The Candlelight and the Curtain
I The note arrived at half past seven, written on pale cream paper in a hand so precise it looked engraved rather than penned: You will attend the Duchess of Marlborough's ball. Wear blue. Do not speak to Lord Pemberton. Eleanor Marsh stood in the narrow servants' passage of Wetherby Hall, the note pressed between her fingers like a live thing. She was supposed to be in the library, copying her...
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