The Dashwood Sisters Tell All

by Beth Pattillo

  “So it's just a diary after all,” I said.

  “It's still Cassandra's diary,” Mimi reminded me. “It's worth a fortune.”

  “No, it's an important literary artifact that will be donated to a museum.” I could practically see the dollar signs in my sister's eyes.

  Mimi wasn't to be persuaded. “If a museum wants it, they can buy it at auction.”

  “Mimi—”

  “Mom gave it to us. She must have wanted us to benefit from it somehow. She knew I needed the money.”

  “How do you even know it belonged to Mom?” I hadn't wanted to put the thought into words, but with Mimi ready to hightail it for the nearest auction house, I had to offer some kind of reality check.

  “You think she stole it?”

  “I think we don't have any way of knowing. Not at the moment, anyway. We need time, Meems. Time to figure it all out.” I paused. “You realize, don't you, that it's most likely a fake.”

  “No, it's real.” Mimi crossed her arms and adopted that mulish expression that signaled her determination not to be persuaded. It seemed like a good time to change the subject.

  “The riddle…What do you think it means?” I asked.

  “How do you mean?”

  “The riddle. There has to be an answer.” I read it out loud again. “Probably a word or something. Jane used riddles in Emma, and they all led to a word.”

  Mimi shrugged. “Sounds like it's talking about a road or something.”

  “It's late. We’re not going to solve this tonight. We should get some sleep. Start again in the morning.” I picked up the diary and looked around for a new hiding place.

  “I still think you should put it in the safe at the reception desk,” Mimi said.

  “I don't want anyone but you and me to know about this.” I studied the room until I spotted the chintz skirt of the dressing table beneath the window. “Perfect.” I rolled off the bed, reached over to lift the flowered material, and spied a drawer. “That will work.”

  “Not if someone really searches the room.”

  “The front desk will be closed by now, so I couldn't put it in the safe anyway. I’ll leave a twenty-pound note on the nightstand. If anyone does come in looking for something to steal, I’ll make it easy for them.”

  Mimi still looked uncomfortable, but she didn't object when I put the diary in the drawer and smoothed the fabric back down.

  Mimi moved toward the door, but then paused with her hand on the knob. “Ellen?”

  “Yes?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. See you in the morning.”

  “We can check for more riddles then. Let's meet extra early for breakfast.”

  “Okay.” Mimi smiled and slipped out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  Even if the riddles didn't amount to anything, they had at least given us a common objective. That was worth something.

  I gave the dressing table one last pat and stood up. “Take care of that for us.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I went down early to breakfast and found Mimi already munching on granola and yogurt at the table in the bay window. We ate as quickly as we could and decided to meet in the garden to see if we could find any more riddles in the diary before the tour started for the day.

  The early morning air smelled of damp, but in a fresh way. The birds sang in full chorus mode, and long rays of sun cut across the lawn. Mimi and I sat side by side on a bench as we went over the diary entries one by one.

  Some had a lot of historical significance, such as the reference to Harris Bigg-Wither. My mother had told us of Jane's famous twenty-four-hour engagement. The death of the Reverend Mr. Austen had left Jane, her mother, and her sister in a bad financial situation, and sometime after Mr. Austen's death, when the sisters were in their mid- to late twenties, Jane had agreed to marry the younger brother of some friends. The young man had been wealthy but rather harsh and coarse, not a likely match for someone as clever as Jane, but Cassandra had clearly favored the match.

  Harris Bigg-Wither will make a perfectly suitable husband. I have counseled Jane to act with prudence in this matter. He means to propose marriage, and she must accept him. I am not so far gone as to believe that happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance, but there is much to be said for practicality when a woman has passed the age of five and twenty. For myself, I could continue as we have been, although rented lodgings will never be my preference. But Jane…She needs time and a quiet corner to work upon her novels. True, a wife's duties might interfere, but what is the alternative?

  I stopped reading out loud at that point and looked at Mimi. “So Jane agreed to marry the guy because Cassandra talked her into it? That's a lot of sisterly influence.”

  Mimi frowned. “I think Cassandra was just being selfish. She knew if Jane snagged a rich guy, she’d be set.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure she wanted what was best for her sister.”

  “Convenient that it would have been the best thing for her too.”

  “But Jane didn't marry the guy,” I said, “since she changed her mind the next morning. I wonder what happened?”

  “Keep reading,” Mimi said. “I bet we’re about to find out.”

  I took up the diary again.

  Jane rebels against all sense. She came to my room past midnight and says she means to break the engagement at breakfast. Why can she not acknowledge the justice of this course? We quarreled as never before, and she fled my room before I could detain her. Foolish, headstrong girl. If Harris had offered for me, I would have accepted gladly in the knowledge that I could provide for my mother and sister. Jack Smith is gone, and Jane may never have another offer. The time has come to embrace practicality and give over any notion of romance.

  A gentleman learns to love once he has married, and from affection, devotion will follow…

  “So now we know,” Mimi said. “Cassandra tried to push Jane into marriage, and she almost fell for it, but then she came to her senses.”

  “I don't think it's quite that simple.” I scanned down to the next entry. “Listen.”

  Jane has taken out Elinor and Marianne and has begun to rework it. From what glimpses I can catch, it is an entirely new story. She was but eighteen when she wrote about the sisters, too early in her efforts to do them justice, but her anger at me over Mr. Bigg-Wither has lent fuel to the creative fire.

  “Look,” Mimi said. “More underlining. It starts here.” She pointed to the faint slash mark on the page.

  I handed her the book. I decided I would much rather look for riddles than argue with her about whether Cassandra or Jane had been in the right in the Bigg-Wither affair. “Same as last night. You call them out, and I’ll write them down.”

  We worked steadily for half an hour, aware that we only had a short time before the others would emerge from the hotel, ready to begin the day's tour. By the time we were done, we had three riddles.

  We couldn't quite figure out the first one, although it didn't seem as if it should be that difficult.

  A gentleman learns from an early age

  To play his part upon the stage

  His lines are crisp, his speech is clear

  He studies most from year to year.

  “What do you think?” Mimi looked at me. “Are we talking acting? Is this some Shakespeare reference that I don't get?”

  I chuckled at that. “I don't think it means acting or the stage or anything like that.”

  “Why would an actor study from year to year, anyway?” Mimi sighed. “What's the point of these riddles? Other than Cassandra using them to psych out her little sister?”

  “Maybe if we find all of them and figure out the answers, we’ll know why she put them in here.”

  “I liked it better when all we had to do was choose a place to scatter Mom's ashes.”

  That was a sentiment we could share. “Me too.”

  “What's the next one? Read it out loud.”

  I bent over the hotel
notepaper and did as instructed.

  Couples crowd to dance in time

  A flower thus may last for years

  A wine must age to be sublime

  But first the grapes must run quite clear.

  I looked up from the paper, and Mimi was making a face. “Did it ever occur to you,” she said, “that maybe Cassandra Austen is just weird? That maybe none of this means anything? I mean, what do couples and flowers and wine have to do with anything?”

  “Well, I would think they had a good deal to do with the Austen sisters’ lives. They were both on the lookout for a husband from what we’ve read so far. They would have been focused on clothes, parties, that sort of thing. That's why all these words are in her diary to begin with.”

  “Good point.”

  “Look, there's only one more.”

  “Plus the one we found last night.”

  I sighed. “C’mon, Meems. We’re running out of time.” I could hear the others on the opposite side of the hedge that shielded the garden from the drive.

  Tailor, draper, seamstress all

  Needles, thread and trimmings

  Fashion, fair or rough or small

  With trunks and boxes brimming

  “That one should be right up my alley,” Mimi said. “Since it has the word fashion in it.”

  “Maybe that's it. Maybe fashion is the solution.”

  We looked at each other in confusion. Mimi shook her head. “Even if we figure out what we think is the right answer, how do we ever know if we’re correct?”

  I folded up the notepaper and sighed. “I have no idea. It's probably just a wild-goose chase.”

  “Look, we’ve got the diary, right?” Mimi asked.

  I nodded.

  “Well, as long as we have the diary, the riddles don't matter that much. I mean, they might give it more value when we sell it—”

  “Meems—”

  “C’mon, Ellen. You know how much I need the money. You know what going out on my own means to me.”

  I did know, which was what worried me. I wondered if Mimi wanted to follow her dream so much that she would risk the career she’d built in the past fifteen years on a business venture that could never work. New businesses failed at an alarming rate, and frankly, I had no reason to believe that my sister's would be in the small percentage that were successful.

  I looked at my watch, more to avoid this particular conversation than because I was worried about the time. “I’d better stash the diary in my room. Tom will fuss if we’re late.”

  “We’re going to have to figure this out at some point, Ell.”

  “I know. But not today. Besides, if we solve the riddles, it might make the diary even more valuable.”

  “True.” Mimi sighed and stood up. “But—”

  “We’ll figure this out. Just not right now.” I slipped the diary in my pack. “Save a spot for me in the van.”

  “Next to Daniel?” She grinned.

  “Mimi—”

  “I’ll take that for a yes.” She darted away toward the gap in the hedge.

  I waved to the group when I crossed the drive to the hotel's entrance. “I forgot something in my room,” I called to Tom. “Be right back.”

  I raced up the steps to my room and fumbled with the key on the old-fashioned lock. Then I stuffed the diary beneath the skirt of the dressing table. Not exactly Fort Knox, but it would do for the day. Maybe by the time the evening was over, we would solve the riddles and be one step closer to figuring out what to do with Cassandra Austen's diary.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ellen walked with Daniel for the first part of the morning as we made our way through Chawton Woods, which I hoped was a good sign. It was pretty, of course, beneath the trees, the sunshine like polka dots over all the greenery, and the dust and leaves underfoot.

  Ethan fell into step beside me as we started off. “I’m eager to see the diary you were talking about. Did you bring it?”

  I shook my head. “I probably shouldn't have told you about it in the first place. My sister really wanted to keep it private.”

  “Cassandra Austen's diary?” he said. “Who would keep something like that a secret?”

  “Shush!” I smiled to soften my scolding. “Like I said, Ellen doesn't think we should let anyone else know. I haven't told her yet that I mentioned it to you. I just don't think I can share it with you. Not unless she says it's okay.”

  Ethan pursed his lips. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but I thought…Never mind.”

  “Ethan—” But he didn't wait to hear my protest. With his much longer stride, he took off toward some of the others walking ahead of us.

  I blinked back the tears that threatened. If I wanted to hook Ethan, I was going to have to figure out a way to sneak the diary away from Ellen so that he could see it. I didn't like the idea, but desperate times, even in Chawton Woods, called for desperate measures.

  Still, there was nothing I could do until we returned to the hotel that afternoon. I tried to enjoy the walk through the sun-dappled woods, but my mind and heart were in too much turmoil.

  After a while, we left the woods, walked along a road, and then cut up a gravel lane toward the train station at Medstead. We were supposed to take a short ride on a restored train line, but I hadn't given the actual experience much thought. I’d never ridden on a train before. I hoped it would turn out to be as romantic as it sounded.

  The Watercress Line departed from a charmingly restored railway station. By then we’d been walking for a couple of hours. Mrs. Parrot met us at the station with the van, and we enjoyed our usual luscious snack. The water was flavored with elderflower cordial. As much as I’d resented having to go on this walking tour, I definitely enjoyed having all my needs catered to.

  I followed Ethan onto the platform. He settled onto a bench in the shade, and I joined him, grateful to get out of the sun.

  “Have you ridden this train before?” I asked. Maybe if I acted normal, we could get back on an even keel.

  “I haven't been in the neighborhood that long.”

  He was only grumpy because of the heat, I assured myself, but I knew it wasn't true. He was taking my lack of trust in him very personally.

  A rather tense silence descended. I didn't have the leisure of allowing things to unfold at a more natural pace. By noon on Friday, we’d all be headed our separate ways. The night before, lying in my bed and trying not to wilt from the heat, I’d thought about how Ethan was everything I’d ever wanted. Handsome. Rich. Successful. He treated me like a lady, or at least he did when he wasn't cranky.

  “The station is charming, isn't it? There are air-raid posters in the old waiting room.” On our way into the station, I’d ducked into the ladies' restroom, only to have to wait in line behind the others. So I’d had plenty of time to admire the scenery. “Keep calm and carry on. Stiff upper lip. All that sort of thing.”

  “I doubt they found it charming at the time.”

  Now he was just being childish.

  “No, I doubt they did.”

  The whole diary thing was obviously bothering him. “There's the train.” He stood up and moved to the edge of the platform. What else could I do but follow?

  The train was from the 1830s, a bit after Jane Austen's time, but Cassandra would have lived to see how the railroad and its steam engines transformed the countryside. We all climbed aboard, and I decided I might as well go for broke, so I sat down on the hard leather seat next to Ethan. He did turn and smile at me briefly. Maybe he was just in a foul mood. Maybe whatever was bothering him didn't have anything to do with me or the diary.

  And then he said the words that every woman hates to hear. “Mimi, if you don't feel you can trust me, then I don't see the point in pursuing this.” He reached for my hand. “I haven't felt this way about a woman in a long time, but you must not feel the same way.”

  “But I do.”

  “Then let me help you. Let me into your life.”
r />   What was I supposed to do? I couldn't betray Ellen any more than I already had. The train rumbled onward as I hesitated, and the conductor came down the aisle dressed in period attire with a long coat, vest, cravat, and brass buttons.

  “Tickets, please.”

  Tom waved him over and took care of our fares, but I had a feeling that he was keeping one eye on me as well.

  “You gave the impression that you were interested in a serious relationship,” Ethan said, “but I don't think that's the case.”

  The train lurched, and so did my stomach. A part of me wanted to confront him, because how was I supposed to know whether he was really interested in me or just the diary, the way he kept going on about it? But I was too exhausted, too confused, and my feet hurt too much to fight anymore. Not to mention that my pride had taken a serious blow. “I wasn't aware I’d given you any impression at all.” I smiled and tossed my hair a little bit. “I mean, I’m enjoying your company, Ethan, but…well, isn't that what we’re supposed to do on a walking tour? Make new friends?” I put plenty of emphasis on the last word.

  His face darkened. “Yes. Yes, we are. And I’m glad we’re friends, for the record.” Although he certainly didn't sound like it. “How are your feet?” Now he could afford to be concerned. Now that he’d shown me how unconcerned he actually was.

  “They’re fine.” They burned like fire, of course, but since I had decided on Sunday night that I would walk through hot coals to win over a man like Ethan, I could hardly complain.

  We sat for the remaining twenty minutes of the train ride in relative silence. Ethan kept his gaze focused out the window, and I kept mine away from him. A low murmur from the others behind me told me that the awkward, stiff conversation and our current silence had not gone unnoticed.

  I was very grateful when the train finally pulled into the station at Alresford. I leaped for the door, and another costumed conductor waited outside to help me down. Tom ushered everyone through the station—just as charmingly restored as the one at Medstead—and out into the plaza in front.