The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

‘Are you sure? There are going to be fireworks and I’m certain my parents have been cooking up a surprise all day. Seems a shame to—’

‘Honestly, I’d rather not.’

‘If you’re certain,’ he says reluctantly, his voice as crestfallen as his face. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a wretched day, Belly. Here’s hoping tomorrow will be better, with fewer misunderstandings, at least.’

‘Misunderstandings?’ I say.

‘The murdered girl?’ He smiles in confusion. ‘Daniel told me it was all a big mistake. I felt a right bloody fool calling off the search halfway through. No harm done, though.’

Daniel? How could he possibly have known Anna was alive?

‘It was a mistake, wasn’t it?’ he asks, noting my bafflement.

‘Of course,’ I say brightly. ‘Yes... terrible mistake. I’m sorry to have bothered you with it.’

‘Not to worry,’ he says slightly dubiously. ‘Think no more about it.’

His words are stretched thin, like overburdened elastic. I can hear his doubt, not only in the story, but in the man standing before him. After all, I’m not the person he knew and I think he’s coming to realise that I no longer wish to be. This morning I’d have done almost anything to repair the fracture between us, but Sebastian Bell was a drug peddler and a coward, the consort of vipers. Michael was a friend of that man, so how could he ever be a friend of mine?

‘Well, I’d best be off,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘Feel better, old man.’

Rapping the doorframe with his knuckle, he turns away, following the rest of the guests on their way to the party.

I watch him go, digesting the news. I’d quite forgotten about Anna’s flight through the woods this morning, our imminent meeting in the graveyard sapping much of the horror from my first memory. And yet, something momentous clearly happened, even if Daniel has been telling people it didn’t. I’m certain of what I witnessed, the gunshot and the fear. Anna was chased by a figure in black, whom I must now assume to have been the footman. Somehow she survived, as did I after my assault last night. Is that what she wants to talk about? Our mutual enemy, and why he wants us dead? Perhaps he’s after the drugs? They’re clearly valuable. Maybe Anna’s my partner and she removed them from the trunk to keep them out of his hands? That would, at least, explain the presence of the chess piece. Maybe it’s some sort of calling card?

After taking my coat from the wardrobe, I wrap myself in a long scarf and slip my hands into a thick pair of gloves, pocketing the paperknife and chess piece on the way out. I’m rewarded by a crisp, cold night. As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I breathe in the fresh air, still damp with the storm, and follow the gravel path around the house towards the graveyard.

My shoulders are tense, my stomach unsettled.

I’m frightened of this forest, but I’m more frightened by this meeting.

When I first awoke I wanted nothing more than to rediscover myself, but last night’s misadventure now seems a blessing. Injury has given me the chance to start again, but what if meeting Anna brings all my old memories flooding back? Can this higgledy-piggledy personality I’ve cobbled together over the course of the day survive such a deluge, or will it be washed away entirely?

Will I be washed away?

The thought is almost enough to turn me around by the shoulders, but I cannot confront the person I was by running from the life he built. Better to make a stand here, confident of whom I wish to become.

Gritting my teeth, I follow the path through the trees, coming upon a small gardener’s cottage, the windows dark. Evelyn’s leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, a lantern burning by her feet. She’s wearing a long beige coat and wellington boots, an outfit somewhat at odds with the blue evening dress beneath it and the diamond tiara sparkling in her hair. She’s really quite beautiful, though she carries it awkwardly.

She notices me noticing.

‘I didn’t have time to change after dinner,’ she says defensively, tossing her cigarette away.

‘What are you doing here, Evie?’ I ask. ‘You’re supposed to be at the ball.’

‘I slipped away. You didn’t think I’d miss all the fun?’ she says, grinding the cigarette beneath her heel.

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘Then it would be foolish for you to go alone, besides I brought some help.’

From her handbag, she pulls out a black revolver.

‘Where on earth did you find that?’ I ask, feeling shocked and slightly guilty. The idea that my problem has put a weapon in Evelyn’s hand seems like a betrayal somehow. She should be warm and safe in Blackheath, not out here in harm’s way.

‘It’s my mother’s, so the better question might be where she found it.’

‘Evie, you can’t—’

‘Sebastian, you’re my only friend in this dreadful place and I’m not going to let you stroll into a graveyard alone, without knowing what’s waiting for you. Somebody’s already tried to kill you once. I have no intention of letting them try again.’

A lump of gratitude lodges itself in my throat.

‘Thank you.’