The Dashwood Sisters Tell All

by Beth Pattillo

  “I could have given you a ride—”

  “I’d like a private word with Ethan.”

  I glanced at Daniel. What should we do?

  “Mimi—”

  “I’m fine. Just a little something that Ethan and I need to clear up.”

  Ethan looked as if he’d rather have eaten ground glass, but he didn't object.

  “We’ll wait for you at the pub,” Daniel said to Mimi. “If you’re sure.”

  “Quite sure. Now go. Ellen needs to change.”

  I didn't want to leave Mimi there, but she had a right to some closure with Ethan. “If you’re sure,” I said, echoing Daniel.

  Mimi nodded, and so I didn't have any choice in the matter, really. Jane Austen's diary practically burned my skin where it rested inside the waistband of my shorts. Mimi might have needed closure with Ethan, but I needed to get out of Ethan's house before he figured out what we were up to.

  “You look like you have something particular to say.” Ethan gestured toward the chair where I’d been sitting. “Do make yourself comfortable.”

  “No, thank you. I’ll stand.” The girl who had arrived at Oakley Hall on Sunday would never have dreamed of doing what I was about to do, but the girl who stood in Ethan's garden at the end of a very long week was practically a whole new person.

  “I want my diary back,” I said without preamble.

  He didn't flinch. “I don't know what you mean.”

  “Cassandra's diary. The one I told you about. I don't know how you got into Ellen's hotel room at Langrish, but you must have been very pleased with yourself.”

  I saw it then, a telltale flicker of an eyelid that betrayed him.

  “As I said, I don't know what you mean.”

  “Look, Ethan, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way.” Clichéd, yes, but it fit the occasion.

  He laughed. “Very entertaining, but as I said, I don't have your diary.”

  “Yes, you do, and you also have the Steventon church key.”

  I’d figured out that particular piece of the puzzle on the way over in the van. How the key had disappeared about the time he’d moved into the house. How he’d avoided going into the church during the walking tour, so that the warden who was showing us around wouldn't see him.

  “You can't prove anything, of course.” He was cool as a cucumber.

  “I don't think I’ll have to prove it. Not once I tell the good folks of Steventon that I saw it here when you gave me the grand tour. I would think that would be enough for a search warrant, or whatever the British equivalent might be.”

  He blanched. “They’d never believe you.”

  “They would now that I have Tom and Mrs. Parrot to vouch for me.”

  I knew, at that moment, that I had won. Ethan's shoulders slumped. “If I give you the diary, you’ll leave me alone.”

  “Completely and totally.”

  It killed him to do it, I could see, but he disappeared into the house and returned with the book in his hand.

  “I had quite high hopes for you, Mimi,” he said as he handed it over. “Quite high hopes.”

  “Sometimes the best hopes are the disappointed ones,” I said. “Good-bye, Ethan.”

  I had never felt so victorious in my life as when I spun on my heel and marched out of that garden. I was half afraid he might change his mind and come after me, so I walked at a brisk pace toward the pub. It wasn't until I was safely inside the Deane Gate Arms, with Tom standing by my side, that my legs turned to water. I slumped against him and looked at Ellen imploringly.

  “Please tell me I won't ever have to do anything like that again,” I said, and she laughed.

  “I promise,” she said.

  Mimi and I had one more stop to make before we left Hampshire. Tom agreed to drive us back to Chawton one last time. Daniel insisted on coming along, and we couldn't exactly leave Mrs. Parrot by the side of the road. So when the van pulled up by the church that stood just outside the gate to Chawton Great House, I was afraid we would have an audience. But the others seemed to sense that we wanted to be by ourselves. Mimi and I told them that we wanted to visit Cassandra Austen's grave one more time, but I don't think any of the three believed us. At least not entirely.

  I carried my tote bag with the box inside. Mimi and I ducked through the covered gate and followed the path around the side of the church. We were concealed from view by the trees and the bulk of the building, but we knew we didn't have much time. While Chawton Great House might not have been open to your average tourist, the churchyard was available to all the visitors from Jane Austen's House Museum just up the road.

  Cassandra Austen and her mother were buried along the rear fence. We stood silently by their graves for a long moment. The tombstones looked newer than they should, and I could see that beneath them a pair of older, grayer stones rested flat on the ground. The good folks of Hampshire were not about to let the memory of Jane Austen's family fade.

  I reached into my tote bag, withdrew the box, and handed it to Mimi.

  She cupped it in her hands. “Is anyone looking?”

  I retraced my steps and peeked around the corner of the church, but our only company was several sheep munching grass on the other side of a nearby fence. “The coast is clear,” I said, and went back to join her.

  The box opened easily under Mimi's hands. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” I reached out so that my hands rested over hers, and together we shook out the contents into the grass at the foot of the graves.

  “Rest in peace, Mom,” Mimi murmured. A sheep on the other side of the fence let out a long bleat. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and scattered a bit of the ash beyond the Austen graves and across the churchyard.

  As soon as the box was empty, Mimi closed it, and I slid it back into my tote.

  “So that's it, I guess,” she said. It was both appropriate and anticlimactic after all we’d been through.

  “Yes. I guess it is,” Mimi said.

  It seemed strange to turn and leave the only remaining earthly part of my mother among the Austen headstones. At least she would have been happy with our choice, I thought.

  We headed toward the van, but we’d only gone a few steps when Mrs. Parrot stepped out from the shadows of the side door to the church.

  “We’re busted,” Mimi hissed under her breath, and I tried to keep my expression neutral.

  “Just wanted a last look,” I said to her, but I could tell she knew exactly what we’d done.

  “That was most likely illegal. Or at least should require proper permission from the church authorities.”

  Mimi and I exchanged guilty glances. Still, it would have been our word against Mrs. Parrot's, and she had no hard evidence. “We have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

  Mrs. Parrot cast me a disparaging look. “Badly done, Ellen. I am not a fool.”

  “No, you’re not. But this was a private act that harms no one. I hope that you can leave it at that.”

  “Actually, it's a decision that concerns me.”

  I wasn't expecting that response. “In what way?”

  Mrs. Parrot leaned heavily on her walking stick. “I’m surprised you haven't guessed the connection. I thought one of you might have by now.”

  “Connection to what?” Mimi asked in irritation.

  “Your connection to me.”

  The breeze picked up so that it whipped my hair across my face. “We have no connection to you, other than to be thankful for your help with the diary.”

  “Have you not wondered how I knew about the diary in the first place?” she asked.

  “You guessed,” I said. “We just confirmed your hunch.”

  She shook her head. “I haven't told you the whole truth.”

  “How shocking,” Mimi said in a dry tone.

  Mrs. Parrot, though, wasn't to be stopped by a little sarcasm. “What do you know of your mother's family?”

  That surprised me. “I’m sor
ry?”

  “Your mother's family. What did she tell you about them?”

  “She never mentioned them.” If Mimi or I ever asked her about her family back in England, she told us that she didn't have any. Her parents were deceased. She had no one left.

  “I’m not surprised. We parted on very bad terms.”

  My head shot up, as did Mimi's. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

  Mrs. Parrot took a step toward us and removed her glasses. “We were so close in age that people often mistook us for twins.” Her bright blue eyes, as blue as Mimi's, blinked against the sunlight. “I was the oldest, of course. Very much like you, Ellen. Rational. Sensible. While your mother was far more romantic. Like your sister.”

  “This isn't funny.” Mimi's face darkened. “I don't know what game you’re playing—”

  “No game,” Mrs. Parrot said.

  I studied her face for a long moment, compared its lines and angles with the fading memory of my mother. The similarities were there, however much I might not want them to be, hidden by age and that profusion of orange hair. But what if this “confession” was simply a ruse to get us to turn over the diaries?

  “What was my mother's full name?” I asked her, although anyone with an Internet connection could probably have come up with that information, plus a great deal more.

  “Her name was Caroline Anne Dudley. She was born December 16. On Jane Austen's birthday, no less. Her right front tooth had a tiny chip in it. She fell when she was six while we were racing to the village green.”

  “That doesn't prove anything,” Mimi snapped. “Anyone could know those things.”

  “She had an unusual birthmark on her back,” Mrs. Parrot offered. “Almost heart-shaped.”

  My mouth went dry, and I reached for Mimi's hand. It couldn't be true. It wasn't possible.

  “How do we know you didn't just know her from childhood? Any of her friends might have known about the birthmark.”

  “What can I say that would prove the relationship?” Mrs. Parrot asked. “What could convince you?”

  “You could never convince me,” Mimi said. “Short of a DNA test, that is.”

  “That could be arranged.” Mrs. Parrot appeared unruffled by the demand.

  “You’re seriously saying that you’re our aunt.” I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it, and yet it had the ring of truth. So far on this trip, my instincts had been right about the woman, whether I’d wanted them to be or not.

  “Why didn't you say something before?” Mimi's cheeks were flushed with anger. “Very convenient, waiting until now, when it suits your purposes.”

  Mrs. Parrot assumed an innocent expression. “What purpose could this revelation serve? You have the diaries. I have no reason to lie.” She paused, and her shoulders sagged. It was the first sign of weakness in the woman that I’d witnessed all week. She quickly pulled herself together though. “Family can be all too short in supply. I felt that I should tell you. If you choose to make anything of the connection, well…that, of course, will be up to you.”

  I looked at Mimi, and she looked at me, both of us confused. Mrs. Parrot, our aunt? Really?

  “Well, I-I,” I stammered. “I don't really know what to say.”

  “You needn't say anything now.” Mrs. Parrot tried to appear calm and confident, but I could see from the lines around her mouth that she wasn't as blasé about the whole thing as she appeared.

  I reached out and laid a hand on her arm. She almost pulled away, but then stopped herself. “Give us some time,” I said as gently as I could. “We’ve had a lot to take in this past week.”

  Her other hand covered mine where it rested on her arm. “I understand, my dear. It's just…disappointing that you’ll both be returning to the States. Time, I’m afraid, is the one thing we don't have.”

  At the beginning of the week, I would never have thought that I would regret saying good-bye to Mrs. Parrot. Something about her had bothered me from the beginning. As it had turned out, of course, there were a number of reasons why that should have been the case. I was almost beyond being surprised by her revelations anymore. Or anyone else's revelations, for that matter. Secret upon secret. Mine, Mimi's, Daniel's, Mrs. Parrot's. Not to mention Jane and Cassandra Austen's.

  “Mrs. Parrot,” I said. “There's something I want to show you.” I looked at Mimi, and she nodded, understanding instinctively what I was about to do.

  I opened my tote bag and pulled out Jane Austen's diary. “Here.” I handed it to Mrs. Parrot.

  “I was right. They were a matched set.” She opened the cover, and I watched her read the inscription on the flyleaf.

  “Wait a minute.” Mimi reached for the diary, and Mrs. Parrot surrendered it readily. “There's something I want to check.” Mimi leafed her way through the pages. “It would be in late November or early December of 1802. Ah, here it is.”

  “Read it,” Mrs. Parrot and I said at the same time, and Mimi did.

  We fled Manydown like thieves in the night. Cassandra would not speak to me, but Alethea and Elizabeth were most kind. They must know I meant no insult to their brother, only that my own heart is insufficient to the task of releasing Jack Smith. My brother James was quite alarmed to see us so soon returned to Steventon, and I have informed him that Cassandra and I must return to Bath at once. It will be a most tedious journey, since I have sworn never to speak to her again…

  But that will not last. She meant well enough, as she always does. If only I could be as practical as she, but I am too much a creature of fancy. I cannot marry without love, and neither could Cassie, if it came to it, though she would like to think herself more sensible. She begs my forgiveness, and I extend it, for whatever she has done, ’twas done out of love.

  When we return to Bath, I shall begin to revise Elinor and Marianne. I see now that I have got the sisters all wrong. I will have to disguise my characters, of course, make them far more established in their particulars, but Cassie will know. As will I.

  Mimi stopped reading. “So she did base the characters in the book on her and Cassandra.”

  Mrs. Parrot smiled. “It's been speculated, of course, but never confirmed. This is a major discovery, indeed.”

  I looked at the diary in Mimi's hands, and I knew one thing for certain. I didn't want the responsibility of it. I was also pretty sure, after everything that had happened, that Mimi wouldn't be interested in selling it.

  I took the diary from her and handed it to Mrs. Parrot. “I think you’d better have this.”

  Mimi didn't protest. “I’ve had enough of diaries to last me a good long while.”

  Mrs. Parrot looked at Mimi and then back at me. “You’re certain?”

  “Absolutely.” I mocked wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. “It's a relief to get rid of it.”

  I did wonder what other treasures of knowledge Jane's diary might hold, but I knew I wasn't the person who should unlock them. I was more than happy to leave that to Mrs. Parrot and the Formidables.

  Mimi laughed. “Call it a ‘welcome to the family’ present.”

  Just then, Daniel came around the back of the van. “What's so funny?” he asked.

  I reached over and took his arm. “It's a long story. I’ll tell you on our way to the station.” I glanced at my watch. “Come on, or we’re going to miss the train.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Tom drove us all to the station at Basingstoke, where we would get a train back to London. I sat beside Daniel in the back of the van. We’d connected on such a deep level, but we hadn't talked about what might happen next. Once we arrived in London, I wondered if we would go our separate ways. All week I’d thought that was what I wanted, but Mimi's lecture in the garden at the Hotel du Vin the night before had helped me to see my life and my choices in a new light. I’d been so busy trying to find perfection that I’d almost missed happiness. In the end, it was an easy trade-off to make. If Daniel would still let me.

  He was looking out the
window on the other side of the van. I cleared my throat.

  “It's been quite a week, hasn't it?” I cringed. Surely I could have found something better than a cliché like that to begin with.

  He turned to look at me, and I couldn't tell whether the strange light in his eyes was welcoming or forbidding.

  “What have you decided?” he asked. So much for dilly-dallying with clichés.

  “I’m not sure how much I get to decide.”

  He laughed, but he also took my hand. “Ell, the ball's in your court. What happens next is up to you.”

  “I guess I don't have much experience with calling the shots.” The truth of that statement sank in, filtering down through years of being the good daughter, working hard, doing the caretaking. “You’ll have to be patient with me. I’m going to make a lot of mistakes.”

  He threaded his fingers through mine. “As long as we make them together, I think we’ll do okay.” He raised our hands and kissed my fingers. “I know this probably isn't the happy ending you’ve dreamed of all your life. It's not like an Austen novel.”

  “Actually,” I said. “It is.” One day soon, I would ask for more details about his life with Melissa, and I would meet his daughters. But for now, I had learned that I needed to write my own story, thanks to Cassandra and Jane. They had made the best out of the circumstances life had dictated to them, and I could do a lot worse than to follow in their footsteps.

  “I want you to meet my girls,” Daniel said, echoing my thoughts.

  Tears stung my eyes. “I want that too.” One door was closing in my life, but another was opening. It was up to me to walk through it. This time, though, I knew I’d have Daniel at my side. I would also have my sister.

  Ellen was in the back, talking to Daniel, and I sat beside Tom in the front seat, a bundle of nerves. He shot me a measuring look. “Having second thoughts?”

  I shook my head. “Just dreading telling Ellen that I won't be flying home with her.”

  He reached over and patted my knee. “She’ll understand.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Besides, I think her focus may be on other things very shortly.”