Mr Scarletti's Ghost

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘Thank you for letting me know,’ said Mina. ‘I hope you have enjoyed your stay here in Brighton.’

  Mrs Parchment gave an uncharacteristic smile. ‘I have, thank you.’

  ‘Might I ask one thing?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘I hope – I trust – that your departure is not connected in any way with the difficulty concerning Miss Simmons? Her behaviour was unacceptable, as of course was Mr Clee’s. I would not like to think that in making the error of employing her I created some dissatisfaction with the arrangements here.’

  Mrs Parchment’s back achieved a sudden rigidity. ‘I do not blame you in any way, Miss Scarletti. Miss Simmons’s masquerade of innocence was skilfully done and would have convinced anyone. When the truth is known, she will be exposed for what she is, a conniving and deceitful woman. I know all about her plans to extort money from Mr Clee under false pretences, but I also happen to know that she and her sister, both of whom have told lies to the police, will fail.’

  ‘May I ask how you know this?’ asked Mina. Both Miss Simmons and her sister had struck her as truthful, and she did not like to think she had been so categorically deceived.

  ‘You may, but I am advised that that is a matter best aired in court.’

  ‘Will you be giving evidence?’

  ‘I will, since it was I who observed them and reported what I saw.’

  ‘But did you overhear their conversation?’

  ‘That,’ said Mrs Parchment with a smirk, ‘remains to be seen.’

  Mina saw nothing in Mrs Parchment’s manner to shake her trust in the veracity of Miss Simmons and her sister. ‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘if the young lady of fortune to whom Mr Clee is shortly to be married will appear to give witness to his good character. That would cause quite a sensation.’

  ‘It would indeed, if such a lady existed.’

  ‘You think she does not?’

  ‘Do you have any evidence that she does?’ said Mrs Parchment confidently. ‘I have heard this rumour, of course, but I do not give it any credit.’

  ‘But it is not simply a rumour,’ Mina advised her, ‘the engagement was mentioned in the letter Mr Clee’s solicitor sent to Miss Simmons. She showed it to me. Where can the solicitor have obtained the information except from Mr Clee himself?’

  Mrs Parchment gave a curiously brittle laugh. ‘Oh, there is nothing in that. Young gentlemen, especially handsome young gentlemen like Mr Clee, always imagine that all the ladies are in love with them. Only wait for the trial and she will not appear.’

  She swept out, her nose tilted in the air. Mina was left wondering if the young lady of fortune was a myth for quite another reason, because she had been invented by Mr Clee as a means of escaping the consequences of his engagement to Miss Simmons.

  Mrs Parchment was kept very busy over the next two days with her preparations for removal from Brighton, and then, quite abruptly, she announced that she would be away on business until the hearing, packed a small travelling bag, and departed.

  Twenty-Four

  Richard, in the meantime, had been saved from the necessity of undertaking burglary as his new profession by the reappearance in Brighton of Nellie Gilden, bringing with her all her many personalities. M. Baptiste was well on the way to recovering from what had proved to be a trivial flesh wound; however, the lady who had shot him was not after all, as had first been supposed, a mad woman, but his lawful wife. These two states were not, Nellie suggested with some acerbity, entirely incompatible. The would-be murderess, who had arrived in London accompanied by her three small children, had come armed not only with a revolver but a French marriage certificate, which predated the conjurer’s nuptials with Nellie by ten years. After some harrowing scenes, M. and Madame Baptiste had become reconciled, M. Baptiste had announced that he would not bring any charges, and Nellie had left London, her main regret being that the lady had not been a better shot. Her only consolation was a generous gift from her former employer and supposed husband to ensure that his bigamous marriage was never mentioned. After telling Richard the sad tale, Nellie had gone to Mrs Conroy’s emporium to console herself with a new parasol.

  Pleased as Mina was that M. Baptiste had survived and been reunited with his devoted if rather desperate wife and innocent children, and that Richard could now continue his theatrical career, which was at least preferable to burglary, Mina saw another danger. Nellie was a free woman, a single woman, and it was therefore more than possible that she and Richard might marry. Mina only hoped that if this did occur, Nellie might choose to do so as Lady Finsbury, having presumably first found some acceptable method of disposing of Lord Finsbury.

  ‘You will never guess who I encountered in London,’ exclaimed Miss Gilden, as she, Richard and Mina enjoyed a quiet supper after the reappearance of Signor Ricardo and the Mystic Beauty on the Brighton stage. ‘None other than Rolly! He was hoping to be at the Gaiety for the season, but is now without employment, and it is such a shame, as he does do such amusing eccentrics. I especially admire his Caledonian Marvel, in which he rides a velocipede while wearing a kilt and playing the bagpipes. So I suggested he comes down here to see what is doing.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Richard. ‘He can even become Signor Ricardo if he wishes.’ Richard looked a little subdued. Mina wondered if he thought Nellie’s old friend might be a rival for her hand; either that or his ardour had waned since he had discovered that his mistress was not, after all, a married woman.

  Nellie produced some portraits of Mr Rollason in his favourite characterisations, which included the Caledonian as well as the King of Siam and a one-eyed sailor. It was very hard to imagine that all these were one and the same man. As she gazed at them a tiny seed of an idea began to take root in Mina’s mind.

  Two days later, at Brighton Police Court, Mr Clee appeared to answer the charge of breach of promise, the object being for the magistrates to consider whether he should be committed to take his trial at the assizes. As Mrs Parchment had so confidently predicted, there was no betrothed young lady to give evidence on his behalf. Miss Simmons declared that Mr Clee had paid court to her, and that they were secretly engaged to be married, the event depending only on the inheritance he was due to receive from his great-aunt. Mrs Langley also appeared to testify that she had overheard all the conversation between Mr Clee and her sister and entirely supported the prosecution’s evidence. A gentleman then appeared and, stating that he was Mr Clee’s cousin, he told the court that Mr Clee had no great-aunt living, and neither did he have any relative wealthy enough to provide any expectation of inheriting a fortune. The replies were couched in such a fashion that it suggested that it was Miss Simmons and her sister who had invented the story.

  The final witness was Mrs Parchment, who stated that she had reported Miss Simmons’s behaviour to Mrs Scarletti on witnessing the companion walking out with a young man, who she readily identified as Mr Clee. She might not, she said, have revealed what she had seen had the conversation been innocuous. If she had believed for an instant that Mr Clee had been making unwelcome overtures to Miss Simmons she would have stepped in and warned the lady. The situation, however, had been quite different. She had been shocked to hear Miss Simmons throwing herself shamelessly at the young gentleman, who had been trying to persuade her that she was deluded about his intentions.

  In vain did Miss Simmons weep and Mrs Langley exclaim angrily. The court, taking the balance between the plain young woman of humble origins demanding compensation from the handsome young man with the Byronic curls and the respectable widow declaring that the claim was founded on lies, dismissed the suit. Miss Simmons, distressed almost to the point of collapse, was half carried from the court by her sister.

  ‘I can well understand Mr Clee’s interest in Miss Simmons,’ Mina later told Richard. ‘She was an intimate of my mother and could provide all kinds of information to establish Miss Eustace’s credentials, and, of course, she was a willing confederate in the séance. If it were not for t
he fact that Mrs Parchment has no fortune I would almost suspect Mr Clee of making her an offer. As it is, she has appointed herself a moral guardian and that seems to be the basis of her actions.’

  ‘But Mrs Parchment does have a considerable fortune,’ said Richard. ‘At least, her husband died a wealthy man. She may choose to live simply, but that is no clue to her means.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ asked Mina.

  ‘True,’ said Richard, ‘how do I know it? I have read it somewhere very recently.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, I recall it now. When I was searching Miss Eustace’s rooms I found a notebook recording the names of wealthy residents of Brighton, and their worth. Mrs Parchment’s name was there, with an extract from a newspaper showing that her husband’s estate was worth above forty thousand pounds.’

  ‘Was Mother’s name there?’ Mina demanded in alarm.

  ‘I don’t know, I didn’t have time to read all of it.’

  ‘Should I warn Mrs Parchment?’ asked Mina.

  ‘Would the lady be prepared to hear anything to the dishonour of Mr Clee?’ asked Richard.

  ‘I don’t know, but I should at least make the attempt,’ said Mina.

  On her return home, however, Rose told her that Mrs Parchment had left the house after taking an early breakfast that morning, and a carrier had later called to remove her effects. She had left no forwarding address. Mina was just pondering what to do when Mrs Bettinson appeared, full of news. Mrs Parchment and Mr Clee, she said, had gone straight from the courtroom to the register office where they were married by special licence.

  Mina could do nothing but abandon the lady to her fate and hope that her eyes would be opened to her dreadful situation before too long.

  The morning post had brought with it an interesting packet from Mr Greville. His enquiries about the fraudulent medium in London had not ended with his discovery of the brief newspaper account. Realising that the sensational papers might provide better detail, he had obtained a copy of the Illustrated Police News, and sent it to Mina, observing that its report was undoubtedly culled from other newspapers, but the quality of its woodcuts was excellent. The artist had chosen to depict the sensational exposure of the medium, and the likeness, taken from a portrait photograph, was unmistakable. ‘Mrs Hilarie Clee’, whether or not that was the lady’s real name, was undoubtedly Miss Eustace. The article corrected an impression that had been given previously, in that the imposture had been detected because of the unruly behaviour of not one child, but two, a boy and a girl, said to be the medium’s own children. Both she and her husband, Mr Eustace Clee, had been arrested.

  Mina realised that there was no time to lose. She told Rose to summon a cab and went to see Miss Whinstone. That lady was looking most forlorn, and despite the unexpected arrival seemed grateful for the company. She was clutching a handkerchief in one hand and a framed portrait in the other, but on Mina’s being admitted to the room, she replaced the portrait on a side table with fingers that trembled so violently that the object fell over. Mina retrieved it for her and replaced it, seeing, and this was no great surprise, that it was a photograph of two children.

  ‘Are these the children you have adopted?’ she asked.

  Miss Whinstone nodded, miserably. ‘They are good children, but I had no idea that it was such an expense keeping them at school.’

  ‘I beg you, Miss Whinstone,’ said Mina, very determinedly, ‘not to pay another farthing for whatever luxuries they demand. You have been the victim of a callous plot.’ She proffered the newspaper. ‘Take a look at this picture. Do you recognise the lady?’

  Miss Whinstone stared at the illustration. ‘Why, it is Miss Eustace! The likeness is very marked.’

  ‘I cannot say what her real name is, but she is married with two children, a boy and a girl, the same ages as the ones that have been foisted upon you.’

  ‘But—’ Miss Whinstone looked confused.

  ‘Please, you must be open with me. How were you prevailed upon to adopt them? Was it a spirit message? Where did you fetch them from?’

  Miss Whinstone uttered a piteous wail. Mina went and sat close to her. ‘Please tell me,’ she begged, but the unhappy woman shook her head.

  ‘Were they living in an orphanage, or a boarding school or a charity home?’ Mina persisted. ‘What are their names? Do you have their birth certificates? What papers have you signed?’

  Miss Whinstone flapped her hands in confusion at so many questions. Mina rang for the servant to fetch a glass of water and allowed the distraught woman to calm down enough to speak.

  ‘I don’t know where they were living,’ she said at last. ‘The children were brought to me in the Pavilion Gardens by a lady who was a stranger to me. I do not have their certificates; they are called John and Mary, but I believe the births were never registered.’

  ‘Did the lady tell you who they were?’

  ‘No. Really – I can say nothing about it.’ She gulped water so rapidly she almost choked, and it splashed down the front of her dress unheeded.

  ‘What papers have you signed?’ asked Mina.

  Miss Whinstone shook her head. ‘None, it was thought best not to.’

  ‘Why was that?’ asked Mina. ‘For the sake of secrecy?’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Miss Whinstone,’ said Mina. ‘I think that you have been told lies, by unscrupulous people determined to part you from your fortune, and then made complicit in your own downfall by being manipulated into keeping a secret.’

  ‘But—’ whispered the lady, meekly.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘But Archibald would not have told me a lie.’

  ‘I have no doubt that your brother was a good and honourable man,’ said Mina soothingly, ‘but any messages you have received from him through Miss Eustace may have been nothing more than an invention to entrap you.’

  Miss Whinstone hesitated, and Mina put the newspaper before her again. ‘Only read here about her arrest for fraud. Can you continue to trust her?’

  ‘I – I don’t know,’ said Miss Whinstone, in a voice that seemed to echo from a deep pit of wretchedness. ‘I was so happy when she brought me messages from Archibald, happy, that was, until …’

  ‘Until he demanded that you adopt two children?’ said Mina. ‘On what pretext? Can your brother who cared so much for you really have intended you to be as unhappy as you clearly are now? I cannot believe it of him!’

  Miss Whinstone sobbed, and was for a time incoherent, but was able after a while to say with an effort that good as her brother had been, one could never tell what secrets a man might have.

  ‘I understand,’ said Mina. ‘You need say no more; I can see that it pains you. But it is my belief that your brother was as virtuous a gentleman as you have always known him to be, and that the real transgressor is Miss Eustace.’

  Slowly, Miss Whinstone recovered her composure, and dried her eyes. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked, hopefully.

  ‘I am certain of it!’

  ‘But what shall I do? I have been sent an account for another quarter’s schooling, and they both need new clothes and books.’

  ‘This is my advice,’ said Mina. ‘Pay nothing to these criminals. You will not be challenged unless you show weakness. Go to see Mr Phipps the solicitor without any delay, and put the whole matter into his hands. Any further demands for money can then be redirected to him. Ask him to make enquiries about the antecedents of the children. Once you have proof of what is suspected then the police can be informed. Will you do that?’

  Miss Whinstone was drowning under waves of indecision. On the one hand, there was the shame of admitting that she had been made into a fool, and sucked dry of her income. The shame of her brother’s transgression was on the other hand, something that she could bury deep and with it came two children, supposedly of his and therefore her blood, a family she could never have hoped for. She looked at the newspaper again, sighed, and took Mina by the hand. ‘Will you accomp
any me?’ she asked. ‘I do not think I have the strength to go alone.’

  Mr Phipps, though a busy man, was happy to find time to see Miss Whinstone and was understandably shocked at what she had to reveal. He promised to commence enquiries immediately.

  ‘Well, here is a to-do!’ said Mina’s mother on her return. All of Brighton, it seemed, was buzzing with the news of Mrs Parchment’s nuptials, and the general view was that she had lied in court to extricate Mr Clee from Miss Simmons’s suit, and gained a husband as her price. The happy couple were spending their honeymoon at the Grand Hotel. ‘What can the silly woman have been thinking of? And he seems to have got a very poor bargain.’

  ‘He has a wealthy wife,’ said Mina, ‘and for some men that is all that matters.’

  ‘Nonsense, Mrs Parchment doesn’t have a penny to her name. I told you so myself, Mina, but you cannot have been listening to me.’

  ‘I thought – I believed that her late husband died a wealthy man,’ said Mina. ‘Was I mistaken?’

  ‘No, he had made himself rich on the vanity of others. But he and his wife were on bad terms and had separated long before his death. He left all his fortune to a nephew, who out of charity made a small allowance to his aunt. Now that she is married, I expect that will cease. If Mr Clee expected to live in luxury from the proceeds of Parchment’s Pink Complexion Pills he is in for a very unpleasant shock.’

  With the possibility that Mr Phipps might take several weeks to obtain firm evidence of the duplicity practised upon Miss Whinstone, and Mr and Mrs Clee about to leave town, Mina realised that she had a very short period of time to put her plan into action. She wrote two notes and the next day there was a meeting.

  ‘The thing that makes it especially difficult to expose fraud is that if it takes place it does so before hardly more than ten people, most of whom are devotees of the medium,’ said Mina. ‘Whatever happens and whatever is said, the thing that counts is how the event is represented to the wider public. The only advantage we have is the fickleness of popular opinion. Just as people may flock to the latest fashion so we may also expect that they will be as quick to abandon it and find the next sensation to amuse them.’