The Wistful Show
The air in the grand hall of the Ashworth Estate was thick with the scent of roasted boar, beeswax candles, and the heavy, cloying perfume of the women who filled the room, a suffocating tapestry of silk and expectation that pressed against the skin like a damp wool blanket. Margaret stood in the shadows of a marble column, her fingers working the frayed hem of a simple, threadbare wool coat...
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