‘How old is Mr Beckler?’ mused Mrs Scarletti. ‘I should imagine he is about thirty.’
‘I think so,’ said Richard, vaguely.
‘That is a good age,’ said Mrs Scarletti, approvingly. ‘He is now past the time of immature foolishness, but still young enough for energy and achievement.’ She touched a silver comb in her hair with a smile.
Mina’s blood ran cold. Mr Beckler had an obsequiously flattering manner with female customers, which she personally found repellent. Her mother, however, a handsome woman in her fifties who liked to be admired, was unable to tell the difference between self-seeking flattery and a genuine compliment. Mina feared that her mother, in considering that the young photographer might like to be married had not, despite the difference in their ages, placed herself outside the list of potential brides.
CHAPTER TWO
Mr and Mrs Inskip were the first members of the betrothal party to arrive at the Scarletti home. They brought with them their rumbustious two-year-old twins William and Benjamin, baby Gwendoline, who had in only a few months of existence cultivated a determined annoyance with the world, and an extraordinarily patient nursemaid, Mrs Wheedon.
Enid and her husband had always been an ill-assorted couple. Mina was not the only person who had been astonished when her sister had accepted Mr Inskip’s proposal, which he had made more in desperate hope than any expectation of success. Enid was a younger version of their mother — slender, even after two pregnancies, with almost white-blonde hair and a perfect complexion. Launched into society at eighteen, she had gloried in the admiration of young gentlemen and thrilled to the excitement of flirtation. There had been no lack of either. She had received many offers for her hand, none of which she had seriously considered, but had married Mr Inskip on a whim, the quicker to escape a household deeply afflicted by melancholy after the death of her father Henry.
Enid was now twenty-three, her husband ten years her senior and the leading light of a law practice in London whose speciality was transactions in land. With neither brothers nor sisters, he had on the demise of his father inherited properties and investments which were a sound foundation for marriage, but he lacked assertiveness and found it hard to engage with other people in a manner which commanded their attention. He had very little conversation, and when he did speak it was of mundane matters that were tedious to the listener. He was, in fact, a bore. Enid might have tolerated this had he been handsome, but Mr Inskip was short and slight, with sallow, sunken cheeks, a sharply pointed nose and sparse brown whiskers. If he had been ugly, he might have been interesting, but the best that could be said of him was that he was plain.
Not long after the wedding, it became apparent that Enid had realised she had made a terrible mistake. Another suitor, a pretty youth who had been her preference but had no fortune, had come into an unexpected inheritance and was now engaged to another. The newly minted Mrs Inskip came to regard her husband with indifference and even distaste.
Enid had been visiting Brighton with the twins the previous year during her husband’s long absence abroad. It was inevitable, given the presence of the charismatic explorer Mr Arthur Wallace Hope, who was giving a series of lectures to enraptured audiences, that a passion had been aroused in Enid which had induced her to attend his lectures, and purchase his books. That should have been the limit of her admiration. Further than that she ought not to have gone, but the careless, wilful, unhappy wife had succumbed to the temptation of secret assignations at Mr Hope’s hotel, and Mina had by chance learned of it.
Quite what Enid expected to come of this unwise behaviour was unclear, but she had probably not anticipated her paramour’s sudden departure from town, leaving her to deal with the unintended consequences. She had discovered too late that he had been conducting similar intrigues with other married ladies, all of whom believed themselves to be his only interest, all of whom he had abandoned without a thought. Fortunately, Enid had escaped any rumours attaching to her name, since the town had been alive with gossip about Mr Hope and the attractive wife of Mr Laidlaw, senior partner in the family solicitors. Phipps, Laidlaw and Phipps. To avoid scandal, Mr Laidlaw had been obliged to retire from practice and remove himself and his contrite wife from Brighton.
Mina had understandably been anxious about the consequences of Mr Inskip’s recent return from Romania but to her surprise and relief had learned from Edward’s reports that the reunited couple were on far better terms than previously. On their arrival in Brighton, the reasons for this change were apparent.
Mr Inskip’s travel and the tribulations he had suffered had made him almost a different man. He had allowed his whiskers to grow mightily during his illness and now sported a full bushy beard of the kind generally considered manly. His skin, which had looked almost corpse-like from his habit of shunning the outdoors now looked weathered, like that of a wanderer in the wilds who had endured harshness of climate and overcome it without complaint. He was full of tales of travel in the far and most dangerous reaches of Europe, which were considerably more entertaining than his previous conversation, which had mainly expounded on the complexities of property deeds, a subject which he alone found fascinating.
In the past, Enid had tended to avoid gazing at her husband. He had been a ghost in her presence, pale and hardly there. Now she looked on him with obvious approval.
‘Is your Romanian client very noble and distinguished?’ asked Mrs Scarletti as they were seated at the family dining table. ‘Does he have handsome features? Is he married?’
‘He is quite elderly now,’ said Mr Inskip, ‘but the portraits in the castle show him to have been very handsome in his youth. The family goes back many hundreds of years. He has no wife, and I believe he is the last of his line.’
‘And you, Mr Inskip?’ asked Mina. ‘Tell me how you fare. Are you now completely well? Please do reassure us.’
He smiled, a bright, toothy beam that made his beard tips quiver. ‘Thank you, yes, I am. My illness was cured by the religious ladies who live in a closed order in one wing of the castle.’
‘It is a very big castle,’ said Enid, with more energy than she usually afforded to a discussion of historic buildings.
‘And extremely remote,’ added Mr Inskip. ‘It is ranged about with high mountains, thus the difficulty of the journey both there and back. The Count has few servants and owns extensive acres of land which are populated by peasants. They live in very poor conditions and raise sheep and fowls. Their constant demands can be a severe trial to him.’
‘That is very hard work for an aged gentleman,’ said Mina. ‘How old is he?’
‘I did not like to ask. There was something about him that made him appear both very old indeed and yet in another way — ageless. But he no longer has any taste for land management. That was the reason for my visit. He wishes to appoint an agent to manage the estate, then he will sell the castle and retire to a more comfortable and convenient property in a city. Romanian winters can be extremely harsh. He may even decide to settle in England. If he does, I am to look for a manor house here and make all the arrangements.’
‘Then we may see him, I hope,’ said Mrs Scarletti, glowing a little with the anticipation of meeting a count. ‘You must arrange an introduction. Invite him to dine.’
Mina smiled, seeing that her mother was already preparing for an acquaintanceship with the nobility which would make her the envy of her friends.
‘Although —’ Mrs Scarletti looked suddenly concerned as Rose brought in the soup tureen, the contents of which were a reminder of the limitations of the Scarletti’s cook — ‘he must be used to the very best cuisine and cellar.’
‘He dines very simply and sparingly, and I believe is a follower of the temperance movement,’ said Mr Inskip, reassuringly. ‘At least, I have never seen him drink.’
‘Perhaps he will find a better appetite in England,’ said Mina. ‘I am sure he will find the climate more comfortable here.’
‘Did you have many a
dventures?’ asked Richard, reaching out to take charge of the wine bottle. ‘Edward told us that Romania is a very inhospitable place with all sorts of dangers, like robbers and brigands and hungry wolves.’
Mr Inskip chuckled. ‘The main dangers are actually the weather and the terrain. It was a very hard journey and made all the worse by the villagers being nervous of travelling in winter. My return was severely delayed by illness as you know, and when the snows came down, they blocked the mountain pass which was our only route, making any kind of travel impossible. The bad weather also had the effect of reducing the normal food supply of the wolf packs. Wolves don’t usually attack travellers but will sometimes do so when starving. Their favourite diet is wild boar, but they will eat anything they can catch when necessary.’
‘Starving wolves!’ exclaimed Mrs Scarletti. ‘How horrible!’
Mina thought that a pack of hungry wild animals and a carriage full of terrified travellers trapped in the mountains by snow would make a very good start for a story. She would have liked to make notes of Mr Inskip’s observations but felt that this might be frowned upon at the dinner table. She determined to do so as soon as she could. ‘Tell me more about the wolves,’ she said.
‘The wolf,’ said Mr Inskip, who clearly needed no encouragement, ‘is a large and noble creature, but it is a danger to livestock, which have to be protected. The peasants will sometimes kill a wolf that has been taking their sheep. They use its skin to make belts and suchlike. They believe that wearing a wolfskin belt will protect them from the bite of a wolf; in fact, they presented me with one before I left.’
‘Is it effective?’ asked Mrs Scarletti. ‘Do we have wolves in Brighton?’ She looked about her in the hope of information. ‘I have never seen one, though Mrs Carmody has a large dog which is almost the same thing.’
‘I do not think wolves live in these islands,’ said Mina. ‘And Mrs Carmody’s dog is an Irish retriever.’
Mr Inskip accepted a bread roll. It was somewhat on the dense side, but he tore it in half as easily as if it were made of rice paper. ‘I did not encounter any wolves myself,’ he said, ‘although one does hear them howling from time to time. It was a curious sound, and many people fear it, but the Count seems to like it, he finds it almost tuneful in a way. He does keep guard dogs which are part wolf. They roam in a pack about the estate, which they regard as their territory. The mixed breed creatures are said to be more aggressive than pure wolves, but more territorial than dogs. They do have a handler who they trust. I was warned to stay away from them, but one of the pups gave me a scratch with its claws which turned very unpleasant and may have been the reason for my illness. I was unwell for a long time; I hardly knew myself. But the Count made sure I was looked after and well fed and I feel quite strong again, in fact stronger than I ever was before.’
Enid said nothing but smiled and pressed her fingertips to her cheeks.
‘Are you well, Enid?’ demanded her mother, staring at her intently. ‘You look quite flushed.’
‘It is the soup,’ said Enid, hastily. ‘It is — very hot.’
‘I don’t regret the hardships of my travels,’ Mr Inskip continued. ‘In fact, through them I began to understand the spirit of those great men who go to foreign lands and undergo many trials. It awakened in me a curiosity about mankind and other modes of living, and dare I say it, a craving for travel and adventure. I used to spend all my days indoors but now I find myself eager to explore, which I do whenever I can, either on foot or with my new velocipede.’
‘Adventure is a very fine thing if only it could be achieved in comfort, while being well housed and fed and not having people shooting arrows at you, or being eaten by lions,’ said Richard.
‘I don’t think I could admire an adventurer who had no spirit,’ said Enid. ‘A man, a true man, must be prepared to confront danger.’
‘How can one tell the difference?’ said Richard. ‘There was a customer who came to be photographed the other day, and he brought a tiger-skin rug with him so he could pretend he had shot it himself.’
‘Perhaps he did,’ said his mother.
‘It still had the price ticket attached.’
There was a pause as Rose collected the soup plates and brought in the roast and vegetables.
‘But we will have a real explorer in Brighton very soon,’ said Richard, heaping potatoes onto his plate, ‘as Mr Beckler has just heard that Mr Hope is returning to England and intends to come here for a visit, and he wants a new picture done in his best expedition clothes. The studio will be full of potted plants, and he will peer out from between them holding a big gun.’
‘That will hardly look convincing,’ said Mina. ‘Unless they have potted plants in jungles, which I doubt.’
‘Jungles,’ said her mother, authoritatively, ‘are generally composed of a great many trees.’
‘It would be very hard to take a camera there,’ said Richard.
‘One could at least take an artist,’ said Mina. ‘Mr Hope’s lectures on Africa were illustrated by maps, and the pictures in his book were undoubtedly drawn from his descriptions alone. No one poses for a portrait while fighting a giant snake.’
‘Just imagine,’ said Richard, brightly, ‘if one stood before a big portrait of a place and then had one’s photograph taken. You could seem to be anywhere in the world without ever having been there.’
‘That would be cheating,’ said Mina. ‘But I am sure Mr Hope has really been to Africa. In fact, he thinks so highly of it I am surprised he does not remain there permanently.’
‘I should like to meet him,’ said Mr Inskip. ‘I noticed you have several of his books on your shelves.’
‘He is a shameful creature!’ said Mrs Scarletti. ‘He has a reputation. I will say no more than that. Read his books of adventure if you wish, but he will not be admitted to this house.’
Enid lowered her eyes to her plate and said nothing.
‘Is he writing a new travel book?’ asked Mr Inskip.
‘I don’t know,’ said Richard. ‘He was hoping to find Dr Livingstone; in fact, that was the whole reason he went back to Africa, but then someone else found him first, some American, who will no doubt be writing his memoirs and making a lot of money.’
Mina smiled. ‘I read in the newspapers that when the news came out that Dr Livingstone had been found, Mr Hope lost his financing from the Royal Geographical Society, and half his companions abandoned him at the coast before he had even started his journey to the interior, so I suppose he had no option but to come back. I doubt that he will be writing a new book. I don’t think a volume entitled “How I Didn’t Find Dr Livingstone” would enjoy much success.’
‘Perhaps I shall have a portrait taken,’ said Mr Inskip. ‘In my travelling clothes, with a feather in my hat and my wolfskin belt.’
‘The belt is very rough and coarse, but it is not without charm,’ said Enid, taking a sip of water before digging into her roast beef.
‘Oh yes, you must have a portrait,’ said Mrs Scarletti. ‘Richard’s business is doing so very well! His partner is a very enterprising gentleman who will be taking photographs for our celebration. Do you know, I read in the Gazette today that he can take pictures of ghosts? I never knew such a thing was possible.’ She suddenly heaved a great sigh, and Mina knew that her mother was thinking of those family members who would be absent from the gathering.
‘Ghosts?’ enquired Mr Inskip, looking at Richard.
‘Oh, he can’t do it to order,’ said Richard. ‘He took a photograph of a ghost last year, but he didn’t know how he had done it, and when he tried to do it again, he couldn’t. And then about a week ago another one appeared. Which he might have been very pleased about, except it had to be the mother of that dreadful Miss Hartop.’ He pulled a face. ‘He pleaded with her not to talk of it, but of course she has gossiped the news all over town, and he can hardly deny it. Ever since then he has spent most of his time in his darkroom hoping to find more ghosts, but mainly I thi
nk it is to avoid Miss Hartop, and I can’t say I blame him.’
‘Is her judgement to be relied upon?’ asked Mina.
‘She is a silly creature, by all accounts, but I think she can be trusted to recognise her own mother,’ said Mrs Scarletti, severely.
No one sought to contradict her.
CHAPTER THREE
Mina feared that one day her curiosity would get the better of her, with unpleasant consequences, nevertheless she was always unwilling and frequently unable to hold it in check. She had agreed, in order to mollify her anxious mother, to pay a visit to the Grand Hotel, to ensure that all the arrangements for the betrothal feast were in order. It was also, she realised, an opportunity to go to nearby Ship Street and see for herself what Mr Beckler was up to. Not that she intended to see or speak to him. Her plan was to gather information by the strategy of studying the contents of the shop window, without actually encountering the man.
Her most reliable source of information concerning the photographer was usually her friend Mr Marcus Merridew, the famous Brighton actor. A theatrical artist of great versatility, he often patronised the shop for cartes de visite in which he was portrayed costumed for his most prominent roles. His recent career had been marked by a noted rendition of Hamlet which had thrilled Brighton audiences. He had partly rewritten the play to provide a more palatable ending, as he felt that such a popular hero, however flawed, ought not to end his life so tragically young.
Mr Merridew was constantly in demand for ladies’ tea gatherings to give poetry readings; however, his range included entertainments suitable for every taste. Currently, however, he was not in Brighton. He was touring the theatres of coastal towns with a pantomime of his own creation, The Jolly Milkmaid, in which he played the role of the milkmaid’s mother, Dame Bracket. Mina had never seen this work, which she had been given to understand was much enjoyed by families visiting the seaside, but she had been told that the magical transformation of Dame Bracket to the beautiful Fairy Cherish always brought the house down.
The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6) Page 3