The Greenhouse of Whispers
The greenhouse stood at the edge of the Kensington garden like a glass cage, all wrought iron and fractured panes, its skeleton visible through the overgrown ivy that clung to it like a shroud. Cordelia Greenhouse had not been inside it for three weeks. Three weeks since Dr. Thorne had prescribed "absolute rest" and moved her bedroom to the floor above the greenhouse, so she could watch her...
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