Hampshire 1817

Jane sat at her writing desk gazing out of the window, watching as the last crimson and yellow leaves slowly fell from the trees in front of her. She was about to finish her last and final chapter, the most important of them all. She could always find inspiration in the view from her window, but today she had been pacing back and forth since dawn searching for those last words. She slowly closed her eyes, and went over each word and phrase carefully in her mind. As she began to write at last, the words came flowing quickly, too quickly for her hand to put them on paper. She had found her inspiration, and it wasn't in the trees, or their leaves. It did not come from the rolling waters, or the long dirt paths. She glanced over at the bed to see her husband snoring softly, fast asleep. He was the inspiration that she had searched all of her life for, and now she could write without restraint or bounds. As she finished her last chapter, she signed her name to the bottom with care.

Mrs. Jane Lefroy And quietly trying not to wake her husband, she shuffled the pages into place and crawled back into bed



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