The Wistful Letter
The ink in the book was black, but the light in the study was the color of old bone. Elias, twelve years old and trembling, held the quill with a grip that whitened his knuckles. He was not writing for pleasure. He was writing to save her. The debt on the estate was due at the turn of the month, and the only way to satisfy the creditors was to seal the marriage contract with Clara. She was his...
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