Mina was silent. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Nellie and Dr Hamid glancing at her with concern, but she did nothing to acknowledge this. Viscount Hope, who preferred the humbler appellation of Mr Arthur Wallace Hope, was the last man in the world Mina might wish to encounter. Her friends were well aware of this, but even they did not know all the reasons.
While Mina waited for further news she clung desperately to the idea that Mr Honeyacre would soon rejoin the company to reveal to his great regret that the new arrival had proved to be a flagrant impostor who had been peremptorily sent away.
That pleasant anticipation was swept away like a fool’s dream when, a few minutes later, Mr Honeyacre returned in a froth of excitement.
‘Well,’ he gasped, ‘it is true and what a remarkable thing! Our visitor is indeed the renowned Lord Hope and there is a young gentleman called Mr Beckler who has come with him on purpose to see the house. It appears that his Lordship’s letter replying to mine did not arrive, but no matter! It is such an honour to entertain a man of his erudition and courage.’
Mina clasped her fork hard enough to leave imprints on her fingers.
Mr Arthur Wallace Hope was a man of immense presence and influence, a tall deep-chested vigorous individual with expressive eyes, winning voice and flowing hair, who had created a sensation in Brighton the previous autumn. Fate had decreed a gilded life for Mr Hope, awarding him both a title and a landed estate. Most men with his advantages would have been content to idle away their days with empty and frivolous pursuits. Mr Hope, however, thrived on travel and danger. A hero of the Crimean War he had later earned renown as an explorer, having accompanied Dr David Livingstone on his expedition to Zanzibar in 1866. He had published a memoir of his African adventures, which was already in its third printing. Mr Hope, priding himself on possessing the common touch which enabled him to converse with men of all stations in life, had toured Britain to deliver stirring lectures on his adventures to enthralled audiences of susceptible youths and even more susceptible ladies.
He had recently taken to the study of spiritualism in a substantial way and his compelling words had brought numerous others into the fold of believers. Mr Hope’s enthusiasm had, however, led him to dismiss out of hand any accusations of fraud perpetrated by those mediums he championed, even where there was convincing evidence of their guilt. He was neither a foolish nor a gullible man, but having once formed an idea nothing could sway him from the conviction that he was entirely right. This flaw led him either to ignore any evidence that suggested that he was mistaken or recast it in his own mind to the contrary purpose.
As far as Mina was concerned Mr Hope was as entitled to hold his opinions as she was to disagree with them, but on his visit to Brighton he had taken up a cause that she had been unable to ignore. Mr Hope had appointed himself the champion of self-proclaimed spirit medium Miss Hilarie Eustace, who had recently been confined to prison after being found guilty of extortion. Undeterred by the clearest evidence of criminality, Hope had started a vigorous campaign to exonerate Miss Eustace with the intention of obtaining her freedom, restoring her reputation and then using his fame, position and fortune to promote her as a psychic. Mina had been one of the most prominent prosecution witnesses at the trial of Miss Eustace and her confederates. It had therefore been an essential part of Mr Hope’s campaign that Mina should make a public statement that she had changed her mind and he had made considerable efforts to convince her to do so.
To his astonishment Mina had been immovable; immune both to his masculine charm and his powers of persuasion, in both of which he had formerly enjoyed complete confidence. His next ploy was to win her over by securing the admiration of her family, a plot that had included financing her brother Richard’s hare-brained scheme to produce a play in the Royal Pavilion. When this plan, too, failed, Mr Hope had finally shown his true colours by stooping to threats and blackmail. Mina had resolutely refused to succumb to either and he had then determined to engage a London medical consultant in an attempt to have her declared insane. Fortunately, this had never been carried out.
It would have been easy to denounce Mr Hope as wicked, but Mina was sure that he was not. He was convinced that his espousal of the world of the spirit and dissemination of his message was for the ultimate good of all mankind and was therefore prepared to take whatever action he thought necessary, however cruel, however destructive it might be of the individuals who stood in his way, to achieve his desired result. This was nothing less than that every human being in the world should come to agree with him.
Mina’s last encounter with Mr Hope had ended stormily when she had made him a public laughing-stock by exposing one of his delusions in front of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of Brighton. Finding himself about to be implicated in a scandal involving the wife of a prominent gentleman he had been obliged to quit the town in a hurry. Mina had therefore been most relieved to learn that he was planning to return to Africa where she hoped he would remain as long as possible and it was her most fervent hope that their paths would never again cross.
Dr Hamid had been present at Mr Hope’s shaming and Nellie had been regaled with an account of the affair. However, there was another and far more painful reason why Mina never wanted to see Mr Hope again, one which she was obliged to keep to herself. Her sister, Enid, who was married to Mr Inskip, a solicitor she frequently declared to be the dullest man in the world, had developed an uncontrollable passion for Mr Hope, feelings he had done nothing to discourage. With her husband abroad on business, Enid had conducted a dangerous intrigue with the handsome explorer and had been devastated at his sudden departure. Unless her sister had committed another indiscretion that Mina knew nothing about it was Mr Hope who was responsible for Enid’s current delicate state of health. She was residing in London, her emotions running the full gamut between crushing misery and hysterics, being attended to by her mother, anticipating a family event which was due to take place in the summer and dreading her husband’s return.
Mr Hope and his travelling companion Mr Beckler had had a hard time reaching their destination. Mr Hope, although a seasoned veteran of battlefield and jungle, a man of determination and courage in the face of all adversity, the word ‘failure’ having not yet appeared in his vocabulary, had just discovered that he had still to overcome the tribulations of a wet morning in Sussex.
His story, with which he regaled the company later, was that he had informed Mr Honeyacre of his arrival by letter, but had not been aware when he set out for Hollow House that the ill weather might have prevented its delivery.
All had gone moderately well until the approach to Clayton when his carriage had become solidly mired in the road and broken an axle. One of the horses stumbled and sprained a fetlock; the other lost a shoe in the mud. Mr Hope had given the animals into the care of the local farrier, but discovered to his dismay that no suitable replacement carriage or horses could be procured. The residents of Clayton had decided for themselves that to proceed any further would be the act of a madman and declined to risk their property at any price.
Mr Hope would not be denied. His elderly manservant, whom he deemed insufficiently robust to continue such a strenuous journey on foot, was ordered to remain in Clayton where he would assume charge of carriage, horses and the bulk of the luggage and continue on to Hollow House as soon as suitable transport became available. He and his young companion Mr Beckler had unloaded such bags as two men could easily carry and pressed ahead, fighting their way through fresh assaults of howling rain.
It soon became apparent that the road, churned into a semi-liquid sea of slippery brown slime and pebbled with invisible traps for the feet, was too fraught with dangers even for the seasoned traveller. After a brief struggle Hope had decided that the only possible means of progress was to cut across the fields. Here, the rain-pummelled sodden grass, matted into the mud, gave them a little more purchase, but it was an exhausting business, especially as their boots were not designed for such terrain
. Some parts of the fields were little more than shallow lakes, reflections of the dull grey sky, and they were obliged to skirt around them as best they could, so as not to sink into the clinging mire; this exercise doubling the distance they needed to travel.
A small wooden bridge across the mill brook had been swept away, but by now both men were so thoroughly wetted that traversing the stream made little difference to the state of their clothing. Mr Hope had waded worse rivers, ones clouded with stinging insects in which dangerous reptiles and savage parasites lurked. Here, he had only to keep his feet, weighed down by the ballast of his luggage, while he and Mr Beckler, who fortunately was young and active, linked arms against the power of the surging waters.
As they finally approached Hollow House they were obliged to acknowledge the impossibility of making themselves presentable to company and sought admission at the servants’ entrance to give the least inconvenience to their host. Mr Hope’s commanding and assured manner, and the quality of his sodden clothing, had enabled him to gain the proper attention and once Mr Malling had heard his tale the visitors were admitted and Mary Ann dispatched to carry the intelligence.
When Mina received the news she bit her lip but elected to make no comment. She glanced at Nellie and Dr Hamid with the merest shake of the head. Both of them understood by this that they were to remain silent.
In any other circumstances Mr Hope’s arrival would have been the signal for Mina’s immediate departure. However, the rain was still roaring outside and any possibility of returning home soon had long since vanished into the watery mist. All parties, thought Mina, would simply have to make the best of it. If they were fortunate the remainder of the visit, which she hoped would last no more than a few days, would pass in an icy politeness, nothing of any moment would occur and better weather would eventually provide a thankful escape.
‘I have arranged for hot baths, fresh attire and a late luncheon for both the gentlemen and, of course, there will have be some changes to the accommodation,’ enthused Mr Honeyacre, blissfully unaware that anyone else in the room was not as enamoured of the situation as he. ‘I am sorry to inconvenience guests but needs must. Have no fears, Mr and Mrs Malling will see to everything. I was wondering —’ he turned his most appealing expression to Mina and Nellie — ‘Miss Scarletti and Mrs Jordan, would you be kind enough to agree to share a room? I will make sure to have a second bed provided and I promise that there will be no diminution of your comfort. Lord Hope must, of course, have a room to himself. His companion, Mr Beckler has kindly agreed to take a room in the west wing and Miss Pet will share her accommodation with Mrs Jordan’s maid Zillah. No arrangement is without difficulty but that does seem to be for the best.’
‘I am sure we will be perfectly comfortable,’ said Nellie.
‘I think that will be the best arrangement,’ Mina added. Privately she thought that since Mr Hope was a known seducer with a taste for young, married women it would be a good thing if Nellie were to share her room. There would be no opportunity for him to satisfy his predatory instincts. No roaming ghost instilled as much terror in Mina as the prospect of Mr Hope prowling the corridors of Hollow House at night in search of his favourite game. Despite this precaution there was still a danger. Both Nellie and Mr Hope would be living under the same roof for some little time and if Mr Stevenson the detective came to know of it the suspicion alone might prove damaging.
Having addressed his guests, Mr Honeyacre, clearly in a state of breathless excitement about the arrival of Mr Hope, began darting back and forth as new ideas for the comfort of the honoured arrival occurred to him with every passing minute. On one occasion, Mina saw him clutching his copy of The Brighton Hauntings and trembling with the anticipation of receiving the author’s signature on the revered volume.
While the maids made the necessary changes to the rooms, Mina took the opportunity of discussing Mr Hope’s unsavoury reputation with Nellie. ‘We must be sure that you are never left alone with him,’ said Mina. ‘There must be no opportunity for any misinterpretation.’
‘And what of Kitty?’
‘I don’t want to alarm her,’ said Mina. ‘She is agitated enough already without adding to her concerns.’
‘True,’ Nellie admitted. ‘I will warn Zillah about Mr Hope’s proclivities and ask her to speak to Miss Pet. They are both endowed with more than the usual common sense and between them, they will make a plan to keep Kitty safe. I am thankful that they are sharing a room and the younger girls do not sleep here.’
‘That only leaves Mrs Blunt who sleeps alone,’ observed Mina. There was a brief pause as they both imagined the consequences of Mr Hope making an attempt on the cook.
‘Perhaps we should advise her to sleep with an axe under her pillow,’ said Nellie with a smile.
‘Perhaps she already does,’ said Mina.
The two visitors, having been refreshed and provided with dry clothing as near as could be found to fit them, joined the others in the drawing room a little later and Mr Honeyacre, still in a state of high excitement, made the introductions.
On their first entering the room it was almost instantly apparent to Mina that Mr Honeyacre, who had been busily occupied in ensuring that his noble visitor had every possible comfort, had been so distracted that, while he might have mentioned that there was a good company present, he had not actually named them.
As a result of this oversight, Mr Hope was clearly thunderstruck to be confronted with Mina. His friendly smile vanished and there was a moment when his cheeks lost their accustomed ruddy outdoor complexion and turned the colour of parchment. He hesitated and misstepped so abruptly that Mr Beckler, who was a few paces behind, very nearly collided with him and was obliged to make a sudden stop. Mr Hope recovered himself quickly. During the introductions performed by Mr Honeyacre he greeted Mina with the briefest acceptable inclination of the head. Nevertheless, his mouth twitched with anxiety while his eyes settled into a cold stare and he was obliged to look away.
Mr Hope was, if anything, even more displeased to see Dr Hamid and adopted towards him an attitude of rigid courtesy. An observer not acquainted with Mr Hope might have imagined that his initial slight recoil on seeing the doctor was due to a prejudice against persons of colour, but Mr Hope, to his credit, judged all men on their individual worth and often said that he had met African guides whom he trusted above any English gentleman. Dr Hamid he knew to be both a good friend to Mina and a man of intelligence, whose opinions were much valued. Both these attributes inevitably gave him cause for concern.
In the atmosphere of restrained politeness it was clear that no-one thought it wise to reveal to their host that the three of them were already acquainted. That could have led to a difficult conversation regarding the circumstances of their last confrontation, something that none of them felt impelled to describe. It was a weapon that Mina knew she could hold in reserve, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that were she to use it Mr Hope could talk his way out of any blame and give a contrary account of the matter that would be believable to anyone who had not been present. The result of the unexpected encounter in the drawing room was therefore an unspoken chilly truce.
Mr Hope, perhaps in an effort to create a distraction, ushered forward his companion for the approbation of the company. ‘Allow me to recommend to you my friend Mr Beckler,’ said Mr Hope. ‘He is a great expert in the art of photography and very much in demand by ladies and gentlemen of position in the county of Middlesex for portraiture.’
Mina thought herself to be the very last person to judge a stranger by appearances. To be born beautiful or ugly or plain was a mere accident and said nothing about character, which was the only thing that mattered. Plainness in a person with a fine character could look pleasing and, conversely, when character was wanting outward beauty seemed flawed and artificial. Nevertheless, she could not help disliking Mr Beckler at the very first view. He was aged about thirty and taller even than the towering figure of Mr Hope, but unlike Hope�
�s broad and muscular physique his form was slender. Mr Hope had a still and unbending stance. Mr Beckler appeared restless, constantly turning his shoulders or his head, as if searching about him for some opportunity, the nature of which he kept to himself. His face was long and pale, with a patchy tuft of beard, short bristly moustache and small, probing dark eyes that peered from behind unruly wisps of hair like a snake through grass.
‘How interesting,’ said Mr Honeyacre, blandly. He gave Mr Beckler that meaningful look which indicated that he had identified him in the scheme of things as being not quite a gentleman. ‘But tell me, Mr Beckler, do you believe that the photograph can replace painting or drawing? I am not at all sure that it can. I say that as a collector of art.’
Mr Beckler, who obviously cared nothing for Mr Honeyacre’s artistic pretensions and may well have heard this argument many times before, afforded him an intense stare. ‘I think that they both have their place.’
‘Oh, well, there is the carte de visite, of course, when a picture must be made many times over. I understand that,’ said Mr Honeyacre dismissively. ‘My first wife had a collection of them and they can be very informative and useful. And I suppose, too, that a photograph may be achieved more quickly and cheaply than a painting, for those that require such a service.’
‘But there is far more to it than that,’ said Mr Hope. ‘A photograph by its precise chemical nature can produce a picture of something which the human eye is unable to see. I do not refer to something purely from the imagination of an artist, or even something artificially presented to the camera and intended to cheat the lens. No, I refer to what is true and real, and undeniably a fact of nature. And,’ he added with a complacent smile, ‘it is a truth that can no longer be derided or denied by materialists since it is their acclaimed science that reveals it.’
‘Photography is a valid scientific process,’ said Dr Hamid. ‘One cannot deny that. And there are many things that exist but are beyond the capacity of the human eye to see. The microscope and the telescope have taught us that. There are animals whose perception in some areas is far beyond the power of man, such as the sensitive nose of the dog.’
The Ghost of Hollow House (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 4) Page 11
