A beautiful woman is running away from the scary old mansion, in the best tradition of paperback Gothic Romance cover art.

As Corinthia ran from the Haberfield Mansion, she knew she would never again see her secretly-schizophrenic husband Pelham, never again need to tolerate his Uncle Ahab's crude double-entendres and lascivious gaze and occasional wandering hands, never again have to endure her mother-in-law's snide remarks, never again see what tortures her husband's nephew Theobald inflicted upon captured rodents, never again have to worry about which member of the household was using the secret passage to make Corinthia think that her private dressing room was haunted, never again have to worry about what strange herbs Aunt Agatha might secretly be adding to one's teacup on the theory that it would be for the unwitting victim's own good . . . and the reason she knew this chapter of her life was closing forever was that she'd set the timers to go off in two minutes, and now she just needed to run to a safe distance before the Semtex charges destroyed this dangerously dysfunctional excuse for a "family."