The Rot at Thornfield
The rain did not stop for three days. It fell on the Duval plantation like a judgment, steady and cold and without mercy, turning the front yard to mud and the cotton fields to swamp. Abigail Duval sat on the porch of the west wing, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders, watching the water pool around the rotting columns that once held up a roof she could no longer afford to replace....
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