‘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
I stand at the leaded window, half concealed by the velvet drapes. Out on the driveway, Michael is mingling with the other men. They’re heaving beneath their thick coats, shotguns crooked over their elbows, laughing and chatting, cold breath escaping their lips. Freed from the house with a slaughter to enjoy, they seem almost human.
Daniel’s words were comforting, but they can’t absolve me. I should be out there with them, searching for the body of the woman I failed. Instead, I’m running away. The very least I can do is endure the shame of watching them set off without me.
Dogs pass by the window, straining at leads their masters are struggling to hold. The two commotions merge, striking off across the lawn towards the forest, in precisely the direction I indicated to Daniel, although I can’t see my friend among them. He must be joining the group later.
I wait for the last of them to disappear among the trees before returning to the map on the wall. If it’s correct, the stables aren’t too far from the house. Surely that’s where I’ll find the stablemaster. He can arrange a carriage to the village and from there I’ll catch a train home.
I turn for the drawing room, only to find the doorway blocked by a huge black crow.
My heart leaps, and so do I, straight into the sideboard, sending family photographs and trinkets clattering to the floor.
‘You don’t need to be afraid,’ says the creature, taking a half step out of the gloom.
It’s not a bird at all. It’s a man dressed as a medieval plague doctor, his feathers a black greatcoat, the beak belonging to a porcelain mask, glinting in the light of a nearby lamp. Presumably this is his costume for the ball tonight, though that doesn’t explain why he’s wearing such sinister garb in the middle of the day.
‘You startled me,’ I say, clutching my chest and laughing in embarrassment as I try to shake off my fright. He cocks his head, examining me as if I’m a stray animal he’s found sitting on the carpet.
‘What did you bring with you?’ he asks.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You woke up with a word on your lips, what was it?’
‘Do we know each other?’ I ask, glancing through the door into the drawing room, hoping to see another guest. Unfortunately, we’re alone, which was almost certainly his intention, I realise with growing alarm.
‘I know you,’ he says. ‘That’s enough for now. What was the word, please?’
‘Why not take off the mask so we might speak face to face,’ I say.
‘My mask is the least of your concerns, Doctor Bell,’ he says. ‘Answer the question.’
Though he’s said nothing threatening, the porcelain muffles his voice, adding a low animal rumble to every sentence.
‘Anna,’ I say, clamping my hand on my thigh to stop my leg from jogging.
He sighs. ‘That’s a pity.’
‘Do you know who she is?’ I say, hopefully. ‘Nobody else in the house has ever heard of her.’
‘I’d be surprised if they had,’ he says, waving away my question with a gloved hand. Reaching into his coat, he pulls out a golden pocket watch, tutting at the time. ‘We’ll have work to do before long, but not today and not while you’re in this state. We’ll speak again soon, when everything’s a little clearer. In the meantime, I’d advise you to acquaint yourself with Blackheath and your fellow guests. Enjoy yourself while you can, Doctor, the footman will find you soon.’
‘The footman?’ I say, the name ringing an alarm bell somewhere deep within me. ‘Is he responsible for Anna’s murder, or the wounds on my arm?’