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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. •   •   •

Many days, I’m at peace with the lot we’ve received, or chosen, or the fate which has befallen us. It is a hard burden to carry, all the more so with a back as feeble as mine. But it is ours, and it is noble, what we’re doing. What we’re trying to do. What we will do, eventually—for these people who would not spit on us, were someone to light us on fire.

But Doctor Seabury.

He came, and I waited for him in the parlor. Lizzie helped pin my hair, and she dressed me in something nice. She took me down the stairs and fashioned me like a heavy old doll.

The doctor and I made small talk while my sister made tea. And here was one more piece in the mosaic of our routine . . . I only just noticed it, how he’s become a familiar part of our time, marking its passage from month to month. This is a happy realization, and I wish we could make our appointments less formal. But to do so would incur the wrath of his other patients—who already express whispered concern for his well-being, given his involvement with the pair of us.

As if Maplecroft were some den of roaring lions, seeking whom we may devour.

I think the town still “permits” him to come our way because I’ve never been implicated in any wrongdoing. I am only an invalid, at the mercy of my sister. Her sins apparently do not stain me as thoroughly as they could.

These appointments might best be viewed as some charity, then, on his part. I do not care for that thought, and I hope it’s not the case.

•   •   •

Regardless, he came, and we chatted, and Lizzie left us with the tea.

“Tell me about your lungs. How have they been feeling?” he asked, as he gently manipulated my wrist, all the better to feel the beat of my heart running through it, between the bones and back from the tips of my fingers.

“About the same. No worse, at any rate.”

He finished with my wrists or perhaps he gave up on them, or finding any feeble pulse. Instead he chose the scope from his bag. “Then we’ll count it a blessing, shall we?” He warmed the scope’s amplifier between his hands, and then inserted the other end into his ear. “Could you lean forward for me? That’s far enough, thank you.”

He placed the scope on my back, and I felt its round hardness through the fabric of my dress.

“Now breathe deeply—as deeply as you find comfortable.”

I did my best to comply, but any inhalation harder than a light wheeze was enough to make my throat close and my chest convulse. I strived to hold my body in check, to force my lungs to remain calm, and still, and refrain from seizing, or flinging bloody mucus into the air.