The Royal Ghost

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘Then he must be right,’ said Enid, ‘for he has travelled so much and has seen so much.’

  ‘I’m not so sure of that,’ said Mrs Bettinson. ‘How do we even know he went all the way to Africa and back? He could have made it all up.’

  ‘Well he didn’t!’ exclaimed Enid angrily. ‘It was in all the papers, and lots of important people said he was there and did brave things!’

  Mrs Bettinson remained unimpressed. ‘Wouldn’t be much to write about if all he did was go there and walk about and not see anything interesting. I mean, elephants and such like. Not that elephants are all that interesting. If I wanted to see an elephant I could wait for the circus to come again. I don’t have to go all the way to Africa.’

  ‘I think we should accept that if Mr Hope says that a thing is so then that alone is sufficient proof that it is,’ said Louisa sharply, which made Mina even more relieved that she had not mentioned that gentleman’s belief in Miss Eustace. ‘As to the strange goings on in the Pavilion, the ladies concerned may have seen something but they most probably had overheated imaginations and did not understand the matter. There, that is all I have to say on the subject.’

  This effectively put a stop to any discussion about ghosts and over fresh tea and cakes it was agreed that Mrs Peasgood would invite Mystic Stefan to perform his miracles in her drawing room. Mrs Peasgood did not appear entirely happy with the arrangement, but bowed to the majority. She had still not recovered her equilibrium following the extraordinary entertainment of Miss Foxton and her manager Signor Ricardo, and hoped never to see anything like it again.

  As the ladies were leaving, Mrs Bettinson hung back, and with a thoughtful look approached Mina for a more private conversation. ‘There was something,’ she said. ‘It was a good while back, but I did hear someone say that there had been a ghost in the Pavilion. I don’t know who.’

  ‘Was it ever written about in a book?’

  ‘No, not a book. Not a proper book, just a little pamphlet. I only read part of it, it wasn’t all that interesting. Not like —’ she stopped and chewed her lip.

  ‘Not like the recent one, I suppose. Well, I can’t comment on that. Do you still have it?’ added Mina, hopefully.

  ‘I shouldn’t think so; I threw out a lot of old rubbish when Mr Bettinson died, and that must have gone with it.’

  ‘Do you remember the name of the pamphlet or the author? Please try.’ Mina realised she was sounding a little too eager and tried to restrain the force of her questioning.

  Mrs Bettinson squeezed her eyes shut and made the effort, then shook her head. ‘No, it was too long ago. It was written by a lady, that’s all I can remember.’ She gave Mina a searching look. ‘Why? What’s your interest? After all that bother we had before I can see you’re up to something.’

  ‘Perhaps I am.’

  ‘Not that that might be a bad thing, the way the last business turned out. I’d help you if I could, but I don’t know much.’

  ‘Can you recall where you obtained the pamphlet? Was it on sale?’

  ‘Not that I remember. I think a friend read it and gave it to me. Don’t ask me who, I think it was being passed around.’

  A pamphlet, written by a lady; with just those two tiny fragments of clues Mina decided to go to the library.

  Eighteen

  At the library Mina was soon painfully aware that although she might have more information than previously, it was still hardly adequate to find the item she wanted. She searched the shelves carefully for publications on the subject of Brighton, but even after a diligent examination found nothing to assist her. At last, and realising that she was about to appear very foolish, she approached the desk where a gentleman librarian was seated. He knew her by sight and she him, but she had never needed to ask for assistance before, having preferred to browse the collection for whatever struck her as interesting, since she liked the pleasure of making a discovery.

  ‘I am looking for a pamphlet on the subject of Brighton,’ she began, ‘but I am sorry to say that I am hampered in my search by not knowing its name, or that of the author. I don’t suppose you can suggest where I might look?’

  The librarian tried his very best not to look despondent at this request. ‘You are sure it was a pamphlet and not a book?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was this a specific publication? We do have a collection of pamphlets and monographs of Brighton interest, going back many years.’

  ‘It was a specific one, and I believe it was published between ten and twenty years ago. I have been told that the author was a lady.’

  The librarian waited in the hope that some more guidance might be forthcoming, but was doomed to be disappointed. ‘I’m afraid that we tend to arrange our catalogue of pamphlets by title and not date of publication. In many cases the author does not divulge his or her name.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I suppose there are a great many of them.’

  ‘There are, yes.’

  Mina considered this. ‘Then I had better start at the letter A.’

  Mina took a seat at a table and after a short wait she was brought a box, which, when she opened it, was piled with pamphlets whose titles began with the letters A to C. She hoped for three things; first that the work she sought was held by the library otherwise her search would be in vain; second, that if it was, the ghostly sighting was the main subject and not buried in more general matter; and third that the title started with a letter near the beginning of the alphabet. Several hours and boxes later Mina, still no nearer to her goal, was more thoroughly acquainted with the history, climate, principal buildings and coach roads of Brighton than she could ever have imagined, and she had of course gained a wealth of information on the worthies of the town, the notable visitors, the Royal connection and the Pavilion. Even though Mrs Bettinson thought the pamphlet had been written by a lady Mina did not dismiss without a look any item with a named male author in case that information should prove to be incorrect. She had reached the letter S when she found a ten-page work, the author of which had chosen to remain anonymous, entitled Some Confidential Observations by a Lady of Quality. It was dated 1850 and had been privately printed for the author in Brighton.

  The author, who described herself as a single lady resident in Brighton, had been interested in the mysterious Pavilion which had been left empty after the Queen had decided not to visit the town again. When it was mooted that the building and its gardens should be purchased by the corporation, tickets had gone on sale so that residents could see it for themselves. She and her father had purchased tickets and made their way there. The interior had impressed them with the dimensions of its magnificent apartments, but all had been emptied of furniture, ornaments and carpets. In some rooms even the wallpaper had been torn down and taken away. The large echoing spaces of the abandoned building gave it the eerie air of a ruined castle.

  It was inevitable, thought Mina, that two accounts of a visit to the same place even at twenty years’ distance would have some similarities, but as she read on, some uncanny resemblances started to emerge between Confidential Observations and An Encounter.

  As with the Misses Bland, there had been a prior agreement between family members to write separate accounts of the visit. The author in her wanderings had become separated from her father and got lost in the many rooms and corridors. All sounds of the other visitors had faded, but then she, as had the Misses Bland, became aware of the music of a violin and a flute coming from she knew not where, for although she could hear the musicians as if they were very close to her, she could see no one.

  Despite making efforts to follow the sound, it remained elusive, the players invisible. Finding herself alone in a magnificent room with a high domed ceiling, she began to wonder what it must have been like in the time of the Kings George and William, when splendid entertainments had been given there. Slowly, she turned in a circle to look all about her, imagining herself in the centre of a glittering company. It was as she completed the turn that she s
aw the figure of a man standing in the room, a man who had not been there when she had entered. So sudden was the sight that it seemed to her that he had appeared from nowhere while her back had been turned. He was dressed in an elegant costume, which she thought resembled that of a past age, and on seeing her he paused, and bowed in a very respectful and old-fashioned manner, then walked on, passing from the room using the same door through which she had entered. For a moment she stood there mystified by what she had seen, then decided to examine the far doors of the room, the only ones that had not been in her sight when the man arrived, to see if it was possible for them to open silently, but was nonplussed to find them sealed and impossible to open. The only doors that could open were the ones directly opposite, those the man could not have entered by. She decided to follow the figure and speak to him, but on leaving the room she became confused as to her direction and the man was now nowhere to be seen.

  The music began again and she followed the sound, eventually arriving at an apartment with red wallpaper much decorated with dragons and serpents, flowers and foliage. There she saw the man again, and this time there was a lady, beautifully dressed in a gown with flowing skirts of golden silk with blue flounces and pink bows, and two musicians, one playing a violin the other a flute. As she observed them, the gentleman took the lady’s hand and made a respectful obeisance, then the pair engaged in a courtly dance. She watched them, enraptured with the sight, and when they were done, they bowed to her, and glided from the room. It was a most beautiful scene yet an unexpected one, since she had not been told of any entertainment being provided for visitors. Once again she looked for her father and eventually found him, but neither he nor any of the other visitors had seen anything of the lady and gentleman or the musicians.

  She asked the attendant who had been collecting tickets at the door about the surprise diversion, but he said there had been none, neither had he seen any such persons in the Pavilion as she described.

  Once they were home, both the author and her father wrote a description of their visit to the Pavilion. Her father had declared himself very impressed and thought the corporation should make every effort to acquire the building for the town as it had wonderful possibilities as a place of entertainment. He had seen no strangely dressed persons and heard no music, although the latter circumstance was not altogether surprising as he was hard of hearing. The author had written of her experience as honestly as possible, even though she knew many would not believe her. She had tried to describe the appearance of the gentleman as best she could. He was handsome, with curling hair, and she thought he resembled the portraits of King George IV in his youth. The lady had been beautiful with long flowing locks. The author made sketches of the lady and gentleman, along with the musicians and their costumes. Later, while perusing a number of books of fashion, she became convinced that she had seen none other than the late King George IV in his days as the youthful Prince of Wales, and his inamorata, Mrs Fitzherbert. The mystery of the sealed doors was therefore, as far as she was concerned, solved. If they had been in use in the time of the young Prince, then his ghost would simply have passed through them.

  As Mina read she felt increasingly sure that the similarities between this work and An Encounter were no coincidence. While it was just possible that two similar events might have taken place, some of the expressions and descriptions in the Lady of Quality’s account reminded her very strongly of the more recent book. She therefore obtained some sheets of paper and began to make a copy of some of the more memorable portions of the pamphlet, a work that took her some little time. Before she realised it the library was about to close for the day and her body had grown stiff from the prolonged immobility, her back aching as the muscles protested. It was with some difficulty that she rose to her feet and proceeded home.

  Comparing her notes with her mother’s copy of An Encounter Mina saw that the resemblance was, as she had thought, not chance, but blatant and deliberate. The entire incident in the recent work had been copied from the earlier one, in some places with identical words, the main difference being the addition of some sensational material.

  Mina accordingly wrote at once to Mr Greville imparting to him the nature of her discovery and supplying some extracts from Confidential Observations in support of her argument. She also advised Mr Phipps. Surely, she thought, her work was done.

  Nineteen

  There was a new burst of excitement in the Scarletti household since Mr Hope was due to call again, and this time he had accepted Louisa’s invitation to take dinner with the family. Despite his modest entreaties that they should not go to any great trouble over him, Louisa and Enid were determined to do their utmost to see that their honoured guest was royally entertained, but were uncertain of what such a remarkable man might want to eat. The dilemma was the subject of intense debate.

  ‘Perhaps we should try and make him feel at home,’ suggested Enid, ‘and give him African food?’

  ‘I doubt that the butcher will be able to supply elephant’s foot and even if he could our oven would be quite inadequate to roast it,’ said Mina. ‘But I believe that when in Africa Mr Hope was obliged to eat what was there, whether or not it was to his taste, and probably pined for the food of his native land. I am sure Mr Inskip would delight in an English beef dinner at this very moment.’

  Enid gave her a sour look but said nothing.

  Richard, on being given the news, pronounced himself delighted and said he was looking forward to it with keen anticipation. His private comment to Mina was, ‘It will be an education to meet the blackguard who threatened my sister.’

  In the absence of elephant’s foot the gathering around the dinner table was provided with beefsteaks, which was thought to be the most appropriate and manly foodstuff for a bold adventurer, and a bottle of good red wine. Louisa and Enid detested beefsteaks, but pretended to like them and Rose, knowing this, brought the dishes in with the triumphant air of one who hoped there would be good pickings later, if it was not all to be turned into pies and rissoles. Richard and Mr Hope demolished their steaks with hearty appetites, and made free with the wine, which the ladies declined. Mina ate sparingly but that was expected of her.

  Mr Hope was all beaming geniality. ‘I am most grateful to you Mrs Scarletti for proposing the home of Mrs Peasgood as suitable for Mystic Stefan’s demonstration. I have paid her a visit and was delighted with the drawing room, and the lady herself received me with great cordiality and was very obliging.’ Louisa smiled thinly, but since Mrs Peasgood was approaching sixty, had long given up any pretensions to beauty, and had never shown any inclination to replace the late and much lamented Mr Peasgood, this was not a serious difficulty. ‘I believe she is sending invitations to all the members of her music circle, who will be sure to be as refined an assembly as any in Brighton.’

  Mina said nothing, but a thought had occurred to her, one that she determined to pursue.

  Louisa, between dainty nibbles from the tip of her fork, was all attention to the visitor. ‘Mr Hope, I do beg you to tell us all about Mr Stefan, who has not, I think, been to Brighton before? All my friends are clamouring to know more of him, and I found I could tell them almost nothing.’

  Hope speared an extra potato with the dexterity of a hunter. ‘He is a native of Hungary, I believe, and this is his first visit to these shores. But he has earned some fame abroad, and thought to come and entertain us here. He speaks very little English, however, and that little he does with an accent so thick that he finds it hard to make himself understood. He cannot therefore perform as other magical gentlemen do, but works in silence.’

  ‘If his illusions please the eye then he hardly needs to speak. They should speak for themselves,’ Mina observed.

  ‘I agree,’ said Mr Hope wholeheartedly, and Louisa and Enid who had been about to protest, closed their mouths. ‘So many of these conjurors rely on taking the audience into their confidence, telling them what they might expect to see and then surprising them. Mystic St
efan needs none of this, and is in my opinion altogether superior.’

  ‘How did you come to meet him?’ asked Mina.

  ‘He brought me a letter of introduction from the celebrated Dr Lynn, who has exhibited here before but is currently touring abroad. Did you chance to see Dr Lynn when he was here last year?’

  ‘I am very sorry to say we did not,’ said Louisa, with a brave attempt at sincerity.

  ‘Oh he demonstrates with great skill, and has many highly amusing and astounding novelties. His forte is the Japanese butterfly illusion, which few men have truly mastered, but in which Mystic Stefan is also adept.’

  Enid had abandoned all attempts at eating her dinner but maintained the pretence by sawing her steak into fine shreds and giving the contents of her plate the occasional stir with her fork. ‘I do look forward to seeing that, it sounds so pretty. Can you say what else he will do?’

  Hope fastened her with a look implying mystery and deep knowledge. His eyes, which were dark brown, took on the glow of amber and Enid flushed under their warmth. ‘As to that it is best that it should come as a pleasant surprise, but there is one thing I do need to advise you of before you see him. Mystic Stefan has a means of answering all questions that anyone in the audience might ask. His replies are just a “yes” or a “no”, but I am told that he is wonderfully accurate. So you must have your questions prepared beforehand. You may speak them aloud if you wish, but most persons prefer to write them on slips of paper.’

  A faint frown of disquiet troubled Louisa’s brow. ‘I hope he has not become entangled with spirit mediums? After recent events in Brighton we have learned to distrust such people.’