67 " Elenore"

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As we walked toward the old house, the path became increasingly obscured by trees. It felt less like a garden and more like a dense forest, the sunlight filtering through the leaves in a dappled pattern. I wished Tom were with me instead of James; I had so many questions about his parents, and I felt a strange urgency to know more.

"James, can I ask you a question?" I ventured, hoping he might provide the answers I sought.

He turned to me, his expression attentive. "Of course, my lady."

"Do you know Tom's mother's name?" I inquired, watching his reaction closely.