The Dashwood Sisters Tell All (6 page)

Who would have thought that things could get so complicated in a sleepy little place like Hampshire?

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
noticed that Ellen was walking by herself as we passed the few houses that made up the village of Steventon and cut through a pasture toward Deane, where Tom said we would eat lunch. Ethan had joined me once again, and we chatted while we walked along more fields and under a railway bridge, then a stand of trees. Trains to London sliced through the tranquil landscape every few minutes. Ethan said they were full of “ladies who lunch,” headed to the city for the day.

I was getting a little more adept at climbing over turnstiles, those awkward wooden steps that allowed us to make our way over fences, but I had more trouble with the heat. Sweat poured off my forehead, and I was sure my curls were frizzing out of control. The fact that Ethan still wanted to walk beside me was a testimony to his interest in me…or at least I hoped that it was.

We skirted the park of a huge house that we could only glimpse through the foliage, and then made our way down the slope of a pasture to the scolding bleat of several sheep, who didn't seem too happy to share their turf.

A church spire rose out the trees, and I could see the edge of another house beyond.

“We’re almost to Deane,” Ethan said.

“You really do know this area.” I was impressed.

He shrugged. “Actually, that would be my house, just there past the church.”

“Is it one of those charming cottages?” Even though I had my sights set on New York City and urban life, I could appreciate the beauty of an English cottage.

“You’ll see,” Ethan answered with a grin and a wink.

We reached the fence at the bottom of the pasture and climbed over one last stile. The church to our left boasted a substantial square tower with four turrets on the top. A paved walk led past the church, and then I saw it.

Ethan's house.

Now to me a house was a three-bedroom ranch in a Dallas suburb. This wasn't a house. This was a mansion.

I think the house was Queen Anne style. All I knew was that I immediately fell in love with the length of its red-brick frame, the white trim of the multi-paned windows, the climbing vines and sheltering shrubberies, and the various chimneys that dotted the roof.

“This is your house.” I meant to ask that as a question, but it came out a statement.

Ethan looked pleased at my astonishment. “Do you like it?”

“How could I not?” I turned to look at him. “Does Tom know that's your house?”

“I have no idea.” He smiled at me. “Perhaps after dinner tonight, you’d like to come back for a tour?”

I paused.
Don't be overeager
. I bit my lip and tried to look indecisive, although my answer was never in doubt.

“Just for a quick look around,” I said. “Maybe Ellen can come with us.” I only said that because I knew she’d never agree to do it.

“Of course. If that's what you’d like.” He didn't look very pleased about adding my sister to the guest list, which made me even happier.

Tom let the group linger for a few minutes to admire the house and take pictures. He explained that the Harwood family had lived in the house during Jane Austen's time, and that Jane no doubt would have visited.

I stood on the paved walk, a little apart from the group, and slowly turned in a circle as I thought about everything we’d seen that morning. It was only our first day, but something felt…different, I guess you’d say. It was a lot to take in, Jane Austen–wise, and for some reason, it felt as though my mother was there in a way. Probably because she always had been, in her heart.

“Lunch awaits,” Ethan said. I hadn't noticed that he’d come to stand beside me. “The pub is just on the other side of the main road.”

I had visions of a very cold drink and lots of air-conditioning. “Let's not dawdle then,” I said with a laugh. I was hot, tired, and sweating, but for the first time in a while, and despite my blisters, I felt okay.

Mimi was making a spectacle of herself with Ethan, but I didn't care. Really, I didn’t. I just wanted to get out of the sun and sit quietly for a few minutes. Tom shepherded the group across the busy road. The pub was all dark beams and plaster, with a sloping roof and flowers blooming in every planter and basket.

The interior of the pub was quaint, with its dark paneling, carpets, and fireplace. It was also hot, more suited to a cold winter evening than a freakishly warm summer day. We made our way to the bar to secure drinks—ah, the glories of diet soda on tap—and then settled in at a table beneath the bay window. The pub dog, an aging yellow creature called Harry, made the rounds, eager for attention.

I sat near the open window, and Tom sat next to me. I saw his gaze travel to the other end of the table, where Mimi and Ethan were flirting.

“I’m worried about her feet,” Tom said. It was probably the antithesis of whatever romantic sentiments Ethan was currently whispering in Mimi's ear.

“I warned her to break in those boots before she came.”

Tom contemplated the contents of his glass on the table in front of him. “I offered to bandage her up, but she wouldn't let me help. You should keep an eye on her.”

A smile played at the corners of my mouth, but I suppressed it. I had no doubt that Tom would keep enough of an eye on Mimi for the both of us.

“What should I tell her to do this evening?” I asked instead. “Should she soak her feet?”

“Treat the blisters with rubbing alcohol, if she can stand it. Just have her keep her feet as dry as possible. It's usually the combination of moisture and friction that causes the problem.”

“Or the lack of foresight and planning,” I said with a sigh. I kept hoping that someday Mimi would learn, but judging from the state of her feet and the way she was flirting with Ethan, it seemed that it was not going to be that day.

“Just keep an eye on her.” Tom frowned at Ethan.

“Not just her blisters?” I prompted. I assumed that Tom's concern stemmed from worry about Mimi rather than anything specific he knew about Ethan.

He grimaced. “I hoped I wasn't that obvious.”

I placed a hand on his where it rested on the tabletop. “Don't worry. Everyone else is so busy watching them flirt, they won't notice…anything else.”

“Did you know Ethan before the tour?” I asked. “I understand he's local.”

Tom shook his head. “Not personally. I only knew
of
him.”

“
Of
him?”

Tom frowned and looked a bit furtive. “It's nothing.”

“Tom—”

“Just tell your sister not to get her hopes up. Ethan has something of a…reputation already in Hampshire.”

“And in London, too, no doubt,” I murmured. Tom didn't disagree.

Our food arrived, and I decided to put my worries over my sister aside long enough to eat. I examined my ploughman's lunch with appreciation. The plate overflowed with big chunks of fresh-baked bread, a hearty slab of Sussex cheddar, celery and apples, and a pickled onion.

“I feel like I’ve earned this,” I said to Tom with a grin.

“You have. We covered about six miles this morning.”

“Six?” I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “How many more do we have to go today?”

Now Tom laughed. “Not nearly that many.”

We spent the rest of the meal in pleasant conversation. He was an intelligent, well-rounded man who could talk on almost any subject.

“Would it be rude to ask where you live?” I asked as we finished the meal.

“I’ll tell you where I live if you tell me why Daniel Edwards looks like he wants to clean my clock.”

I’d forgotten about Daniel, who was seated at the other end of the table next to Mimi.

“He's an old college friend, actually, but I haven't seen him in years.”

Tom gave me a long look. “An odd coincidence, both of you turning up on this tour.”

I reached for my glass and drained the remains of my diet soda. “Yes. Isn't it?”

“Are you stalking him or is he stalking you?” Tom asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Neither. But I think we may both be the victims of some matchmaking from beyond the grave.”

“Your mother?”

“The original believer in Austen's happy endings. Even though her own marriage was a disaster.”

“Hope springs eternal,
hmm?
”

“Something like that.”

“Seems like a nice guy,” Tom said but his praise sounded a bit cautious.

“He is. But college was a long time ago. People change.”

“Not always as much as you might think.” Tom's glance flicked toward Ethan again, and that look made me wonder again what he knew that he wasn't telling me.

Tom looked at his watch. “I should round up the troops. Time to ship out, since the taxi's here.” He nodded toward the door, and I could see a silver minivan next to the one belonging to the tour company. “We’ll ride from here to the Vyne,” he said.

Our conversation left me feeling unsettled. Mimi wouldn't like it, of course, my interfering in her budding romance, but I trusted Tom's judgment. When I saw her get up and walk toward the bathroom, I couldn't help but follow her.

Mimi turned when I entered the restroom. The tiny women's restroom held two sinks, two stalls, and a lot of humidity.

“Hey, sis.” She was beaming from ear to ear.

How could I do it? How could I crush her hopes? The fit she’d pitched about the facial the day before told me she was feeling insecure about her looks, but I had to choose. Was it better for me to make her angry by warning her about Ethan, or was it better to let Ethan break her heart?

“Meems, maybe you should…I don't know. Slow it down a little bit.”

Her shoulders went rigid. “Slow what down a bit?”

Of course she knew exactly what I meant, but it was part of the game we’d always played.

“With Ethan. I mean, we’re here for a specific reason. I don't want us to lose focus. We should be thinking about where we want to…leave Mom.”

Her eyes narrowed, which was never a good sign.

“Quit fretting,” Mimi said. Her eyes flashed. “Go find Daniel, give him a kiss that will rock his world, and tell him you want to get married and have lots of babies.” She laughed, but it wasn't a nice sound. “What could be simpler?”

“I’m not fretting,” I snapped.

Mimi flushed. “Don't be so sensitive—”

I turned on my heel and left the bathroom.

“Ellen! Wait!”

I bolted through the main door. On the way in, I’d noticed a garden to the side of the pub. I slipped through the open gate, but Mimi followed me.

“Ellen, wait.”

I stopped and slowly turned to face her.

“We have to talk,” Mimi said. “Sit down for a minute.” She stepped toward one of the wooden tables that dotted the garden. “I didn't mean to offend you.”

I wanted to give my sister's trite apology the cold shoulder it deserved. But even more, I longed for some comfort, a little understanding, anything really that would assuage the hurt.

“Please, Ell. Let's talk.”

This time, I heard real regret in her voice. “Okay,” I said.

She led me to a table in the corner, and we sat down, but I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eye. Her dismissive attitude toward my pain still stung.

“What's going on?” Mimi laid her hands, palms down, on the dark, polished wood.