‘That’s very good,’ says Evelyn, her face lighting up. ‘Aside from a detail or two, it’s almost as if you were there in the flesh. You’re a delight, Mr Gold, you know that? Far more entertaining than the dull creature I mistook you for last night.’
‘What happened to the stable boy?’ asks Anna. ‘The stablemaster said he was never found.’
Evelyn considers her for a long while. At first I think it’s because she’s deciding whether to answer the question, and then I realise the truth. She’s summoning the memory. She hasn’t thought about it in years.
‘It was the most curious thing,’ says Evelyn distantly. ‘He took me to see some caves he’d found. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve, so we went in secret, but he was very tedious company. We were exploring, and he fell into a deep hole. Nothing too serious, I could easily have fetched help. I told him I was going to, and then it dawned on me. I didn’t have to fetch help. I didn’t have to do anything at all. I could leave him there. Nobody knew where he’d gone, or that I was with him. It seemed like fate.’
‘You just abandoned him,’ says Anna, aghast.
‘And you know, I rather enjoyed it. He was my thrilling little secret until Thomas asked me why I’d gone to the caves that day.’ Keeping her gun trained on us, she lifts her lantern out of the mud. ‘And the rest you know. Pity, really.’
She cocks the hammer, but Anna steps in front of me.
‘Wait!’ she says, stretching out a hand.
‘Please, don’t beg,’ says Evelyn, exasperated. ‘I hold you in such high regard, really you have no idea. Aside from my mother, nobody’s thought twice about Thomas’s death in nearly twenty years, and then, out of the blue, you two appear with almost the entire thing wrapped up in a nice little bow. It must have taken a great deal of determination, and I admire that, but nothing is so unbecoming as a lack of pride.’
‘I’m not going to beg, but the story’s not done,’ says Anna. ‘We deserve to hear the rest of it.’
Evelyn smiles, her expression beautiful and brittle and utterly mad.
‘You think me a fool,’ she says, wiping the rain from her eyes.
‘I think you’re going to kill us,’ says Anna calmly, speaking as one would to a small child. ‘And I think if you do it out in the open, lots of people will hear. You need to move us somewhere quieter, so why not let us talk on the way.’
Evelyn takes a few steps towards her, holding the lantern close to her face so that she might better inspect her. Her head is cocked, lips slightly parted.
‘Clever girl,’ says Evelyn, purring in admiration. ‘Very well, turn around and start walking.’
I listen to this exchange with increasing panic, desperately hoping the Plague Doctor will appear out of the gloom and finally put an end to this. He must surely have enough evidence to support Anna’s freedom by now.
Unless he’s been delayed.
The thought fills me with dread. Anna’s trying to keep us alive, but it will all be for nothing if the Plague Doctor doesn’t know where to find us.
I reach for our lantern, but Evelyn kicks it away, motioning us into the forest with the point of her gun.
We walk side by side with Evelyn a couple of paces behind, humming softly. I risk a look over my shoulder, but she’s far enough back to make snatching the gun an impossible endeavour. Even if I could, it wouldn’t be any use. We’re not here to capture Evelyn, we’re here to prove Anna’s not like her, and the best way of doing that is to be in danger.
Heavy clouds blot out the stars and with only Evelyn’s dim flame to guide us, we’re having to move cautiously to avoid tripping. It’s like trying to navigate through ink, and still there’s no sign of the Plague Doctor.
‘If your mother knew a year ago what you’d done, why didn’t she tell everybody then?’ asks Anna, glancing back at Evelyn. ‘Why arrange this party, why invite all these people?’
There’s genuine curiosity in her tone. If she’s afraid, she’s keeping it in a pocket somewhere I can’t see. Evidently, Evelyn’s not the only actress in the house. I can only hope I’m doing as well. My heart’s thumping hard enough to crack a rib.
‘Greed,’ says Evelyn. ‘My parents needed money more than my mother needed to see me hang. I can only assume the marriage took some time to arrange, because Mother sent me a letter last month telling me that unless I allowed myself to be wedded to that odious Ravencourt, they’d turn me in. The humiliation of today’s party was a parting shot, a slither of justice for Thomas.’
‘So you killed them in revenge?’ asks Anna.
‘Father was a trade. Michael murdered Felicity, and I murdered Father. My brother wanted his inheritance while there still was one. He’s buying Stanwin’s blackmail business with Coleridge.’
‘Then it really was your boot print I saw outside the gatehouse window,’ I say. ‘And you left the note claiming responsibility.’
‘Well, I couldn’t have poor Michael being blamed, that would defeat the point entirely,’ she says. ‘I don’t intend on using my name once I leave here, so why not put it to some use?’
‘And your mother?’ asks Anna. ‘Why kill her?’
‘I was in Paris,’ says Evelyn, anger heating her words for the first time. ‘If she hadn’t bartered me to Ravencourt, she’d never have seen me again. As far as I’m concerned, she committed suicide.’
The trees break suddenly, revealing the gatehouse. We’ve come out around the back of the building, opposite the latched door into the kitchen the fake Evelyn showed Bell that first morning.
‘Where did you find the other Evelyn?’ I ask.
‘Her name was Felicity Maddox. She was some sort of con artist, from what I understand,’ says Evelyn vaguely. ‘Stanwin arranged everything. Michael told him the family wanted Felicity to marry Ravencourt in my place, at which point they’d pay him half of the dowry to keep quiet.’
‘Did Stanwin know what you planned to do?’ asks Anna.
‘Perhaps, but why would he care?’ shrugs Evelyn, gesturing for me to open the door. ‘Felicity was an insect. Some policeman or other tried to help her this afternoon and you know what she did? Instead of admitting everything to him, she ran straight to Michael and asked for more money to keep quiet. Really, a person like that is a stain upon the world. I consider her murder an act of public service.’
‘And Millicent Derby, was her death a public service?’
‘Oh, Millicent,’ says Evelyn, brightening at the memory. ‘You know, back in the day, she was as bad as her son. She just didn’t have the energy for it in her later years.’
We’re passing through the kitchen, into the hallway. The house is silent, all of its occupants dead. Despite that, a lamp burns brightly on the wall, suggesting Evelyn always intended on coming back here.
‘Millicent recognised you, didn’t she?’ I say, dragging my fingertips along the wallpaper. I can feel myself coming unstuck. None of this feels real any more. I need to touch something solid so I know I’m not dreaming. ‘She spotted you in the ballroom alongside Felicity,’ I continue, remembering how the old lady hurried away from Derby. ‘She had watched you grow up and wasn’t going to be fooled by a maid’s outfit and Gold’s new portraits on the wall. Millicent knew immediately who you were.’
‘She came down to the kitchen, demanding to know what I was up to,’ says Evelyn. ‘I told her it was a prank for the ball and the silly old dear believed me.’
I glance around, hoping for some hint of the Plague Doctor’s presence, but my hope is fading. There’s no reason for him to know we’re here, so he will have no idea how courageous Anna’s being, or that she’s solved his riddle. We’re wading towards death with a madwoman, and it’s all for nothing.
‘How did you kill her?’ I ask, desperately trying to keep Evelyn talking while I come up with a new plan.
‘I stole a bottle of veronal from Doctor Dickie’s bag and crushed a few tablets into her tea,’ she says. ‘When she passed out, I held a pillow over her
face until she stopped breathing and then fetched Dickie.’
There’s joy in her voice, as if this is some happy old memory being shared among friends at the dinner table. ‘He saw the veronal from his bag on her nightstand and immediately realised he was implicated,’ she says. ‘That’s the beauty of corrupt men, you can always rely on them to be corrupt.’
‘So he took the bottle away and claimed it was a heart attack to cover his own tracks,’ I say, letting out a little sigh.
‘Oh, don’t fret, lover,’ she says, prodding me in the back with the barrel of the gun. ‘Millicent Derby died as she lived, with elegance and calculation. It was a gift, believe me. We should all be so lucky to meet such a meaningful end.’
I worry she’s leading us into the room where Lord Hardcastle sits twisted in his chair, but instead she shepherds us through the door opposite. It’s a small dining room, four chairs and a square table at its centre. Evelyn’s lantern light scatters across the walls, illuminating two canvas bags in the corner, each of them stuffed to bursting with jewellery, clothing and whatever else she could steal from Blackheath.
Her new life will begin where ours ends.
Ever the artist, Gold can at least appreciate the symmetry.
Placing her lantern on the table, Evelyn gestures for us to kneel on the floor. Her eyes are glittering, her face flushed.
A window faces the road, but I can see no sign of the Plague Doctor.
‘I’m afraid you’re out of time,’ she says, raising the gun.
One move left to play.
‘Why did you kill Michael?’ I ask quickly, hurling the accusation at her.
Evelyn tenses, her smile evaporating. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You poisoned him,’ I say, watching the confusion sketch itself on her face. ‘Every day, all I’ve heard is how close you two were, how much you loved him. He didn’t even know that you’d killed Thomas, or your mother, did he? You didn’t want him thinking ill of you. And yet when the time came, you killed him as easily as the rest of your victims.’
Her gaze is flicking between myself and Anna, the gun wavering in her hand. For the first time, she seems afraid.
‘You’re lying, I’d never hurt Michael,’ she says.
‘I watched him die, Evelyn,’ I say. ‘I stood over him as—’
She strikes me with the gun, blood oozing from my lip.
I’d intended on snatching the gun from her, but she was too fast, and she’s already taken a step away from us.
‘Don’t lie to me,’ she wails, eyes ablaze, rapid breaths escaping her mouth.
‘He’s not,’ protests Anna, wrapping her arms around my shoulders protectively.
Tears roll down Evelyn’s cheeks, her lip trembling. Her love is rabid, pulsing and rotten, but it’s sincere. Somehow that only makes her more monstrous.
‘I didn’t...’ She’s clutching her hair, pulling hard enough to tear it from the roots. ‘He knew I couldn’t marry... he wanted to help.’ She looks at us pleadingly. ‘He killed her for me, so I could be free... he loved me...’
‘You had to be certain though,’ I say. ‘You couldn’t risk him losing his nerve and Felicity waking up again so you gave her a glass of poisoned Scotch before she walked out to the reflecting pool.’
‘But you didn’t tell Michael,’ Anna continues. ‘And he drank what was left while Rashton was questioning him.’
Evelyn’s gun has dipped, and I tense, readying myself to spring for it, but Anna tightens her grip around me.
‘He’s here,’ she whispers into my ear, nodding towards the window.
A single candle burns on the road, illuminating a porcelain beak mask. Hope stirs, but withers immediately. He isn’t moving. He can’t even hear what’s being said.
What’s he waiting for?
‘Oh, no,’ says Anna, sounding sick to her stomach.
She’s staring at the Plague Doctor as well, except instead of my confusion, there’s horror. She’s gone pale, her fingers clutching at my sleeve.
‘We haven’t solved it,’ she says, speaking under her breath. ‘We still don’t know who kills Evelyn Hardcastle, the real Evelyn Hardcastle. And our suspect pool is down to two.’
A cold weight settles on me.
I’d hoped Anna’s unmasking of Evelyn would be enough to earn her freedom, but she’s right. For all the Plague Doctor’s talk of redemption and rehabilitation, he still needs one more life to pay the piper, and he expects one of us to deliver it.
Evelyn’s still pacing, still tearing at her hair, still distracted by Michael’s death, but she’s too far away to ambush. Maybe Anna or I could wrestle the gun from her hand, but not before the other one was shot dead.
We’ve been tricked.
The Plague Doctor stayed away on purpose so he wouldn’t have to hear Anna’s answer and confront the good woman she’s become. He doesn’t know I was wrong about Michael.
Or he doesn’t care.
He’s got what he wanted. If I die, he’ll free me. If she dies, she’s trapped here, just like his superiors wanted. They’re going to keep her forever, no matter what she does.
Unable to hold in my despair in any longer, I run to the window and bang on the glass.
‘It’s not fair!’ I scream at the distant shape of the Plague Doctor.
My fury startles Anna, who jumps away in fright. Evelyn advances on me with her gun raised, mistaking my anger for panic.
Desperation claws at me.
I told the Plague Doctor I wouldn’t abandon Anna, that I’d find a way back into Blackheath if they released me, but I can’t spend another day in this place. I can’t let myself be slaughtered again. I can’t watch Felicity’s suicide, or be betrayed by Daniel Coleridge. I can’t live any of this over, and part of me, a much larger part than I’d ever have believed possible, is ready to rush Evelyn and be done with it all, regardless of what happens to my friend.
Blinded by my misery, I don’t notice Anna come to me. Ignoring Evelyn, who’s watching her the way an owl might a dancing mouse, Anna takes both my hands and stands on her tiptoes, kissing me on the cheek.
‘Don’t you dare come back for me,’ she says, pressing her forehead to mine.
She acts fast, turning on her heel and leaping at Evelyn in one fluid motion.
The gunshot is deafening, and for a few seconds its fading echo is all there is. Crying out, I rush to Anna’s side, even as the gun clatters to the floor, blood seeping through Evelyn’s shirt above her hip.
Her mouth opens and closes as she drops to her knees, a silent plea held in those hollow eyes.
Felicity Maddox is standing in the doorway, a nightmare come to life. She’s still wearing her blue ball gown, now dripping wet and covered in mud, her make-up running down pale cheeks scratched by her hurried flight through the trees. Her lipstick is smeared, her hair wild, the black revolver steady in her hand.
She throws us a quick glance, but I doubt she sees us. Rage has left her half mad. Pointing the revolver at Evelyn’s stomach, she pulls the trigger, the shot so loud I have to cover my ears as blood splashes across the wallpaper. Not satisfied, she fires again, Evelyn collapsing on the floor.
Walking over to her, Felicity empties the last of her bullets into Evelyn’s lifeless body.
60
Anna’s face is pressed against my chest, but I can’t look away from Felicity. I don’t know if this is justice or not, but I’m desperately grateful for it all the same. Anna’s sacrifice would have set me free, but the guilt would never have let me go.
Her death would have made me a stranger to myself.
Felicity saved me.
Her revolver’s empty, but she’s still pressing the trigger, burying Evelyn in a chorus of hollow clicks. I think she would go on forever, but she’s interrupted by the Plague Doctor’s arrival. He gently takes the weapon from her hand and as if a spell’s been broken, her eyes clear, life coming into her limbs. She looks bone-tired and emptied out, pushed beyond thoug
ht.
With a last lingering look at Evelyn’s body, she nods to the Plague Doctor, before brushing by him and disappearing outside, not even a lantern to guide her way. A moment later, the front door opens, the sound of pounding rain filling the air.
I let Anna go and slump onto the carpet, holding my head in my hands.
‘You told Felicity we were here, didn’t you?’ I say through my fingers.
It comes out as an accusation, though I’m certain I’d meant to signal my gratitude. At this point, with all that’s happened, perhaps there’s no untangling the two.
‘I gave her a choice,’ he says, kneeling down to close Evelyn’s still-open eyes. ‘Her nature took care of the rest, as did yours.’
He’s looking at Anna as he says this, but his gaze soon passes over her, roaming the blood-splattered walls, before returning to the body lying at his feet. Part of me wonders if he isn’t admiring his own work, the indirect ruin of a human being.
‘How long have you known who the real Evelyn was?’ asks Anna, who’s looking the Plague Doctor up and down, examining him with a child’s wonder.
‘At precisely the same moment you did,’ he says. ‘I came to the lake as requested, and witnessed her unmasking first hand. When it became apparent where she was leading you, I returned to Blackheath to relay the information to the actress.’
‘But why help us?’ asks Anna.
‘Justice,’ he says simply, the beak mask turning in her direction. ‘Evelyn deserved to die and Felicity deserved to kill her. You two have proven that you deserve your freedom, and I would not have you falter at the final hurdle.’
‘Is this it, are we really done?’ I ask, my voice trembling.
‘Almost,’ he says. ‘I still need Anna to formally answer the question of who killed Evelyn Hardcastle.’
‘And what about Aiden?’ she asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘He blamed Michael.’
The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle Page 42