Of Fate And Prejudice

The relentless rhythm of horse hooves on gravel echoed Frances's own racing heart as the hackney carriage carried her and Sara through the stiff London air. Six years of silence and a vast ocean separated Frances from her sister, Layla. Now, guided by an old address and a desperate hope, they had arrived. The carriage slowed, pulling up before an imposing black gate and a giant three-story building – far grander than anything Frances had imagined Layla inhabiting.
"Are you certain we're in the right place?" Frances murmured, pushing aside the curtain to gaze at the formidable house. Doubt gnawed at her. Two years had passed since that letter, surely Sara had misremembered.
Sara leaned over, peering out. "Oh, but I'm certain this is it!" Her voice held a note of disbelief.
The carriage halted. The coachman opened the door, and Frances stepped out onto the unfamiliar ground, her heart nearly stopping with the carriage's momentum. This was it. No turning back.
