Louisa returned home in time for luncheon, fresh from the delights of being fussed over and flattered, declaring loudly that she hoped she would not look like a terrible fright in her portrait, but in a manner that showed that she was well aware of her refined appearance. Richard, she said, had attended her with such delicacy and expertise it had quite taken her breath away. He had been able to judge when the best moment was to operate the camera without even touching it, leaving the heavier work to his partner. Mr Beckler, she told Mina, was a young man of ability and energy who only wanted a good wife to complete his happiness. He was not handsome, but then it was impossible for a husband to have every virtue. Mina could only respond that she hoped he would find someone suitable.
‘I am sure he will,’ said Louisa, patting her hair, ‘but Mina, you must have no ambitions in that direction, for the sake of your health.’
‘I promise you,’ said Mina sincerely, ‘Mr Beckler is as far from my ambitions as it is possible to be.’
‘And of course, you are needed too much at home. This is your proper place.’
‘Is there any interesting news in the town?’ Mina asked, hopefully.
Louisa gave a little gasp of disapproval. ‘Oh, my dear, I must not say, it is far too alarming for you to contemplate. It almost verges on indecency and I cannot expose you to that. I am only surprised that Dr Hamid allows you to have newspapers, which are full of the most dreadful things. They would make me quite ill if I could bear to read them, so it is a wonder that you can manage. Why not write one of your pretty children’s stories to amuse yourself?’
Mina was resigned to the fact that unless Richard had any news she would have to wait until Rose brought her The Times next morning.
‘Have you heard the news about Mr Holt?’ asked Dr Hamid later that afternoon. He looked not so much excited but anxious in case Mina was prostrated by the revelation. It was clear that he had rushed round to see her because he wanted to be first with the information in case she became so excited that medical intervention should prove necessary.
‘Only that he has come alive again and is at the Town Hall,’ said Mina, calmly. ‘Is there more?’
He sat down, clearly relieved at her equanimity. ‘You always seem to know everything before anyone else. I can never discover where you get your information from, apart from extracting it from me, that is. No wonder people say you are in touch with the all-seeing spirits.’
Mina laughed but didn’t enlighten him. ‘How did you learn of it?’
‘I was passing through Bartholomew Square and saw a very substantial crowd gathered outside the Town Hall, and they were not there to purchase vegetables. Unusually for such assemblies the participants were both sober and respectable. Naturally I made enquiries and a gentleman told me that they were hoping to be allowed into the police office to speak to Mr Holt.’
‘And he believed that the man is actually Mr Holt?’
‘He felt sure of it. He has not actually seen him but like everyone else he is going by the description that has been bandied about, of a man of about the right age and build, and I suspect his own preferences. I was told that Mrs Vardy has been allowed in to see him, but she said that he was not Holt.’
‘Then that should settle the matter. Surely she ought to know her own husband?’
‘One would have thought so, but I am sorry to say that the men assembled outside the Town Hall refuse to believe the wife’s statement.’
‘Poor Mrs Vardy,’ said Mina sympathetically, ‘Is she not to be left in peace?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘But from what you say this is no idle rabble assembled out of curiosity.’
‘No, they were tradesmen and gentlemen of the business class.’
‘What interest or purpose can they have? I thought the estate had been settled.’
‘I did wonder, since if they are Mr Holt’s creditors, they can have no hope of retrieving their funds. But one of the gentlemen did introduce himself to me as Mr Stephen Westbury an accountant. His father, who is now retired from the practice once acted for Mr Holt, preparing the accounts of his business in good faith from the ledgers supplied. It transpired that Mr Holt’s figures were false, his debtors fictitious, and his bank account augmented by borrowings which were made to appear as profits. Mr Westbury senior became embroiled in the scandal that followed Mr Holt’s disappearance, and his reputation and business suffered badly since Mr Holt was not there to exonerate him from blame.’
‘I can understand the son’s anxiety for the father. So he just wants the good name of the family restored.’
‘Some of them have less creditable motives. Revenge. They want to see Holt in prison.’
‘How long did the crowds remain?’
‘I don’t know, I thought I should come and tell you what I know without delay, so I was obliged to come away. They were still there when I left. But your brother ought to be able to enlighten you.’
‘Richard?’ Mina found that news profoundly alarming. ‘Was he there? How was he involved? What can his concern be?’
‘I don’t think he was directly concerned. I saw him handing out some advertising cards.’ Dr Hamid adopted a cautious tone. ‘I hope this means he has some respectable employment.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, that must be it,’ said Mina, relieved, ‘he is working at a photographer’s shop in Ship Street, that is hardly two minutes’ walk away.’
‘You mean the new business, Mr Beckler’s?’ exclaimed Dr Hamid, startled. ‘Your brother is working for him?’
‘Yes,’ said Mina, with a sigh of regret. ‘Mother is very pleased about it.’
Mina had never seen Dr Hamid look more awkward. ‘Does Mr Beckler — er — continue his attentions towards you? When you first met him, I couldn’t help but notice — not that it is any business of mine, of course, but I was not under the impression that you — and I do not think your health permits — I’m sorry but what I meant to say was —’
‘My inclinations do not permit,’ said Mina with a smile.
Mina was impatient to hear what Richard would have to say and spent the rest of the afternoon worrying that he might decide to dine out after the shop closed. In that case she would probably not even see him until next morning, when he would have a headache and be disinclined to hold a conversation. Fortunately, she heard him arrive home at his usual time, in that dull interlude after tea and before dinner was announced, and he called on Mina at once.
‘There has been such excitement in town today,’ he said breathlessly, ‘The world of photographic art has never been more interesting! I now regret every wasted moment I laboured to make those drawings for the Journal. There is no doubt about it, the photograph is the future! It will take the place of the pencil, the pen and the brush. And today through the art of the camera, I have made my name!’ He thumped his chest with a fist and looked very proud.
‘So, sit down my dear, and tell me all about your day,’ said Mina. She listened expectantly but her brother’s announcements of this nature always provoked in her a sense of foreboding. ‘I know Mother sat for her portrait this morning.’