I spent my last fifteen shillings buying a crumbling, cursed manor house that everyone mocked me for. The squire deliberately splashed mud on my dress and laughed, saying the ghosts would finish…
The road to Marwick was a ribbon of mud, clinging to Alice’s worn-out boots with the greedy persistence of memory. She had walked since dawn, leaving behind the grand house where she had served as a scullery maid—the scene of her unjust dismissal. A porcelain vase, a favorite of the mistress, had slipped from the … Read more