The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

I was meant to disappear in that expanse, as Anna did this morning. I’m searching for my own grave.

Sensing my disquiet, Daniel glances at me.

‘Lonely sort of place, isn’t it?’ he murmurs, tapping a cigarette loose from a silver case. It dangles from his lower lip as he searches his pockets for a lighter.

‘My father brought us out here when his political career keeled over,’ says Michael, lighting Daniel’s cigarette and taking one for himself. ‘The old man fancied himself a country squire. Didn’t work out quite the way he’d hoped, of course.’

I raise a questioning eyebrow.

‘My brother was murdered by a chap called Charlie Carver, one of our groundskeepers,’ says Michael calmly, as though declaring the racing results.

Aghast that I could forget something so horrific, I stammer out an apology.

‘I’m... I’m sorry, that must have been—’

‘A terribly long time ago,’ interrupts Michael, a hint of impatience in his voice. ‘Nineteen years, in fact. I was only five when it happened, and truthfully, I can barely recall it.’

‘Unlike most of the gutter press,’ adds Daniel. ‘Carver and another fellow drank themselves into a mania and grabbed Thomas near the lake. They half drowned him, then finished the job with a knife. He was seven or so. Ted Stanwin came running and drove them off with a shotgun, but Thomas was already dead.’

‘Stanwin?’ I ask, struggling to keep the shock from my voice. ‘The lout from lunch?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t go saying that too loudly,’ says Daniel.

‘He’s very well thought of by my parents is old Stanwin,’ says Michael. ‘He was a lowly gamekeeper when he tried to save Thomas, but Father gave him one of our African plantations in thanks and the blighter made his pile.’

‘What happened to the murderers?’ I ask.

‘Carver swung,’ says Daniel, tapping ash onto the carpet. ‘The police found the knife he used under the floorboards in his cottage, along with a dozen pilfered bottles of brandy. His accomplice was never caught. Stanwin says he clipped him with the shotgun, but no one turned up at the local hospital with an injury and Carver refused to give him up. Lord and Lady Hardcastle were hosting a party that weekend, so it could have been one of the guests, but the family were adamant that none of them knew Carver.’

‘Rum business all round,’ says Michael tonelessly, his expression black as the clouds crowding the windows.

‘So the accomplice is still out there?’ I say, dread creeping up my spine. A murder nineteen years ago and a murder this morning. Surely that can’t be a coincidence.

‘Does make you wonder what the police are for, doesn’t it?’ says Daniel, falling silent.

My eyes find Michael, who’s staring into the drawing room. It’s emptying out as the guests drift towards the entrance hall, carrying their conversations with them. Even from here, I can hear the stinging, swirling swarm of insults touching on everything from the rundown state of the house, to Lord Hardcastle’s drunkenness, and Evelyn Hardcastle’s icy demeanour. Poor Michael, I can’t imagine how it must feel to have one’s family so openly ridiculed, in their own home no less.

‘Look, we didn’t come here to bore you with ancient history,’ says Daniel, fracturing the quiet. ‘I’ve been asking around after Anna. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.’

‘Nobody knows her?’

‘There isn’t anybody by that name among the guests or the staff,’ says Michael. ‘More to the point, nobody’s missing from Blackheath.’

I open my mouth to protest, but Michael holds his hand up, silencing me. ‘You never let me finish, Belly. I can’t gather a search party, but the chaps are going hunting in about ten minutes. If you give me a vague idea where you woke up this morning, I’ll make sure we head in that direction and keep our eyes open. Fifteen of us are going out, so there’s a good chance we’ll spot something.’

Gratitude swells in my chest.

‘Thank you, Michael.’

He smiles at me through a cloud of cigarette smoke. ‘I’ve never known you to over-egg the pudding, Belly, can’t imagine you’re doing it now.’

I stare at the map, eager to do my part, but I have no clue where I spotted Anna. The murderer pointed me east and the forest disgorged me towards the front of Blackheath, but I can only guess for how long I walked or where I may have started from. Taking a breath and trusting to providence, I prod the glass with my fingertip as Daniel and Michael hover over my shoulder.

Michael nods, rubbing his chin.

‘I’ll tell the chaps.’ He looks me up and down. ‘You’d better get changed. We’ll be leaving soon.’

‘I’m not coming,’ I say, my voice strangled by shame. ‘I have to... I just can’t...’

The young man shifts awkwardly. ‘Come now—’

‘Use your head, Michael,’ interrupts Daniel, clapping a hand on my shoulder. ‘Look what was done to him. Poor Bell barely got out of that forest, why would he want to go back?’

His tone softens.

‘Don’t you worry, Bell, we’ll find your missing girl, and the man who murdered her. It’s in our hands now. Get yourself as far away from this mess as you can.’

5