The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

‘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.