A Love Across Time

The air in the west wing felt heavier as Sophia carefully untied the ribbon around the stack of letters. The paper was brittle, the ink faded with time, but the handwriting was elegant and precise.

"They're dated… 1863," she murmured, her voice barely audible as though she might disturb the spirits of the past.

Liam leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. "Who wrote them?"

Sophia scanned the first letter, her lips moving silently as she read. "It's signed by someone named Eleanor Harrington. She's addressing a man named James, but…" Her brow furrowed as she held up the letter to the light, revealing watermarks and faint creases. "These aren't just letters. They're unsent drafts."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Unsent? Why would someone write letters and never send them?"

Sophia didn't answer immediately, her attention shifting to the locket. She opened it carefully to reveal a miniature portrait of a woman. Her hair was styled in elaborate curls, and her eyes held a wistful sadness.

"This must be Eleanor," Sophia said, tracing the edge of the portrait. "But why was this locket hidden away with the letters? And why were they left behind?"

Liam stood, his gaze sweeping over the room. "This house has been through so many hands. Wars, family feuds, financial ruin—who knows what stories were lost here?" He turned back to her, his tone softening. "But you'll find them, won't you? That's what historians do."

Sophia smiled faintly, appreciating his confidence in her work. "That's the hope."

She pulled out another letter, this one slightly longer. As she read it aloud, her voice trembled with the emotion etched into Eleanor's words:

> My dearest James,

Every moment apart feels like an eternity. The world condemns our love, but my heart cannot obey their rules. If fate were kinder, perhaps we would have had our chance.

The words hung in the air like a haunting melody.

Liam broke the silence. "Sounds like a forbidden romance. Maybe they were from different social classes?"

"Or rival families," Sophia added, her mind racing with possibilities.

Suddenly, a faint breeze swept through the room, rustling the edges of the letters. Both of them glanced at the windows, but they were shut tight.

"That's… odd," Liam muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sophia tried to shake off the strange sensation that prickled her skin. "Maybe it's just the draft from the vents."

But as she glanced at the locket again, a strange unease settled in her chest, as though the manor itself was watching.

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