What passions raged behind the quiet facade? Hidden away in an isolated stone house on the lonely moors and obscured by her nom de plume, she was neither Currer Bell nor the unassuming vicar's daughter. She made herself invisible but poured out her flaming heart onto the pages that have resonated through centuries. A tribute to Charlotte Brontė in perfume form.
Notes:stacked books, spilled ink, black tea, shy violets hiding deep in the forest
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