The Silent Pianoforte
The Silent Pianoforte The fog crept through the Chelsea hospital windows like a living thing, swallowing gas lamps whole. Isabella Croft sat alone in the Oriental Medicine ward, her fingers tracing the pulse of a sleeping sailor whose veins carried the blood of Calcutta and the ghosts of the East India Company. It was past midnight, and the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of a brass clock...
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