The Bone Garden: A Novel

Aurnia smiled. — If only that could be. —

— It will be. —

The receding tinkle of bells told her the priest had finished his ministrations to the dying Bernadette, and Nurse Robinson quickly scurried over to remove the screen in preparation for the next set of visitors, who had just arrived.

Everyone in the room fell silent with expectation as Dr. Chester Crouch walked onto the maternity ward. Today, Dr. Crouch was accompanied by the hospital's head nurse, Miss Agnes Poole, as well as an entourage of four medical students. Dr. Crouch started his rounds at the first bed, occupied by a woman who had been admitted just that morning after two days of fruitless labor at home. The students stood in a semicircle, watching as Dr. Crouch slipped his arm under the sheet to discreetly examine the patient. She gave a cry of pain as he probed deep between her thighs. His hand reemerged, fingers streaked with blood.

— Towel, — he requested, and Nurse Poole promptly handed him one. Wiping his hand, he said to the four students: — This patient is not progressing. The infant's head is at the same position, and the cervix has not fully dilated. In this particular case, how should her physician proceed? You, Mr. Kingston! Have you an answer? —

Mr. Kingston, a handsome and dapper young man, answered without hesitation, — I believe that ergot in souchong tea is recommended. —

— Good. What else might one do? — He focused on the shortest of the four students, an elf-like fellow with large ears to match. — Mr. Holmes? —

— One could try a cathartic, to stimulate contractions, — Mr. Holmes promptly answered.

— Good. And you, Mr. Lackaway? — Dr. Crouch turned to a fair-haired man whose startled face instantly flushed red. — What else might be done? —

— I? that is? —

— This is your patient. How will you proceed? —

— I would have to think about it. —

— Think about it? Your grandfather and father were both physicians! Your uncle's dean of the medical college. You've had more exposure to the medical arts than any of your classmates. Come now, Mr. Lackaway! Have you nothing to contribute? —

Helplessly the young man shook his head. — I'm sorry, sir. —

Sighing, Dr. Crouch turned to the fourth student, a tall dark-haired young man. — Your turn, Mr. Marshall. What else might be done in this situation? A patient in labor, who is not progressing? —

The student said, — I would urge her to sit up or stand, sir. And if she is able, she should walk about the ward. —

— What else? —

— It's the only additional modality that seems appropriate to me. —

— And what of bleeding the patient as a treatment? —

A pause. Then, deliberately: — I am not convinced of its efficacy. —

Dr. Crouch gave a startled laugh. — You?you are not convinced? —

— On the farm where I grew up, I experimented with bleeding, as well as cupping. I lost just as many calves with it as without it. —

— On the farm? You are talking about bleeding cows? —

— And pigs. —

Nurse Agnes Poole snickered.

— We are dealing with human beings here, not beasts, Mr. Marshall, — said Dr. Crouch. — A therapeutic bleeding, I've found in my own experience, is quite effective for relieving pain. It relaxes a patient enough so that she may properly dilate. If the ergot and a cathartic don't work, then I will most certainly bleed this patient. — He handed the soiled towel back to Nurse Poole and moved on, to Bernadette's bed. — And this one? — he asked.

— Though her fever has abated, — said Nurse Poole, — the discharge has become quite foul. She spent the night in great discomfort. —

Again, Dr. Crouch reached under the sheet to palpate the internal organs. Bernadette gave a weak groan. — Yes, her skin is quite cool, — he concurred. — But in this case? — He paused and looked up. — She has received morphine? —

— Several times, sir. As you ordered. —

His hands came out from beneath the sheet, fingers glistening with yellowish slime, and the nurse handed him the same soiled towel. — Continue the morphine, — he said quietly. — Keep her comfortable. — It was as good as a death pronouncement.

Bed by bed, patient by patient, Dr. Crouch made his way down the ward. By the time he reached Aurnia's bed, the towel he used to wipe his hands was soaked with blood.

Rose stood to greet him. — Dr. Crouch. —

He frowned at her. — It's Miss? —

— Connolly, — said Rose, wondering why this man could not seem to remember her name. She had been the one to summon him to the lodging house where, for a day and a night, Aurnia had labored without success. Rose had been here at her sister's bedside every time Crouch had visited, yet he always seemed flummoxed when they met anew. But then he did not really look at Rose; she was just an accessory female, unworthy of a second glance.

He turned his attention to Nurse Poole. — And how is this patient progressing? —

— I believe the daily cathartics you prescribed last night have improved the quality of her contractions. But she has not complied with your orders to rise from bed and walk about the ward. —

Staring at Nurse Poole, Rose was scarcely able to hold her tongue. Walk about the ward? Were they mad? For the past five days, Rose had watched Aurnia fall steadily weaker. Surely Nurse Poole could see the obvious, that her sister could scarcely sit up, much less walk. But the nurse was not even looking at Aurnia; her worshipful gaze was fixed on Dr. Crouch. He reached beneath the sheets, and as he probed the birth canal, Aurnia gave a moan of such agony that Rose could scarcely stop herself from wrenching him away.

He straightened and looked at Nurse Poole. — Although the amniotic sac is ruptured, she is not yet fully dilated. — He dried his hand on the filthy towel. — How many days has it been? —

— Today is the fifth, — said Nurse Poole.

— Then perhaps another dose of ergot is called for. — He took Aurnia's wrist and felt the pulse. — Her heart rate is rapid. And she feels a bit feverish today. A bleeding should cool the system. —

Nurse Poole nodded. — I'll assemble the? —

— You have bled her enough, — cut in Rose.

Everyone fell silent. Dr. Crouch glanced up at her, clearly startled. — What relation are you again? —

— Her sister. I was here when you bled her the first time, Dr. Crouch. And the second time, and the third. —

— And you can see how she's benefited, — said Nurse Poole.

— I can tell you she has not. —

— Because you have no training, girl! You don't know what to look for. —

— Do you wish me to treat her or not? — snapped Dr. Crouch.

— Yes, sir, but not to bleed her dry! —

Nurse Poole said, coldly: — Either hold your tongue or leave the ward, Miss Connolly! And allow the doctor to do what's necessary. —

— I have no time to bleed her today, anyway. — Dr. Crouch pointedly looked at his pocket watch. — I have an appointment in an hour, and then a lecture to prepare. I'll stop in to see the patient first thing in the morning. Perhaps by then, it will be more obvious to Miss, er? —

— Connolly, — said Rose.

— ? to Miss Connolly that further treatment is indeed necessary. — He snapped his watch closed. — Gentlemen, I shall see you at the morning lecture, nine A.M. Good night. — He gave a nod, and turned to leave. As he strode away, the four medical students trailed after like obedient ducklings.

Rose ran after them. — Sir? Mr. Marshall, isn't it? —