The Distant Affair
The rain lashed against the slate roof of the Ashworth manor, a relentless, industrial drumming that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into the marrow of Eleanor’s bones. She stood before the full-length mirror in her dressing room, her hand gripping the edge of the vanity until her knuckles turned the color of old parchment. The air in the room was thick with the scent of damp wool...
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