Ms. Austen - Page 2/44

And then, he would break from his dream to the placid reality of his own life. He had long lost touch with the woman he had married, and it was his good fortune that his wealth had provided a house large enough for them to narrowly miss each other when the chance arose. But he had noticed something unusual about the way she carried herself in the passing days. She would become paler with each day and would soon discover her own misfortune. For she would become gravely ill, leaving behind her daughter and misguided husband to fend for themselves.

While deeply saddened by her passing, Tom couldn't help but think of the fair skinned, wide eyed treasure he had given up so many years previous. He laid his wife to rest on a sunny, warm afternoon, with the clouds rolling and a faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was spring. While the discerning look on the face of his daughter left him with much despair, he decided that her welfare would be best looked upon by his sister in Ireland. With the promise of a swift return, Tom headed for the coach that would carry him to the place with a thousand breezes, and the heart he had left behind.

Since meeting Jane, he had taken up writing so to ease his battered soul and perhaps soothe his mind a bit. While on the road to his long awaited destination, he allowed himself to pen a short letter.

My Dear Jane, It is with great displeasure that I write to inform you that my beloved wife has passed. It is of the utmost importance that I arrive in person to share the news with my dear aunt and cousins. While my stay will be very brief, I would ask that perhaps we may meet so that I might see you one last time. Of course it would be with undoubted despair that you might decline, but with much understanding.

Mr. Tom Lefroy