Mud sucks at my boots as I hurry into the gloom of the trees, desperation tugging me along by a leash. After my failure to glean any information in the kitchen, I’m striking out into the forest in hopes of stumbling upon Evelyn along one of the marked trails. I’m counting on endeavour succeeding where calculation has failed. Even if it doesn’t, I need to put some distance between Derby and the temptations of Blackheath.
I’ve not gone far when the red flags bring me to a stream, water surging around a large rock. A smashed wine bottle is half-encased in sludge, beside a thick black overcoat, Bell’s silver compass having fallen out of the pocket. Plucking it from the mud, I turn it over in my palm just as I did that first morning, my fingers tracing the initials SB engraved on the underside of the lid. Sebastian Bell’s initials. What a fool I felt when Daniel pointed that out to me. Half a dozen cigarette butts lie discarded on the ground, suggesting Bell stood here for a little while, probably waiting for somebody. This must have been where he came after receiving the note at the dinner table, though what could have driven him into the rain and cold at such an hour I cannot fathom. Searching his discarded coat offers no clues, his pockets turning up nothing but a lonely silver key, probably to his trunk.
Wary of losing more time to my former host, I drop the key and compass into my pocket and set out in search of the next red flag, keeping my eyes open for any hint of the footman at my heels. This would be the perfect place for him to strike.
God only knows how long I walk before I finally stumble upon the ruins of what must be Charlie Carver’s old cottage. Fire has hollowed it out, consuming most of the roof, leaving only the four blackened walls. Debris crunches underfoot as I step inside, startling some rabbits who flee into the woods, their fur stained with wet ash. The skeletal remnants of an old bed are slumped in the corner, a solitary table leg on the floor, the detritus of a life interrupted. Evelyn told me the cottage burst into flames the day the police hanged Carver.
More likely Lord and Lady Hardcastle threw their memories onto the pyre and lit it themselves.
Who could blame them? Carver stole their son’s life by a lake. It seems only fitting they should rid themselves of him with fire.
A rotten fence marks out the garden around the back of the cottage, most of the slats having collapsed after years of neglect. Great piles of purple and yellow flowers run wild in every direction, red berries dangling from stems winding up the fence posts.
A maid emerges from the trees as I kneel to tie my shoelace.
Such terror I hope never to see again.
Colour drains from her face, her basket dropping on the floor, spilling mushrooms in every direction.
‘Are you Madeline?’ I begin, but she’s already backing away, looking around for help. ‘I’m not here to hurt you, I’m trying to—’
She’s gone before I can utter another word, bolting into the forest. Snared by weeds I stagger after her, half falling over the fence.
Picking myself up, I catch sight of her through the trees, glimpses of a black dress moving far more quickly than I would have reckoned. I call out, but if anything my voice is the whip at her back, driving her forward. Even so, I’m faster and stronger and though I don’t wish to frighten the girl, I cannot lose sight of her for fear of what will happen to Evelyn.
‘Anna!’ Bell calls out from somewhere nearby.
‘Help me!’ Madeline screams back, panicked and sobbing.
She’s so close now. I reach out, hoping to tug her back, but my fingers can only brush the material of her dress, and off-balance I lose ground.
She ducks to avoid a branch, stumbling ever so slightly. I catch hold of her dress, causing her to scream again, before a shot whistles by my face, cracking into a tree behind me.
Surprise loosens my grip on Madeline, who stumbles towards Evelyn as she emerges from the forest. The black revolver she will take to the graveyard is in her hands, but it’s not nearly as terrifying as the fury on her face. One wrong step and she’ll shoot me dead, I’m certain of it.
‘It’s not what... I can explain,’ I pant, hands on my knees.
‘Men like you always can,’ says Evelyn, sweeping the terrified girl behind her with one arm.
Madeline’s sobbing, her entire body shaking violently. God help me, but Derby enjoys this. He’s aroused by the fear. He’s done this before.
‘All this... please... it’s a misunderstanding,’ I gasp, taking an imploring step forwards.
‘Stay back, Jonathan,’ says Evelyn fiercely, gripping the revolver with both hands. ‘Stay away from this girl, stay away from all of them.’
‘I didn’t mean to—’
‘Your mother’s a friend of the family, that’s the only reason I’m letting you walk away,’ interrupts Evelyn. ‘But if I see you near another woman, if I even hear about it, I swear I’ll put a bullet in you.’
Taking care to keep the gun trained on me, she removes her coat and wraps it around Madeline’s heaving shoulders.
‘You’re going to stay by my side today,’ she whispers to the terrified maid. ‘I’ll see no harm comes to you.’
They stumble off through the trees, leaving me alone in the forest. Tipping my head to the sky, I suck in cold air, hoping the rain on my face will cool my frustration. I came here to prevent somebody attacking Evelyn, believing I’d unearth a murderer in the process. Instead, I caused the very thing I was trying to stop. I’m chasing my own tail, terrifying an innocent woman in the process. Maybe Daniel was right, maybe the future isn’t a promise we can break.
‘You’re dawdling again,’ says the Plague Doctor from behind me.
He’s standing on the far side of the clearing, little more than a shadow. As always, he seems to have picked the perfect position. Far enough away that I can’t possibly reach him, but close enough that we can talk with relative ease.
‘I thought I was helping,’ I say bitterly, still stung by what happened.
‘You still can,’ he says. ‘Sebastian Bell is lost in the woods.’
Of course. I’m not here for Evelyn, I’m here for Bell. I’m here to make sure the loop begins again. Fate’s leading me around by the nose.
Removing the compass from my pocket, I hold it in the palm of my hand, remembering the uncertainty I felt as I followed its quivering needle that first morning. Without this, Bell will almost certainly remain lost.
I toss it into the mud at the Plague Doctor’s feet.
‘This is how I change things,’ I say, walking away. ‘Fetch him yourself.’
‘You misunderstand my purpose here,’ he says, the sharpness of his tone bringing me up short. ‘If you leave Sebastian Bell to wander that forest alone, he’ll never meet Evelyn Hardcastle, he’ll never form the friendship you prize so highly. Abandon him and you won’t care about saving her.’
‘Are you saying I’ll forget her?’ I ask, alarmed.
‘I’m saying you should be careful which knots you unpick,’ he says. ‘If you abandon Bell, you’ll also be abandoning Evelyn. It will be cruelty without purpose, and nothing I’ve seen of you so far suggests you’re a cruel man.’
Perhaps I imagine it, but for the first time there’s a touch of warmth in his tone. It’s enough to unbalance me, and I turn to face him once more.
‘I need to see this day changed,’ I say, hearing the desperation in my voice. ‘I need to see that it can be done.’
‘Your frustration is understandable, but what use is rearranging the furniture if you burn the house down doing it?’
Bending over, he retrieves the compass from the ground, wiping the mud from its surface with his fingers. The way he groans, and the heaviness of his limbs as he rises, suggests an older man beneath the costume. Satisfied with his work, he tosses the compass to me, the damn thing nearly slipping from my hands, so wet is its surface.
‘Take this, and solve Evelyn’s murder.’
‘She committed suicide, I watched her with my own eyes.’
‘If you think it’s that simple, you’re much further behind than I thought.’
‘And you’re much crueller than I thought,’ I growl. ‘If you know what’s happening here, why not stop it? Why play these games? Hang the murderer before he harms her.’
‘An interesting idea, except I don’t know who the murderer is.’
‘How is that possible?’ I say, incredulously. ‘You know every step I’m going to take before I think to take it. How could you be blind to the most important fact in this house?’
‘Because it’s not my place to know. I watch you, and you watch Evelyn Hardcastle. We both have our roles to play.’
‘Then I could blame anybody for the crime,’ I cry, throwing my hands in the air. ‘Helena Hardcastle did it. There, you see! Free me!’
‘You forget that I need proof. Not merely your good word.’
‘And what if I save her, what then?’
‘I don’t think it’s possible, and I think you’ll hamper your investigation trying, but my offer stands regardless. Evelyn was murdered last night and every night prior. Even if you could save her tonight, it doesn’t change that. Bring me the name of the person who kills, or is planning to kill, Evelyn Hardcastle, and I’ll free you.’
For the second time since arriving in Blackheath, I find myself holding a compass and contemplating the instructions of somebody I can’t trust. To do as the Plague Doctor asks is to give myself to a day determined to kill Evelyn, but there seems no way to change things without making them worse. Assuming he’s telling the truth, I either save my first host, or I abandon Evelyn.
‘You doubt my intentions?’ he says, prickling at my hesitation.
‘Of course I doubt your intentions,’ I say. ‘You wear a mask and you talk in riddles, and I don’t for a minute believe you brought me here just to solve a mystery. You’re hiding something.’
‘And you think stripping me of my disguise will reveal it?’ he scoffs. ‘A face is a mask of another sort, you know that better than most; though you’re right, I am hiding something. If it makes you feel better, I’m not hiding it from you. Should you somehow succeed and tear this mask free, I’d simply be replaced, and your task would remain. I’ll let you decide if that’s worth the trouble. As for your presence in Blackheath, perhaps it would assuage your doubts to know the name of the man who brought you here.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Aiden Bishop,’ he says. ‘Unlike your rivals, you came to Blackheath voluntarily. Everything that’s happening today, you brought upon yourself.’
His voice suggests regret, but the expressionless white mask makes the statement sinister, a parody of sadness.
‘That can’t be true,’ I say stubbornly. ‘Why would I come here of my own free will? Why would anybody do this to himself?’
‘Your life before Blackheath is none of my concern, Mr Bishop. Solve the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle and you’ll have all the answers you require,’ he says. ‘In the meantime, Bell needs your help.’ He points behind me. ‘He’s that way.’
Without another word he withdraws into the forest, the dimness swallowing him completely. My mind is clogged up by a hundred small questions, but none of them is going to do me any good in this forest, so I push them to one side and go in search of Bell, finding him bent double and trembling with exertion. He freezes as I approach, catching the sound of twigs cracking beneath my feet.
His timidity revolts me.
Mistaken as she was, at least Madeline had the good sense to flee.
I circle around behind my former self, keeping my face from view. I could try to explain what’s happening here, but frightened rabbits make poor allies, especially those already convinced you’re a murderer.
All I need from Bell is his survival.
Two more steps and I’m behind him, leaning close enough to whisper into his ear. Sweat pours off his body, the smell like a filthy rag pushed to my face. It’s all I can do to speak without gagging.
‘East,’ I say, dropping the compass into his pocket.
Backing away, I head into the trees, towards Carver’s burnt-out cottage. Bell’s going to be lost for another hour or so, giving me plenty of time to follow the flags back to the house without stumbling into him.
Despite my best efforts, everything’s happening exactly as I remember it.