Read Online The Dashwood Sisters Tell All by Beth Pattillo - Free Book Online Page B

of ice, and then I would have dumped it over my head. Even with the air-conditioning in the taxi, I was feeling the heat. Mimi, of course, looked as cool and beautiful as ever.
    “Unfortunately, we only have a short time here,” Tom informed us as we made our way up a gravel path toward the house. The trees and grass were still green but had wilted in the heat. I could identify with that.
    “The Vyne was the home of the Chute family, and Jane Austen dined here on occasion. We know that her older brother James visited here on Sundays, as it was the Chutes who gave him the living of the parish at Sherborne St. John, where we’re going next.”
    The car park where we’d left the van and the taxi were in the rear of the house, so we approached the Vyne through an enormous garden that bordered an ornamental lake. Swans glided on the murky surface. As we drew nearer to the house, we came upon more formal gardens with well-tended hedges and flowers. Finally, the walk led us to the rear of the house.
    The back of the Vyne was even more imposing than the front of the home, which we’d seen from the road on our way in. It was almost as wide as the lake, with an enormous central pediment supported by huge columns. On each end, smaller wings protruded from the main body of the house.
    “Unfortunately, Mrs. Chute didn't care for Jane Austen,” Tom said as we gathered around him, “and so Jane's presence here was much more infrequent than her brother's.”
    He came to a stop on the walk in front of the pediment. “Those of you who want to see inside the house can take the whirlwind tour and then ride in the van with Mrs. Parrot to Sherborne St. John. For those who prefer to keep walking, we’ll explore some of the woodland area of the park and then make our way to the village. Of course, anyone who would like to rest can remain with Mrs. Parrot while the others tour the house.”
    While everyone else dispersed, I hung back. Could I question Mrs. Parrot without arousing suspicion, especially when I already thought she knew more than she was saying?
    Mrs. Parrot raised a hand to shade her eyes and surveyed the lawn and the lake. “There's a bench in the shade.” She gave me a shrewd look. “Shall we?”
    “Sounds good.” I followed her, careful to avoid the duck droppings that littered the withered grass as we crossed the large lawn that separated the enormous house from the lake.
    “Mind your step,” Mrs. Parrot said over her shoulder, and I wondered if she was referring to the conversation we were about to have or the duck droppings.
    I settled onto the bench. Though the temperature couldn't have been more than seventy-five degrees, it felt much hotter. A thin breeze wafted from the direction of the lake.
    “Now then.” Mrs. Parrot settled her shopping bag at her feet. “You have some questions, I think.”
    It was the understatement of the year, but I had to look like an ordinary Austen fan, nothing more. “I’m afraid I’m a little rusty on my facts when it comes to Jane Austen.” I kept my tone casual.
    “Most people are, dear.” Her tone was condescending but not unkind. “How may I help?”
    “I was wondering about her relationship with her sister. I mean, I know everyone says she and Cassandra were close.”
    “ Hmm. Yes, they were, by all accounts.”
    “How do we know that?”
    Mrs. Parrot looked off into the distance. “From Jane's surviving letters, for the most part. The bulk of them, at least the ones that remain, were written to her sister.”
    “The ones that remain?”
    A strange expression crossed Mrs. Parrot's face, a look of both weariness and a certain furtiveness. “Jane instructed her sister to destroy most of her correspondence after her death.”
    “And she did?”
    Again, Mrs. Parrot looked…odd. “That's the general belief.”
    “Didn't Jane and Cassandra ever disagree?” I asked, although I had evidence of the very fact in my possession. Cassandra had clearly not approved of