“Come along, Mister Milgram,” Julia said, opening the door. “I’m not a dose of castor oil. I know my job and will be easy to swallow. I promise.”
Julia’s first glimpse of the body jolted her. The girl’s auburn hair, the spray of light freckles across her cheeks, her death by drowning reminded her of Helen, her medical school classmate. Julia still struggled with her failure to prevent her friend’s suicide. But she no longer dreamed about it; those nightmareshad faded, even though the memories hadn’t. Julia had found a measure of peace, accepting that Helen would always be a part of her and her death a deep regret.
At the autopsy’s end, the doctor took a last look at Elizabeth Dowling.Lizzy.Underneath her pallor and blue-tinged lips, Julia glimpsed the lovely young woman she’d been. She drew the sheet over the girl’s face. Julia hated that moment more than any other in the postmortem process. The Y-incision from collarbone to pelvis, the removal and examination of internal organs: those gruesome procedures were part of her medical training. But the act of covering Lizzie’s face—of shrouding a young woman who might have been sleeping but would never wake—filled her with sadness and pity.
Julia washed her hands at the sink, lowered the flames on the two hanging lamps, and closed the door quietly behind her. Mr. Milgram and Chief Constable Phillips of the Cowes Constabulary awaited her preliminary report. Phillips was a big, bluff, square-chinned man with a thick crop of steel-gray hair and a walrus mustache. Julia judged him to be closer to retirement than the beginning of his career.
“I’ll have my written conclusions for you tomorrow,” Julia said, “but I can tell you now that Lizzie Dowling drowned. Water filled her lungs.”
Phillips asked, “Suicide, accident, or murder?”
“I cannot say with certainty, Chief Constable.”
“Well, that’s torn it,” Milgram said savagely. “A damnable waste of time.”
Julia ignored the coroner and addressed the policeman. “Suicide is least likely, given the state of her fingernails. Still, those who decide to end their lives sometimes change their minds. She may have tried and failed to claw her way to safety.”
“Good Lord,” the chief constable muttered.
“It’s also possible that she overbalanced and fell in accidentally,” Julia said. “It’s equally likely that someone tipped her inand held her underwater. Perhaps by her ankles. Her leather boots would leave no trace of bruising from an assailant’s fingermarks.”
Chief Constable Phillips asked, “Were there any other signs of violence on her body?”
“Abrasions on her right forehead and cheek. An attack would explain it, but so would thrashing against the stone wall of the well, trying to save herself.”
Milgram scowled. “Not very helpful.”
“My report will record that she was pregnant. I’d estimate she was about four months gone.”
The following morning at breakfast, Lady Aldridge said, “That poor girl. Alone, perhaps abandoned in her trouble, now to be a victim again. This time, of gossip and speculation.”
“Violent death affords no private place,” Dr. Lewis said. “Her tragedy becomes public property at the coroner’s inquest. When do you give your evidence, Julie?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Quarr Abbey … I visited it once,” he said. “Such a strange and lonely place to die.”
“An omnibus driver said she visited often, according to Chief Constable Phillips.”
“Thank you, Kate,” Dr. Lewis said as Julia’s maid removed his empty plate. “They found no evidence at the scene?”
“The chief constable said nothing, except …” Julia frowned. “It’s strange, but the police found two piles of flat stones on the well’s wall.”
Kate dropped a teaspoon that clattered across the parquet floor. She bent to retrieve it and rose, pink in the face. “Mother of God, is it a holy well, this water at Quarr Abbey?”
Dr. Lewis looked at Julia. She lifted her shoulders and said, “I don’t know, Kate.”
“Sure, it must be if the girl left piles of stones behind. All myold aunts in Ireland did the same to ward off illness or beg a blessing. What sort of abbey are we talking about?”
“They’re just ruins, now,” Dr. Lewis said. “But it was the Abbey of Saint Mary and—”
“Praying to the Virgin at a holy well? Sure, she’ll not be taking her life in such a place. ’Tis a mortal sin, and to do such a terrible deed after asking for a blessing? Never.”
“I can’t be certain,” Julia said. “Suicide is one possibility. It may have been an accident or—”
“’Twas no accident if she knew the place and prayed there often.” Kate picked up the tray of plates. “They should be looking for the maggot who got her in the family way.”
Doctor Lewis stood and held the door so the maid could pass through. He closed it and said, “We know where Kate stands. If not suicide or accident …”
