.

"So you did it", he said, aware that he souldn't say it, but unable not to, unable not to snort with laugther. "You and your bloody matches - you burned the house down!"
Her face was a study, features shifting between horror, indignation - and, yes, a hysterical hilarity that matched his own.
"Oh, it was not! It was Mama's ether. Any kind of spark could have set off the explosion- "
"But it wasn't any kind of spark," Roger pointed out. "Your cousin Ian lit one of your matches."
"Well, so it was Ian's fault, then!"
"No, it was you and your mother. Scientific women," Roger said, shaking his head. "The eigtheenth century is lucky to have survived you."

Ur An Echo In The Bone av Diana Gabaldon