“For scientific purposes,” Charlotte told him. “Not because we wish to, but because we must. To try to discover the identity of the poor child. You have no such reason to be here, young man.”

“I know, miss.” Joseph’s shoulders slumped. “I am just interested, like you, miss. I ain’t never seen no one murdered before. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it scared me, so I thought it was better to go and look rather than have all these imaginings going on in my head.”

“Well, in the first instance,” Anne said, her tone a little more gentle, “we do not know that the child was murdered, not yet. And in the second, I suppose there is some logic to your reasoning. Nevertheless, you are to go back to your bed this minute, Joseph Earnshaw. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, miss,” Joseph said demurely.

“Though I must say, your vocabulary is coming on very well,” Charlotte said. “If you stay at your studies, and in your bed every night, you may have a very bright future before you.”

“Thank you, miss.” Joseph straightened his shoulders a little.

“And,” Emily said, “if you are very wise, you will not tell a soul of what you saw here, and in return we shall not tell your parents of your misdeeds, which will no doubt save you a walloping. Is that clear?”

“Yes, miss,” the boy agreed.

Anne unlocked the door and shooed Joseph out into the night, keeping watch until he vanished into the narrow two-up two-down cottage he lived in with his family just at the top of Main Street.

“He’s a caution, that boy,” Anne said, shaking her head.

“And yet,” Charlotte said, “despite his terrible impertinence, I find I rather like him.”

“He has spirit,” Emily said, “which is so much preferable to being one.”

—

At last their work was complete. Silently Charlotte compiled her notes, and Emily folded their drawings into her sketchbook as Anne carefully returned the medallion to the bones and rewrapped them in the blanket.

As she locked the schoolhouse door, Anne was pleased to see Keeper bounding out of the snow towards them, and somehow there, yapping at his feet, was Anne’s dog, Flossy, as though Keeper had deliberately returned to the parsonage to liberate Anne’s little friend. She bent down to embrace the damp creature, hugging her close.

“Ah, our loyal protector,” Emily said, ruffling Keeper’s ears. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down.” Anne was weary, but felt a sense of peace as she and her sisters bid one another good night. That was until she felt the touch of something cold slide against her skin. Feeling some strange object trapped in her sleeve, she shook it out into her palm.

It was the medallion.

11

Anne