The Bone Garden: A Novel

shoulder, then back at him. — They're looking for me. —

— The Night Watch has no interest in you now. You don't need to hide from them. —

— It's not the Watch I'm afraid of. —

— Then who? —

Her chin snapped up in alarm as Dr. Grenville's front door opened, spilling light from the house. — Thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Dr. Grenville! — said a departing guest.

Norris quickly turned and began to walk away, afraid that someone might see him speaking to this ragged girl. Rose followed him. Only when they were well down Beacon Street, almost to the river, did she fall into step beside him.

— Does someone threaten you? — he asked.

— They want to take her from me. —

— Take whom? —

— My sister's child. —

He looked at her, but her face was hidden by the hood of her cloak. All he saw, through the veil of falling snow, was a glimpse of alabaster cheek. — Who wants her? —

— I don't know who they are, but I know they're vicious, Mr. Marshall. I think they're the reason Mary Robinson is dead. And Miss Poole. Now I'm the only one still alive. —

— You needn't worry. I've heard it on the best authority that Dr. Berry has fled Boston. They'll find him soon enough. —

— But I don't believe Dr. Berry is the killer. I think he has fled for his life. —

— Fled from whom? These mysterious people? —

— You don't believe a word I'm saying. Do you? —

— I don't understand what you're saying. —

She turned to him. Beneath the shadow of her hood, her eyes gleamed from light reflected off the snow. — The day my sister was buried, Mary Robinson came to see me in the cemetery. She asked about the baby. She told me to keep her hidden, keep her safe. —

— She was speaking of your sister's child? —

— Yes. — Rose swallowed. — I never saw Mary again. The next I heard, she was dead. And you were the one who found her. —

— What is the connection between these murders and your niece? I fail to see it. —

— I think her very existence is a threat to someone. Living proof of a scandalous secret. — She turned and scanned the dark street. — They're hunting us. They've driven me from my lodgings. I can't go to my job so I can't pay the wet nurse. I don't even dare go near her door, because they might see me there. —

— They? These vicious people you speak of? —

— They want her. But I won't give her up, not for anything. — She turned to him, her eyes burning in the darkness. — In their hands, Mr. Marshall, she may not survive. —

The girl's gone mad. He stared into her eyes and wondered if this was what insanity looked like. He remembered his recent visit to her in that miserable lodging house, when he had thought Rose Connolly was a levelheaded survivor. Since then, something had changed, had driven her over the edge, into a delusional world filled with enemies.

— I'm sorry, Miss Connolly. I don't see how I can help you, — he said, backing away. He turned and started walking again, in the direction of his lodgings, his shoes plowing two furrows through feathery snow.

— I came to you because I thought you were different. Better. —

— I'm only a student. What can I do? —

— You don't care, do you? —

— The West End murders have been solved. It's in all the newspapers. —

— They want you to believe they've been solved. —

— It's the Night Watch's responsibility, not mine. —

— You certainly cared when you were the one they accused. —

He walked on, hoping that she would tire of pursuing him. But she trailed after him like a troublesome dog as he headed north along the Charles River.

— It's all well and good now that you're off the hook, isn't it? — she said.

— I have no authority to delve any deeper into the matter. —

— You yourself saw the creature. You found poor Mary's body. —

He turned to face her. — And do you know how close I came to losing my position because of that? I'd be insane to raise any new questions about the murders. All it takes is a few whispers, and I could lose everything I've worked for. I'd be back on my father's farm! —

— Is it so terrible to be a farmer? —

— Yes! When my ambitions are so much higher! —

— And nothing must get in the way of your ambitions, — she said bitterly.

He gazed in the direction of Dr. Grenville's house. He thought of the champagne he'd drunk, the elegantly dressed girls he'd danced with. Once, his ambitions had been far more modest. To earn the gratitude of his patients. To know the satisfaction of wrestling a sick child from the jaws of a mortal illness. But tonight, in Dr. Grenville's home, he'd glimpsed possibilities he'd never dreamed of, a world of comforts that could one day be his if he made no mistakes, allowed himself no missteps.

— I thought you would care, — she said. — Now I find that what really matters to you are your grand friends in their grand houses. —

Sighing, he looked at her. — It's not that I don't care. There's simply nothing I can do about it. I'm not a policeman. I have no business getting involved. I suggest you walk away from it as well, Miss Connolly. — He turned.

— I can't walk away, — she said. Her voice suddenly broke. — I don't know where else to go? —

He took a few steps and slowed. Stopped. Behind him, she was crying softly. Turning, he saw her slumped wearily against a gate, head bowed in defeat. This was a Rose Connolly he hadn't before seen, so different from the bold girl he'd met in the hospital ward.

— Have you no place to sleep? — he said, and saw her shake her head. He reached into his pocket. — If it's a matter of money, you can take what I have here. —

Suddenly straightening, she glared at him. — I ask nothing for myself! This is for Meggie. It's all for Meggie. — Angrily, she swept her hand across her face. — I came to you because I thought we had a bond, you and I. We've both seen the creature. We both know what it can do. You may not be afraid of it, but I am. It wants the baby. So it hunts me. — She took a deep breath and hugged her cloak tighter, as though to ward off the eyes of the night. — I won't trouble you again, — she said, and turned.

He watched her walk away, a small figure receding into the curtain of falling snow. My dream is to save lives, he thought, to battle heroically at countless sickbeds. Yet when a single friendless girl pleads for my help, I cannot be bothered.

The figure was almost lost now, in the swirl of white.

— Miss Connolly! — he called. — My room is a short walk from here. For tonight, if you need a place to sleep, it might serve you. —

Twenty-three

THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

Norris lay in bed, considering what he would do with his guest come morning. In one moment of reckless charity, he had taken on a responsibility he did not need. It's only temporary, he promised himself; this arrangement could not continue. At least the girl had done her best to stay unobtrusive. She had slipped silently up the stairs behind him, alerting no one in the building to the fact that he'd smuggled in a female guest. She'd curled