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Books . Change . Lives .
Copyright 2018 by Stuart Turton
Cover and internal design 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by David Mann
Cover images alishahdesign/Shutterstock, Panda Vector/Shutterstock, BackgroundStore/Shutterstock, Tanya K/Shutterstock, freelanceartist/Shutterstock, veronchick84/Shutterstock, 9comeback/Shutterstock, RealVector/Shutterstock, duleloncar_ns/GettyImages
Blackheath endsheet map by Travis Hasenour/Sourcebooks, Inc.
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systemsexcept in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviewswithout permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Landmark, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
Fax: (630) 961-2168
sourcebooks.com
Originally published as The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle in 2018 in the UK by Bloomsbury Raven, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Turton, Stuart, author.
Title: The 7 1/2 deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle / Stuart Turton.
Other titles: Seven and one half deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle
Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Landmark, [2018]
Identifiers: LCCN 2017032577 | (hardcover : acid-free paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Murder--Investigation--Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PR6120.U79 A615 2018 | DDC 823/.92--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017032577
Contents
To my parents, who gave me everything and asked for nothing. My sister, first and fiercest of my readers from the bumblebees onward. And my wife, whose love, encouragement, and reminders to look up from my keyboard once in a while made this book so much more than I thought it could be.
You are cordially invited to Blackheath House for
The Masquerade
Introducing your hosts,
The Hardcastle Family
Lord Peter Hardcastle and Lady Helena Hardcastle
-&
Their son, Michael Hardcastle
Their daughter, Evelyn Hardcastle
NOTABLE GUESTS
- Edward Dance, Christopher Pettigrew & Philip Sutcliffe, family solicitors
- Grace Davies & her brother, Donald Davies, socialites
- Commander Clifford Herrington, naval officer (retired)
- Millicent Derby & her son, Jonathan Derby, socialites
- Daniel Coleridge, professional gambler
- Lord Cecil Ravencourt, banker
- Jim Rashton, police officer
- Dr. Richard (Dickie) Acker
- Dr. Sebastian Bell
- Ted Stanwin
PRINCIPAL HOUSEHOLD STAFF
- The butler, Roger Collins
- The cook, Mrs. Drudge
- First maid, Lucy Harper
- Stable master, Alf Miller
- Artist in residence, Gregory Gold
- Lord Ravencourts valet, Charles Cunningham
- Evelyn Hardcastles ladys maid, Madeline Aubert
We ask all guests to kindly refrain from discussing
Thomas Hardcastle and Charlie Carver ,
as the tragic events surrounding them still grieve the family greatly.
1
DAY ONE
I forget everything between footsteps.
Anna! I finish shouting, snapping my mouth shut in surprise.
My mind has gone blank. I dont know who Anna is or why Im calling her name. I dont even know how I got here. Im standing in a forest, shielding my eyes from the spitting rain. My hearts thumping, I reek of sweat, and my legs are shaking. I must have been running, but I cant remember why.
How did Im cut short by the sight of my own hands. Theyre bony, ugly. A strangers hands. I dont recognize them at all.
Feeling the first touch of panic, I try to recall something else about myself: a family member, my address, ageanything, but nothings coming. I dont even have a name. Every memory I had a few seconds ago is gone.
My throat tightens, breaths coming loud and fast. The forest is spinning, black spots inking my sight.
Be calm.
I cant breathe, I gasp, blood roaring in my ears as I sink to the ground, my fingers digging into the dirt.
You can breathe; you just need to calm down.
Theres comfort in this inner voice, cold authority.
Close your eyes. Listen to the forest. Collect yourself.
Obeying the voice, I squeeze my eyes shut, but all I can hear is my own panicked wheezing. For the longest time it crushes every other sound, but slowly, ever so slowly, I work a hole in my fear, allowing other noises to break through. Raindrops are tapping the leaves, branches rustling overhead. Theres a stream away to my right and crows in the trees, their wings cracking the air as they take flight. Somethings scurrying in the undergrowth, the thump of rabbit feet passing near enough to touch. One by one, I knit these new memories together until Ive got five minutes of past to wrap myself in. Its enough to stanch the panic, at least for now.
I get to my feet clumsily, surprised by how tall I am, how far from the ground I seem to be. Swaying a little, I wipe the wet leaves from my trousers, noticing for the first time that Im wearing a dinner jacket, the shirt splattered with mud and red wine. I must have been at a party. My pockets are empty and I dont have a coat, so I cant have strayed too far. Thats reassuring.
Judging by the light, its morning, so Ive probably been out here all night. No one gets dressed up to spend an evening alone, which means somebody must know Im missing by now. Surely, beyond these trees, a house is coming awake in alarm, search parties striking out to find me? My eyes roam the trees, half-expecting to see my friends emerging through the foliage, pats on the back and gentle jokes escorting me back home, but daydreams wont deliver me from this forest, and I cant linger here hoping for rescue. Im shivering, my teeth chattering. I need to start walking, if only to keep warm, but I cant see anything except trees. Theres no way to know whether Im moving toward help or blundering away from it.
At a loss, I return to the last concern of the man I was.
Anna!
Whoever this woman is, shes clearly the reason Im out here, but I cant picture her. Perhaps shes my wife, or my daughter? Neither feels right, and yet theres a pull in the name. I can feel it trying to lead my mind somewhere.
Anna! I shout, more out of desperation than hope.
Help me! a woman screams back.
I spin, seeking the voice, dizzying myself, glimpsing her between distant trees, a woman in a black dress running for her life. Seconds later, I spot her pursuer crashing through the foliage after her.