The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-19 03:12:31 -

The hall was filled with the scent of roasted pheasant and stale perfume. Gaslight hissed in the crystal chandeliers, casting a yellow, sickly glow over the polished mahogany of the dining table. Thomas Ashworth sat at the head of the table, his spine rigid against the high back of his chair. He wore a coat of dark wool, buttoned to the throat, though the room was warm. In his left hand, he...

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