These Shallow Graves

Dear Reader,

If you're already a fan of Jennifer Donnelly, I assure you, her new novel will not disappoint. If you're just discovering her, you're in for a treat.

These Shallow Graves
introduces Josephine Montfort, a girl whose future was set the day she was born. The trouble is, hers is not a future she particularly wants. In 1890, what a woman could do, how she should behave, and who she could associate with was, in most cases, determined by the social standing of her family. Jo is one of the lucky ones. Her life is one of wealth and status, and feels wide open. Yet these very blessings are what confine her. In Jo's time, the lives of girls and women weren't about following dreams. Boys could be and do anything; girls had rules to follow. The double standard between the sexes was enormous, and sadly, it's still alive and well today, which is why
These Shallow Graves
resonates so deeply. I've never met a girl who likes to follow rules.

Jennifer Donnelly isn't one to shy away from complex subjects. On the surface,
These Shallow Graves
is an electrifying crime novel. But as always, Donnelly digs deeper, asking hard questions. What does it mean to be a girl and to have dreams? What does it mean to follow your heart despite the certainty that you will lose all that you know? These questions are what propel Jo into the dark world of death, violence, secrets, and revenge that permeate this mystery. An average girl would run. Lucky for us, Josephine Montfort is not an average girl.

I am thrilled to share Jo's story with you. It's dark and haunting, and so memorable. I'm sure it will stay with you long after you've turned the last page.

Best,

Krista Marino
Executive Editor, Delacorte Press

Revolution

A Northern Light

This is an uncorrected eBook file. Please do not quote for publication until you check your copy against the finished book.

This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Donnelly
Jacket art copyright © 2015

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children's Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Donnelly, Jennifer.
These shallow graves / Jennifer Donnelly. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: A young woman in nineteenth-century New York City must struggle against gender and class boundaries when her father is found dead of a supposed suicide, and she believes there is more than meets the eye, so in order to uncover the truth she will have to decide how much she is willing to risk and lose.
ISBN 978-0-385-73765-4 (hc) — ISBN 978-0-307-98291-9 (el) —
ISBN 978-0-385-90679-1 (glb) — ISBN 978-1-101-93126-4 (intl. tr. pbk.)
[1. Death—Fiction. 2. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 3. Sex role—Fiction. 4. Social classes—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—History—19th century—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D7194Th 2015
[Fic]—dc23
2014047825

Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition

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Cover

National Marketing and Publicity Campaign

Letter to Reader

eBook Information

By Jennifer Donnelly

Title page

Copyright page

Dedication

Darkbriar Asylum for the Insane, New York City
November 29, 1890

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

FORTY-ONE

FORTY-TWO

FORTY-THREE

FORTY-FOUR

FORTY-FIVE

FORTY-SIX

FORTY-SEVEN

FORTY-EIGHT

FORTY-NINE

FIFTY

FIFTY-ONE

FIFTY-TWO

FIFTY-THREE

FIFTY-FOUR

FIFTY-FIVE

FIFTY-SIX

FIFTY-SEVEN

FIFTY-EIGHT

FIFTY-NINE

SIXTY

SIXTY-ONE

SIXTY-TWO

SIXTY-THREE

SIXTY-FOUR

SIXTY-FIVE

SIXTY-SIX

SIXTY-SEVEN

SIXTY-EIGHT

SIXTY-NINE

SEVENTY

SEVENTY-ONE

SEVENTY-TWO

SEVENTY-THREE

SEVENTY-FOUR

SEVENTY-FIVE

SEVENTY-SIX

SEVENTY-SEVEN

SEVENTY-EIGHT

SEVENTY-NINE

EIGHTY

EIGHTY-ONE

EIGHTY-TWO

EIGHTY-THREE

EIGHTY-FOUR

EIGHTY-FIVE

EIGHTY-SIX

EIGHTY-SEVEN

EIGHTY-EIGHT

EIGHTY-NINE

NINETY

NINETY-ONE

NINETY-TWO

NINETY-THREE

NINETY-FOUR

NINETY-FIVE

NINETY-SIX

NINETY-SEVEN

NINETY-EIGHT

NINETY-NINE

ONE HUNDRED

Epilogue

Josephine Montfort stared at the newly mounded grave in front of her and at the wooden cross marking it.

“This is the one you're after.
Kinch,
” Flynn, the gravedigger, said, pointing at the name painted on the cross. “He died on Tuesday.”

Tuesday,
Jo thought. Four days ago.
Time enough for the rot to start. And the stink.

“I'll be wanting my money now,” Flynn said.

Jo put her lantern down. She fumbled notes out of her coat pocket and counted them into Flynn's hand.

“You get caught out here, you never saw me. You hear, girl?”

Jo nodded. Flynn pocketed his money and walked off into the darkness. Moonlight spilled over the rows of graves and over the looming towers of the asylum. A wail rose on the night, thin and chilling.

And suddenly Jo's courage failed her.

“Step aside, Jo. We'll do it. Oscar and me,” Eddie said.

He was standing across from her, on the other side of the grave. He said nothing more as she met his gaze. He didn't have to. The challenge in his eyes spoke volumes.

How did this happen? How did I get here?
Jo asked herself. She didn't want to do this. She wanted to be home. Safe inside her Gramercy Square brownstone. She wished she'd never met Eddie Gallagher. The Tailor. Madam Esther. Fairy Fay. Most of all, she wished she'd never laid eyes on the man buried six feet below her.

“Wait by the vault. Go back,” Eddie said. Not unkindly.

Jo laughed. Go back? How? There was no going back. Not to her old life of drawing rooms and dances. Not to Miss Sparkwell's School. Not to her friends, or to Bram. It had all gone too far.

“Jo …”

“
You
wait by the vault, Eddie,” Jo said crisply.

Eddie snorted. He tossed a shovel at her. Jo flinched as she caught it, then started to dig.