Midnight in Austenland (Austenland 2)

The sky was a watery black, evening stars and a low moon breathing a little color into pale shapes: the fountain, the gray-stoned drive, and the figure moving in the garden. Double take—yes, Charlotte did see someon

e out there, not plodding along like a creature with two feet, but, well … floating. Flitting in a mournful way. She could not see a face, only white robes and a headdress.

“It’s Mary Francis,” Miss Gardenside whispered.

Colonel Andrews opened the window, and a high, raspy wail came in on the cool night air.

“Perhaps she wishes to communicate,” said the colonel.

The figure stopped and its eyeless face turned toward the window, a pointed finger raised.

Charlotte startled away from the window. She had felt as if Mary Francis were pointing directly at her.

“Let’s chase her,” said Miss Gardenside, hastening out of the room.

“Wait!” said Colonel Andrews.

Off they both ran. Miss Charming and Charlotte hesitated before joining the chase.

Miss Gardenside, followed closely by Colonel Andrews, was cruising over the gravel drive and toward the garden. The ghost was still sliding along, though there was nothing haunting about its gestures now. In fact, they reflected the very human emotion of panic.

“Caution!” the colonel was yelling. “Not so hasty, Miss Gardenside. The spirit could be dangerous.”

“We’re not afraid of you!” Miss Gardenside shouted.

The ghost bent down to pick something up and then moved as if fleeing for its life—that is, if it weren’t already dead. The flowing headdress caught on a bush and the ghost tore it free.

“Wait!” shouted Miss Gardenside. “What are the secrets of death? Who really killed those nuns? What’s heaven like?”

Near the stables, the ghost disappeared.

“Where’d it go?” Miss Gardenside asked, out of breath.

“Dissolved … back into the ether … from whence all spirits come,” Colonel Andrews said, resting his hands on his knees while he slurped in air.

Charlotte and Miss Charming had reached the spot where the ghost had first appeared.

“Come look,” said Charlotte. “There are marks in the ground. See there? Long indentations, almost as if something with wheels rolled back and forth.”

A skateboard, Charlotte guessed silently. Our ghost was out here gleaming the cube.

“I did not know ghosts had invented the wheel,” Eddie said, ambling up from the house with Mr. Mallery. “They seem so Stone Age, wouldn’t you say?”

“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’ ” quoted Mr. Mallery.

Eddie pretended to look concerned. “Mallery, it is I, Edmund Grey. I say, Andrews, there Mallery goes calling me ‘Horatio’ again. Perhaps he would benefit from a brace of brandy. Or is that the problem?”

“What can these marks mean, Colonel?” asked Charlotte, as he and Miss Gardenside joined them.

Colonel Andrews lifted his hands. “Generally speaking, people do not chase after spirits. Generally speaking, people stay safe in drawing rooms and observe them from a distance and make frightened noises and might, for example, hide behind draperies and beg brave gentlemen to protect them from the frights of the night. Generally speaking.”

“Sorry,” said Miss Gardenside.

“Indeed, Miss Gardenside,” Eddie said, posing with one foot up on a bench. “If you had not run so boldly into the night, seeking adventure and questioning a phantasm from beyond the grave, I should have stood between you and the window whilst you quaked with fear. I should have said, Fear not, gentle maiden! And I should have closed the casement with nary the slightest tremble in my hand. Then I should have served you biscuits and let you win at whist even if I had been dealt the cards of a god!”

“You are, indeed, the best of men,” Miss Gardenside said, taking his arm.

“Aha! And I did not have to feed you that line. How spontaneous and sincere it sounded sprouting from your own lips.”