“She passed away six months ago,” I said.
“My condolences.” Mrs. Parrot leaned forward and placed a hand on my forearm. “If there's anything I can do, please let me know.”
What a strange thing to say. I looked more closely at her. She had to be seventy, at least, and tall enough to be imposing. I couldn't envision her tramping through Hampshire. Perhaps she would only be around in the evenings or when we stopped for lunch. I hoped that would be the case. I had enough to juggle without adding a nosy Austen expert to the mix.
“Thank you. But we’re fine.”
“Well, one never knows when something…unexpected might turn up. I mean…happen.”
The champagne flute slipped from my fingers.
“Ellen!” Mimi shrieked and jumped away from the spray of liquid. Fortunately we were standing on a thick carpet, so the glass merely bounced instead of shattering.
“I’m so sorry.” I looked down in dismay.
Mrs. Parrot wiped at the champagne droplets on her sensible tweed skirt. Not that you could actually see them against the mottled fabric. “It's no matter, dear. Entirely an accident, of course.”
She straightened, and this time when our gazes locked, I was prepared. An electric jolt shot down my spine.
She knew about the diary.
“Ellen? Are you okay?”
I turned on my heel, and there was Daniel, looking concerned.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
Mrs. Parrot looked seriously displeased at the interruption.
“Daniel!” Mimi threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He flushed and looked uncomfortable, but then gently returned her hug.
“Hello, Meems. How are you?”
I’d forgotten how easily he’d picked up on my nickname for my sister. Just as I’d forgotten how he’d had her pegged from the moment he met her.
“A sweet kid,” he’d said. “But a little…enthusiastic, isn't she?” He hadn't meant it in an unkind way, and though I probably should have been ashamed, his assessment of her had validated my own quiet reserve.
“What are you doing here?” Mimi finally released him. “It's been forever.”
“Yes, it has.” He looked at me, and then at Mrs. Parrot, and I realized he was waiting for an introduction.
“Mrs. Parrot? This is my friend Daniel Edwards. Daniel, this is Mrs. Parrot. She's the Austen expert on the tour.”
“Glad to meet you,” Daniel said. “Now, if you all don't mind, I’d like to steal Ellen for a minute—”
“Steal away!” Mimi practically shoved me into his arms. I caught my balance just in time.
I wasn't so easily disposed of though. “Will you be giving us an introduction to the tour this evening?” I asked Mrs. Parrot. It was the only way I could think of to avoid private conversation with Daniel. Even without factoring in the diary, the impact of seeing him again still had me reeling, and I wasn't ready for another tête-à-tête.
“I’ll present a brief overview,” Mrs. Parrot answered. “Some of the information may be repetitive for many of the participants, but I find it's best that we all start on the same page, as it were.”
The same page of what? I still couldn't shake the feeling that Mrs. Parrot knew about the diary.
“I think it's time to take our seats for dinner,” Daniel said. He put a hand lightly on the center of my back. “We’re at this table over here.”
His proprietary air, as courteous as it was, nettled me. I hadn't seen this man in more than fifteen years, and here he was acting as if it was only yesterday that he’d left me behind to live his own life.
I didn't want to make a scene though. I had to spend the next five days with all of these people, and true to my nature, I preferred to dodge the conflict rather than address it.
I allowed Daniel to steer me to the table, but when we got there, I turned to my sister. “Mimi? Why don't you sit here?” I pointed to the chair on my right. “And Mrs. Parrot? How about here?” I pulled back the chair to my left.
Mimi looked exasperated, as if I was clueless as to Daniel's intentions. “But—”
I pulled out my own chair and sat down. “This is wonderful, isn't it?” The forced note of cheer in my voice probably didn't fool anybody.
Mimi shot me a funny look, and Daniel shrugged. He took the chair on the other side of Mrs. Parrot. I shook out my napkin, placed it in my lap, and settled in for a very long evening of pretending.
CHAPTER FOUR
I somehow managed to make dinner conversation with Mimi and Mrs. Parrot, with the occasional comment to Daniel. After dessert, Mrs. Parrot rose to her feet, and Tom tapped his spoon against his glass. Everyone paused in their conversations. Since I was sitting right next to Mrs. Parrot, I scooted my chair back so I could see her. She cleared her throat, and I could only hope that she hadn't been the long-winded kind of university professor.
“Tom has kindly asked me to give you a brief overview of the tour,” she said. “I know that some of you are here for Jane Austen, while others are simply interested in walking the beautiful Hampshire countryside. This is the inaugural Jane Austen tour for the company, so we want it to be a great success.”
There was a general murmur of assent and some head nodding. I looked at Mimi, thinking we might exchange a conspiratorial glance, but she was whispering something to Ethan, who had claimed the seat on the other side of her.
“We believe we can accommodate everyone's needs, whatever your preference might be.” Mrs. Parrot nodded to Tom. “I will walk with you as I am able as well as driving the van, but I shall always be available for questions at breakfast and in the evenings.”
Great. I had hoped to avoid her, but that clearly wasn't going to be possible.
“Tomorrow, we will make our way to Steventon, Jane Austen's birthplace. We’ll also have a chance to visit the Vyne, a nearby country estate where the Austens occasionally dined, as well as the village church of Sherborne St. John, where Jane's oldest brother, James, was once the vicar.”
I wondered if any of these places might have been my mother's choice for a final resting place, or if they held any clues as to what I was supposed to do with the diary.
“On Tuesday, we begin our walk in the lovely village of Upper Farringdon. We will walk to Chawton, where we will visit Jane Austen's House Museum as well as Chawton Great House, the country estate of Jane Austen's brother Edward Knight.”
I had heard of all these places, of course, from my mother. I’d even seen pictures. And though I wasn't a devoted follower of Jane Austen, I was curious to see them.
“On Wednesday, we visit Chawton Woods, where Jane and her sister, Cassandra, often walked. We then take a train ride aboard the Watercress Line. Following that, we’ll walk through Tichborne Park to our pub lunch. The afternoon will include a stroll along the river.”
Mimi leaned over to me. “I feel tired already.”
“Shh.” I waved her away.
“On Thursday we travel to the beautiful village of Selborne. We’ll walk extensively in the morning and then visit the home of Gilbert White, a renowned naturalist who was a contemporary of Jane Austen's father. We’ll walk White's famous zigzag trail in the afternoon. And finally, on Friday we’ll spend the morning in Winchester, where we’ll see the house where Jane Austen was living at the time of her death. We will conclude our tour in a most fitting way, with a visit to Winchester Cathedral, where Jane Austen is interred.”
“I hope everyone brought comfortable hiking boots,” Tom joked, and the group joined in his laughter.
The dinner ended with a few people lingering over their coffee. Mrs. Parrot excused herself, which meant I had no buffer between me and Daniel. I kept trying to get Mimi's attention, but she was too engrossed in flirting with the newfound Ethan.
Daniel slid into Mrs. Parrot's vacant chair. “Ell, about the diary…” He paused. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot. I don't want to be a bother. But we are friends, or we used to be. If I
can help…” He had been leaning toward me as he spoke, but he realized what he was doing and straightened in his chair. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” I touched his arm lightly. “I appreciate that.” The whole situation, though, was still so surreal. I couldn't allow myself to interpret Daniel's support as anything other than friendship. Not even if his mere presence made me feel far more alive than I had in years.
“Tell me about your business,” I said. Changing the subject seemed the best means of self-preservation. “I don't remember you being interested in antiques in college.”
He looked away for a moment and then back at me. “The antiques business belonged to Melissa's father originally. I’ve developed a specialization in tracking down rare objects. At least, that's my focus now. I’ve spent most of my career running the business from Chicago, but now I can do the part I really love.”
“What kind of rare objects do you look for, when you’re not helping out old friends?”
He froze for a brief second, and then relaxed again. If I hadn't known him so well, I would have missed his reaction. “Family heirlooms that have gotten away. Missing portraits. Keepsakes. That sort of thing.”
Now I was the one who froze. Surely I was being paranoid, but…I mean, he was here to help me, right? That's why my mother had paid him.
“Do you deal in rare books?” I shouldn't have asked the question so pointedly, as if it were an accusation. Subtlety wasn't my forte under pressure.
He shrugged. “Occasionally, although my expertise is limited. I know enough to help you and Mimi.”
Enough to help me and Mimi? Or enough to help himself?
I must have flinched at the thought, because Daniel's eyes darkened. “Ellen, I will help you and Mimi—”
I glanced at my watch. “It's late. I think I’m going to head back to my room.” I stood up, and Daniel did the same.
“I’ll walk you back,” he said.
“No, thanks. Mimi's coming with me.” I reached over and grabbed her arm, interrupting her flirtation with the London guy.
“What?” She looked at me, startled.
“Will you come back to my room with me? I need to talk to you. Estate business.” I know that was the one thing that might pry her from the side of her London hottie.
Mimi looked as though she might balk, but Ethan smiled and rose to his feet. “I was just heading that way myself. I’ll walk with you.”
And that's how the four of us wound up crunching our way back across the path to the stable block. I hustled Mimi toward my door as quickly as I could, and with a few murmured good-nights to the men, I opened the door and shoved her in ahead of me.
“I’m really tired, Ell. This had better be good.” Mimi flopped across my bed in her fancy dress. Normally she would have been worried about crushing the skirt, but intoxicated by her new romantic prospect, she didn't seem too concerned.
“‘Good’ may be in the eye of the beholder on this one.” I wasn't sure how best to present the diary so that my sister would take it seriously.
Mimi plucked at the bedcovering. “I know we’re supposed to work some sisterly bonding miracle while we’re here, but”—she shot me a dubious glance—“it's a little late, don't you think?”
I froze. Why did I even bother trying to engage her? “We have a job to do this week,” I said. “We don't have to like it, but if we want Mom's estate to be settled, we have to do it. For better or worse, we’re stuck together for the next few days. We might as well make it bearable.” I paused. “It might be the last time we see each other for quite a while.”
Mimi didn't say anything, just picked at the duvet cover some more.
“I received something else from Mom's attorney before I left home.”
Mimi grimaced. “What do we have to do now? Memorize Sense and Sensibility and recite it while standing on Jane Austen's grave?”
I was tempted to tell her yes, that's exactly what she had to do, but I didn't think I could keep a straight face.
“It's not another assignment. Well, not specifically, although I guess we’ll have to come to some agreement about it.”
I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the diary.
“It's a book,” Mimi said in a flat voice. “What's the big deal about a book?”
“Look at it.” I pushed it into her hands. “Then you tell me what the big deal is.”
I sat on the end of the bed and waited. I watched her face as she opened the cover, read the flyleaf, and then looked up at me with a bewildered expression.
“Remind me who Cassandra Austen is?” Mimi said. She’d never paid much attention to any of our mother's talk about her favorite author.
“Jane's older sister. Apparently they were always very close.”
“Is this real?” Mimi looked incredulous.
I ran my hand over the duvet. “I think it's entirely possible that Mom made this thing up. Or had it made up.”
“Then you don't think it's real?” Mimi began leafing through the pages. “It's a lot of trouble to go to for a hoax.” She was quiet for a long time as she flipped from the beginning through to the end, not really stopping to read any of the entries. “How much would it be worth, if it's authentic?”
“If it were real, it would belong in a museum.” I could already see the dollar signs in her eyes. “The instructions from the lawyer said we were to decide what to do with it.”
Mimi looked at me with wide eyes. “It was Mom's. We’re her heirs. Ergo, it's ours.”
“Ergo?”
“We could ask that Parrot woman.” Mimi looked up at me. “She could tell us what it's worth.”
“No,” I snapped.
She flinched at my vehemence. “What have you got against that old lady?”
“I think she already knows about the diary.”
“How could she?”
“I don't know.” I really didn't want to give too much credence to what was, at bottom, simply a bad feeling. I also didn't want to give Mimi any reason to go running to Mrs. Parrot.
“Did she say something to you?” Mimi asked.
“No. Not exactly.”
“What then?”
“It was the look she gave me.”
“The look she gave you.” Mimi's voice dripped with disbelief.
“I could just tell that she knew.”
She flopped on her back. “Give me a break. You’re the sensible one, Ell. You don't go in for the woo-woo, intuitive stuff. That's more my style.”
I wanted to protest at being so categorically dismissed, but she wasn't wrong.
“So what if Mrs. Parrot does know about the diary?” Mimi said. “It doesn't belong to her. It belongs to us.” She was clearly not going to be swayed. “Have you read it?”
I shook my head. “I haven't had time.”
“And Mom didn't send you any instructions with it?”
“No. Just the diary.”
She laid it on the bed. “So what are we going to do now?”
“We don't tell anyone about it. Not yet.” I gave my sister a stern look. “Agreed?” I wasn't going to tell her about Daniel. Not just yet. Let her think his presence was due to coincidence or even a long-lost romantic impulse. If she thought he could sell the diary tomorrow, she’d be driving him to an auction house so fast his head would swim.
“I still think we should ask Mrs. Parrot if it's real,” she said. Her mouth had a mulish set to it. “What's she going to do, steal it from us?”
I grabbed the bed pillow and clutched it against my stomach. “Until we figure this out, we should keep it to ourselves.”
“Where will we hide it then?” she asked.
“Here.”
Mimi surveyed the interior of my hotel room. “Is there a safe?”
“No, but I’ll find someplace.”
“We should put it in a lockbox at reception.”
“No. The fewer people who know about it, the better. We need to fin
d out if it's real, and then decide who could best take care of it.”
“Apparently not the owner,” Mimi said, “since she's been dead since the nineteenth century.”
“Look, Mom's instructions were for us to decide what to do with it. If we’re going to make a decision, there's only one way to do that.” I scooted to the head of the bed, shoved the pillow behind my head, and patted the mattress next to me.
Mimi groaned. “Not tonight, Ell. I’m exhausted. And we’ve got be up early.”
“C’mon, Meems. Just a few pages.” I wasn't above wheedling.
“All right. But just a few.”
“I won't keep you up late.”
“Well, if I don't get enough sleep, I’ll look so haggard that yummy Ethan will never fall in love with me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What? It could happen.” She nudged me. “All right, already. Let's read.”
And that was how I found myself sitting next to Mimi while she took the diary and flipped open the cover.
“That Means You, Jane,” she read out loud from the title page. “Sounds like sisters to me.”
“Sounds like us,” I added. “Let's just get on with it.”
Mimi turned the first page and began to read.
10 January 1792
Jane disappeared again after our quarrel, and as there is no sign of Jack either, I can only assume they have escaped my mother's plans for their edification through diligent labour in the garden. I have warned Jane to guard her affections, for though he is a pleasant enough young man, he has no fortune and no connections. She is so young. Wherever she fancies, she pursues. I can only fear that the censure of our neighbors may turn upon her one day, if she cannot learn to conceal her feelings. She, of course, believes me to be a busybody, intent upon managing her affairs.
“I’m impressed you can even read her handwriting, it's so faded,” I said. “I can't make heads or tails of it. Keep going.” I nudged her.
Tom Fowle visited with us after Christmas, and though he has made no open declaration, I live in expectation. Jane chides me that he makes a poor romantic hero, but I am happy to wait and hope for the role of companion to a modest country vicar. The living he holds does not allow him to contemplate marriage at present. He said so to my mother at dinner when she quizzed him on his prospects and when he might return. He has hopes, though, of Lord Craven and the possibility of a second living to give him the means for an independent life and family…
The Dashwood Sisters Tell All Page 3
