The Dashwood Sisters Tell All (15 page)

I couldn't take the dithering. “When my sister said ‘lost,’ she meant ‘stolen.’”

“Mimi—”

I didn't have the patience to hint around. “Look, Mrs. P, here's the situation. When Ellen arrived at Oakley Hall, she was given a package with a very old book in it. A diary.” I watched her intently for any sign of recognition or guilt.

“And it's gone missing?” Butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth, she was so cool.

“Actually, we think you stole it,” I said.

“Mimi!” Ellen looked horrified.

“Well, it's true. Mrs. P here is the only one who could have cared about that diary.” I turned to the older woman. “So we’d like it back, if you don't mind.”

“I haven't got it.”

My stomach dropped. She didn't say she didn't know what we were talking about, or that we were mistaken about the importance of the diary. She simply denied possessing it.

“Mimi, wait—”

I shushed Ellen and turned back to Mrs. Parrot. “You do know what we’re talking about then?”

She paused for a moment and then nodded. “I do.”

I shot Ellen a smug glance, and relief poured through me. The diary's disappearance wasn't my fault after all. “We don't want to have to involve the police,” I said to the older woman.

“Of course you don’t.” Mrs. Parrot looked at Ellen, then back at me. “Not since that diary is stolen property to begin with.”

“I didn’t—” Ellen looked horrified.

“No, you didn’t,” Mrs. Parrot conceded. “But the person who gave it to you took what didn't belong to them.”

I wasn't going to stand for that. “My mother would never—”

“Mimi!”

Mrs. Parrot smiled like the Cheshire Cat, fully satisfied with the mischief she’d wrought.

“Girls, I don't expect that you will believe me when I tell you I don't have the diary. I have no way to prove my innocence.”

“My point exactly,” I said under my breath, but they both heard me.

“As I said, I can't prove my innocence. But perhaps I can give you some reason to believe me when I tell you I don't have the diary in my possession.”

“Why would we believe you?” I asked.

“Because if I had the diary, I would tell you straightaway.”

“You’re very confident,” I said. “You really don't think we’d call the police if you confessed?”

“No, I don’t. It would simply be my word against yours. And, my dears, you are the foreigners here.” She smiled, but I didn't mistake the expression for humorous goodwill. No, it was definitely one hundred percent triumph.

“So who has it then, if you don’t?” I asked.

My question did cause her serene expression to grow troubled. “Now that is a most vexing question. When was it taken?”

“Sometime yesterday while we were out,” Ellen said. Her cheeks were flushed, but I didn't think it was from the heat. When we were kids, she used to turn red when she was hiding something.

“You would have been far better off to place it in the hotel safe.” Mrs. Parrot turned the glass of cider in her hand. “I assume it was in your room?”

Ellen bristled. “I didn't want to alert anyone to its existence.”

“But someone already knew.”

Ellen sagged in her chair. “Honestly, I’m sick of the whole thing. All I wanted was to get this tour over with to meet the terms of Mom's will. I didn't ask for all this mystery and intrigue.”

“So your mother did give you the diary?” Mrs. Parrot arched an eyebrow. “I suspected as much.”

I looked at Mrs. Parrot, startled. “Why would you suspect it came from our mother?”

Mrs. Parrot paused for a long moment, as if she were gathering her thoughts and deciding which ones to make public. I had a feeling she did that a lot.

“I knew your mother when she lived in England.”

A part of me wasn't surprised at that. After all, the Austen devotees were a close-knit circle.

“A lot of people knew my mother,” Ellen said.

Mrs. Parrot wiped the moisture from the sides of her glass with her finger. “Your mother and I were both members of a certain…group.”

“An Austen group?”

“A society, if you will. A rather secret one.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re just making this up to cover up your theft.”

She pursed her lips. “If I had the diary, I can assure you that I wouldn't still be here, with this tour. I would have made my excuses and returned to London.”

A chill swept over me. Ethan had done just that. If Mrs. Parrot didn't have the diary, then…

“So why does it matter that you knew our mother? And that you both were in this secret society?” I said. I couldn't think about Ethan at that moment, or I would fall apart.

Mrs. Parrot gave us both a measuring look. “The group of which I’m speaking was called…is called, I should say, the Formidables.”

“The Formidables?” It sounded like some pretentious group of rabid Austen fans.

Mrs. Parrot curled her hand around her glass. “It was the name Cassandra and Jane gave themselves. It was meant as a joke for their nieces and nephews. The formidable maiden aunts.”

“It sounds bogus to me,” I said.

“I can assure you that it isn’t.”

Ellen's jaw went tense. “Are you saying that our mother was one of these Formidables? Because I don't believe you. She would have told us. I mean, she couldn't keep quiet about anything having to do with Jane Austen, much less about a secret like that.”

“I’m sure she didn't want the diary to be found,” Mrs. Parrot said. “Something like that is very hard to keep a secret.”

Ellen turned very pale.

“So what do you have, besides things like Cassandra's diary?” I asked Mrs. Parrot. “All the lost letters everyone's always nattering on about? The manuscripts of the novels? Secret portraits?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Parrot said.

“Yes?” I looked at her skeptically. “You mean you have all that stuff?”

“Various members have the keeping of it, but if the whole collection were brought together, yes.”

“And so now you want Cassandra's diary too.”

“The Formidables have been looking for it for a number of years. It disappeared almost forty years ago.” Mrs. Parrot's eyes grew cloudy with some strong emotion. “At the same time your mother left England.”

“Maybe it belonged to her,” I said. I wasn't about to let Mrs. Parrot cast aspersions on my mother's character.

“It did in a way. She was in charge of its keeping, but as to belonging…well, I would argue that it was the rightful property of the Formidables.”

I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound so clandestine. I don't see what a bunch of Austen fans would have to hide.”

“Don't you? After seeing the diary? Didn't you read it?”

“But shouldn't the world know about how Jane and Cassandra really interacted? What the sisters’ relationship was really like?” I asked.

Mrs. Parrot shook her head. “Sometimes sisters do funny things for one another. Private things.”

“So this diary, it's authentic?” Ellen asked. “It's really Cassandra Austen's diary?”

“It is.”

My heart started to beat faster. “So you came on this tour on purpose?” I had to look at her with some newfound respect. “To get it back?” I had thought she was simply a dotty old academic.

“I hoped to convince you to return the diary to the Formidables.”

“Well, we don't have it,” Ellen said. “Not anymore.”

“Plus, it's ours,” I argued. “We have plans for it.”

“Mimi—”

“We’re going to sell it at auction.”

“No, we’re—”

Mrs. Parrot's expression grew severe. “You can't sell what you don't have, though, can you?”

“We’ll find it.” I was determined. A little thing like a missing diary was not going to stand between me and my boutique. “Why is it such a big deal to you guys, anyway?” I asked. “Who even cares about Cassandra's diary? It's not like it's Jane's.”

“You don't know then, do you?” Mrs. Parrot dropped that mysterious hint and took a long drink of her cider.

“Know what?” I didn't trust her.

“That the diary is one of a pair.”

“A pair.” She had to be making this up.

“A matched set. Given to Cassandra and Jane Austen by their great-aunt, Leonora.”

“So you simply want to bring the set back together?” Ellen asked. She looked far too trusting.

“No. It's not that simple.”

“Are you telling me that somewhere out there, someone has Jane Austen's diary?” I wasn't an expert, but I knew enough to recognize the Holy Grail when someone described it to me.

“That would be…priceless.” Ellen looked stunned. “It could provide so much information—”

“Which is precisely why we must find it and keep it safe,” Mrs. Parrot said.

“Why do you keep it all secret?” I said. “Wouldn't it be better to give everyone access to it?”

Mrs. Parrot shook her head. “The Formidables were founded by Cassandra Austen for the very purpose of protecting Jane's privacy. Cassandra did this at her sister's request.”

“But it doesn't make sense.”

“It does, if one has a sister. Who better to understand the need to keep secrets?”

Ellen shot me a look, and I frowned. Mrs. Parrot did have a point.

“So you truly don't have Cassandra's diary?” I asked her. “Scout's honor?”

“I am not aware of what that sort of honor is, but if you’re asking me to assure you of my truthfulness, then let me do so.”

Ellen looked unconvinced. “What if we asked to meet some more of these…Formidables. Would you introduce us?”

“There's no reason to do so, not if you don't have the diary.”

Touché. That round to Mrs. Parrot.

“Look,” Ellen said, “we’re both looking for the diary now. It makes more sense for us to pool our efforts.”

I shot her a look, but she ignored me. It was one thing to confess to Ellen that I’d blabbed to Ethan. I didn't want to have to tell Mrs. Parrot as well.

“I would agree,” Mrs. Parrot said, “except that if we should find the diary, we would have very different ends in mind for it.” She looked at Ellen and then at me. “But perhaps we could come to an agreement.”

“Good.” Ellen looked at her watch. “It's time for lunch. Shall we join the others inside?”

We took our glasses with us, and I followed Ellen and Mrs. Parrot into the pub. My sister was up to something; I could tell. But I wasn't quite sure what it was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A
fter lunch, Ellen fell into step beside me as we walked from the pub down the lane to Gilbert White's house. Since the moment that Mrs. Parrot convinced me that she didn't have Cassandra's diary, I had known what I had to do. I had to tell Ellen the truth about spilling the beans to Ethan.

“She doesn't know about the riddles,” Ellen said without preamble, before I could even begin to confess my misdeed.

“Oh.” I hadn't thought of that. “But if we know more than she does, why did you offer—”

“Look, if she can help us find Cassandra's diary, we can get our hands on it long enough to double-check the riddles. Then she can have it.”

“But we’ll lose the diary.”

“We’ll lose
that
diary.”

I was confused for a moment, and then comprehension dawned. “Because we know, now, what the clues lead to,” I said. We shared a knowing smile.

“Jane's diary,” Ellen said. “It has to be. Cassandra must have hidden it somewhere. Those riddles are the map to the treasure.” She grinned at me. “We might lose the battle, but we’ll win the war.”

Jane Austen's diary. The bidding would be epic. “Are you really willing to try and sell it, if we find it?”

“I am now.”

“What changed your mind?”

She hesitated. “I think Daniel has the diary.”

“What?” But Ethan—

“Mom sent him on this tour to help us, but I think he decided to help himself to the diary instead. He's the only one who knew about it, other than Mrs. Parrot.”

My heart sank. “Oh, Ell. You didn't tell me. I’m so sorry.” Did that mean it hadn't been Ethan after all? At least my feelings for Ethan had met a quick demise, unlike Ellen's long-standing affection for Daniel. She walked beside me, her head held high, too high, and I could tell how much she was hurting.

“He never wanted me,” she said. “I should have known that from the beginning.”

I didn't know what to say, how to offer her any kind of comfort. I’d encouraged her to throw herself at him, and look how it had turned out.

Ellen stopped on the sidewalk and grabbed my arm. “I want you to have your dream, Meems. I do. I never meant to suggest otherwise. I just—”

“What?”

“I guess I was hoping you’d come back home to Dallas. That if you didn't have the money for the boutique, you’d have to.”

“You wanted me to fail?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I just wanted you to be my sister again.”

“We don't have to sell it if we find it, you know,” I said, but my words sounded pretty weak.

Ellen looped her arm through mine. “Actually, I think we do. Whatever we find, I think it should benefit both of us somehow.”

“Only if you’re sure.” Because now that she was certain, I wasn't quite as much.

“I think the Austen sisters would understand,” she replied, but I had my doubts. It sounded to me as if Cassandra and Jane Austen had gone to great lengths to protect each other, just as Ellen and I were beginning to do.

When we reached the Wakes, the home of Gilbert White, I lingered with the group while a docent gave a brief overview of the house and its famous occupant. I watched Mimi standing at the front of the group and felt a small stab of pride. She was holding her head up well in the wake of Ethan's defection. In the past, a romantic setback would have meant at least two days in bed with pints of Rocky Road and piles of Oreos.

The docent was still talking when I spied Daniel slipping out the side door into the garden. I followed him down the brick walk until we were far enough from the house not to be overheard.

“Daniel, wait. We need to talk.” He wasn't going to get away that easily.

He turned to face me. “Ellen—”

“I want the truth, Daniel.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, I could see how troubled he was. “I should have told you the truth from the beginning.”

“The truth?” This was it then. He had stolen the diary. I couldn't even look at him. I turned away and fought the desire to run into the garden just beyond where we stood.

“So what was the plan?” I said, biting off each word. I didn't need to hear his confession to know what he’d done. “Once you had me hooked, you’d convince me to turn it over to you?” I shook my head. “No, that couldn't have been it, because you got impatient and took it out of my room.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The diary, of course. You took it, and now you’re telling me you’re sorry. Why?”

“Ellen, don't be ridiculous.” His eyes narrowed. “I didn't take it. When did the diary go missing?”

“Like you don't know.” Why was I even standing there?

“I didn't take it.” Twin furrows etched his forehead, and he clenched his fist at his side. “I lied to you about something, yes, but I’m not a thief.”

The first twinges of doubt squeezed my heart.

“You’re the only one who knows about the diary besides me and Mimi.” I decided not to mention Mrs. Parrot. “It had to be you.”

His lips tightened into a thin line. “That's really what you think of me?”

And then understanding dawned. “It was you talking to Mrs. Parrot at the Vyne.”

Slowly, with great reluctance, he nodded. “We thought you might have overheard us.”

“You told her about it?”

“She already knew. Or guessed, anyway. I’ve run across Mrs. Parrot before in my business. My presence here made her suspicious that someone on the tour had something valuable.”

“A Jane Austen kind of valuable.”

“Yes.”

Despite the hot breeze against my face, I shivered. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He took a step closer to me. “Because I was breaking a promise to you. But your mother hired me to help you. I wanted to pick Mrs. Parrot's brain, in a roundabout way.”

“And did it work?”

He shrugged. “I didn't find out anything that I didn't already know.”

Did he really expect me to believe him? “And what do you know? The diary's value on the open market?”

His shoulders stiffened. “I know that I care about you. I didn't just come here because your mother hired me. I came to see you, to find out if there was still that connection between us.”

He paused, took a deep breath, and swallowed. “Look, Ell. I came here for you, not that stupid diary.” He reached for my hands. “Nothing else. Just you.”

I had waited so many years to hear those words, only now they didn't mean what they once would have.

“I don't believe you. I think you stole it.”

His face turned white. “Are you seriously saying—”

“I haven't spent all these years nursing a broken heart just to throw it under your feet and watch you trample on it again.”

“I never—”

“You did.” I smiled ruefully through my tears. “You didn't mean to. But you did it all the same.”

“Ellen—”

“I’m going to catch up with the group,” I said and moved to step past him. He caught my arm.

“Don't throw this away, Ell.”

I actually laughed. “The only thing I’m throwing away here, Daniel, is you.”

I couldn't have hoped for a better exit line, so I took advantage of it. I shook off his hold and headed across the lawn, away from the house, thankful for the support of my hiking boots and the way they made me feel as if I mastered the ground with each step. I needed something to make me feel that way.

“Ellen…”

The wind carried Daniel's voice behind me. I hoped he wouldn't follow me, because already my cheeks were awash with tears, and my nose was starting to run.

I reached the back of the lawn and darted up a path into the woods. Then I stopped and dug a bandanna out of my pack. It was stiff with perspiration, but I still managed to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. The heat would account for my flushed and disheveled state. I was not about to give anyone any reason to suspect that I was upset.

My face restored, I slung my pack over my shoulder and went to find the group.