The Distant Threshold
The soot of Harrowgate Manor did not merely settle; it lived, a fine, black dust that coated the lungs and the conscience alike, settling into the crevices of the floorboards and the wrinkles of the servants’ uniforms with the persistence of a debt that could not be paid. Elias Thorne, a housekeeper of forty years who had served the Pemberton estate for two decades, stood before the open...
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