The Convent of Ashes

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2026-06-02 20:21:22 -

I. The spring of 1847 did not arrive in London so much as it was permitted to. The fog that clung to the Thames refused to lift, and the soot from a thousand factory chimneys turned the weak sunlight into a bruised yellow thing. Eleanor Ashworth stood at the window of her father's townhouse in Bloomsbury and watched the street below, where the carriages of the well-to-do rolled over...

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