Silas has informed me that he paid a visit to you as he was concerned that you were in danger of suffering a relapse if you continued your enquiries, and he implored you to desist. Naturally the last thing I wish is to be the instrument of any harm to you, and in view of these recent events you would be well advised not to continue, or you may find yourself similarly assailed by the outspoken and ignorant rabble. I do not feel it would be wise for me to visit you again, and this may be the last letter I will write to you.
Please therefore, do not trouble to reply, and if you must have an object to which to devote yourself then it should be the pursuit of good health.
With warmest good wishes for your recovery
Charlotte Vardy
Mina felt only sorrow for Mrs Vardy. The lady was understandably going along with her husband’s wishes, as the thing she craved most of all was a peaceful domesticity. Mr Vardy was not someone who would take kindly to being disobeyed by his own wife. She wondered if Mr Vardy had seen and approved the letter and suspected that he had not, and it had somehow been smuggled out to the post box by a sympathetic servant. Despite the wishes expressed by Mrs Vardy Mina felt reluctant to step back. She wanted some means of contacting the unhappy lady if she was needed. She recalled that Mrs Vardy’s good friend who accompanied her to the séances was a Mrs Wandle, a widow. Her late husband according to the spiritoscope, had expressed his approval of how she managed an inn, presumably the business they had once managed together. Mina looked once more in Page’s Directory and found a Mrs E Wandle, of the Ship Inn, Seabourne.
Dear Mrs Wandle
Please forgive me for writing to you, as we have never been introduced. Your good friend Mrs Vardy has recently consulted me about matters of which I am sure you are aware. I wish there was something I could do to relieve her distress, but she is anxious that I might make myself ill in so doing and has urged me not to write to her again. I will of course, respect her wishes.
If there is any way, however small, in which I can help her, please do write to me.
Assuring you of my good intentions,
Mina Scarletti
Mina had scarcely completed her letter and settled to some reading when Rose announced that Mr Merridew had called and begged to be allowed to speak to her. She agreed at once that he should be shown to her room.
‘Dear lady,’ said Mr Merridew to Mina, ‘please excuse my unexpected arrival but I have news to impart which I know will interest you.’
Mina was happy to put her books and papers aside. She could see that the customary elegance of her visitor’s superior wig was a little ruffled by exertion. ‘I am all attention,’ she said.
‘Having waited for the first wild undisciplined crush to abate, I determined to wend my way to Ship Street, to see for myself the portrait of the unhappy man now languishing in the cells at the Town Hall. Avoiding pitfalls and obstacles, and the inevitable dust and dirt of the road, I saw that there was an acceptably respectful assembly outside the window of Mr Beckler’s photographic shop, where a boy had been specially employed to sweep away any debris which might have discouraged potential customers. Persons of all ages had stopped to stare; gentlemen of business, gentlemen of leisure, tradesmen, ladies with their maids and nursemaids with their charges. Even quite small children were being held up above the heads of the crowds to examine the portrait of the unknown man. Rather like the observation gallery at a trial, a lively debate was in progress in the crowd, with every individual having his or her own theory.
I entered the shop and found a busy bustle of customers, their chatter almost obscuring the delicate sound of the bell, examining the sample portraits which covered an entire wall, and a display of ornamental frames. Your brother was standing behind the counter doing his best not to look bored, a task which I am sorry to say was quite beyond him.
I decided to be a moving advertisement and so adopting my most melodious voice I exclaimed ‘What a delightful shop this is! I have been more than satisfied with the set of portraits I had made here.’ I walked about the premises, smiling and bowing politely to the ladies and having thus charmed them, I approached the counter.
‘I have come for the exhibition of cave pictures but will certainly return for another sitting,’ I said. ‘Also, I had to see your most famous picture — the one in the window. I can’t say that I have seen the fellow before, but if the Brighton Theatre Company was ever to mount a production of King Lear, I would engage him in a trice and have him howling like a madman in a thunderstorm.’
‘I hope he won’t have many lines to learn,’ said Richard. ‘He didn’t look up to it when I saw him. Is it a large part?’
‘Oh no, not at all, it is mainly howling. The real hero of the play is the Duke’s son, young Edgar, who feigns madness in order to protect his sovereign, defeats the traitors, and marries the King’s virtuous daughter. It is a role I have long coveted.’
At this moment, the doorbell sounded again, and a small plump lady with a feathered hat entered accompanied by her maid and hurried directly to the counter like a hunting dog that had scented its quarry. ‘Oh, Mr Scarletti!’ was her shrill cry. ‘I am so pleased to find you here!’
Richard winced. ‘Miss Hartop. What a — a pleasure to see you again. Have you come to make an appointment?’
Miss Hartop laughed in which she must have imagined was a charmingly girlish manner. The sound was like a series of rapid hammer blows on a badly tuned carillon. ‘No, today I have come to see the exhibition of cave photographs. I have one of your pretty little advertisement cards. It promises a most remarkable demonstration. Do you know, I simply cannot stay away from this establishment? Now I wonder why that can be?’ she added in a manner which left no-one in any doubt as to the answer.
‘I cannot imagine,’ said Richard, politely.
She leaned on the counter and gazed up into his eyes. She was wearing rather too much of a particularly strident cologne. ‘But perhaps I will make another appointment, after all. A new photograph. A lady can never have too many, I think. My only question is which of my gowns I should wear for the sitting? I have such a darling peach silk with flounces, and a light blue with lace. Which do you advise, Mr Scarletti?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Richard. ‘They’ll both look grey in the picture.’
Miss Hartop squealed. ‘Oh, Mr Scarletti, you are so very amusing!’
Richard glanced at me helplessly and I decided to come to his assistance. ‘The question to be determined, dear lady,’ I said, ‘is whether you wish the portrait to emphasise your complexion, in which case I would advise the peach, or the brilliance of your eyes, in which case the blue would be best. Either would be very flattering.’
‘Oh sir!’ she exclaimed, ‘how very kind. And now I think about it, perhaps the peach would be my preference. But I must confess, although perhaps I ought not to say it, it is a little bit — just a little, you know -— it exposes the shoulders for all to see.’ She gave a little squeak. ‘Do you think I dare?’
‘Oh, dare away, dare away!’ I exclaimed heartily.
She laughed again. ‘Oh, you are a naughty man to be sure! But don’t I recognise you?’ She stared at me, and I of course, obliged by striking a pose and offering my profile for her examination. ‘Why yes, you are the great man of the theatre, Mr Merridew!’