The Dashwood Sisters Tell All by Beth Pattillo Page A

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