Mr Scarletti's Ghost (6 page)

‘But that is a matter of a few pence, and I have no quarrel with that if folk get enjoyment from it,' said Mina. ‘If Miss Eustace asks for a shilling or two, or even half a guinea at the end of the evening, then it is worth it for the improvement in Mother's health and happiness. But there are villains who prey on widows with money, and try to filch their entire fortunes from them.' Mina took the booklet from her pocket and showed Richard the story of Mr Home.

He read it, she thought, with rather greater interest than she might have wished. As he did so, Mina watched a few early summer families trudge out on to the beach, the children bringing fistfuls of seaweed as proud offerings to their less-than-delighted mothers, while distant bells announced the approach of the first caravans of donkeys. The warm, furred flanks of the donkeys and the slippery dark weed could not, she thought, have been more different, yet the weed – while it remained wet – could live on the beach and the donkeys could tread some way into the water. The land and the sea; life and death. Where did one end and the other start? It was not a simple question. Was there a clear-cut boundary like the line of markers where one might go from Brighton to Hove in a single step, or was there a wide borderland of sea-washed pebbles where two worlds became one? Were they really so incompatible that a fleshless spirit could not co-exist with the living?

‘Mrs Lyon had a lucky escape from ruin,' said Richard at last. ‘Has Miss Eustace tried to persuade Mother that she can pass on messages from Father or Marianne, or demanded large sums of money?'

‘Not as far as I am aware, and she may not; after all, Mother has a family to protect her, and poor Mrs Lyon had none. But there are many ladies in Brighton in Mrs Lyon's position, and they may be in danger.'

He looked serious and thoughtful. ‘Have you shown Mother this booklet?'

‘No, do you think I should? I am not sure it would do any good.'

‘I agree. She would only see it as a criticism of her new favourite. And she would tell you that whatever Mr Home did – and he has many defenders – has nothing to do with Miss Eustace. It would not change her mind.'

‘Has Mother ever changed her mind?' asked Mina, although she knew the answer.

‘Not by persuasion, no. In order for Mother to change her mind she must come to believe that the view she has just adopted is the one she has always held. Mere printer's ink won't do it.'

Mina sighed. ‘I fear you are right.'

‘And if you say anything to the detriment of Miss Eustace, Mother will have the perfect reply – that you have not seen the lady for yourself and therefore can know nothing about the matter.'

Mina was reluctant to go and see a spirit medium and be ranked with the gullible, but she thought that unless the danger passed it must come to that. She was not, however, as she soon found, the only person in Brighton with doubts. The activities of Miss Eustace had provoked a correspondence in the newspapers in which a number of people who had not been to her séances denounced them as mere conjuring tricks, and others who had been, while unable to explain what they had seen, nevertheless entertained grave suspicions. When Mina's mother read the letters she was scathingly contemptuous about those who talked of what they did not know, or were so closed of mind that they could not see what was before their eyes. There was a strong implication in her tone that she considered Mina to be a member of that offending class. When Mina suggested that she might venture to experience a séance for herself, her mother was surprised but not displeased, and said that it would be easy to arrange. All her friends had gone there or were about to go; even the nervous Miss Whinstone, who was hoping for a message from her late brother Archibald, had finally been persuaded.

M
iss Eustace held her séances at the simple lodgings taken by Professor and Mrs Gaskin near Queen's Park. Mina, her mother, Mrs Bettinson and Miss Whinstone travelled there by cab one evening, with Miss Whinstone protesting all the way that she was afraid her heart would stop with fright, and Mrs Bettinson looking as though she rather hoped it would.

They were ushered into a small parlour arranged in unconventional style. Two rows of five plain chairs had been placed in a semi-circle, sufficiently far apart that no seated person could reach out and touch another, but they might, if both extended their arms, hold hands with those on either side. The chairs faced a corner of the room, which was obscured by a pair of curtains of some dark opaque material that hung from a cord fastened to a bracket on the wall at either end, and overlapped in the centre. Mina found herself curiously attracted to the curtains, and had she been alone in the room would undoubtedly have pulled them aside to make a close examination of what lay behind them and determine for herself whether what was supposed to have been moved by spirits showed evidence of a more corporeal hand. The sun had set and the window curtains had been closely drawn, but the light in the room was fairly good from the gas lamps. The only other furniture was a sideboard on which stood a water carafe, a tray of glasses, a candlestick fitted with a new wax candle, and a box of matches.

Louisa introduced her daughter and Miss Whinstone to the Gaskins, who received them with friendly but slightly exaggerated politeness.

The professor was a tall man of about fifty-five, with a cloud of peppery grey hair, eyebrows like the wings of a small bird, and abundant whiskers. One might almost imagine that his head was stuffed full of hair, since it had also sought an exit by bursting through his nostrils and ears, the latter organs being of elephantine construction with undulating edges.

He both walked and stood with a stoop, not, thought Mina, from any fault with his spine, but from a poor habit of posture. It always surprised her to see a person who was blessed with the ability to walk straight but had chosen not to. Either his head was being borne down by the weight of his powerful scientific brain, or he needed to hover over everyone around him the better to impress them with his superior knowledge. Mina's diminutive stature was a particular challenge to him, and he raised his voice as he spoke to her, whether to better cover the distance between them, or because he thought that her bodily deformity meant that she also had some defect of the intellect, she could not determine. His artificially bright, almost simpering smile as he addressed her, drew her towards the latter conclusion. Mina gave him only the most perfunctory greeting, and made no attempt to impress upon him the fact that she was not an imbecile; rather she hoped that he might remain in ignorance of this for as long as possible, as it would give her more freedom to observe the proceedings unimpeded.

Mrs Gaskin, who appeared to be the same age as her husband, was an excessively plain woman, inclining to stoutness and heavily whaleboned. She dressed in an unflattering style suggestive of the most uncompromising virtue and carried herself like a duchess. Her smiles of greeting lacked warmth, and were dispensed by way of charity, serving to enhance her own position. She remained close to the professor, attached by invisible chains of ownership as if his scientific eminence made him a valuable prize amongst husbands. Mina, who thought herself as good as the next person and needed no husband, professorial or otherwise, was unimpressed. More importantly, she had learned long ago that scholarship did not always mean that a man was right in his pronouncements, and neither did it ensure common sense, or knowledge of character.

Two other ladies were also present, Mrs Peasgood and Mrs Mowbray, cheerful widows in search of entertainment, whose confiding manner towards each other suggested that they were sisters. Mrs Phipps, the lady who had slept through most of Mr Bradley's healing circle, arrived leaning heavily on the arm of her nephew, who looked highly embarrassed to be there at all, stared at the curtained corner with alarm, and hurried away as soon as he felt able to do so without appearing to be impolite.

The last visitor to be introduced was Dr Hamid, a quiet man of middling height, about forty-five and very gentlemanly, with black hair going grey and a neatly trimmed beard. All Mina knew of him was what her mother had told her, that he was the son of an Indian physician of great distinction and a Scottish mother, and the proprietor of Dr Hamid's Indian medicated vapour bath and shampooing establishment in Brighton, whose customers had spoken very highly of the relief afforded them from his treatments. The oriental ‘shampoo', or ‘massage' as it was sometimes called, appeared by all accounts to be a frightful ordeal in which the practitioner pressed and rubbed and sometimes twisted or even stood upon the recumbent form of the patient. Mina had heard about travellers to the East who had submitted to the ministrations of large Turkish gentlemen in the bathhouses popular there, and had later written of their clicking joints and spines cracking like pistol shots. As if to remind her of this, her shoulder gave her a savage pinch.

Dr Hamid wore a dark suit and cravat and carried black gloves. There was a black band around one sleeve and his hat, but Mina saw that this was not the formal fashionable mourning of a man who had slipped easily into an outward show of widowerhood. As they were introduced she saw an ill-concealed pain in his eyes, the look of a man who was searching for a part of himself that had been suddenly and cruelly snatched away, which he had been unable to acknowledge was gone forever. Just as she was crushed in body so he was crushed in spirit and who could know if his prospect of recovery was any better than her own? There was no trace in his expression of the pity or curiosity with which she was often viewed; rather there was interest, and a hint of recognition.

The company was ushered to their seats, Professor and Mrs Gaskin securing places on the front row, as might have been expected, although they did not sit together but at either end, like sentinels. Mina, her mother and Miss Whinstone made up the centre of the row, but Miss Whinstone, clutching a lace handkerchief and flapping her arms nervously, exclaimed that she did not think she could bear to be so near to the curtain as she dreaded to think what lay behind it, and she really believed that she might faint if she was to see anything at all. Mrs Gaskin did her best to reassure her increasingly agitated guest, but to no avail, and so Miss Whinstone was sent to the back row, and since it was thought best that she be seated with her friends, Mina and her mother were asked to join her, with Dr Hamid and the two widowed sisters taking the seats in front. Mina quietly protested that she was unable to see the proceedings but her mother insisted that she should remain beside Miss Whinstone to attend to her if she should faint. Dr Hamid, overhearing this exchange, at once rose and turned to address them. ‘Excuse me, ladies, if I could be of assistance. It would be my pleasure to attend on Miss Whinstone, and Miss Scarletti could then have my place.' It was all done in such a disarming manner that Louisa could do nothing but agree, and Mina returned to the front row.

Before the eagerly expected entrance of Miss Eustace, Professor Gaskin rose to address the onlookers.

‘My dear friends, it gives me great pleasure not only to see those who have attended our evenings before but also some new faces. I offer a warm welcome to you all. Some of you may have read criticisms in the press of our gatherings, and I do not intend to respond to them directly as I take no note of anything said by persons wholly ignorant of our proceedings here, and indeed ignorant of anything concerning the world of the spirit. It hardly needs to be said that we have avoided criticism throughout these demonstrations by holding them here and not at Miss Eustace's own lodgings, so rendering it impossible for anyone to claim that she has arranged the room to facilitate deception. Everything in this room may be freely and thoroughly examined by anyone present, both before and after the séance, to satisfy themselves that there is nothing that might invite suspicion.'

But not during, thought Mina, who would have liked to go forward and take up that challenge, but realised that to do so would embarrass her mother in front of her friends, and accepted that such an action should be left for another time.

‘You may be interested to know,' added the professor, ‘that some of the finest minds in the land have been examining the evidence for spiritualism for over a year and will shortly be publishing their conclusions. The gentlemen, and not a few ladies, of the London Dialectical Society have been holding meetings and séances, and taking the evidence of interested persons of good reputation. I have been privileged to see a copy of the report and I can reveal to you all now that it has concluded that there is abundant evidence for the reality of the manifestations which astound us and which we cannot as yet explain.' He paused for vocal expressions of pleasure from his listeners then held up his hand so he could continue.

‘Despite this support from the learned amongst us, there will always be those whose minds remain closed to the truth,' he continued, with a look of great sorrow for those unfortunates. ‘It has even been suggested that Miss Eustace carries out her séances under cover of darkness in order to conceal deception, and that the phenomena which many of you have already witnessed are not the work of some force as yet unknown to science but her own hands.'

A little murmur of amused incredulity ran about the room.

‘Darkness is certainly essential to our proceedings, but not for the reasons suggested by those cavillers who know nothing of which they speak, but because light can absorb the vital energy of the medium. The phenomena produced by Miss Eustace are not, as we know, the result of any action by her physical hands, but by a force that is as yet beyond our understanding, which extends beyond the periphery of her body and causes vibrations in the ether: a force hitherto unknown to science, the study of which will I am sure reveal to us in time a wholly new branch of knowledge.' He paused. ‘However, for your further assurance, and the confusion of her critics, I will ensure that before we begin Miss Eustace is secured to her chair so that she is unable to rise from it or carry out any actions with her hands.'