The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

‘We don’t have much time I’m afraid,’ says the Plague Doctor. ‘I should—’

‘Wait... I need to... why did...’ My words are sludge, thick in my mouth. ‘You asked me... you asked... my memory...’

There’s a great rustling of material as the Plague Doctor gets to his feet. Picking up a glass of water from the sideboard, he hurls the contents in my face. The water’s freezing cold, my body convulses like a cracked whip, dragging me back to myself.

‘Apologies, that was most irregular,’ he says, staring at the empty glass, clearly surprised at his actions. ‘Normally I let you fall asleep at this point, but... well, I’m intrigued.’ He puts the glass down slowly. ‘What did you want to ask me? Please choose your words carefully, they’re of some import.’

Water stings my eyes and drips off my lips, the wetness spreading through my cotton nightshirt.

‘When we first met, you asked me what I remembered when I woke up as Bell,’ I say. ‘Why would that matter?’

‘Each time you fail, we strip your memories and start the loop again, but you always find a way to hold onto something important, a clue if you will,’ he says, dabbing the water from my forehead with a handkerchief. ‘This time it was Anna’s name.’

‘You told me it was a pity,’ I say.

‘It is.’

‘Why?’

‘Along with the sequence of your hosts, the thing you choose to remember usually has a significant impact on how the loop plays out,’ he says. ‘If you had remembered the footman, you’d have set off chasing him. At least that would have been useful. Instead, you’ve bound yourself to Anna, one of your rivals.’

‘She’s my friend,’ I say.

‘Nobody has friends in Blackheath, Mr Bishop, and if you haven’t learned that yet, I’m afraid there may be no hope for you.’

‘Can...’ The sedative is dragging at me once again. ‘Can we both escape?’

‘No,’ he says, folding his damp handkerchief and replacing it in his pocket. ‘An answer for an exit, that’s how this works. At 11 p.m., one of you will come to the lake and give me the murderer’s name, and that person will be allowed to leave. You’re going to have to choose who that is.’

He lifts his gold watch from his breast pocket to check the time.

‘Time runs away and I have a schedule to keep,’ he says, retrieving his cane from its spot by the door. ‘Normally, I remain impartial in these matters, but there’s something you should know before you trip over your nobility. Anna remembers more from the last loop than she’s telling you.’

His gloved hand lifts my chin, his face so close to mine I can hear his breathing through the mask. He has blue eyes. Old, sad, blue eyes.

‘She’s going to betray you.’

I open my mouth to protest, but my tongue’s too heavy to move, and the last thing I see is the Plague Doctor disappearing through the door, a great stooped shadow dragging the world behind him.

28

Day Five (continued)

Life pounds on my eyelids.

I blink, once, twice, but it hurts to keep them open. My head’s a shattered egg. A noise escapes my throat. It’s somewhere between a groan and a whimper, the low animal gurgle of a creature caught in a trap. I try to heave myself up, but the pain’s an ocean, lapping around my skull. I don’t have the strength to lift it.

Time passes; I can’t say how much. It isn’t that sort of time. I watch my stomach rise and fall, and when I’m confident it can do so without my help, I drag myself into a sitting position, resting against the crumbling wall. Much to my dismay I’m back in Jonathan Derby, lying on the floor in the nursery. Pieces of a broken vase are everywhere, including my scalp. Somebody must have hit me from behind when I left Stanwin’s bedroom, and then dragged me here out of sight.

The letter, you fool.

My hand leaps to my pocket, searching for Felicity’s letter and the ledger I stole from Stanwin, but they’re gone, along with the key to Bell’s trunk. All that remains are the two headache pills given to me by Anna, which are still wrapped in the blue handkerchief.

She’s going to betray you.

Could this be her doing? The Plague Doctor’s warning couldn’t have been any clearer, and yet surely an enemy wouldn’t provoke such feelings of warmth, or kinship? Perhaps Anna does remember more from our last loop than she admits, but if that information was destined to make us enemies, why would I drag her name from one life into the next, knowing I would chase it like a dog after a burning stick? No, if there’s betrayal afoot, it’s a result of the empty promises I’ve made, and that’s rectifiable. I need to find the right way of telling Anna the truth.

Swallowing the tablets dry, I claw my way up the wall, staggering back into Stanwin’s room.

The bodyguard’s still unconscious on the bed, the light fading beyond the window. I check my watch to find it’s 6p.m., which means the hunters, including Stanwin, are probably already on their way home. For all I know, they’re crossing the lawn or ascending the stairs even now.

I need to leave before the blackmailer comes back.