Mina understood what circumstances must have provoked that last comment, since the Hamids were of Anglo-Indian descent. She reflected sadly that while there were many who were happy to enjoy the application of the Indian Cham-poo as it was known, while visiting India, those same persons might have been less willing to avail themselves of the same treatment in Brighton. ‘Does Mr Vardy attend the Baths?’
‘No, I believe he has no requirement or interest in the healthful effects of the vapour bath, but he is perfectly content for Mrs Vardy to visit as often as she likes.’
‘Does she ever seek treatments for her elder son, Franklin?’
Miss Hamid hesitated, unsure of how much to say.
‘I am aware that he is in poor health, and is currently unable to attend school,’ said Mina.
‘Hm,’ said the masseuse with a nod. ‘From what Mrs Vardy has told me, I am sure that her son would benefit. In fact, I did offer to pay a visit to the house and see the child myself to determine what might be best for him, but Mrs Vardy said that her husband would not hear of it.’
‘How curious!’ said Mina, as Miss Hamid gently turned her over, ‘so Mrs Vardy can avail herself of the treatments but not her son?’
‘That is so. Apparently, the boy rests during the day and Mr Vardy does not wish him to be disturbed. That is the excuse at any rate. But there may be other reasons, their doctor’s advice, perhaps.’
She said no more, but Mina detected in the firm hands that eased the strained muscles of her back that Miss Hamid was not comfortable with the explanation.
When Miss Hamid had departed, Mina was eager to follow the written instructions she had been given regarding the stretching and moving of her limbs. The ache in her twisted back was gone, and she felt if not exactly stronger, then ready and able to become stronger. She could for the first time since her illness confidently envisage a time when she would rise from her bed and walk unaided, dine with her family, pay visits to her friends, and go down to the seashore to enjoy the sound of the waves as they washed over the pebbled beach in the summer sun.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Over the next few days, Mina began to discover her strength again. Carefully but persistently, she undertook regular exercise, always when there was no-one else in the room. She would have liked to use her little dumbbells but felt that asking for them would be viewed with deep suspicion, so she made do with books. Miss Hamid had been right, of course. There were times when one was obliged to rest but after that, the best tonic was exercise. At last she felt ready to leave her bed, and so advised Miss Cherry and Rose, who to her great relief, did not disagree.
Mrs Vardy’s eagerly anticipated second visit therefore found Mina seated in a cosy armchair beside her bed, swaddled in blankets. She hoped that the fact she was sitting rather than propped up made her look in better health and less like a memento mori photograph. She had not yet been permitted a mirror so felt doubtful on the subject. At least she wasn’t surrounded by wreaths of fragrant flowers and her favourite books, with dark dots painted on her closed eyelids. She was alone, since Miss Cherry’s meeting with Mrs Phipps had been pronounced a success. The nurse had accepted an engagement to accompany the lady on a visit to enjoy a light luncheon and listen to a recital of Shakespeare’s poetry by Mr Merridew, both of which were keenly anticipated.
Mrs Vardy arrived carrying a portmanteau bag well stuffed with papers, which Mina thought looked very encouraging. She always felt a little thrill at the sight of a pile of documents, which held the rich promise of discovery, in much the same way as a hungry person might have regarded a plate laden with appetising food.
‘I have brought you a portrait which includes my late husband,’ said Mrs Vardy, ‘It was taken the year before he disappeared. As you see we were a united and devoted family.’
She handed a photograph to Mina who studied it intently. It was a conventional family portrait, mounted on an embossed card, which was printed with the words Premier Tintype Studio, St James’s Street, Brighton, and handsomely framed. The Holts as depicted were a proudly successful family. Mrs Vardy, seen nine years ago was immediately recognisable as a younger and rounder version of the woman who had called upon Mina. The intervening years had worn her with age and sadness. She was thinner and less fresh but had acquired in compensation a controlled dignity. Mrs Holt, as she was then, was portrayed seated on a straight-backed chair beside a round table that was draped in a fringed cloth and wearing what must have been her most expensive gown. She looked composed, confident, untroubled, proud. The elder boy Franklin stood in front of the table, stiff and serious in his best clothes, with straight hair in a severe centre parting, a poutingly sulky mouth and large eyes. The younger, a curly haired handful with a round face, plump cheeks and a mouth that looked about to break into a playful grin, was seated on his mother’s lap, and must have been hard to keep still for the camera. On the far side of the table from his wife, Jasper Holt was standing in a carefully arranged pose, his hand resting lightly on the table top, shoulders well squared. At his fingertips was a cut glass decanter, a set of stemmed glasses and, to Mina’s eyes, an unusually large wine bottle. Mina would have preferred to have seen an individual full face portrait of Mr Holt to gain a better impression of his features, but all she saw was a well-dressed stockily built man, his hair thick and brushed back from his face, worn short at the sides, and a beard of the most common cut. The chain of his father’s watch was draped across the front of his waistcoat.
‘You don’t have a better picture?’ asked Mina.
‘No, there is only the wedding portrait. This is the best, the most recent one. It is how he appeared on the last day I saw him. I have a description here. Gordon took out an advertisement. We were still hoping, then.’ She passed a printed paper to Mina.
‘What date was this?’
‘Gordon arranged it before those scandalous articles first appeared in the Gazette. I think Jasper had been missing for about a week. It was in all the newspapers, including The Times. That is one of the handbills Gordon had made. He had some posted up at railway stations. We thought Jasper might read one and then we would receive something from him, if only a note to say that he was well but had gone away for a rest.’
‘You thought he might be in hiding?’
‘I thought, perhaps that he had been working too hard and was suffering from nerves — that was all I could think of at the time.’
Mina studied the handbill.
MISSING
Mr Jasper Holt, of Holt and Co, purveyors of wines and spirits, St James’s Street, Brighton.
Age 43. About 5ft 8 inches tall, strongly made, fresh complexion, hair and beard light brown, no distinguishing marks. Well-spoken. Smartly dressed and wearing a silver watch and chain, engraved with the name of his father, F J Holt. Mr Holt went missing after falling from a yacht on 18 July 1864, and was initially presumed drowned, but may have survived. A reward of £100 is offered by his family for any news of his whereabouts, either living or deceased. Details to G Saltmire of Saltmire Fine Porcelain, Hove.
‘It says no distinguishing marks,’ said Mina, regretfully. ‘He has no scars, or blemishes upon him?’
‘None of any significance,’ said Mrs Vardy, ‘although he may have had some afterwards — who knows what injuries he might have acquired in the accident?’