The Bone Garden: A Novel

the blanket felt the beating of her heart, quick as a bird's. Such a sweet girl, she thought. My little Meggie.

The door suddenly swung open, spilling light into the hall. Nurse Poole came out of the room, closing the door behind her. She halted and stared at Rose, as though surprised to see her still there.

Fearing the worst, Rose asked: — My sister? —

— She still lives. —

— And her condition? Will she? —

— The bleeding has stopped, that's all I can tell you, — snapped Nurse Poole. — Now take the baby to the ward. It's warmer there. This hall is far too drafty for a newborn. — She turned and hurried away down the corridor.

Shivering, Rose looked down at Meggie and thought: Yes, it's far too cold here for you, poor thing. She carried the baby back to the lying-in ward and sat down in her old chair beside Aurnia's empty bed. As the night wore on, the baby fell asleep in her arms. Wind rattled the windows and sleet ticked against the glass, but there was no word of Aurnia's condition.

From outside came the rumble of wheels over cobblestones. Rose crossed to the window. In the courtyard, a horse and phaeton rolled to a stop, the canopy concealing the face of the driver. The horse suddenly gave a panicked snort, its hooves dancing nervously as it threatened to bolt. A second later Rose saw the reason for the beast's alarm: merely a large dog, which trotted across the courtyard, its silhouette moving purposefully across cobblestones that glistened with rain and sleet.

— Miss Connolly. —

Startled, Rose turned to see Agnes Poole. The woman had slipped into the ward so quietly Rose had not heard her approach.

— Give me the baby. —

— But she sleeps so soundly, — said Rose.

— Your sister cannot possibly nurse the baby. She's far too weak. I've taken the liberty of making other arrangements. —

— What arrangements? —

— The infant asylum is here to fetch her. They'll provide a wet nurse. And most certainly, a fine home. —

Rose stared at the nurse in disbelief. — But she's not an orphan! She has a mother! —

— A mother who most likely will not live. — Nurse Poole held out her arms, and her hands looked like unwelcoming claws. — Give her to me. It's for the baby's own good. You certainly cannot care for her. —

— She has a father, too. You haven't asked him. —

— How can I? He hasn't even bothered to show up. —

— Did Aurnia agree to this? Let me speak to her. —

— She's unconscious. She can't say anything. —

— Then I'll speak for her. This is my niece, Miss Poole, my own family. — Rose hugged the baby tighter. — I'll give her up to no stranger. —

Agnes Poole's face had gone rigid in frustration. For a dangerous moment she appeared ready to wrench the baby from Rose's arms. Instead, she turned and swept out of the ward, her skirt snapping smartly with every stride. A door slammed shut.

Outside, in the courtyard, the horse's hooves clattered nervously on the stones.

Rose went back to the window and watched as Agnes Poole materialized from the shadows of the walkway and crossed to the waiting phaeton to speak to the occupant. A moment later the driver snapped the whip and the horse clopped forward. As the vehicle drove out the gate, Agnes Poole stood alone, her silhouette framed by the glistening stones of the courtyard.

Rose looked down at the baby in her arms and saw, in the sleeping face, a miniature in flesh of her own dear sister. No one will ever take you from me. Not while I still breathe.

Five

The present

— THANK YOU for seeing me on such short notice, Dr. Isles. — Julia took a seat in the medical examiner's office. She'd come straight from the summer heat into the frigid building, and now she looked across the desk at a woman who seemed perfectly at home in this chilly environment. Except for the framed floral prints on the wall, Maura Isles's office was all business: files and textbooks, a microscope, and a desk that looked ruthlessly organized. Julia shifted uneasily in the chair, feeling as if she were the one now under the microscope lens. — You probably don't get many requests like mine, but I really need to know. For my own peace of mind. —

— Dr. Petrie's the one you should be talking to, — said Isles. — The skeleton is a forensic anthropology case. —

— I'm not here about that skeleton. I've already spoken to Dr. Petrie, and she had nothing new to tell me. —

— Then how can I help you? —

— When I bought the house, the real estate agent told me that the previous owner was an elderly woman who'd died on the property. Everyone assumed it was a natural death. But a few days ago, my next-door neighbor mentioned there'd been several burglaries in the area. And last year, a man was seen driving up and down the road, as if he was casing the houses. Now I'm starting to wonder if? —

— If it wasn't a natural death? — said Isles bluntly. — That's what you're asking, isn't it? —

Julia met the medical examiner's gaze. — Yes. —

— I'm afraid I didn't perform that particular autopsy. —

— But there's a report somewhere, isn't there? It would give a cause of death, wouldn't it? —

— I'd have to know the name of the deceased. —

— I have it right here. — Julia reached into her purse and took out a bundle of photocopies, which she handed to Isles. — It's her obituary, from the local paper. Her name was Hilda Chamblett. And these are all the news clippings I could find about her. —

— So you've already been digging into this. —

— It's been on my mind. — Julia gave an embarrassed laugh. — Plus, there's that old skeleton in my backyard. I'm feeling a little uneasy that two different women have died there. —

— At least a hundred years apart. —

— It's the one last year that really bothers me. Especially after what my neighbor said, about the burglaries. —

Isles nodded. — I suppose it would bother me, too. Let me find the report. — She left the office and returned moments later with the file. — The autopsy was done by Dr. Costas, — she said as she sat down at her desk. She opened the file. — ?Chamblett, Hilda, age ninety-two, found in the backyard of her Weston residence. Remains were found by a family member who had been away and had not checked on her for three weeks. Time of death is therefore uncertain.' — Isles flipped to a new page and paused. — The photos aren't particularly pleasant, — she said. — You don't need to see these. —

Julia swallowed. — No, I don't. Maybe you could just read me the conclusions? —

Isles turned to the summary and glanced up. — You're sure you want to hear this? — At Julia's nod, Isles once again began to read aloud. — ?Body was found in a supine position, surrounded by tall grass and weeds, which concealed it from view beyond only a few feet?' —

The same weeds I've been battling, thought Julia. I've been pulling up the same grass that hid Hilda Chamblett's body.

— ?No skin or soft tissue is found intact on any exposed surfaces. Shreds of clothing, consisting of what appears to be a sleeveless cotton dress, still adhere to parts of the torso. In the neck, cervical vertebrae are clearly visible and soft tissues are lacking. Large and small bowel are largely missing, and remaining lungs, liver,