The Wistful Dinner
The dining room of Thornfield Manor had not hosted a proper supper in longer than anyone cared to admit. The chandelier, once the pride of Lady Eleanor Vance's grandmother, hung like a frozen cataract of crystal above a table scarred by decades of unspoken grievances. Eleanor herself sat at the head, a single place setting before her—silver polished to a blinding shine, linen starched stiff...
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