The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-19 08:28:08 -

The banquet hall of Blackwood Manor smelled of roasted pheasant and old stone. Candles, hundreds of them, flickered against the high vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, honeyed glow over the silver trestles and the embroidered tablecloths. It was a scene of opulence that seemed to defy the damp, grey November pressing against the leaded windows. Lady Eleanor Vane sat at the head of the table, her...

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