Chapters (206)
- Praise for Maplecroft
- Title page
- Copyright page
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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- A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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- I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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- Nance O’Neil
- THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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- AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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- THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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- CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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- HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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- A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Nance O’Neil
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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- Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
- Emma L. Borden
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- Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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- DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
- Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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- Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Emma L. Borden
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- FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Inspector Simon Wolf
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She might see it as a great betrayal. I don’t know. For all her silly talk of “bargains” and promises, there’s no good reason to believe that she doesn’t secretly want me to push onward toward the truth. Some people can’t bear to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean they don’t want anyone to know the answers. I’m not sure what mechanism this is, or what drive; I don’t know why some people just can’t say what they mean, say what they want, and be done with it.
But I am here to help!
She needs me more than she knows. Whatever she’s engaged in, or fighting against, or keeping so secret, she can’t keep it that way all by herself. That might be the root of it all—she knows it’s too big for her to handle alone, and Emma is no help at all, no matter what she says about the old woman’s books and notes and letters.
To hell with books and notes and letters.
Sometimes you need a hand instead.
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Something just dawned on me: Emma must think the doctor might prove helpful to Lizbeth, with this weird undertaking she hides beneath the house. Seabury, that’s his name. Seems like a nice old gentleman, and he’s kind enough to Lizbeth—which I appreciate, given how the rest of this wretched little town will have nothing to do with her.
He is kind, then. But he is not close.
I am close. And I will be the partner that she wants. The partner she needs.
Soon I’ll know the truth for myself. Tonight, when everyone’s asleep. I didn’t have time this past evening, for a dose of Mrs. Winslow’s sleeping draught didn’t maintain quite enough hold over Lizbeth.
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I’ve not found evidence that Lizbeth is prone to drinking such draughts, to the point of developing a tolerance for them—though of course Emma keeps some around in the drawers beside her bed. She also keeps a great, heavy handgun, but I assume that’s for protection. One thing my lover has confessed easily enough, without wheedling, bribing, or bargains is this: After her trial, there were threats by the score and she chose to arm the household. The threats were not against Emma, no, but Emma lives here, too—and she’s as dependent as a toddling child, I swear. No great surprise she keeps painkillers, sleeping draughts, and weapons, but I can’t imagine that most days she has the strength to lift any of them unassisted.