A/N: Now, please don't faint, but I have updated this after about a million years. This is because I have watched Sense and Sensibility about a hundred times in one week. But now I have a plan, so I know what to write in which chapter. It's horribly organised, and not what I normally do, so please let me know if my writing is suffering through planning being too efficient!

LordFrieza will be my historical consultant on this story, since I know almost nothing about the War of 1812, and it'll be featuring here.

I've just finished the first draft of my novel, and am editing it now. Soon (hopefully sometime in September) it'll be available as an e-book. The links to my facebook, twitter and website are on my profile for more info.

Chapter Two - Sighs

Diana had never been so pleased and relieved to see anyone in the sum of all her days as she was to see Lois when the carriage pulled up outside the cottage. Miss Lane didn't wait for the coach to stop before she ran up to it, almost pulling Diana and her sister from it. She embraced her tightly. "Oh Miss Prince—my dear Diana!"

Diana hugged back, feeling it was all she could do not to weep. Mindful—as always—of propriety, she let go of Lois and stepped back. "Miss Lane, you should not have troubled yourself-"

"Oh nonsense! If I may not find it in myself to greet a dear friend then what good am I? And besides, Clark agreed." She turned her attention to Donna's wan and pale face. She'd only just ceased to weep a mile or so from Dashwood Cottage, and the tear-tracks still remained on her cheeks. With a kind smile, Lois took her arm. "Come inside, Miss Donna; Cassandra is already waiting for you, there is a fire in the hearth and we have laid a good supper on for you."

"You're too kind," Donna whispered.

The two of them went inside and Diana followed more slowly, massaging her temple. On the journey, she'd thought of little else but what to do next. It was her duty to take care of her sisters, of course, but 'taking care of them' only really meant finding them good husbands. Cassandra was young for that, of course, but at eighteen—nineteen in a matter of weeks—Donna was eligible. And Diana knew her sister. She might claim to be too distraught to think of love now, but her temperament was mercurial, and she was not made for despair. She would fall in love, and she would fall in love with someone entirely unsuitable. Or entirely out of her reach. Diana had gone over the calculations again and again in the journey from London. There was no money for a dowry. There was no money for sugar, let alone a dowry. Donna's beauty had been inconsequential before; now it might be the only thing that would save her from poverty.

"Donna! Diana!" Cassandra rushed out of the cottage and embraced both her sisters, hope shining in her eyes. "Did you do it? Did you save Father, did you stop them from-"

One look at Donna, followed by another look at Diana, shut Cassandra's mouth firmly. Donna burst into fresh sobs at the enquiry, and Diana only glared. She had told her youngest sister time and again that there was no hope for Father, that she had no intention of breaking him out of prison, but Cassandra would not have it. She almost hero-worshipped Diana, was convinced there was nothing she could not do. She had been let down today.

She copied Donna, and burst into tears, dashing into the house. Diana heard her thunder up the stairs and then the door of her bedroom slam. A sudden weariness suddenly overtook her, and she had to slump against the doorframe, head now too heavy to hold up.

Lois gently took her by the arm and led her into the parlour, sitting her down. "My sisters…"

"Leave them be, and let them have their cry out. It will be better in the morning."

Diana laughed harshly at that, since there was no possible way it would be better in the morning. Father was still dead, and her sisters would still be grieving, and they would still be poor, and they would still be known nationwide as traitor stock.

"Do you want to eat something?" Lois asked.

"No, thank you, Miss Lane, I-"

"Oh, it's Lois, Diana, I think we've gone past the convention, don't you?"

"Well, I…"

"I knew you'd agree," Lois said briskly, pouring out a cup of tea and handing it to Diana. "Drink."

She sipped slowly, feeling dull and stupid as a cow. "Are you heading back to Sandhurst this evening?"

"No, no, Mother and I are staying at Kent Farm. She insisted. Goodness knows what she thinks might happen when Clark and I are marrying in a fortnight, but…"

"It would be inappropriate."

Lois sighed. "Of course it would."

Lois left soon after supper, since she refused to leave until she had seen all three of the Prince girls eat something, however small it might be. Donna and Cassandra went to bed soon after that, since they were sharing a room. Diana had one to herself. Six months ago they all had a bedroom, and Diana remembered hers being the size of this entire cottage. It wasn't the luxury that she missed—it was the familiar smells. It was the room to breathe, the noise of the wind in the trees outside her bedroom window. There was wind rushing past outside here, of course, but set in the middle of the heath as the cottage was, it whistled and howled past. Like wolves at the door. In her room the size of a prison cell, Diana lay awake all night, shivering and reliving her father's death. She debated her resolution not to contact Mr. Wayne. It was possible, just possible, and she had no idea how, that he might be able to give her a way to prove her father's innocence. If she did, that was the answer to everything. They could get their house back, the money, there would be no fears of dowries or anything else. The thing that made Diana's blood boil was not the lack of any of those things though, it was the idea that her father, a man who had given his life to his country, was now to be remembered as having betrayed it. Tomorrow she would write a letter to Bruce Wayne, and ask why this had happened. …just as soon as she had an address.

At around four in the morning, according to the clock chiming from the parlour downstairs, Diana gave up on the idea of sleep and crossed to the writing desk, lighting a candle to see by and inking her quill. As she placed it to the paper though, she had no idea what to put. She had met Mr Wayne only a few times, as a girl of about fifteen, and had been so focused on other things that she couldn't even remember his face now. There was almost no connection between them—was it even appropriate for her to write to him? What if he decided to simply (and quite rightly), politely, but firmly refute her enquiry?

Diana sighed, strengthening her resolve. If he did do that, then she would keep writing. She had nothing to lose. She would be brave. Her father had been a sailor, and her mother had definitely been a fighter. Diana would follow both her parents. She would be a warrior—an Amazon in truth. She'd just drop the 'little'.

Lois' fiancée, Mr. Clark Kent, was a journalist with a London newspaper, the Daily Planet. From what Lois had told her, he had a nose for finding things. Hopefully that might include Bruce Wayne. She put her quill to paper finally, writing to Lois and inviting her for supper the following evening. She would have the Prince's sole maidservant, Bernadetta, take it to the post as soon as the sun was up.

In the end, it turned out that Etta did not need to send any notes the following morning, since one arrived from Lois. It invited Diana and her sisters to dinner that evening at Kent Farm. The carriage would collect them at four, apparently, and so it did, arriving at the cottage door right on time. Donna had pleaded indisposition, and since she was in bed, prostrate with grief, Diana had allowed it. She had made sure both her and Cassandra's black was clean, and even managed to sit her sister down and comb her hair, though Cassandra protested and fidgeted her way through it. At eleven, she was perpetually in motion, and very energetic.

That done, they both got into the carriage and were driven to Kent Farm, soon after being welcomed by Lois and Clark. Clark shook both their hands warmly. "Miss Prince. May I say how very sorry I am for your loss."

"Thank you, Mr Kent. And thank you for your immense kindness. It is far more than we deserve."

"Not at all. Please let us know if there is anything else we can do."

"Thank you," Diana said again.

He gestured. "This is my mother."

Diana and Cassandra dipped. "How do you do, Mrs Kent?"

"Well, I thank you. Please, come in and be at your ease. Cook has supper underway, but I'd wager you'd like some tea, wouldn't you?"

Martha Kent, though a widow, had a warm, personable quality that made both of them feel instantly welcome and accepted, and the farmhouse was large, amply furnished and very comfortable, cosy and warm in comparison to the icy February outside. Diana certainly liked her more than she liked Mrs Lane, Lois' mother. Not that she was unpleasant, but she made it perfectly clear—without words—what she thought of her daughter associating with the family of a traitor. After they had eaten, Mrs Kent took Cassandra to see some of the new-born lambs her flock had just produced. Cassandra had gone quite gleefully, and soon after Mrs Lane excused herself, pleading a headache. Diana was left alone with Lois and her fiancée.

"How is Miss Donna?" Clark asked kindly.

"Not good. She feels very strongly and very deeply, and she will miss our father terribly, I fear." She sighed. "But she will recover, eventually. We all will."

Lois and Clark looked at one another, apparently communicating silently about something for a moment. Then Lois took a deep breath. "Diana, we've been talking, about you and and your situation. I know how terrible that sounds, so please forgive me for the impudence, but you may change your mind when you hear our proposal."

Diana wasn't angry, only mortified. Her cheeks heated. It was bad enough that she had to consider her family's reduced circumstances, let alone other people discussing it. Nevertheless, she knew Lois would never suggest anything malicious. She cleared her throat. "What is your proposal?"

"It concerns Cassandra. You told me in a letter last year that she was to start at St James' School in Malvern, do you remember?"

"Of course I do, Donna and I went to the same school, but we could never afford the fees for Cassandra to go as well, not now."

"Exactly," Lois nodded. "This is where you must forgive me again, my friend, but this is exactly what we have been talking about."

"Go on."

"We propose to pay for Cassandra's tuition and board."

Diana blinked. "Pardon me?"

"I believe you heard me, Diana," Lois smiled.

"But… But…" She sat back in her chair, taking a deep, composing breath. "Forgive me, but that would be ridiculous. It would be kind in the extreme, but I could not possibly accept. I don't see how it would be appropriate or-"

"Why would it be inappropriate?" Lois asked. "Come, Diana, you're not a fool. You've five hundred pounds between you for the rest of your lives. It is impossible for you to get good marriages without-"

"I don't believe I need a marriage," Diana said primly. "You've found love, Lois, and I am supremely happy for you," she said, looking briefly at Clark, "but my life does not need a husband to make it complete, you must understand that."

"Of course, you've always been independent. But for your sisters? You will not be comfortable with all three of you living off your small income. Surely you have no issue with them gaining good husbands?"

"Of course not, but it is likely impossible now-"

"Not for Donna. She is young, she is beautiful, and she is very well educated. Cassandra is-"

"Very young. Twelve is a little early to be thinkin of marriage, is it not?"

"Yes. And in eight years' time?"

"Then of course, but-"

"And in eight years' time, she will be twenty, beautiful, but uneducated and very poor. Lacking the advantages of her sisters. All we propose is giving her those advantages. Send her to school, with our backing. It will lessen the financial burden on you, it will also lesson the burden of concern. She'll be safe there and out from under your feet. Let us help."

She sighed. It was a tempting offer. More than tempting. It would be stupid, sinful pride to pass it up. And Lois was right. She'd be depriving Cassandra of a real opportunity. Education was a precious gift, whatever Cassandra chose to do with it. Finally she glowered at Lois. "You seem to have talked me into a corner, Miss Lane."

Lois simply grinned. "Don't look at me. It was Clark's idea."

When Diana looked at Clark, he at least had the grace and courage not to look away. Indeed, he smiled; an innocent, schoolboy smile that Diana had to return. "Then I owe you a great deal, Mr. Kent."

"Please, think nothing of it. Lois considers you a very great friend, and I would be honoured to do the same. And friends help one another."

Diana smiled, and then sighed. "Now to break it to Cassandra."

Cassandra did not take it well. Neither did Donna.

For the second time that week, Diana found herself the only person not weeping in a household of three women. Diana just sat in the kitchen and sighed, feeling as if it were the millionth sigh today. It probably was. She decided to spend the time by making making some bread. It was a task she was familiar with, having helped Etta with it many times as a girl. As she mixed together yeast, water and flour, she wondered which of her sisters would be the first to come down. Probably Cassandra; she was always hungry. But then Donna loved the smell of baking bread. Perhaps she would be fortunate. Perhaps both of them would come down.

In any case, the bread had to rise for another hour or two on the range before it could be knocked back and then baked. Diana sighed, picked up her book of Shakespeare sonnets, and reclined on an armchair in the parlour. She did not really read though, instead thinking of the preparations needed before Cassandra's departure. She would not need too many clothes, since material would be provided for her to sew her own school dresses. Of course, there was the problem that Cassandra couldn't really sew. Was there time to teach her?

Diana sighed. Probably not, but then that mightn't matter. Their mother had not been bothered about teaching her daughters the so-called feminine arts, and until Diana went to school, she had never touched a pianoforte, picked up a sketching pad or threaded a needle. And she had not done any of those things since. Donna had been more persistent, especially with art. She was especially skilled with watercolours as well as oil pastels, and did not understand why Diana had not continued with her music, which her teachers had always said she'd had talent in.

But Diana was happy with her lot—most of it. She was a good shot. She was an excellent rider. She spoke three languages, and she could knock out a grown man with one blow. As far as she knew, no one was aware of this except Father- No one was aware of this.

"I refuse to go."

Diana looked up from the book at her sister's face. Unlike she and Donna, Cassandra had their mothers golden-blonde hair, and her unimpressed expression. She stood in the parlour doorway now, her arms folded and a scowl on her young face.

"You refuse?" Diana repeated.

"Yes. You cannot make me go."

"Cassandra-"

"No, Diana! You cannot make me go to school. I don't want to go to school. I know all I need to know; I know how to read and write, I know history, I know geography, I know how to ride-"

"And none of those things will matter to society."

"I don't care about society."

"Society does not care about that," Diana countered. She got up and took her sister's shoulders, speaking gently. "Cassandra. There is no point in not going. It will benefit you so much to have an education, you cannot imagine what a gift it is."

Cassandra shook her off, pointed an accusatory finger in her face. "You just don't want me in the house! You don't want the cost of feeding me!" She spluttered for a moment in total anger, until she finally said, "You just don't want to have to look at me because I know you're responsible for Father's death!"

Diana's face closed. She knew that had probably been coming, but it still hurt to hear it. Brushing past her sister, she went back to the bread in the kitchen, tipping it out of its bowl and beating the air from it with great gusto. Cassandra followed, after a moment.

"Diana, I… I'm sorry, I did not mean that. I just- I miss him so much!" She crumpled into tears again, and Diana's anger didn't stand up against her sister's grief. She put the bread down and enfolded Cassandra into her arms. "I know. I miss him too. But he's gone, Cassie."

"Why?" she demanded tearfully. "Why is he gone?"

"I don't know. I'm going to try and find out, but I need you somewhere I do not need to worry about you. It could be dangerous," she said, hoping it was not the case, but knowing it could well be.

"Then let me help you!"

"You're too young."

"That is always the excuse and it never matters!"

"It does matter," she contradicted calmly. "So please. Go to school. Learn. Become a fine, accomplished young lady whom everyone will admire. Will you do that for me? For Father? Please?"

With a heavy sigh, Cassandra nodded. "Very well. But write to me, won't you? Every week?"

"Every day, if you want me to."

A/N: Review please!