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Chapters (206)
  1. Praise for Maplecroft
  2. Title page
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  71. Nance O’Neil
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
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  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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  139. Emma L. Borden
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  150. Emma L. Borden
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  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
  206. •   •   •

Whatever’s down there can’t be doing this to me. Whatever’s down there is likely only some peculiar embarrassment that would mortify no one but her, and certainly wouldn’t bother me. For that matter, even if she did hack up her parents, I’m not strictly certain it would put me off. I know her and love her well enough these days to believe that she does only what needs to be done, out of love for her beloved problem of a sister. Or me, if I flatter myself—and I might as well.

But I don’t think she did it. Sometimes she gently hints that it’s always possible she’s guilty after all, and that I should be more cautious about where I place my trust. But it’s nonsense. She’s only testing me.

•   •   •

Lizbeth doesn’t know I found the key. She doesn’t know I have it, but she’ll notice it’s gone before long. How long? I don’t know. I don’t know how long it will take for her to notice I’ve replaced the proper key with another of similar size and shape. It depends entirely on how often she goes down to the cellar, or basement, or whatever awaits down there. The first time she tries, she’ll fail, and she’ll know. And we’ll have some terrible fight, unless I can satisfy my curiosity and return the correct key to its original position. That might prove trickier than my initial theft, or then again, maybe it won’t.

I might get lucky.

•   •   •

I thought I’d have to seduce her out of the key, and I was right, after a fashion.

Emma wished to stay downstairs, for it’s become warm very suddenly—and probably not permanently, given the way seasons shift and startle around here. Next week, I’m sure it’ll be dastardly cold for another bad snap, and then come May, things will level out. That’s my prediction.

So Emma was downstairs, where it was cooler, still. Heat rises, and thank heaven for that simple fact of nature, because the bedrooms are all upstairs and that meant we’d have the whole floor to ourselves at last.

It took forever and yet another day to get Emma settled on the grand settee, enthroned like a queen in a fort of pillows, which must’ve been almost as warm as the stuffy room she wished to escape—but what’s it to me? Let her smother herself with feathers, or sheets, or whatever else makes her happy. It makes me happy to have her out of the way.