Martha Radcliffe - Fiction

It was an evening in late autumn, and the drawing-room of Miss Eliza Whitmore’s modest yet genteel home bore all the marks of a genteel society gathering. The low, golden glow of the fire illuminated the faces of its guests, who were seated in a circle upon chairs of soft velvet, their conversation as varied as the changing leaves outside the window. Miss Eliza, graceful and composed as always, sat closest to the hearth, her eyes flicking occasionally toward her guests, noting the peculiar ten