‘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.