The Signal from Whitby Abbey

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2026-06-22 23:27:00 -

The fog came in off the North Sea like a living thing, curling its pale fingers around the ruins of Whitby Abbey and pulling them into the grey. Eleanor Ashworth stood at the edge of the cliff path, her shawl drawn tight against the damp, and watched it move with the slow inevitability of a tide. She had come to Whitby three months ago, at the suggestion of her uncle, Colonel Beauregard, to...

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