An Unquiet Ghost by Linda Stratmann

Author:Linda Stratmann [Stratmann, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Mystery, Victorian
Goodreads: 37557477
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2018-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

That evening Mr Honeyacre had been kind enough to engage a cab and send it to collect Mina so she could be conveyed to his home with the minimum of trouble. He currently lodged in a superior apartment far from the low-lying centre of Brighton and the damp collections of mists that settled there. He favoured the elevated eastern part with its bracing air, although sufficiently distant from the sea to avoid the glare of the winter sun from the steel grey water.

The visitors were entertained in a large drawing room, furnished for peaceful repose, with a substantial fire blazing in a brass-fronted grate that amplified the golden flames. There were armchairs and sofas replete with deep comfortable cushions, and thick-fringed draperies everywhere to prevent draughts. Gas lamps glowed from cut-glass lanterns like so many full moons, and paintings in elaborate frames hung from panelled walls. On the sideboard was a large tureen from which a delicious savoury scent emanated, and there were soup cups and plates piled with thin slices of bread and butter, as well as pies, tarts, salads, roast meats and relishes. A tower of small plates accompanied by dessert forks held the promise of another course.

Mr Honeyacre, with a hopeful smile fastened to his face, greeted his guests as they arrived, while Miss Macready, standing by his side like a monolith, looked on with features of stone.

Mrs Brendel, proudly displaying a new winter ensemble in dark red, remarkably like the blue one that Nellie had worn to the séance, swept into the room like a fighting ship, with her daughter, a reluctant ghost dressed in pale violet, trailing after her. Mina, while not warming to Mrs Brendel’s company, could quite see why Richard admired the older woman’s energy more than the insipid attractions of Miss Athene.

‘Mrs Brendel, Miss Brendel, it is my great honour to introduce you to my dear friend, Miss Macready,’ said Mr Honeyacre in a voice that shook just a little.

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance!’ gushed Mrs Brendel.

‘Likewise,’ said Miss Macready, but her eyes said something else.

Mr Honeyacre’s manservant, Gillespie, a tall fellow, dignified and impeccable, ushered the visitors to seats and placed side tables within convenient reach. ‘What a charming apartment!’ exclaimed Mrs Brendel, carefully ensuring that her daughter took the place closest to herself. ‘How lovely this must be in the summer!’

‘Brighton has its charms at any time of the year,’ said Mr Honeyacre, ‘although I shall not make it my home for much longer, as I plan to live in the country.’

‘But I can hardly believe you mean to remove from such a delightful location.’

‘Oh, I shall still frequent the coast and enjoy the sea air, the galleries, museums and concerts, that is for certain, but I am determined to open up my manor house in Ditchling Hollow, which is not far from town, and entertain there. It has lain empty for too long.’

‘A manor house?’ Mrs Brendel could hardly have appeared more pleased if it had been hers.

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