The Distant Garden
The letter lay on the desk, its ink faded to a bruised violet, the paper brittle as a dried leaf. Arthur Vane smoothed the edges with his thumb, a gesture of professional habit that felt increasingly foreign in the damp chill of the Hollow House. It was dated 14th October, 1893, and the terms were clear: the inheritance of the estate, and with it, the title to the library, was contingent upon...
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