Mina placed a finger to her lips. ‘Hush! I found Mrs Honeyacre like this and I am not sure what to do for the best. Should we fetch Mr Honeyacre? Or Dr Hamid?’
Mr Hope emerged from his room, dragging his fingers through sleep-rumpled hair. Over his nightshirt he was wearing a thick plaid dressing gown that could only have been the property of Mr Gillespie. He came up close to the motionless figure and stared at her then waved one hand in front of her face.
‘They will not be familiar with this,’ he said. ‘It is a curious phenomenon, one that I have only read about, but have never before witnessed. Look and learn, Miss Scarletti. Even your stubborn materialism will crumble before it.’
‘But what is it?’
‘I believe that what we are seeing is an example of the Odic Force manifesting itself through the individual. Have you read the works of Baron Carl von Reichenbach?’
‘No.’
He gave a soft chuckle. ‘Ah, so you do not, as you claim, know everything.’
Mina decided not to reply to that.
‘Do you see an aura surrounding her?’
‘I see only the candlelight.’
‘Look more carefully. What you perceive as candlelight is actually an emanation of the Force. It permeates all things, surrounds all things, but only sensitives are able to see it. You, Miss Scarletti, although you refuse to admit it, are such a sensitive.’
‘But is she asleep or awake?’
‘Something between the two, I believe, a condition akin to a mesmeric trance. Do not fear for her, it is harmless and in time she will awaken of her own accord. Tell me, what is the colour of her aura?’
‘What colour would you like it to be?’
‘You jest with me, but the aura is a great signifier of both her state of health and her power. Odic Force may be positive in some and negative in others. Von Reichenbach himself wrote that the Force has both a dark and a light side, but my feeling is that Mrs Honeyacre is specially blessed and may balance them both within her. She is a spiritual being and her current sufferings exist only because she has not yet come to a full realisation of her abilities. The spirits that roam this house are drawn to her, drawn to her power, like moths to a flame. There have always been spirits here, of course, but they have lain quiet, they have slept. She has, without realising it, awakened them. She is the key not only to the haunting here, but also to laying the ghosts of Hollow House for all time, of finally dismissing the curse of Ditchling Hollow. I see more than ever now that it is essential to hold another séance and for Mrs Honeyacre to be not only present but the main focus of the event.’
‘I doubt that her husband will agree to that,’ said Mina.
‘Then you must persuade him!’
‘I will do no such thing.’
‘Why are you so obtuse? Why can you not see the truth that is in front of you?’ he insisted.
‘I will not be a party to anything that might endanger Mrs Honeyacre.’
‘Really? Is the life of one woman more important to you than the salvation of all humankind?’
Mina was too appalled at this question to reply, but at that juncture, Kitty suddenly uttered a deep sigh and her posture slumped. Mina hurried to her, anxious that she might fall and wondering if she was strong enough to prevent it. But, to her relief, Kitty slowly straightened up, blinking and looking about her in confusion. ‘Where am I?’ she whispered. ‘How did I come here?’
‘No matter,’ said Mina, taking the lantern from Kitty’s hand and placing a steadying grasp on her wrist. ‘You are safe now.’
‘But I am not!’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘I am in the most terrible danger!’ In the lantern’s glow her face appeared white, bleached with terror, her eyes sunk in black shadows.
‘There is no danger, really there is not,’ said Mina soothingly. ‘You were dreaming, that is all, and now you are awake.’
‘It was no dream, I am sure of it. Did you not hear it, too? The tapping, the horrible tap tap tapping of the death watch!’
‘No, Kitty, that was just in your dream.’
‘I heard it so clearly! On and on it went. Closer and closer. Louder and louder. The death watch and it is coming for me, I know it. That was why you did not hear it. It is my death-knell and mine alone.’ She began to sob.
Mina hardly knew what to say and Mr Hope was no help at all, since he only nodded sadly and knowingly. Mina wanted to guide Kitty back to her room, but realised that if she did so she would be leaving Nellie alone in her room and unprotected with Mr Hope close by, in his nightshirt, and waiting for just such an opportunity.
‘Of course, I am familiar with the legend of the death-watch,’ said Mr Hope. ‘There are some who say that —’
‘Mr Hope, I implore you!’ Mina snapped. ‘What Kitty needs now is rest, not more stories and legends. Go and fetch Dr Hamid at once and he will give her something to soothe her to sleep.’
Mr Hope opened his eyes very wide, since he was unused to being given orders by anybody, let alone a young female standing barely taller than a child, but he appeared to acknowledge the sense of what she said and gave a slight bow. ‘But of course,’ he said with a cold smile and did her bidding.
‘I heard his voice in my dream,’ confided Kitty when he was out of earshot. ‘He said that I was the cause of all this, of the ghosts in the house, the white lady and the child. He said that we must have another séance. Do you think that is true?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Mina. ‘Take it from me, Mr Hope talks a great deal of nonsense. It is better not to listen to him and the last thing you want is another séance. You cannot have caused the ghosts, that much is clear. Whatever is happening here, it was happening long before you came. Even Mrs Malling admits that.’
‘But I woke them. They were sleeping, but now they are awake and they are coming for me. They will bleed me, they will drain me of life!’
Fortunately at that moment, Dr Hamid, resplendent in a silk dressing gown and clutching his medical bag, arrived in time to provide some much needed support. ‘Come, Mrs Honeyacre, let me take you back to your room. I have something that will help you sleep and you will feel very much better in the morning, I promise you.’ His voice and air of confidence were enough to begin the process of calming her and she allowed herself to be led back to her room.
Mina gazed after her, thankful that she was in good hands, but despairing of any resolution.
Mr Hope strode up to her, eyes burning with elation. ‘Odic Force!’ he exclaimed. ‘The sceptics scoff, but they know nothing! One day, and I believe that day will not be long in coming, it will be accepted as a scientific fact! It is the key to all that we do not as yet fully understand; how ghosts manifest themselves, why some people see them and others do not, how thoughts are transferred between individuals, the power of magnets, of crystals, of electricity, of chemical action. Once I am able to return home, I intend to gather some experts in the field of animal magnetism, as I believe Mrs Honeyacre to be a valuable subject for research.’
‘And I will do everything I can to prevent that from happening,’ said Mina. ‘Your researches are not worth the price of a woman’s health and happiness. Gather your magnetisers if you must, but find another subject, a more robust individual. I came here because of an appeal for help from Mrs Honeyacre and I intend to honour that appeal.’
Mr Hope shook an angry finger at her. ‘This is not over! Take care, Miss Scarletti. Progress will happen and you may find yourself crushed like a nasty little spider in its path!’ He turned and stamped back to his room.
Chapter Thirteen
Daily life in the big house was obliged to go on, but the congenial atmosphere of anticipated pleasure that had marked the arrival of Nellie and her party had evaporated. All that was left was a cloud of dread at what might happen next. The two maids were busy going back and forth and although they had been the most fearful of all at the beginning, they appeared now to be the most content as they had work on hand to keep them occupied and no idle
ness to endure.
Kitty was once again absent from the breakfast table and Mr Honeyacre expressed a hope that she would be able to consume the piece of dry toast that she had said was all that might tempt her. As he rose from the table, having eaten very little himself, he begged Mina’s presence in his study.
At this request, Mr Hope adopted a very surly expression, as if a private conference with Mina could only be an insult to him. ‘I also wish to speak with you,’ he said, ‘and I think you will find that what I have to say is of far greater importance than anything Miss Scarletti might devise. In fact, she is mistaken on so many points that my advice is to pay no attention to her at all.’
‘Thank you for your advice, Lord Hope,’ said Mr Honeyacre, ‘but I am a man of the world who has lived on this earth these sixty winters now and I have learned to rely on my own judgment. Miss Scarletti is a guest in my house and a lady of intelligence, and I find her deserving of my attention.’
There was an astonished silence as Mr Honeyacre conducted Mina from the room, broken only by a repressed snort of mirth from Richard.
Once in the study, Mr Honeyacre’s careful façade of dignity and resolve broke into fragments of despair. ‘Miss Scarletti, you must advise me,’ he begged. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best! My poor dear wife is being frightened out of her wits. And — I apologise for any indelicacy, but it is essential that you know all the important facts. I believe that in the late summer I may become even happier in my family situation than I am now. It is more important than ever to take care of my dear Kitty. If it was not for this horrid weather, I would by now have sent her to Brighton to take the spa waters and rest. I see now that my invitation to Lord Hope was a dreadful mistake. Oh, no doubt he has the best of intentions, but the result has been that he has stirred things up abominably. Now I look back on it, we were going along quite well before, when it was just a few bumps and creaks and the maids getting nervous, which may well have been more imagination than anything else, but now it has become a nightmare. I feel as if some horrible presence in the house wants us to go — to leave Hollow House forever and let it just crumble away!’ He sat down heavily at his desk.
Mina found a suitable chair and sat to face him. ‘I assume that you have no intention of leaving?’
‘No, no, of course not. I am very fond of this house. And Kitty was, too, before all these things started to happen. You have not seen the estate in the summer and when you do, you will see how delightful it can be.’
Mina was thoughtful. ‘I can see that it might seem as if someone is trying to make you leave. Can you think of anyone who would want that?’
‘Only that tormenting spirit!’ said Mr Honeyacre bitterly.
‘I meant someone living.’
He looked taken aback by the suggestion. ‘No — why should they? How can it possibly benefit anyone?’
‘Why don’t we consider the idea? Let us begin with Mr Hope. Does he want to buy the estate, perhaps?’
With a theme to occupy his thoughts, Mr Honeyacre calmed a little. ‘I don’t believe so. He has never mentioned it. Of course, if someone has been making enquiries at the estate office in Hurstpierpoint, I won’t know until I am notified by the Mallings’ son, and for that I have to wait until the roads are repaired.’
‘Not Mr Hope, then. Let us explore further, if only to dismiss the theory entirely. If someone wanted you to go, who would that be?’
Mr Honeyacre mused on the subject. ‘The villagers are very happy to have us here. I donated substantial funds to maintain and repair the church. The graveyard was almost derelict before the Mallings restored it — choked with weeds and stones and horribly sunken in places. And I have been thanked many times for laying the new pathways. The Mallings like their place and would be terribly upset to leave. They are planning to make the garden bloom again and produce fruit and vegetables. They are quite devoted to it. Mr Gillespie has made no complaint and neither has Mrs Blunt. Both have been my loyal servants for many years. Mary Ann and Susan are well paid for their work and treated kindly. I am really at a loss.’ He paused. ‘I can’t help thinking that Mr Stevenson knows something.’
‘Mr Stevenson?’
‘He claims he is a naturalist, but I don’t believe a word of it. None of his conversation is about nature, in fact he seems to avoid the subject when asked. I am sure that he is really one of those land surveyors who come prowling about here from time to time. I think he has been surveying the estate for one of those dreadful factory builders.’
Mina felt unable to tell Mr Honeyacre that Mr Stevenson was not a surveyor at all but a detective employed by Nellie’s husband to spy on her.
‘Perhaps he is working for Mr White,’ mused Mr Honeyacre.
‘You have mentioned him before,’ said Mina. ‘Tell me more about Mr White.’
‘He wrote to me last year, wanting to buy the estate. That was before I met Kitty; before I had begun the redecorating. He was going to build a brick factory of all things and a branch railway leading up to the main line to carry goods and materials. Can you imagine the dirt and the noise? Of course I said no, very firmly. I haven’t heard from him again.’
‘Have you ever met him?’
‘No, and I don’t wish to.’
Mina could not help wondering if some people might consider the dirt and the noise acceptable if they brought employment and prosperity to the area. ‘Who knows about Mr White’s interest in the estate?’
‘Only myself.’
‘Did he offer a good price?’
‘Given the dilapidated state of the house at the time, it was fair, I suppose. Another man might have considered it.’
‘He wanted the house as well as the land?’
‘Yes, the house and everything in it, although that was little enough at the time. I don’t know what he planned to do with it. Knock it down, perhaps, or maybe reduce it to a mere shell which would become the factory, I don’t know. My collection was not here then, of course.’
‘What was in the house when he made the offer?’
‘Oh, just a few sticks of old furniture and carpets which have no appreciable value and I suppose that skeleton must have been under the floorboards then, although, whether he knew about it I have to doubt. And there were those old paintings the Lassiters didn’t want and said I might have.’ He gave a little gasp. ‘Could that be what Mr White wanted?’
‘The paintings?’
‘Yes, it’s possible. Supposing he knows the Lassiters and they told him about them and he has realised by some means or other that the paintings are very valuable. I haven’t examined them properly because they need to be cleaned and restored. I should get them looked at.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘In fact, I have a mind to look at them myself, now.’
‘I would very much like to come with you,’ said Mina.
‘Oh, by all means.’
Mr Honeyacre fetched his key from the safe and they went up to the first floor. On their way up the stairs, Mary Ann and Susan passed them by, carrying empty laundry baskets and disappearing into a bedroom.
He unlocked the door to the storeroom.
As far as Mina was aware, nothing had changed since her last visit. The cheval mirror was in its usual position in front of the window and it was still draped in a white cloth.
‘And now I have a confession to make,’ said Mina, with a smile. ‘When I first arrived here I stood outside on the terrace and looked up at the windows. I saw that mirror with its white dust sheet and for a moment — just a moment, mind — I thought I saw a figure standing there. The figure of a woman in a white dress.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Honeyacre, ‘I do hope that didn’t alarm you.’
‘Since I had already been told the house was haunted, it did make me think,’ Mina admitted. She decided not to mention the other mystery, how the white figure had so quickly and unaccountably vanished.
Mr Honeyacre picked up two cloth-wrapped items which were leaning against the wall. ‘These ar
e the paintings,’ he said. ‘Mr Lassiter, that is the nephew who managed the sale, said I might have them as they were in such poor condition that they were not worth restoring, but I am not convinced of that. My conversation with him suggested to me that he was not a great art-lover. From what he said, the Lassiters did not purchase the paintings but discovered them on the upper floor when they bought the house, so they are of some antiquity, though they may be of more interest than actual value.’ He removed the wrappings, which revealed two oil paintings each about a foot square with battered frames. He laid them on top of the trunk.
Mina had no great knowledge of art, but she could see that both the pictures were very old and dirty, the surfaces so dark it was almost impossible to make out the subject. Some areas of paint had peeled from the surface and flaked away. There was no visible signature on either.
‘They are painted on wood,’ said Mr Honeyacre. ‘Oak, I believe.’
Mina lifted up one of the pictures and gazed at it keenly, trying to make out an outline of a form. ‘May I take it to the light?’ she asked.
‘Please do.’
Mina went to the window and let the light fall on the surface of the picture, tilting it this way and that. Mr Honeyacre stood by her side looking over her shoulder. ‘A portrait, I think,’ said Mina. ‘A seated figure, perhaps.’
‘There are so many areas of damage I am almost afraid to have it cleaned,’ said Mr Honeyacre. He fetched the second painting. ‘This one, I am sorry to say, is in even worse condition. Perhaps they were water damaged and not dried correctly. Even had they been by one of the great masters we could never find out and they would be worth very little. Such a pity. In my estimation these might well date from the time of the Redwoodes.’ He stared closely at the second painting. ‘This one may portray a family group. I think I can make out some figures.’
The Ghost of Hollow House (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 4) Page 23