it will improve later on. Did you have a comfortable journey here?’
‘Thank you, the way was a little muddy, but no harm done,’ said Nellie. Kitty gave the little dog into Miss Pet’s care and Nellie came forward to embrace her friend warmly. ‘My dear, you look well, the country air must suit you.’
Kitty smiled bravely.
‘And what a charming little puppy dog!’
‘Oh yes,’ said Kitty, ‘he is such a tiny scrap, but so very clever and affectionate!’
With wet umbrellas and cloaks placed in the porch to dry, the new arrivals were conducted into an entrance hall, which alone was twice the size of many a family home. Freshly painted walls, velvet hangings and gilded lamps were a welcome sight, and despite the age of the house there remained still the scent of the new. As tiled floors gave way to wood and carpet, so the sense of comfort seemed to reach out and envelop the slightly chilled and dampened visitors.
‘If you come into the dining hall, you will find a tray of hot toddies to warm you through,’ said Mr Honeyacre. ‘Then Mrs Malling will show you to your rooms and luncheon will be served in one hour. I promise our cook is second to none! We have a perfect blaze of fires everywhere and no one will be in danger of catching cold. After luncheon, if the weather permits, we can make a tour of the grounds and our little church. In any case, I know you will want to view the house. The renovations are not yet complete but we have come a long way in the last weeks.’
Mrs Malling departed together with the housemaids and Zillah and their host conducted the visitors to a set of double doors that opened onto a room of almost baronial importance. The space was dominated by a long table, which was fully able to seat twenty guests to dinner in comfort. For more intimate gatherings, a smaller round tea table nestled in one corner. The fireplace, which was loaded with blazing logs in a brass grate, was a masterpiece of the carver’s art, with pillars entwined glossily in ivy and topped by lions’ heads. Above it was a mantelpiece and an importantly tall mirror. The walls were decorated with a rich red paper dotted with gilt ornaments, the pattern thick and raised. Above the table there was a magnificent central chandelier, a thick brass stem from which there curved more delicate branches, each ending in a gilded glass lamp. The effect was of a burnished efflorescence of light. Six matching pairs of lamps were placed around the walls.
Around the perimeter of the room were carved oak settles of obvious antiquity and plinths displaying Chinese vases, while on a long sideboard, well-furnished with decorated tableware, was a tray of glasses in silver holders. When the maids re-entered, each was carrying a jug which exuded inviting clouds of hot vapour.
Mina observed that both maids were clad in dark grey uniforms with starched and frilled white aprons, caps and collars. The figure she had seen in the upper window had been clad entirely in white. Or had she been mistaken and some distortion of the glass, enhanced by the rain, had magnified the white and concealed the dark? Had there been time for one of the maids, both of whom had been occupied with the luggage, to appear briefly at the window? She would need to discover in which room the figure had appeared. Perhaps, she thought, this was the origin of the supposed haunting, a simple error, the distortion of an image seen through glass. She determined to make a written note of the experience and her theories at the first opportunity.
Cradling the comforting drink in her hands Mina felt the heat rise up to her face, like one of Dr Hamid’s fragrant vapour baths. She inhaled the aroma and then sipped the hot buttery liquid. As she did so, she considered the demeanour of the occupants of Hollow House. The senior servants, older and experienced, Mr Gillespie and the Mallings, were able to conceal their inner thoughts behind the calm exterior that it was their duty to present to their employers. The much younger and greener maids, however, hurried about their business in a more obviously nervous manner, eyes staring straight ahead as if afraid of what they might see if they were to look about them. The Honeyacres were clearly troubled and Miss Pet was a model of silent anxiety. Whatever the reason for the reported haunting, even if it was all down to a simple error, Mina could see that she must treat it in all seriousness. No idle dismissal or reassurance would do here. No one was going to be humoured out of their discomfiture.
Until this moment, Mina’s only experience of hauntings were the ghostly productions of spirit mediums; manifestations of faces and hands, and even complete figures whose glowing robes, appearing gorgeous to the untrained eyes of those who sat in darkness, owed more to the properties of phosphorus than heavenly radiance. Many of these self-professed ‘psychics’, as they had come to be known, offered entertainment to the curious and comfort to the bereaved for a modest sum, and Mina had no concerns about that. There were others, however, who, while proclaiming themselves to be the selfless servants of suffering humanity, attached themselves to their hapless victims, demanding ever-increasing fees for private séances, sometimes to the point of ruin. When no more fees could be paid, they moved on to another target. They were like the spider who traps a fly in its web, wraps it in silk, sucks it dry and then abandons the husk to look for another meal. In Mina’s opinion, these people were heartless extortionists and it was to her great satisfaction that, due to her efforts, several of them were now in prison where they belonged.
She wondered if anyone in the house professed to be a medium. If this was not the case and the family and servants were in the middle of a disturbance that they had not invited and could not control, it was a situation with which she was wholly unfamiliar.
Although Mina had never experienced a genuine haunting, she accepted that such a thing might be possible and it might transpire that this was the case in Hollow House. If so, it would have to be dealt with, most probably by the clergy. If, on the other hand, it was all a mistake, this would need to be demonstrated beyond a doubt in order to set everyone’s mind at rest. It was a hard thing to achieve in a few days and Mina was unsure of how to begin. She could treat the visit as a social call and simply observe, listen to what was discussed and form her own conclusions. Or, with Mr Honeyacre’s permission, she could start asking questions and gathering information. The next hour or so would tell her what to do.
Kitty and Nellie, as old friends, were on one of the settles talking quietly together and Mina saw Nellie pat Kitty’s hand reassuringly. Kitty took the little dog back into her arms and Miss Pet went to sit nearby, her long fingers curled modestly together on her lap. It was hard to read how she felt about the uncomfortable atmosphere in the house, but from time to time she glanced at Kitty with concern and Mina deduced that she was more worried for her mistress than for herself.
Mr Honeyacre, making jerky little motions with his arms, spoke enthusiastically to Mina and Dr Hamid of the dining h
all, which he said had been almost uninhabitable when he had first purchased the house. Most of his collection of paintings, sculptures, porcelain and curios were still stored away in readiness to ornament the rooms and he anticipated that in time the whole house would represent a gallery of exquisite art. Despite his confidence, his manner was brittle and he appeared to be talking about his home and his collection in order to ease his discomfort and avoid discussing the subject which had brought them there.
‘What an interesting house!’ Mina exclaimed. ‘I could not help but notice there has been more than one architect at work. What do you know of its history?’
‘I confess that I have been so occupied with the task of making it comfortable that I have made little progress with that study, a neglect I fully intend to remedy in future,’ said Mr Honeyacre. ‘But the old title deeds of the estate reveal that there was a house on this site in the days of the Tudors. A courtier, Sir Christopher Redwoode, was granted the land by Henry VIII and built a fine manor here, but as far as I know, hardly any part of that building remains. I assume it was essentially timber framed and was eventually pulled down. If there was a brick hearth I haven’t discovered it yet, but there are some very interesting cobbles outside.’
Mina appreciated the sight of a handsome building but was unable to match Mr Honeyacre’s enthusiasm for cobbles.
‘The largest central portion of the present house,’ he continued, ‘judging by the style, dates from the early Hanoverians. The addition of the east wing and porch, which, as I am sure you have already observed, match each other, was perhaps some fifty years ago. The western wing is much more recent and of no architectural interest. There is a stable yard and servant accommodation above. But you will see it all after luncheon.’
Mina made no comment, but thought that a house composed of so many fragments, all constructed at different times and of different materials, offered a world of opportunity for draughts and unstable crevices, and the creaking of old wood, not to mention vermin and other creatures making their homes in its darker spaces. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, the ghost of Hollow House would prove to be flesh and blood after all.
Chapter Three
Once the luggage was dealt with and the cups cleared, Mrs Malling reappeared to show the visitors to their rooms. Unlike the maids, she appeared to Mina to be perfectly comfortable in her surroundings, but how she actually felt under the façade of quiet service could be another matter.
‘You must know the house very well,’ said Mina as Mrs Malling conducted them up a set of stairs that led from the entrance hall. The carpet was soft underfoot and still smelt new. The lamp glow that lit their way brushed the gilded frames of oil paintings depicting views of Sussex.
‘Oh, that I do,’ said Mrs Malling, readily. ‘We have lived here quite a number of years, Mr Malling and me, while Mr Honeyacre was away on his travels.’
‘I expect there was a great deal for you to do,’ said Mina in her most sympathetic voice. ‘I believe it was very dilapidated at first. Having seen it now, I would be most interested to know what work was required.’
Mrs Malling smiled as she reminisced. ‘When we came here, most of it was not fit for anyone to live in, except for the newest part, the west wing, where we have some nice rooms. The rest was sorely in need of repair, the roof letting in water and the damp getting everywhere, and the garden was a wilderness. There were no drains at all. I think a barbarian gentleman might have found the sanitary arrangements to his liking, but not an English lady. We have done a great deal, but there is still much to be done.’
‘I look forward to Mr Honeyacre’s tour of the property,’ said Mina. ‘I have been very impressed by what I have seen so far.’
‘Most of the decoration — the paint and the papers and the lights — that was all done in the last few weeks, ever since Mr Honeyacre was married and said he was coming here to live. There were workmen here, there and everywhere, and no end of noise and dust and smell. Mr Malling had to be everywhere too, to oversee them. Then there were the floors and the carpets and the furniture.’ Mrs Malling paused. ‘Of course, it looks very splendid now, but if you ask me, Miss, the old house didn’t like it, being disturbed like that. Sometimes houses don’t, you know. They just want to be left alone.’
They reached a landing where a wide, well-lit corridor drew the eye pleasingly towards the east. A plain door suggested access to the newer western part of the house and the servants’ quarters. The staircase continued upwards, but it was changed in character, being narrow, uncarpeted and less inviting than the lower part. A red rope strung across on brass hooks suggested that its use was not recommended. Mina paused to look up, but the walls were bare and unadorned and nothing could be seen beyond an upper landing that disappeared into a grey gloom and led only to an unlit second floor.
‘We don’t advise that visitors go up there,’ explained Mrs Malling. ‘The roof in the old part of the house was in a dreadful state. It has been made sound and all is now dry, but the floorboards are rotten and not safe to walk on. We are expecting men to come in next week and replace them.’
They proceeded down the corridor, which was flanked on either side by doors, most of which bore ornamental enamelled plaques with gilded lettering.
The first door they came to announced itself discreetly to be the water closet and the second was a bathroom. ‘If anyone should require a bath we would need some notice to make sure there is enough hot water,’ said Mrs Malling. ‘It comes up in pipes now, which is very convenient. But all the rooms are supplied with washstands and a jug of hot water will be brought to you every morning.’ Opposite the bathroom there was a door bearing a plaque marked ‘Cicero’ and they walked past it. Since that room would enjoy a view over the estate, Mina assumed it was the master bedroom.
The next door was entitled ‘Socrates’ and here Mrs Malling paused. ‘This is your room, Dr Hamid. Mr Gillespie, who is Mr Honeyacre’s gentleman, will be up directly to assist with your things and bring you anything you might need.’
Dr Hamid opened the door and a waft of fragrant herbs drifted into the corridor. He smiled and entered.
Opposite Socrates was a door marked ‘Minerva’. ‘Miss Scarletti, this is your room. The one opposite, “Atalanta”, that is Mrs Jordan’s.’
Mina, who had seen another door further on from her own, did not enter her room at once, but walked on, gazing about her. ‘How very charming it is here!’ she said admiringly. ‘I do so like the little plaques. They show what a scholar Mr Honeyacre is. But this other room does not have one. Is it waiting for one to be made? I am quite fascinated to know what it will be.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Mrs Malling. ‘That room is not a bedroom; it is presently used to store the antiquities and paintings that are yet to be displayed.’
‘Are we the only guests?’ asked Mina, ‘or is anyone else expected?’
‘It is just your party,’ said Mrs Malling.
Mina walked to the end of the corridor where a tall window admitted pale light reflected from the cloudy sky and found a narrow winding staircase leading both up and down. The upper part was roped off.
‘Those are the servants’ stairs,’ said Mrs Malling. ‘They go down to the kitchen and laundry room. The upper part is not yet used.’
‘Where will Zillah sleep?’ asked Nellie. ’I shall require her to unpack my luggage, and my coiffure is a perfect fright.’
‘Zillah has been given a room in the west wing,’ said Mrs Malling. ‘She will be here directly to attend to you.’
Having established that her guests required nothing more, Mrs Malling, saying that she should be called at once if she was needed, departed.
Mina entered a room in which a small, freshly-tended fire took the chill from the air and a vase held bunches of dried lavender. There was a comfortable-looking bed, against which a small footstool had been placed, the better to enable a person of her small size to climb between the sheets. There was a washstand with a basin and jug
of patterned porcelain, scented soap, fresh towels and a small dressing table. The mantelpiece was provided with figurines of shepherdesses and, rather more usefully, a pair of stout brass candlesticks, which Mina thought she might make use of for her exercises, as she had not been able to pack her dumbbells. On the night table was a pierced work candleholder of oriental design that reminded her of the Royal Pavilion and a box of candles and matches.
Thick window curtains had been pulled aside to afford a view over the grounds and Mina went to look out. The room was at the front of the house and directly below her window she saw the terrace and one of the ornamental urns. It occurred to her that the urns would be a perfect guide as to the location of the rooms as seen from the outside. The window at which the white-clad figure had appeared, the one at the furthest end of the house was, she felt sure, the window of the room next to hers, the one that had been designated a storeroom. Perhaps, she thought, what she had observed was a maid who had gone into the room to fetch something required for a guest.
Mina opened the door of her room and glanced out. Zillah arrived and was admitted to Nellie’s room. Knowing Nellie, Mina judged that the task of unpacking the boxes and tending her mistress’s hair would occupy Zillah for some little while. The corridor was deserted. Mina slipped out of her room and moved as quickly and quietly as she was able to the storeroom door, where she tried to turn the handle. After a number of unsuccessful attempts, she realised that her inability to do so was not due to lack of strength but the fact that the door was locked. She spent a few moments listening with her ear pressed against the door, but there was no sound inside the room. Fortunately, no one appeared to discover her in that undignified position. Of course, thought Mina, if Mr Honeyacre was using the room to store valuable antiquities and works of art then it was not at all unreasonable that the door should be kept locked.
The Ghost of Hollow House (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 4) Page 3
