The Faded Bouquet
The Faded Bouquet Prologue The bouquet sat on the mantelpiece in a glass case, its petals pressed flat as pages in a forgotten book, its colour bleached to something that belonged not to the living but to memory itself. Arthur Vane passed it every evening in the half-light of dusk, when the hall at Blackmere Priory held its breath and waited for the first note of the piano to drift up from the...
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