The Anatomist's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

their horror at discovering a gentlewoman involved
     in such grisly work as dissections. No one had understood. No one had even tried.
     Without Philip’s and my own brother’s intervention, I was certain I would be locked
     away in Bethlem Royal Hospital or worse.
    “I assure you, the magistrate cleared Kiera of all wrongdoing,” Philip told Mr. Gage.
    The room fell silent as Mr. Gage digested this information. I was simply thankful
     for another moment to collect myself. It did not matter that it happened over a year
     ago, it still rattled me to recall any of it. Alana reached out to take my hand, and
     I squeezed hers in return, to reassure her, but I still did not move otherwise.
    “So Lady Darby witnessed numerous dissections years ago,” Mr. Gage remarked as if
     he were restating someone’s testimony. “And sketched them. How do you know that she
     even understands them? Perhaps she was just drawing what she saw. How do you know
     she can even contribute anything to an autopsy?”
    I laughed inside, bitterly. As if I could ever forget.
    I looked straight into Mr. Gage’s eyes. “I have never held a knife, but I can tell
     you where to make the cuts, how the intestines turn, what color the liver should be—in
     my sleep.”
    Mr. Gage did not flinch from the rawness of my words, but held my gaze steadily. He
     blinked only once and seemed to come to some understanding, for he nodded slowly,
     just a single bob of his head. I felt some of the tension drain out of me.
    “Will you do it?” Philip asked.
    I looked at my sister. Alana was always so strong, so competent, so sure of herself.
     And she protected me like a fierce warrior maiden. Like one of her children.
    She tried to look strong now, but I could see the fear in her eyes. I knew she would
     never ask this of me, would never expect it of me, but I had to do it. For her. For
     Malcolm, and Philipa, and little baby Greer. A murderer had invaded my sister’s home,
     and I wasn’t about to let him harm my sister’s family any more than he already had.
    “I’ll do it,” I said softly.
    My sister squeezed my hand again where she held it. A silent tear slid down her cheek,
     and I knew I had said the right thing.
    I glanced past Alana to the man standing beyond her. I knew Mr. Gage had witnessed
     our silent exchange, but I didn’t care. I loved my sister. If that made me seem weak
     to this man, so be it. And so help me God, if he tried to use that against me, I would
     hurt him far worse than this murderer ever could. Just because I had never held a
     knife did not mean I didn’t know how to use one.
    If only I had known then how greatly such an assertion would be tested.

CHAPTER THREE
    T he chapel where Lady Godwin’s body had been stored was located on the far western
     end of Gairloch Castle. It often bore the brunt of the ferocious winds coming off
     Loch Ewe in winter, blocking the rest of the castle from a direct blow. Being the
     coldest part of the estate, the western block was rarely used anymore, and at an hour
     past midnight, the rooms and hallways that were shrouded and dusty from disuse felt
     eerily vacant.
    I shivered as we marched down the corridor, grateful I had thrown a shawl over my
     shoulders before we set out. The lantern Mr. Gage carried barely peeled back the darkness
     around us, and certainly did nothing to heat the drafty hallway. Much as I had decided
     to dislike him, I found myself shifting ever closer to his body, trying to stay as
     close to the center of the circle of light as possible.
    I realized we could have waited until dawn to examine Lady Godwin’s body. She would
     stay fresh enough in the chapel cellar. But I had decided it would be better to have
     the task over and done with. Procrastinating was not going to make it any easier,
     and I knew I would never get any sleep that night regardless. Mr. Gage had readily
     agreed, and I wondered if perhaps he felt the same way.
    The clatter of our footfalls