The Telegraph's Verdict
London, 1843. The rain fell on Marylebone like a judgment, and Eleanor Ashworth stood before the new electric telegraph in her husband's study, her fingers hovering over the brass keys as though they might bite. Lord Harrington—no, not Lord Harrington. She had not called him that in months. Mr. Edward Ashworth, a clerk at the Railway Office, a man who came home each evening smelling of coal...
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