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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
  30. •   •   •
  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
  57. •   •   •
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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
  69. •   •   •
  70. •   •   •
  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
  103. •   •   •
  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
  138. •   •   •
  139. Emma L. Borden
  140. •   •   •
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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. •   •   •

After a protracted ritual of adjustments, she finally was comfortable enough for us to turn down the lights and draw tight the curtains, and all the while Lizbeth was a grouch about it—fussing about every little thing, checking all the locks on all the doors and windows, as if someone would try to come inside the moment her back was turned.

Nonsense, Lizbeth. Nobody cares but you.

•   •   •

But with Emma settled, and now equipped with bells to ring in case of difficulty, we retreated to Lizbeth’s room. I had a guest suite, but I was sick of using it. I wasn’t here to camp at the end of a hall. I was here to see Lizbeth, and I would see every inch of her before my visit was up. She knew it, I knew it, and Emma likely knew it, too; but Lizbeth was so funny about Emma hearing any slight peep.

Honestly, that woman would sleep through a thunderstorm without so much as a flinch, if she ever sampled even a fraction of what she kept beside the bed. And the bottles there (and the labels upon them) were newer than those with the bourbon downstairs, so I knew they saw more circulation. Besides, the walls in this place are as thick as a tomb.

But propriety still means something to Lizbeth for some reason, and really, at this point I can’t imagine why. Let us throw open the windows and let the whole block hear how happy we are to touch one another. Who cares?

What are they going to do, talk about us? You’d think she’d be used to it by now.

Sometimes I fear I don’t understand her, not at all. But I will fix that. I will let myself downstairs, and see what she has to hide from me.

•   •   •

We undressed one another, and I thought we might take our time, since Emma was well out of shouting distance and we had all night; but Lizbeth was impatient, hungry. She almost tore my chemise, and with her head buried in my neck she told me not to worry, she’d buy me another. A dozen others. Anything, just hurry up and finish with these stupid clothes.

She pulled a pin out of her hair, and it came cascading down, all the way to her waist, and that was all she was wearing, standing in the moonlight that came filtered in through the curtains. Anyone who looked hard enough at the right angle from outside could’ve seen her. All the curves and lines of her, none of them concave except the hollow at her waist. The rest of her rounded and nicely muscled, almost like a dancer. Her arms were taut and all but swelled with strength, and her thighs were sharply cut.

She took my breath away.