‘I hope you kept to the respectable part of town,’ said Mina, receiving the gift eagerly. ‘I read the most dreadful tales of beer houses as little more than dens of drunkenness and bad behaviour. I don’t want to learn about your adventures in the police court column.’
Richard professed to be shocked at the suggestion. ‘Would I ever get into trouble of that kind?’
‘Yes, Richard, you would, and I am telling you not to.’
He put his hand on his heart. ‘I promise faithfully to be a model of virtue. But there is news of another sort — would you believe I saw a friend of ours while I was out and about?’
‘Oh?’
‘I was in Ship Street when I chanced on Mr Beckler the photographer.’
Mina frowned but chewed her lip and remained silent.
‘He was handing out cards to passers-by advertising his new business,’ Richard continued. ‘I stopped to say hallo, and he told me he is still trying to photograph ghosts but has made no progress with it. Until he succeeds, he has to rely on making portraits of the living or corpses. He makes them look so alike. He has a nice little shop of his own, very tidy and clean with portraits in the window of eminent persons. And you might be interested to know that he is displaying a very large one of his nefarious patron Mr Arthur Wallace Hope, who has just brought out another book, Adventures with the Spirits. I saw copies of it piled high in all the book shops and selling fast. And his African Quest has a brand-new edition.’
Mina did not care to be reminded of Mr Hope’s self-aggrandising and best-selling publications but said nothing.
‘You know I have often thought I ought to write a book,’ mused Richard. ‘It seems like a very good way of making a lot of money. I mean, you must do very well from all those stories you write.’
‘Oh, if you only knew,’ she replied.
‘But you need not worry that you will encounter that creature again for some while, as according to Beckler he has just sailed for Africa again, determined to discover the whereabouts of Dr Livingstone. Really, a man as clever as Dr Livingstone must only be missing because he does not want to be found, at least not by Mr Hope. I suspect the good doctor would not wish to be advanced upon and browbeaten into spiritualism in the middle of a jungle where I am sure he has other things on his mind. I am pleased for Nellie’s sake, too, that Mr Hope is gone, as she should not have to suffer that man’s vile attentions again. I do wonder, you know, can Mr Beckler be aware of Mr Hope’s reputation? Surely not.’
‘Nowadays wealth and position excuse everything,’ said Mina, coldly. ‘I am confident that Mr Beckler is perfectly content to accept Mr Hope’s patronage if it furthers his career.’
‘My dear girl,’ said Richard, in his most persuasive tone, ‘I know you don’t care for Mr Beckler, but I really do think he is fond of you. He was most upset when I told him that you had been unwell and said that he would like to call on you as soon as it was possible. Can I tell him you will receive him when you are better? I will be chaperone if you like.’
Mina, unable to look her brother in the face, tightened her grip on the newspaper. ‘No, Richard. He is not to come here. I detest him.’
‘I don’t see why. He paid you some very nice compliments. I know you thought he was only flattering you to drum up business, but it was more than that, I’m sure of it. You should get to know him better.’
Mina steeled herself. Would it be wise to tell Richard the truth about Mr Beckler? Could it ever be advisable to share information of that nature with her affectionate, foolish, impetuous brother, who was a stranger to considered thought? She had hesitated many times before, and always felt unable to reveal what she knew, but perhaps, after all, now was the time. ‘Richard, I —’ she paused, groping for the right words.
‘But here’s the thing, my dear girl, he went and offered me a position, and I have accepted. So now I have respectable employment. With a salary. I have just told Mother and she is so very pleased. Do say that you are, too.’
Mina was momentarily speechless.
Richard chuckled. ‘I can see you are surprised. You didn’t think I could succeed on my own so quickly, but you always underestimate me.’
‘But — you have no knowledge of photography,’ she protested weakly.
‘No, but I can learn,’ said Richard with a dismissive gesture. ‘I am quite clever with all sorts of things you know. And in the meantime, I will be busy handing out the advertising cards, making appointments and of course, flattering all the pretty ladies who are thinking of having their portraits taken.’
Mina groaned inwardly. Much as it pained her, she now felt obliged to remain silent on the horrid Mr Beckler and his unforgivable behaviour. ‘When do you begin?’ she asked.
‘Monday morning, sharp. He has not abandoned his other business in Twickenham but leased it to another man. Here in Brighton he hopes to attract a more fashionable clientele. He’s a coming man, Mina. You could do far worse.’
Mina took a few moments to calm herself before responding. ‘Richard, I want to make this very clear to you. I neither need nor want admirers. I have no intention of ever marrying.’
He gave her an arch look, as if to imply that so firm a rebuttal was only evidence that she was about to change her mind. ‘We shall see,’ he said.
Mina was about to tell him the secret that so few knew, that on medical grounds, the role of wife and mother had been forbidden her. If she had any regrets, she had consigned them to a place in her mind where they could not trouble her. She consoled herself with the thought that by rejecting the roles assumed to be the most desirable and appropriate for women, she had found a better and more stimulating life, with avenues of achievement she could not otherwise have envisaged.
She could not allow herself any tender feelings other than those towards her family. Sincere friendships, she believed, could be better and more enduring than romantic illusions. Before she could reveal to Richard the truth that would put a stop to his constant and well-meaning hints, Rose came to the door and announced Mr Merridew.
Before long, Mr Merridew was once again setting the scene, ready to recount what he had learned.
‘I arrived most carefully upon my hour. Little Maggie once again admitted me to the house, and I had brought a gift for her, a biscuit. She held it in her cupped hands and smelt it as if the baked aroma were the most heavenly scent in the world. For a moment I was afraid that she might actually faint, then she touched her lips to the edge of the treat and licked the sugar that clung to her mouth. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ she said, and then, in one undisguised moment, I saw a troubled look in her eyes.
I drew back a little so as not to frighten her. ‘I mean only to be kind,’ I said, gently, ‘and if anyone is unkind to you, you must tell me at once.’
She nodded silently.
I was met at the door of Mrs Barnham’s apartments by Miss Stone. ‘Have you served Mrs Barnham for many years?’ I asked as I handed her my hat, coat and cane.
She seemed surprised to be so addressed. ‘I have. She has been very kind to me,’ she whispered. ‘Not everyone would have offered employment to a woman like myself.’
In the sitting room, which still had a lingering scent of hot rum, was a row of six straight backed chairs facing the cloth draped square table which had been drawn forward to change places with the circular breakfast table. Mrs Barnham was seated at the square table so that she faced the chairs, on the side opposite the disk-shaped device, the body of the table lying between herself and the visitors.