The Winter at Blackwood Hall
ACT I — THE COMING COLD The fire had died to embers by the time Eleanor Gray arrived at Blackwood Hall. That was the first thing she noticed: a grand Yorkshire manor, three hundred years of Blackwood blood and stone, and no fire in the hearth. The driver had dropped her at the iron gates with a look that said he would run if she asked him to stay past dusk. She dragged her single trunk across...
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