Benjamin Munro was his name. She mouthed the syllables silently, Benjamin James Munro, twenty-six years old, late of London. He had no dependents, was a hard worker, a man not given to baseless talk....
You're a storyteller, Alice Edevane, Ben had told her late one afternoon, as the river tripped coolly by and the pigeons came home to roost. I've never met a person with such a clever imagination, suc...
Ben ducked beneath the arbor and paused by the fishpond when a memory crept upon him like a shadow. This was the spot where Alice had first read to him from her manuscript. He could still hear her voi...
With a glance back towards the house, he pulled the secret sketches from within. He'd been working at them on and off for a fortnight now, ever since he'd come across Cousin Eliza's fairy tales among...
The clouds had shifted, the moon was almost ripe, and her hair had turned to silver in its glaze.He'd been glad she hadn't caught him staring. Lucky for Tom, she'd crouched on the ground and started d...
Vivien thought how ugly adults could be, how weak. So used to getting what they wanted that they didn't know the first thing about being brave.
