The Keeper of Blackwood Asylum
The fog clung to Whitechapel like a shroud, thick and yellow as old brandy. Eleanor Starke pulled her collar higher and quickened her pace toward the iron gates of Blackwood Asylum. At thirty-two, she was the first woman Scotland Yard had ever permitted to investigate serious crimes, and the first they had ever sent to Blackwood. The asylum sat on a hill overlooking the East End, a Georgian...
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