The Jewel of Blackwood Manor
The fog rolled off the moors like a shroud being drawn across the face of the world. It was October, 1887, and the Yorkshire air had already begun to bite. Eleanor Hartley arrived on a Tuesday. She came in a hired carriage that kicked up mud and complaint from the lane, stepping down into a small town that had never seen anything quite like her. She was dressed in black wool that had once been...
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