My first husband was Mr Jasper Holt, who died in a sailing accident in 1864. Sadly, he was lost at sea and since his body was never found, he has only recently been declared deceased. My younger son, Matthew is ten years of age and therefore does not have a strong recollection of his father, however Franklin has very fond memories of my late husband to whom he was very attached.
It is of course upsetting for any child to lose a beloved parent, and when I was finally granted a death certificate for Jasper and therefore allowed to consider myself a widow in law, Franklin felt, I believe, as if he had lost that parent for a second time, and the situation aroused old griefs. He was also unhappy at my decision to marry Mr Vardy whom I have known for three years and who has been a very good friend to my family.
Franklin has been receiving an excellent education at one of the foremost preparatory schools in Brighton, and some weeks ago a package was delivered there by a messenger boy. Unfortunately, the boy had vanished by the time the package was opened and all efforts to trace him have been unsuccessful. The package was addressed to my son and contained a watch — a family heirloom which was once the property of his father who had inherited it from his father before him. Franklin recognised it at once, and the engraving left us in no doubt.
For some years I have been attending meetings with Mrs Barnham the clairvoyant and spirit medium, of whom you may have heard. She is a lady of great wisdom and impeccable connections, having been a prominent person at the court of the late King William. I took the watch to her and when she held it in her hands she knew at once that the owner of it had passed.
This information has done nothing to quell a rising discomfort in the mind of my poor son, who has been afflicted with increasingly disturbing symptoms. He is under treatment from our doctor but has been unable to attend school for some time. The manifestations of his condition are highly unusual, and some of the things he says are such that I cannot commit them to paper. But he does claim to have seen his father’s ghost and heard it speak to him.
Miss Scarletti, all that I have read about you in the newspapers encourages me to think that you will be able to advise me. What must I do? Is there someone I should consult? Or would you be willing to interview my poor afflicted boy and deduce what course of action I ought to take?
Assuring you of my very greatest respect,
Charlotte Vardy
Mina was quiet for a while, then she read the letter again. She looked up. Rose and Miss Cherry were gazing at her very intently, studying her for signs of incipient collapse. She took the deepest calmest breath she could muster. ‘Rose,’ she said, ‘I would so enjoy a nice cup of tea. And could you bring me a small plain biscuit?’ She turned to Miss Cherry. ‘I assume that Dr Hamid has not forbidden tea and plain biscuits?’
Miss Cherry looked pleased and relieved. ‘I expect he would be very happy that you have regained some appetite. This is the first food you have asked for since you became ill.’ She nodded to Rose, who gave Mina one of her expressionless yet meaningful looks, then went downstairs.
‘Miss Cherry,’ said Mina, and the nurse, understanding her confidential tone, drew nearer. ‘This letter is from Mrs Vardy. It is most probably the one she told you she was writing to me, and I believe that the contents will not be a surprise to you. Mrs Vardy has told me a great deal about the difficulties she is facing and is clearly eager to come and tell me other things that she feels unable to write down.’
Mina handed the letter to Miss Cherry who perused it carefully, then nodded. ‘Yes, all of this I have been told or overheard.’
‘Are you, in the light of this letter, willing to tell me more? I ask not out of simple curiosity but because I would like to help this poor afflicted lady and her family. I assume that your attendance at her home was in order to care for the son?’
Miss Cherry nodded again. ‘Yes, it was. His symptoms were most alarming. Sometimes when he awoke there was a minute or two when he could not move and struggled even to breathe. But he also —’ she looked pained — ‘he also had the strangest fancies, which he did sometimes confide to me. He thought the ghost of his father was visiting him in the night. But the thing that most troubles Mrs Vardy,’ added Miss Cherry, sadly, ‘is that her son Franklin believes that she and Mr Vardy were responsible for the death of her first husband.’
Mina glanced back at the letter. ‘But Mrs Vardy has only known Mr Vardy for three years.’
‘That is what she says,’ replied Miss Cherry, ‘but who can prove it?’
When Rose arrived, Mina sipped her tea and nibbled the edge of the biscuit, then, having shown herself capable of reading letters without any harm to herself, she asked for a tray and some writing materials, and as soon as they arrived she composed a reply to Mrs Vardy.
Dear Mrs Vardy,
I am sorry not to have replied to your letter sooner, however I have been very unwell and am at present confined to bed under strict orders not to attempt anything that might prove to be too interesting for my slight energies to tolerate.
I am eager to assist you in any way I can, and hope that in a short while it will be possible to arrange an interview where we might discuss your concerns more openly than letters will permit.
Assuring you of the strictest confidence at all times
Mina Scarletti
CHAPTER THREE
The news of Mina’s improvement brought her mother to the sickroom for one of her rare visits. Now that Louisa Scarletti was less terrified of losing her eldest daughter, she was able to allow her displeasure free rein.
‘You have frightened me so much!’ she exclaimed, sitting at a careful distance from the bedside. Still nervous of infection, she clutched a lace handkerchief drenched in cologne which she held before her face. A comforting maternal embrace was clearly out of the question. Louisa was achingly thin and pale as a spectre, her eyelids flushed rose with sleeplessness and tears, but she was still in her mature years, a vision of porcelain beauty. A widow for more than two years, she had adopted the fashionable demi-mourning colour of deep violet, with a daring hint of white trimming. This allowed her to remain an object of sympathy while at the same time dipping her slippered toes into Brighton society where she best flourished. ‘You were told not to go out in company,’ she said reproachfully, ‘Dr Hamid told you so and I told you so, everyone told you so, but no, you would not listen to good advice, and now see what is the result. You know how much I rely on you, Mina, and you must not upset me like this again!’
‘I promise I will take more care in future,’ said Mina, contritely.
Louisa was unappeased. ‘You cannot imagine how I feel! What with Enid in her delicate condition, and Mr Inskip heaven knows where, and the twins have started teething again, and they cannot be kept quiet and my head aches without ceasing, and now this! I don’t know what I have done to be punished so.’
‘How is my dear sister?’ Mina ventured.
Louisa uttered one of her long groaning sighs. ‘I only hope and pray that she and the child will live. The doctor says we may expect only one this time, and for that at least, I am thankful. But your sister is a torment to me. She complains all the time, of this and that, and who knows what else, and it is as much as I can do to try and console her. Neither of us have any sleep. Neither of us eat. Oh, when will the agony end!’