The Thames Spectre
The young and recently married Mr and Mrs Allan were enjoying a casual walk along the newly developed embankments of the river Thames. The construction had just been completed and recently opened by Prince Alfred for public use. It was an engineering spectacle with a new sewage and drainage system to bring the Thames and London into the modern world.
Mrs Allan held herself close to her husband. It was late and a chill air, despite it being July, crept in, threatening the back of her neck under her coat. Mr Allan offered his wife his scarf and wrapped it gently about her.
"The cold is creeping in faster than usual," she exclaimed sombrely.
Mr Allan merely nodded in agreement, he pulled her closer to him and placed his arm around her. His attention was focused on a faint blue glow some hundreds of feet before them. "What is that?" He said softly to himself.
"What is what?" His wife asked barely hearing him.
They continued forward although Mr Allan lessened their pace. The faint glow was slowly growing more prominent, turning a deeper blue. As they drew nearer, Mrs Allan had only just begun to notice it. To the husband, the blue light was beginning to now look like a shape.
"What is it, Richard?" She asked nervously.
"I have no idea," he replied doubtfully. He held her even tighter. "Shall we find another way?" He began guiding her away from the bank.
"I was enjoying our walk along the river. I would not like to leave it yet."
"Very well, but I do not like what we are seeing. It almost looks like a ma-" Mr Allan paused for he was going to say man, and the blue glowing shape was now very much in the shape of a man.
"Richard, I have changed my mind. Let's go another way," Mrs Allan said and stopped.
Her husband also stopped and turned to face her, "Elizabeth, my darling. Let us leave then. I know a-" Mr Allan was cut short.
"Wait," came a deep rough voice, "Who are you?"
The newly weds turned towards the blue light and screamed. The full figure of a man glowing blue, levitated a foot in the air, a mere few feet away.
"Who are you?" It asked again.
Mr Allan answered nervously, "M-M-Mr and Mrs R- Richard Allan. Th-this is my wife, El-Elizabeth."
The figure glared at them. Eventually, it asked, "Where am I? London is changing. It does not look like the Thames I once knew."
"It's talking, Richard. Why is it talking?" Elizabeth stammered and pushed herself closer against her husband."
"What do you want?" Richard asked bravely. He studied the figure. The clothes, although transparent, were of a fashion long since passed and not recognisable to him. The head had a few long strands of hair, and the face was gaunt with withdrawn, expressionless eyes and dried, pulled back lips showing rotted teeth. Richard also noticed the remnants of iron shackles on his wrist but with no chain.
"Where am I?" The figure demanded impatiently.
Mr Allan stood firmly, he wanted to be brave for his wife, "This is London, the time of her Royal Highness, Queen Victoria. 1874 if you must know."
Anger seemed to appear across his toothy, disfigured face, "Queen? Eighteen?" It replied.
"What can we do for you, sir?" Richard Allan was struggling to keep up the brave charade. He was talking to a spirit, he did not know what he could do about it, if anything.
The figure turned to face the river and scanned the buildings and lanterns on the far side, "Why am I here?" It asked, mainly to itself.
"Let's go, Richard, please," Elizabeth begged.
"Listen to your wife, Mr Allan," the spirit said firmly. "No good will come of staying here."
"Are we to just leave you? I feel like we should help you in some way."
The figure turned back to face him, "I have little use for the help you could provide. I must find out why I am here, who brought me here, and why?"
Mr Allan wanted more than anything to leave and see to his wife's safety, but he felt an obligation to help someone that was lost. "I fear, I have a public duty to help you in your time of need."
The glow surrounding the figure began to illuminate brighter, he was growing frustrated with the presence of the young, irritable couple. "Leave now," he said, slightly raising his voice.
Elizabeth pulled on her husband's arm, "Richard, I think we should go."
"Yes, alright, darling. One moment," Mr Allan let go of his wife and stepped closer to the spirit. "Where are you from?" He asked.
In return the spirit became angrier and brighter, "London," it said hoarsely. "Now leave me be!"
"Richard?" Mrs Allan said uncertainly. She began stepping backwards, ready to turn and run for her life. The light became bright and she had difficulty seeing her husband.
"Leave!" The spirit screamed.
Suddenly, shards of brick were coming at them from all angles. Elizabeth screamed her husband's name again but could no longer see him. Overwhelmed with fright, she really did turn on her heels and run. She ran as fast as she could in her boots, not looking back to see if her husband was able to follow her.
***
A New Case Arrives
"You need to get back to some of these, Doctor," Polly said as she dropped files onto the desk of her new boss. His study was a miniature room in the back of his house in Fulham. It contained a desk and chair, a large single book shelf, mostly containing books of engineering and Philosophy, and a minibar with glass and bottles of gin and other spirits. A stack of papers of various content involving his works, engineering and soon-to-be inventions sat on one end of his desk. The end of his desk stood a small stack of his favourite medium, penny dreadfuls.
Henry feigned looking up at them, "Henry, please," he replied. "When did you let yourself in?"
"Henry," she nodded. "I've been here for several hours. You do know it's coming on for eleven, don't you? Will you tell me which of these you want me to write a letter of reply to. They are growing in number by the day."
"All of them, of course. We don't leave a single spirit unrested," Henry replied while checking his pocket watch. "Crikey, is that the time?"
Polly also placed a newspaper with them, "There was a murder down by the Thames last night. Want to investigate?"
Henry eyed the paper suspiciously, "Anything of interest to us, this murder?"
"One reported seeing a floating man, but he was debunked with a case of mania," Polly replied casually.
"Hysteria," Henry smiled. "The tabloids promote the most horrendous nonsense."
"That will be a no then?" Polly asked.
"If we investigate every murder in London, we'll never sleep."
"You are tired now, Henry. I really would insist you get yourself some rest," Polly picked up the paper and the files. "You were up before the dawn I wager. Did you even go to bed last night?"
"I got the sleep I needed, I must solve the increased, unusual activity at Lady Donovan's. She will pay handsomely if I can solve this one."
"As you say, Henry. I will leave you with your troubles," she opened the door of his study and stepped out. "I'll deal with my own troubles of deciphering your pocket book."
"I'll make you tea," Henry said as Polly shut the door from the other side.
She smirked to herself knowing he would not, Always lost under his pen. She crossed the landing of the two-storey house and entered the smallest of the three bedrooms on the top floor of the house on Hugon Road. Henry turned the room into a small office for Polly. The shelves and drawers were stacked with paperwork and files, mostly receipts and accounts.
Polly's employment involved looking after Henry's finances and administration as well as the occasional assistance in a ghost hunt. It had been two weeks since she had joined Henry's services. The job was secure and very unlike anything else she would ever experience, and she was pleased having met Henry and gaining his friendship.
Polly smiled to herself as she crossed the very short floor space to her own desk. It was not much but it was comfortable and it allowed her easy access to any document she required, something that in itself took four long days to organise. Henry was erratic, and smart, but he was not orderly when it came to important documents.
There was a rapid tap at the front door shortly after Polly had sat down. A slight pause followed, then another succession of wild raps repeated against the wooden structure.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Polly called as she marched out of her office, motioning to a quick trot down the stairs to get to the eager guest.
"Good morning, miss. How may we be of service today?" Polly said, opening the door to a frightfully pale young woman.
She pushed past Polly without waiting for an invitation and crossed the hall straight into the front room. "Is he here? The mad scientist?" The woman demanded, although it came out as a plea. She stomped back and forth across Henry's long rug.
"Dr Neville?" Polly asked.
"Yes," the guest exclaimed. "My husband is missing! I'm told the scientist helps in these matters, does he not?"
Polly sighed, "I'm sorry, miss, but we do not deal with missing persons. You need the police for that." She tried to show the strange woman to the door.
"Wait! Please! I believe it was a phantom, down by the Thames."
This information stopped Polly from pushing her further, "Ok, wait a minute. What is your name?"
"Elizabeth, Mrs Elizabeth Allan. This is a matter of urgency. I need to see the scientist, it still haunts my mind."
"You can see him, I help manage his cases, but please tell me what you have seen," Polly extended a hand, pointing towards the sofa, "Please, take a seat, my name is Polly."
Elizabeth recounted the events with the figure by the Thames and how she ran ahead of her husband, how he did not follow. The glow that could have been blinding if she stayed a moment longer. She started sobbing when she recalled hearing of the murder.
Polly passed her a handkerchief and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Do you suspect it could be your husband?"
Elizabeth cried harder, "I don't know!"
At that moment there was a great thumping down the stairs and Henry appeared in the doorway. He wore his coat and his goggles sat above his brow. "Miss Polly, hold the fort, I will be engaged with Lady Donovan today," He glanced at Elizabeth, "Good morning, miss."
"Henry, this is Mrs Elizabeth Allan. She needs your help. I think you will be quite interested in what she has to say." Polly spoke quickly before he could do his usual running off act.
"Doctor?" Elizabeth said softly.
Henry nodded, "Mrs Allan. How can I help you?" He relaxed his posture and entered the room fully.
Elizabeth sat silent for a while, struggling to find the words, "The murder last night... I think it was committed by a... Ghost."
Henry did not answer straightaway. He moved over to the sofa and sat beside her, "You think it was a ghost?"
"I saw it, sir. The spirit, I mean. It wore very old clothes, chainless shackles on his wrists. He was glowing blue and floating."
"Interesting," Henry replied. "Did you witness the murder?"
"No," she sobbed again. "But my husband is missing. You must find out what that thing did to him!"
"Don't worry, Mrs Allan."
"Call me, Elizabeth, please."
"Elizabeth," Henry agreed. "We will find your husband and put that spirit to rest." He stood up. "Spare no detail. Tell Polly everything, include the location, and I will be there early evening."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Henry, please." He replied, resting a hand on her cheek and giving her a confident smile before turning and rushing out of the house.
"Henry," Elizabeth spoke softly, not realising she was blushing.
Polly rolled her eyes and reached for a pen and paper. "White people," she muttered as a joke to herself while silently laughing inside.
***