The Bone Garden: A Novel

calling.

— Mr. Holmes, — said Rose. — Why do you come the back way? —

— I need to speak to you. —

— Do come inside. Dr. Grenville is at home. —

— This is a private matter, for your ears only. May we speak outside?'

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the housekeeper watching them. Without a word, she stepped out, pulling the kitchen door shut behind her. She and Wendell moved into the side yard, where bare trees threw skeletal shadows in the cold light of sunset.

— Do you know where Norris is? — he asked. When she hesitated, he said, — This is urgent, Rose. If you know, you must tell me. —

She shook her head. — I promised. —

— Promised whom? —

— I cannot break my word. Even for you. —

— Then you do know where he is? —

— He's safe, Mr. Holmes. He's in good hands. —

He grasped her by the shoulders. — Was it Dr. Grenville? Is he the one who arranged the escape? —

She stared into Wendell's frantic eyes. — We can trust him, can't we? —

Wendell gave a groan. — Then it may already be too late for Norris. —

— Why are you saying this? You're scaring me. —

— Grenville will never let Norris live to stand trial. Too many secrets would come out, damaging secrets that will destroy this household. — He glanced up, at the imposing home of Aldous Grenville.

— But Dr. Grenville has always defended Norris. —

— And do you wonder why a man of such influence would stake his reputation defending a student with no name, no family connections? —

— Because Norris is innocent! And because? —

— He did it to keep him out of the courtroom. I think he wants Norris tried in the court of public opinion, and on the front page of newspapers. There, he's already been found guilty. All it takes is a bounty hunter to commit the execution. You do know there's a bounty on his head? —

She swallowed back tears. — Yes. —

— It will all end quite conveniently. When the West End Reaper is tracked down and killed. —

— Why would Dr. Grenville do this? Why would he turn against Norris? —

— There's no time to explain it now. Just tell me where Norris is, so I can warn him. —

She stared at him, not knowing what to do. She'd never doubted Wendell Holmes before, but now, it seemed, she must doubt everyone, even those whom she had trusted most.

— At nightfall, — she said, — he leaves Medford and travels north, on the Winchester road. —

— His destination? —

— The town of Hudson. The mill house, on the river. There's a carved pelican on the gate. —

He nodded. — With any luck, I'll catch up with him long before he reaches Hudson. — He turned to leave, then halted and looked back at her. — Not a word to Grenville, — he warned. — Above all, don't tell anyone where the child is. She must remain hidden. —

She watched him run out of the side yard, and an instant later heard horse's hooves clatter away. Already, the sun was low in the sky, and within the hour Norris would set out along the Winchester road. What better time than after dark to spring an ambush on a lone traveler?

Hurry, Wendell. Be the one to reach him first.

A gust swept the side yard, twirling dead leaves and dust, and she squinted against the sting. Through narrowed eyelids, she caught a glimpse of something moving across the walkway. The wind died, and she stared at a dog that had wandered in through the Beacon Street gate. The dog sniffed at the bushes, pawed around in the ashes that had been sprinkled across the slippery walkway. Then it lifted a leg, relieved itself against a tree, and headed back toward the gate. As she watched it trot out of the yard, she suddenly realized that she had lived through this moment before. Or a moment very much like it.

But it had been at night. With that image came a gnawing sense of sadness, a remembrance of grief so terrible that she wanted to shove the memory away, back into the dark hole of forgotten pain. But she held on to the memory, stubbornly tugging on that fragile thread, until it led her back to the moment in time when she had stood at a window, holding her newborn niece and looking out into the night. She remembered a horse and phaeton arriving in the hospital courtyard. She remembered Agnes Poole stepping out from the shadows to speak to the phaeton's occupant.

And she remembered one more detail: the jittery horse, its hooves clattering nervously as a dog had trotted past. A large dog, silhouetted against the glossy cobblestones.

That was Billy's dog there that night. Was Billy there as well?

She ran out the gate and was about to set off down Beacon Street when she heard a voice that made her freeze.

— Miss Connolly? —

She turned to see Dr. Grenville standing at his front door.

— Mrs. Furbush said that Mr. Holmes was visiting. Where is he? —

— He? he left, sir. —

— Without even speaking to me? That's most peculiar. Charles will be disappointed his friend left without saying a word to him. —

— He stayed only a moment. —

— Why did he come? And why on earth to the back door? —

She flushed under his gaze. — He only stopped to ask how I am faring, sir. He didn't wish to disturb you so close to mealtime. —

Grenville studied her for a moment. She couldn't read his face, and she hoped that he could not read hers.

— When you see Mr. Holmes again, — he said, — tell him that his visits are never a disturbance. Day or night. —

— Yes, sir, — she murmured.

— I believe Mrs. Furbush is looking for you. — He went back into the house.

She glanced up Beacon Street. The dog had vanished.

Thirty-three

IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when the household at last fell silent.

Lying in her cot in the kitchen, Rose waited for the voices upstairs to fade, for the creak of footsteps to cease. Only then did she rise from the cot and pull on her cloak. She slipped out the back door and made her way along the side of the house, but just as she was about to emerge into the front yard, she heard a carriage rattle to a stop before the home, and she pulled back into the shadows.

Someone pounded on the front door. — Doctor! We need the doctor! —

A moment later the door opened and Dr. Grenville said, — What is it? —

— A fire, sir, over near Hancock's Wharf! Two buildings are gone, and we don't know how many injuries. Dr. Sewall asks for your assistance. My carriage stands waiting for you, sir, if you'll come now. —

— Let me get my bag. —

A moment later the front door slammed shut, and the carriage rolled away.

Rose emerged from her hiding place and slipped out the front gate, onto Beacon Street. Ahead, on the horizon, the night sky glowed an alarming red. A wagon careened past her, bound toward the burning wharf, and