“Send me a photograph of the photograph,” Dave said immediately, when Cloe read him Robert’s message, his voice carrying the particular focused calm of someone whose mind had already started working before the words were finished. “I want to see it properly before we do anything else.”Cloe typed back to Robert, and the image came through within minutes, slightly blurry the way photographs taken on phones by people who were still learning always were, but clear enough.Clear enough to see Mabel, younger than in the archive photograph, standing in what looked like the garden at Whitmore House, the same doorway visible behind her, the same stone, the same particular angle of light.And beside her, a young woman, perhaps twenty, perhaps younger, dark haired and serious, standing with the particular upright quality of someone who had decided, at some point, that the world was going to require her full attention and she intended to give it.Dave studied the image for a long time, the way h
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