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fear that the censure of our neighbors may turn upon her one day, if she cannot learn to conceal her feelings. She, of course, believes me to be a busybody, intent upon managing her affairs.
    “I’m impressed you can even read her handwriting, it's so faded,” I said. “I can't make heads or tails of it. Keep going.” I nudged her.
    Tom Fowle visited with us after Christmas, and though he has made no open declaration, I live in expectation. Jane chides me that he makes a poor romantic hero, but I am happy to wait and hope for the role of companion to a modest country vicar. The living he holds does not allow him to contemplate marriage at present. He said so to my mother at dinner when she quizzed him on his prospects and when he might return. He has hopes, though, of Lord Craven and the possibility of a second living to give him the means for an independent life and family…
    The entry continued in the same vein—a mixture of Cassandra's clear affection for Tom Fowle, and her worry over Jane's relationship with the charming Jack.
    Mimi read the last few lines of the entry, and when she finished, she closed the diary.
    “Sounds like normal sister stuff to me,” she said and then yawned so wide I thought her jaw might crack. “Some things never change, huh?”
    “What do you mean?” I sounded defensive. Probably because I was.
    “Older sisters always think they know what's best,” Mimi said.
    “And younger sisters are always rebelling,” I added with a laugh. “You would think in a couple of centuries women would have learned something.”
    “Or they learned that some things never change.”
    Now that we’d read some of the diary, I felt strangely protective of Cassandra Austen, even if what we’d just read wasn't real. “Jane and Cassandra never married. They needed each other despite their differences.”
    Mimi frowned. “That's our problem, though, isn't it? We don't need each other.”
    She’d said it out loud, what the two of us had always known but tried to pretend wasn't true.
    “It's not the same,” I said, unwilling to meet her gaze. “Those were different times. Women were dependent on their families for support. They had to stick together.”
    “I don't think that matters.” Mimi's voice was soft. “It's not a political statement, Ell. It's just the truth.” She laid the diary on the bed. “We don't need each other. We haven't for a long time. And this trip isn't going to change that.”
    “Look, I’m sorry I said anything.” The last thing I’d meant to do was to give Mimi the opportunity to play out another family drama. “It's late. We’re tired. This diary has just complicated an already complex situation.” I sighed. “I think we should get some sleep. We have a lot of walking to do tomorrow.”
    Mimi slid from the bed. “All right. We’re not going to figure anything out tonight anyway.”
    It wasn't how I’d thought the evening would end, but it wasn't unexpected either. Mimi's feelings were hurt, she felt judged, and I was once again cast in the role of the bad guy.
    Mimi paused at the door. “That diary is only one side of the story, you know. Too bad Jane didn't write down her own version.”
    “If she had, that would be a truly priceless book.”
    “A shame that wasn't what Mom sent us.”
    I laughed. “Go on. Get some sleep.”
    “Sure. You too.”
    I followed her to the door. After it shut, I leaned against it and contemplated the empty room.
    Maybe if Mimi and I had been born two centuries earlier, we would have been compelled to get along better out of necessity. Maybe the modern world wasn't an improvement in some respects, at least not when it came to sisters.
    I glanced through the bathroom door to my right at the gargantuan bathtub. In other ways, of course, the present was a far better deal. I decided to put the rubber duck to good use and fill the tub as full as possible with hot water and bubbles.
    On the subject of bubble baths, I was sure, any two