‘Alas,’ said Mrs Barnham, with a sorrowful shake of the head, ‘it is that very incredulity, the pernicious unshakeable bigotry that repels the spirits and in the presence of such persons they refuse to appear. Thus, it is only the true believers or those whose minds are open to receiving the truth who are granted messages of hope.’
‘It is thought by some,’ said Mr Cobbe, ‘that there exists in certain persons a state which is the inverse of the medium’s aura, one which neutralises it, and prevents it from activating the spirits.’
‘There are such persons,’ said Mrs Barnham, sadly, ‘and they will never be admitted here, nor will their names ever be spoken in this house.’
I waited for some glancing allusion to you, Miss Scarletti, but before anyone could respond, Miss Stone arrived with a tea tray and a plate of bread and butter.
Mrs Barnham remained behind the table and accepted only tea.
Once the refreshments were consumed, and in view of the quantities provided this did not take long, Miss Stone quickly removed the tray, then ensured that the fire was more closely guarded, and the lights turned down to plunge the room into near darkness. Mrs Barnham invited her visitors to close their eyes and led them to pray for the souls of the departed, after which a hymn was sung by all, Mr Cobbe’s voice sounding lustily above the others.
When they re-opened their eyes, a new figure stood in the room, facing the seated company. The height and form suggested a female child, and she was clad in long robes that shone like moonlight in the darkness. Her face was visible only through silvery veils, partly occluded by long strands of hair.
‘Do not approach or touch her unless she invites you to,’ warned Miss Stone.
I glanced at Mrs Barnham whose form was visible only in the spectral light. She was slumped forward, her head bent low. She appeared to be either asleep or in a trance.
‘The spirit is formed from ethereal matter which has been drawn from Mrs Barnham’s own body,’ Miss Stone continued. ‘Any undue interference would cause the material to rush back into the medium with such force that it might kill her.’
No-one moved. The child spectre paused and looking up and down the line slowly extended thin white arms towards Mr Cobbe.
‘It is my sweet angel, Caroline!’ he gasped. ‘I beg you, come to your father’s loving arms my dear child!’
She glided softly forward, making no sound on the carpeted floor. Trembling, he reached out for her, inviting her to him. Slowly, the spirit came nearer, and finally their hands touched. Mr Cobbe uttered a little moan, and gently drew her close until he was able to enclose her slight form in his arms and laid his head on her shoulder. He appeared to be weeping.
In the faint glow of spirit light I noticed the other sitters turning their faces away out of pity, or blotting their eyes with handkerchiefs, while Miss Stone looked only at her unconscious mistress. I alone gazed at the sight. I have met men like Mr Cobbe before, cruel men who hide their true selves under a mask of virtue, and I felt a great weight settle on my heart.
After a little while, Mrs Barnham began to groan and wail, and this seemed to be a signal for the ghost to depart. Reluctantly Mr Cobbe released the frail figure which backed away. Miss Stone rose to her feet, then Mr Cobbe rose awkwardly and abruptly left the room.
‘And now,’ said Miss Stone, ‘I beg you to pray for the health of Mrs Barnham, that she may be restored to her full form and energy! Close your eyes everyone and pray!’
The voices all joined in prayer and no voice was louder than that of Miss Stone. As the prayer ended I opened my eyes, and the ghost had vanished. Miss Stone was giving Mrs Barnham a drink from her teacup which I felt sure was not tea.
‘You deduced that the spirit of the child was none other than the little maidservant?’ asked Mina, as Mr Merridew ended his tale.
‘I am sure of it. There was every opportunity for her to be made ready by Miss Stone when she went to make the tea, and she was both brought in and removed while our eyes were shut. Our voices hid any noise of her coming and going.’
‘And Mr Cobbe?’
‘I think he is not what he seems. I mean to watch him.’
CHAPTER NINE
Mina’s subterfuge to procure a private interview with Mrs Vardy was successful. There was a prompt reply to her letter agreeing to a call at the date and time proposed, and under the suggested conditions. When the time for their appointment came, therefore, Miss Cherry was absent on her visit to Mrs Phipps. Rose made Mina comfortable and showed the visitor into the room announcing her as Miss Saltmire.
The lady was, as Mr Merridew had described her, tall, with a good figure and handsome rather than beautiful, with a strong angular face, and expressive eyes. Although oppressed by many cares she nevertheless carried herself with strength and confidence. She had brought with her a little leather case of samples and a catalogue.
Mrs Vardy made the usual polite enquiries after Mina’s health, tinged with a note of caution in case the visit itself should over tax the strength of the frail-looking lady sitting propped up in bed well wrapped in blankets.
‘I am very much better, thank you,’ said Mina. Her visitor’s expression suggested that she hardly liked to imagine how Mina had appeared previously. ‘I hope you don’t mind the dissimulation concerning your name.’
‘No, not at all, I quite understand; it was a wise precaution,’ said Mrs Vardy with a wistful smile. ‘There are times when I hardly like to own to it myself.’ She sat down and held the sample case on her lap, clutching at it as if it was a support or a talisman. She made no effort to open it. ‘The name Vardy has become notorious of late. I am being discussed all over town like a common criminal. I know it is just the fashion of the moment and I believe it will fade with time as these things do. I can bear it, but my poor boys should not have to endure this. There had been talk of them taking their stepfather’s name, but it would be most unwise to do so at present. I do not —’ she broke off for a moment in a burst of emotion. ‘I do not want this suspicion to cling to my sons for the rest of their lives!’
‘I am not sure I know precisely why you have chosen to consult me,’ Mina began, ‘but I promise I will do all in my power to advise and assist you.’
Mrs Vardy took a deep breath, but it seemed to hold itself in her throat and she was dangerously close to choking. There was a carafe of water and glasses by the bedside and Mina reached for them. ‘Would you care for a glass of water? Or I can ring for refreshments to be brought.’
Mrs Vardy composed herself with an effort and shook her head. ‘I will just take the water, thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, I will pour it.’
Mrs Vardy helped herself to the water and after slowly sipping it she appeared calmer. ‘Forgive me, when I think of all that has transpired, it can overcome me. I have been through terrible times, and now, just when I had started to imagine that all could be settled in peace and comfort, and I might have some measure of happiness, it has begun again.’ She put the glass down. Mina decided to wait and listen.
‘My first husband Jasper Holt perished in an accident at sea almost eight years ago. There were aspects of the tragedy which led to suspicions such that it has not until recently been possible for the coroner to grant a death certificate. It was believed that Jasper had attempted to defraud an insurance company after taking out a large policy on his life, in order to pay off his business debts. Nothing has been heard from him since the last day he left our house, no note, no sighting. I admit that at first, I did entertain some hope that he was still alive, that he might write to me, or at least attempt to see his sons of whom he was very proud. But there has been nothing. Nothing at all. You must believe me, because I am sorry to say that there are many who do not.’