The Golden Visit
The ledger page was yellowed and brittle, the ink faded to a rust-brown, listing a debt of forty pounds owed to the Crown for the repair of the shipyard gates, a sum that had compounded over six years into a silence that pressed against the eardrums of the manor house. Sinead O’Casey stood before the Great Hall’s astronomical clock, her hands hovering over the escapement, the air in the loft...
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