‘Why, that was to be my question to you,’ he says, placing the cigarette between his lips. ‘That was it exactly, where is Anna? I’ve been trying to get you to tell me all day, even thought I’d succeeded when Derby agreed to help me flush the footman out from under the house. You should have seen your face, so eager to please.’
Shielding his cigarette from the wind, he lights it at the third try, illuminating a face that’s as hollow-eyed as those of the statues beside him. I have a gun pointed at him and somehow he still has the upper hand.
‘Where’s the footman?’ I say, the shotgun growing heavy in my arms. ‘I know you’re partners.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing like that. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong end of the stick entirely,’ he says, dismissing the fellow with a wave of his hand. ‘He’s not like you, me or Anna. He’s one of Coleridge’s associates. There’s actually a few of them in the house. Unsavoury chaps the lot of them, but then Coleridge is in an unsavoury business. The footman, as you call him, was the brightest of them, so I explained what was happening in Blackheath. I don’t think he believed me, but killing’s rather his speciality, so he didn’t bat an eyelid when I pointed him at your hosts. Probably enjoyed it, truth be told. Helps enormously that I’ve made him a very rich man, of course.’
Blowing smoke out through his nostrils, he grins as though we’ve shared some private joke. He’s moving with assurance, the confidence of a man living in a world of premonitions. A dispiriting contrast to my shaking hands and thudding heart. He’s got something planned and until I know what it is, I can’t do anything but wait.
‘You’re like Anna, aren’t you?’ I say. ‘One day, and then you forget everything and start again.’
‘Hardly seems fair, does it? Not when you have eight lives and eight days. All the gifts were given to you. Now why was that?’
‘I see the Plague Doctor didn’t tell you everything about me.’
He grins, again. It’s like ice rolling down my spine.
‘Why are you doing this, Daniel?’ I ask, surprised by my misery. ‘We could have helped each other.’
‘But my dear fellow, you have helped me,’ he says. ‘I have both of Stanwin’s blackmail books in my possession. Without Derby poking around his bedroom, I might only have found the one, and I’d be no nearer an answer than I was this morning. In two hours, I’ll take what I’ve learned to the lake and be free of this place, and it’s your doing. Surely you can take some comfort in that.’
Wet steps sound. A shotgun is cocked, cold metal presses into my back. A thug brushes past me, taking a spot in the light beside Daniel. Unlike his friend behind me, he isn’t armed, though he doesn’t need to be by the looks of things. He has the face of bar-room brawler, his nose broken, his cheek decorated by an ugly scar. He’s rubbing his knuckles, his tongue roaming his lips in anticipation. Neither action makes me feel terribly confident about what’s coming.
‘Be a dear and drop the weapon,’ says Daniel.
Sighing, I let the shotgun fall on the floor, raising my hands in the air. Foolish as it may be, my overriding thought is to wish they weren’t trembling so.
‘You can come out now,’ says Daniel in a louder voice.
There’s a rustling in the bushes to my left, the Plague Doctor stepping into the pool of light cast by the lantern. I’m about to hurl some insult at him, when I notice a single silver tear painted on the left side of his mask. It’s glittering in the light, and now I take stock, I realise there are other differences. This coat is finer, darker, the edges not so frayed. Embroidered roses twist up the gloves and now I see this person is shorter, more erect in their posture.
This isn’t the Plague Doctor at all.
‘You were the one talking to Daniel by the lake,’ I say.
Daniel whistles, flicking a glance at his companion.
‘How on earth did he see that?’ he asks Silver Tear. ‘Didn’t you pick that spot so nobody would find us together?’
‘I saw you outside the gatehouse as well,’ I say.
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ says Daniel, enjoying himself immensely at his confederate’s expense. ‘I thought you knew every second of his day?’ He adopts a pompous tone. ‘Nothing happens here that is beyond my sight, Mr Coleridge,’ he huffs.
‘If that were true, I wouldn’t need your help capturing Annabelle,’ says Silver Tear. Her voice is stately, a far cry from the put-upon Plague Doctor. ‘Mr Bishop’s actions have disrupted the usual course of events. He’s changed Evelyn Hardcastle’s fate and contributed to the death of her brother, unpicking the threads that hold this day together in the process. He’s maintained his alliance with Annabelle far longer than he ever has before, which means things are happening out of order, running long or short, if they happen at all. Nothing’s quite where it should be.’
The mask turns towards me.
‘You should be commended, Mr Bishop,’ she says. ‘I haven’t seen Blackheath in this much disarray for decades.’
‘Who are you?’ I say.
‘I could ask the same of you,’ she says, waving my question away. ‘I won’t because you don’t know yourself, and there are more pressing questions. Suffice to say, I’ve been sent by my superiors to rectify my colleague’s mistake. Now, please tell Mr Coleridge where he might find Annabelle.’
‘Annabelle?’
‘He calls her Anna,’ says Daniel.
‘What do you want with Anna?’ I ask.
‘That’s not your concern,’ says Silver Tear.
‘It’s getting to be,’ I say. ‘You must want her very badly if you’re willing to make a deal with somebody like Daniel to bring her to you.’
‘I’m redressing the balance,’ she says. ‘Do you think it’s a coincidence that you inhabit the hosts you do, the men closest to Evelyn’s murder? Are you not curious why you woke up in Donald Davies precisely when you needed him most? My colleague has been playing favourites from the beginning and that is forbidden. He was supposed to watch without interfering, to appear at the lake and wait for an answer. Nothing more. Worse, he’s opened the door to a creature who must never be allowed to leave this house. I cannot let this continue.’
‘So that’s why you’re here,’ says the Plague Doctor, emerging from the shadows, rainwater running in rivulets down his mask.
Daniel tenses, watching the interloper warily.
‘Apologies for not announcing myself earlier, Josephine,’ continues the Plague Doctor, his attention fixed on Silver Tear. ‘I wasn’t certain you’d tell me the truth if I asked directly, given how hard you’ve worked to stay hidden. I would never have known you were in Blackheath if Mr Rashton hadn’t spotted you.’
‘Josephine?’ interrupts Daniel. ‘You two are acquainted?’
Silver Tear ignores him.
‘I hoped it wouldn’t come to this,’ she says, addressing the Plague Doctor. Her tone has softened, warmed. It ripples with regret. ‘My intention was to complete my task and depart without you knowing.’
‘I fail to see why you’re here, at all. Blackheath is my watch, and everything is well in hand.’
‘You can’t believe that!’ she says, becoming exasperated. ‘Look at how close Aiden and Annabelle have become, how near they are to escape. He’s willing to sacrifice himself for her. Do you see that? If we let this continue, before long she’ll be standing before you with an answer, and then what will you do?’
‘I’m confident it won’t come to that.’
‘I’m confident it will,’ she snorts. ‘Tell me truthfully, will you let her leave?’
The question knocks him silent a moment, a slight tilt of his head conveying his indecision. My eyes slip towards Daniel, who’s watching them, his face rapt. I imagine he feels as I do, like a child watching his parents argue, understanding only half of the things being said.
When the Plague Doctor speaks again, his voice is firm, though rehearsed, his conviction born of repetition rather than faith.
‘The rules of Blackheath are very clear and I’m beholden to them, as are you,’ he says. ‘If she brings me the name of Evelyn Hardcastle’s murderer, I can’t refuse to hear her case.’
‘Rules or not, you know what our superiors will do to you if Annabelle escapes Blackheath.’