The Faded Alibi
The frost had not yet broken in the valley, but the air inside the manor house was already thick with the scent of decay. It was a smell that clung to the wool of the tapestries and settled in the crevices of the oak floorboards, a damp, sweet rot that no amount of burning peat could chase away. Eleanor stood by the window, her fingers tracing the condensation that wept down the cold glass....
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