The Dashwood Sisters Tell All (8 page)

I’d meant to be a little more coy. After all, I’d leaped into his car and come to his house late at night, which I’m pretty sure would give most guys the wrong idea, whichever side of the pond they lived on. But he was such a good kisser, and I was so lost in the fantasy of the moment. A handsome, rich British gentleman wanted to romance me, and I intended to let him. Well, for a few minutes, anyway. I might be infatuated, but I wasn't a complete idiot.

Mimi didn't come home until well after midnight. I was livid. I wasn't my sister's keeper. Not technically, anyway. I knew she was with Ethan, but that only made me more worried. At least she’d told someone where she was going, although I wish it hadn't been Tom Braddock. The poor man had gone a little gray around the mouth when I asked if he’d seen her. I was sure Mimi's choice of messenger was deliberate. She wanted Tom to be very clear on where he stood, which was nowhere in her vicinity.

I heard a car motor outside. The drive into the stable block was on the opposite side of the courtyard from the open doors, and the engine purred softly. Expensively.

I crossed the room to the single, small window in the bathroom. Carefully, I lifted the blinds and peered out in time to see Mimi climbing out of a black sports car.

She was a grown-up, but she was still my sister, and I was disappointed in her. I knew that she was growing desperate. Age and money seemed to be the twin ghosts nipping at her heels these days, but I still found it painful to watch.

Ethan walked her to her door. Her room was across the courtyard from mine, so I had a clear view as he kissed her and then turned back to his car. I saw the quick, wistful glance Mimi cast over her shoulder at him as he drove away, and then she opened her door with the key card and disappeared.

It wouldn't last. It never did. I would have given anything if Mimi would open her eyes for a change and truly see the man she’d set her sights on. But we were grown-ups now, and I could no longer hope that she would change. Mimi was who she was. I loved her. She was my sister, after all. But that didn't make her self-defeating choices any easier to watch.

Even after Mimi returned, I spent a restless night fretting about Daniel, Mrs. Parrot, and the mystery of the diary. As the sky lightened, I took Cassandra's diary from my bedside table and slipped out through the French doors onto the small patio. With only the birds for company, I settled into a wooden chair and flipped back through the pages of old-fashioned handwriting.

Jane still nurses a tendre for Jack Smith, which dismays our mother enormously. He is the natural son of a gentleman, or so we have been told, but he has no fortune and few prospects. At least he has been provided with an education, but none of us knows what will become of him when he leaves Steventon.

I have discouraged her, of course, in her affection for him. I even went so far as to urge my father to send her to London or to my uncle's house, but he does not heed my warning. None of them knows that Jack returns her feelings, for she confides in no one but me, and Jack confides in no one.

Jane will be
along
presently, however much she may resent my interference.
The
cough I brought back from Steventon tickles my throat. Jane advises a more
narrow
course of rest than I would like. She brings hot water for a compress for my chest. It is the
way
of the world, I suppose. How could
it
be otherwise? When the sun shines, sickness
goes
indoors to escape the cleansing work of nature.

Some of the words were underlined. Very odd. I checked the dates of the entries, which seemed very sporadic. Cassandra obviously hadn't made a point of writing in the diary on a regular basis.

She’d clearly been quite concerned about Jane's feelings for this Jack Smith, though, just as I was fretting about Mimi's fascination with Ethan.

Was Jane's attachment to Jack Smith common knowledge? I didn't remember ever hearing his name, but I was no expert. What if this was new information? How valuable would that make it? I closed the diary and laid a hand on top of the cover.

Daniel could help me. After all, wasn't that why he was here? I thought of the conversation I’d overheard at the Vyne the previous afternoon, a man's murmured reply to Mrs. Parrot. Could it have been Daniel? Was he what he seemed, or was he, too, after the diary, as I suspected Mrs. Parrot must be?

The sun had risen enough so that it was faintly visible on the eastern horizon. I watched the dawn bloom into fullness and stayed where I was, my hand on the diary, my gaze on the line of trees across the way.

I dare you to make a happy ending out of this mess, Jane Austen.

Talking to myself, or more specifically to a long-dead author, wasn't going to get me anywhere. Time for a shower and a strong cup of tea, because the new day that awaited was likely to be as complicated as it would be long.

CHAPTER TEN

M
imi didn't appear at breakfast that morning. Tom joined us a few minutes later, and I noticed he had dark circles under his eyes. When Mrs. Parrot entered the dining room, she also appeared a little worse for the wear. She had painted an extra layer of rouge on her cheeks, which clashed with her orange hair.

Ethan was the last one to arrive. He was staying at his own house but eating his meals with us.

He pulled up a chair to the end of the table where I sat. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

What could I possibly say? No, because you’ve been ruining my sister's reputation?

“Please do.” I forced myself to make conversation. “Are you looking forward to today's walk? You’ve probably already been to Chawton Cottage.”

“I think each time I visit there is like the first.” His smile was almost dreamy. “This is turning out to be a week of firsts.”

I paused and bit my lip. Was it possible I had misjudged him? Maybe he really liked my sister. Maybe he had fallen for her.

A waiter appeared to take our order for the hot breakfast, and Ethan ordered the full English. I contented myself with poached eggs and toast.

“You and Mimi seem to have hit it off,” I said, forgoing the subtle approach.

He nodded and sipped his coffee. “Quite.”

“Ethan—”

He set his cup down and fiddled with the handle. “I know you’re concerned about your sister, but let me assure you—”

“I’m sorry. It's none of my business, obviously.” I was not going to meddle. I was not going to be the reincarnation of my mother. “It's just that she's vulnerable at the moment.”

“I understand. Losing your mother must have been very difficult for both of you. Mimi said she's ready to begin a new chapter in her life.”

She was? That was news to me.

“And you?” I asked. “Will you live in Hampshire full-time now that you have a home here?”

“No, no. I’m a Londoner born and bred. This will be my base at weekends though.”

Obviously I should have gone into whatever Ethan did for a living. “So not a new start then.”

“Well, not in terms of living arrangements.”

“So what's this new life Mimi's about to start?” I asked him. “A sister is always the last to know.”

Ethan looked a bit uncomfortable. “Perhaps she would rather tell you herself. She did say that your mother's legacy would allow her to start a new venture. One she's dreamed of for some time.” He frowned. “But surely you know that.”

“You mean her store?” She’d talked about it for years, quitting her job with the large department-store chain in Atlanta and opening up her own boutique. “Yes, I guess it's possible she might—”

“I’d say with that sort of money, it's a great deal more than possible.”

“What sort of money?”

Now Ethan looked very uncomfortable. “I don't normally discuss personal finances, but Mimi was very…forthcoming last night. About the value of…your mother's estate, if you see what I mean.”

Oh, I saw what he meant, all right. Our mother's modest estate had clearly taken on more epic proportions when she’d talked of it with Ethan. Mom only had a little in savings, and the house wasn't worth all that much, but that obviously wasn't the message Ethan received.

“I’m afraid Mimi's expectations may be a bit…grandiose.”

Ethan's fingers stilled on the handle of his coffee cup. “In what way?”

“What my mother left us might be enough for Mimi to make a start on her dream, but as for any kind of significant financial backing…” I shook my head. “I think Mimi sometimes wishes things into more than they are.”

Ethan's expression didn't change, but the air around him crackled with a strange sort of tension. Disappointment, almost.

What had I done? He’d believed Mimi to be some sort of heiress, obviously. The news that she was what she’d always been—a professional woman of average means—was clearly unwelcome.

“So she's not about to lay the foundation for the next great American clothing empire?”

“Mimi?” I said in surprise, and then I felt ashamed of my disloyalty. “Well, you never know. But there's a lot of work—and luck—between here and there.”

Ethan's expression was now well and truly shuttered, and guilt took up residence in my stomach next to the poached eggs and toast. I hadn't meant to expose Mimi's fraud, but would she understand that? On the other hand, I wasn't too sorry that I’d done it. If Ethan only liked her because he thought she might be a possible meal ticket, then she was better off without him.

If it hadn't been for my stupid blisters, I could have hiked circles around Ellen, a fact that filled me with satisfaction. But I did have the blisters, and when I slipped on my hiking boots that morning, I almost burst into tears. I limped into the reception foyer in the nick of time. Tom was counting people and starting to frown. Ethan was already there, looking gorgeous in a rough-hewn kind of way. The outdoorsy look suited him, a look that most businessmen I’d known couldn't have pulled off.

I slipped past the others, all chatting enthusiastically about the day's pilgrimage to Jane Austen's House Museum, and stood next to Ethan.

“Good morning.”

“Hello, Mimi.”

Hmm.
Not a very enthusiastic greeting.

“Thank you again for last night.” Good manners were always the right way to go, weren't they?

“My pleasure.” He barely smiled, and he sounded like one of the hotel staff.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Jane Austen's house today.” I was never one to give up easily.

“Yes, of course,” he said, and then nodded and walked away toward the front door.

Tom urged us out to the waiting vehicles. I tried to hang back so I could see which one Ethan would choose without looking too obvious. Only Ethan seemed indecisive, and before I knew it, Tom was asking if I’d sit in the very back of the tour company van. “Since you’re one of our smaller women,” he said with a smile.

I could hardly argue with or be offended by his remark. Didn't every woman want to be considered thin? I climbed into the back of the van and found myself squashed between Karen, the television producer, and another woman whose name I couldn't remember. I glanced out the window and saw Ethan climbing into the taxi.

Ellen somehow managed to score the front passenger seat in our van. She and Tom were laughing about something as we moved off down the driveway of Oakley Hall. Only then did I get my first hint of motion sickness.

The journey to Upper Farringdon took half an hour and involved enough curves and twists in the road to leave me green by the time we got there. I stumbled out of the van, but Tom caught my upper arm and steadied me. I flashed him a grateful smile, but then regretted it almost immediately when he returned my smile with a very happy one of his own.

We’d stopped outside the church in the little village. I wanted to ask if I could run in and use the restroom, but no one else seemed to have the same need, so I kept my mouth shut. I was determined not to be the princess of the group, however much I might actually be the princess of the group.

Across the road from the church, a small whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof boasted the most beautiful bank of climbing roses I’d ever seen. I stepped across the road to admire them and, much to my delight, Ethan joined me.

“It's like something out of a fairy tale,” I said. “So peaceful. Like nothing bad could ever happen there.”

“You think it's charmed?”

“Well, if not charmed, then definitely charming.”

He laughed just enough to relieve my anxiety. “Nicely said.”

Tom called out to us then, and we returned across the road to join the group.

“From here, it's three miles to Chawton,” he said. “We’ll only have a limited amount of time at the Austen cottage, I’m afraid. About twenty minutes or so. Then we’ll walk back here by a different route and enjoy lunch at the pub we saw when we came through the village.” His eyes twinkled, which was charming in the same way as the cottage—old-fashioned and unthreatening.

The group set off behind Tom, and I fell into step with Ethan, who had gotten over whatever moodiness had been bothering him earlier. Ellen shot me a disapproving look, of course, but I was too happy with the company and with the scenery to pay much attention to her.

We left the little village and took a gravel road along a ridge that gave an open view of the green valley, dotted with cottages. Not all of them were as pretty as the little one by the church, but the whole scene was as picturesque as any tourist could hope for.

Ethan and I talked, but not about anything earth-shattering. I simply enjoyed being in his company. We seemed to have a lot in common. He liked to travel. I did too, although most of my travel was for work. He preferred literary fiction, and I said that was my choice as well. I didn't say that I didn't actually read much of it, only that it was what I enjoyed. We talked about the theater—I traveled to New York City often enough that I could keep up my end of that conversation. Besides, I really did enjoy the theater. I usually only went, though, when my company treated us to an evening out during a buying trip.

I hustled along beside Ethan and tried to keep from wincing. We reached the end of the gravel road, crossed a paved lane, and set out along the edge of a field. The grain—wheat, I think—was knee high and mossy green. I wondered how long it would be before it turned golden in the sun. The field stretched to another line of trees several hundred yards away, and I knew the golden grain against the crystalline blue sky would be breathtaking.

Once past the field, Tom led us onto a narrow dirt lane. By that time, my blisters were screamingly painful. I’d fallen behind Ethan and into the company of my sister. We didn't speak. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. I had no clue what she might be thinking about.

I found out soon enough.

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” she said quietly as we moved into the shade where the footpath merged with the lane.

“In your opinion.” Heaven knew she had plenty of them.

“At least don't be so obvious. You’re following him around like a puppy.”

That one stung. “I am not. We weren't even in the same van on the way over.”

“Well, that wasn't for lack of effort on your part.”

The problem with sisters is that they know all your tricks.

“It's mutual,” I insisted.

The group had stopped, and we moved to stand a little apart from everyone, resting in the shade. I slid off my small backpack and took the water bottle from its exterior pocket. I took a long drink and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. It was already hot and steamy, and it was barely past ten o’clock.

“I’m not cleaning up any messes, Mimi. I swear.”

“Message received, Ell. Loud and clear.” I twisted the cap back onto my bottle and stepped away from her before I said something I would regret. Although at this point, that list was so long, an addition to it could hardly matter.

“I have a bit of a surprise for everyone,” Tom announced, and then we heard a jangling of metal and the clip of hooves against the hard-packed dirt lane. I looked up to see a horse-drawn carriage moving toward us.