They proceeded to the carriage. When Mr. Bingley opened the door, Bennet observed Miss Darcy, an innocent appearing girl, and an older woman seated beside her. Both sisters were handed in, and the carriage pulled away, flanked by the two gentlemen mounted on horseback.
Elizabeth was safe, in company with decent men. He remained at the door and watched until they disappeared from view.
When he entered the house, the stillness struck him. It was quiet in a manner to which he was unaccustomed. He paused in the hall, unmoving, listening to the silence.
After a moment, he turned again, took his hat from its peg, and collected his gloves, then stepped outside. He looked first down the lane where his daughters had gone. Then he glanced the other way and resolved to walk toward Meryton.
As he proceeded along the lane, he realized he had not walked that path on foot since he was seventeen. A faint smile touched his face as a fond memory came to mind.
Miss Harriet Trent had been upon his arm, and he had been escorting her home. He could see her as she had been then, lively and bright, laughing as she argued her point. He had left her at the front entrance of her father’s house and had turned for home. When he glanced back before leaving the street, she stood at the window, waving to him.
The smile deepened.
Without intention, his steps carried him toward that same house. It was now occupied by her brother, Simon Trent, who resided there with his wife and children.
When he reached the house, he lifted his eyes to the second floor. The window stood open to the morning air, yet no figure appeared there. He turned back toward High Street and followed it until he came to Meadow Lane. Within two houses of her present residence, he paused beneath the shade of a large oak and regarded the front of her home.
He remained there several minutes before he saw her at the window. She looked out and raised her hand in greeting. He returned the gesture.
Soon afterward, she emerged from the front door and stood waiting.
As he crossed the street, he saw in her expression, in the laughing eyes, the girl she had been those many years ago.
He crossed into the gate, and he took the hand she extended to him.
“Thomas, I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, Hettie.”
“Pray, come in. I shall order the tea tray.”
He followed her into the parlor and seated himself where she directed. After giving instructions for tea, she turned toward him.
“How do you go on, Thomas? I heard you were very ill.”
“I have been ill. This is the first time I have been out. But the house is exceedingly quiet. At times, I feel as though it is inhabited by her spirit.”
“What do you mean? You are saying the house is inhabited by the spirit of Frances?”
“I see her in every room. In her favorite chair. At the door of my study. Passing along the hall toward her bedchamber. I hear her voice when the grocer’s order is delayed and when Hill cannot be found.”
He accepted the teacup she offered and tasted the lemon cake that accompanied it.
“This is excellent, Hettie. Thank you.”
She took up her own teacup and took a sip. “Tell me about your ghost.”
“I confess I was driven from my house this morning. Jane and Lizzy departed for London to order a wedding gown for Jane. Mr. Bingley offered for her yesterday.”
Mrs. Talbot smiled. “Congratulations, Thomas. Now you shall have two daughters who will not be left to wander the hedgerows.”
He laughed, quiet, restrained. “Yes, nor will Frances. That was her constant refrain.”
His voice faltered. Tears gathered in his eyes and slipped down his cheeks.
“I heard her voice just now, fretting over the hedgerows. You knew her well enough to have heard her, too.”
Mrs. Talbot regarded him with curiosity. “So, you find that the common happenings of the day, the simple experiences and passing circumstances, bring her vividly to your mind?”
