It was impossible for Emily to seek out help, for she came to realize that her presence, rather than prevent it, caused even further anxiety amongst the living. How long she paced twisted streets and attempted to speak with persons who simply fled from her she didn't care to know; still, her patience triumphed in the end. With the aid of a few sympathetic individuals who managed to overcome their fear, she made certain that Victor was sheltered within the church and that Victoria was simply laid to rest.

Perhaps it was convenient that Victor's health declined rather than improved during the next few days, thus forcing him to remain in bed, oblivious to all that took place about him. Because of this, Victoria's funeral was a quiet, undisturbed affair which Emily and Maggot attended for their bed-ridden friend. It occurred to Emily as she watched a few grim gentlemen lower Victoria's coffin into the chilled earth that no Everglots were present; why, her parents would have died themselves rather than miss—oh, well. Emily couldn't bear the guilt which this thought caused her and she tried not to pay it any heed, wishing that she had given in to the advice her parents had given her concerning an important matter that she had been too young to give any serious thought.

"Well," said Maggot after a moment's hesitation, "at least she's dead and buried, and at least I can dig my way to her, hmm?"

"What's so good about her being dead?" Emily returned, quick steps carrying her swiftly away from that sad little graveyard.

"Well," Maggot said callously, "with her gone, Victor's all yours—isn't he?"

Emily, more than a little outraged by this statement, halted abruptly and snarled, "If you mention something to that effect again, my dear Maggot, you're a dead worm."

Maggot was silent for a moment. Then he said, "But I thought..."

"You thought wrong. Why, I don't envy Victoria at all; at least I wouldn't, if she had been able to marry what's-his name."

"You know his name!"

"Well...yes."

"Then why didn't you say it?"

Emily refused to speak further. At least she knew that she couldn't have cared less about winning Victor's affection, if no one else did. At the moment, more pressing matters held her interest.

"Now that we're Upstairs," she said, "I wonder if we can find Bonejangles. He's got to be somewhere around here..."

It was a pleasant dream—one that she knew could never possibly come true unless Victor became drastically more talkative. They were sitting together in her family's parlor, quite alone; and how Victor chatted away! If only she could understand all that he said, but his words seemed slurred and they were impossible to make any sense of. But it was so nice to see him finally speaking without the least discomfort...he was usually so uncertain as to just what to say. It took a good deal of prompting on her part if she wished him to start a conversation of his own.

Victoria sighed deeply as she began to wake. She shifted her position, trying to make herself more comfortable, and her hand struck the coffin's wooden lid; eyes flying open, the day's previous events flooded her mind and she drew in her breath sharply. Where was she?

Panic stopped her heart for the briefest second. She tried to force the coffin's lid upwards to no avail even as the air grew steadily thinner about her. She was suffocating.

The coffin jolted abruptly in a manner which suggested that it had taken quite a fall, which she knew to be impossible. Yet the lid slid to one side with surprising ease, and as she sat up she found herself confronted by a fellow she knew all too well.

"Ah, Victoria," said Lord Barkis, holding out one hand, "come, my dear. I've been waiting for you."