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The streets of France, Paris. After the Civil War and at the brink of The Industrial Revolution. It is a city in the middle of becoming, the 20th century on the horizon. Horses, trolleys, young, old, black, white, immigrants, returning soldiers, factory workers, wealthy industrialists, fashionable women, and poor mothers all crowd the streets.

Catherine March, a young 24-year-old, with beautiful long hazel hair, a beautiful face, and a beauteous figure, her fashion is one to be complimented about too.

Poised, laying under an enormous oak tree as she watches her younger sister, Amy March before her who is painting a staged scene, along with a few other young artists. It is a classic scene of two young men and a young woman at a picnic.

"Cathy? Am I ever going to become what I want to become?" Amy softly moved her eyes off the canvas to Catherine, she had a hopeful look for her to give her a beautiful lie to satisfy her expectation.

Catherine had no words to say, her gentle smile provided Amy want she wanted but her eyes showed the painful truth a woman will encounter in this period of a century. "I'll never doubt you. You're Amy March for a reason."

"Girls! Be quick!" Both March's sisters turn their heads to the call of their aunt in an open-air carriage, her winkle hand raised to call upon them. Helping Amy with her painting equipment, she carefully made their way into the carriage.

Catherine sat before her aunt and Amy, on her lap held a miniature book that she holds tight as if it endures her mysteries. Everyone in Paris is out as it seems cheerful. Aunt March is only happy when she's complaining, and she's in excellent form this morning which Catherine took notice of.

"The decadents have ruined Paris if you ask me. These French women couldn't lift a hairbrush." Aunt March spoke, hoping for a response from the youngest March, however, Amy appeared to be in her thoughts at a letter from her mother.

Catherine spoke on behalf of her sister and decided to please the elder woman for now, "Indeed," Aunt March simply glanced sideways at Amy to gain her attention, "What do they write, your rambunctious family?"

"Mother doesn't say anything about Beth. I feel I should go back but they all say 'stay,'" Catherine frowned at that, her unsettling heart grew more by the second of the lack of information about her youngest sister's condition.

"I intend to visit them this weekend-" Catherine spoke in a firm tone wishing to overpower her Aunt March to show her determination but the older woman had a different plan, "You can do nothing if you go back. The girl is sick, not lonely."

Amy gives Aunt March a hard look while Catherine looks in defeat never having the heart to oppose her. "And you shouldn't go home until you and Fred Vaughn are properly engaged. And you, Catherine..." Not interested in hearing the end of that sentence, Catherine chooses to tune out as she focuses her gaze on a real pair in love by the lake.

Amy had this hint of blush which Catherine found amusing by her sister's genuine love for this Fred Vaughn. No longer contributing to the conversation, it only took Catherine's attention when Amy yelled at the top of her lung. "STOP THE CARRIAGE! LAURIE! LAURIE!"

It took Catherine a moment to understand the sudden chaos, how Amy abandon her primness, and launches out of the carriage, running and nearly knocking people over.

Catherine carefully move her eyes to the person Amy had stopped for, a sombre young man, tall and dark and looking down as he walks. "Laurie?" The name slipped so easily off her tongue, and the moment Catherine and the male made eye contact as if lightning had struck directly between them.

Immediately, using her beautiful laced white fan, she opened it to conceal her face from Theodore Laurence. In the corner of her eyes, she watches how Amy and Laurie hug joyously and un-self-consciously scream excitement at each other, however, those green eyes never seem to neglect Catherine.

Those hidden and concealed feelings exploded like the first day it happened, butterflies emerged, and she was sweating in the palms of her hands. "Catherine, I'm concerned about your gaze," Catherine fastens her eyes on Aunt March, seeming to notice now that she wasn't alone in the carriage. "You are to be wed in weeks and that gaze isn't one should be placed to the un-groom to be."

Feeling the guilt, Catherine didn't respond instead secreting her entire face from all with her fan as her Aunt viciously called for Amy to get back in the carriage. "AMY! AMY MARCH! YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"Come to the New Year's Party! It's a ball and everyone will be there, including Fred! Cathy too, of course!" Catherine felt the weight of Amy on the carriage while the girl yelled an invitation to Laurie.

"I will! I'll wear my best silk!" Laurie turns and continues his heartbroken stroll after being abandoned by Catherine and it showed so obviously, as Amy looks at him. She turns back to Aunt March with a cheeky smile while at her sister, one of pity.

●・○・●・○・●

Later that day. Catherine sat before a piano, her thoughts are appointed with everything, so chaotic and unorganized, she sensed a headache was building. "Cathy?"

Gradually turning her head, she suffices eyes with the one to be her husband in days. Sharpening her smile to reach her ears in the hope to show her happiness in his presence. However, it wasn't much believable.

"Mr Dunn? May I help you?" Catherine moved a small space for the male to place himself beside her. "We are going to vow ourselves to each other, and yet, here you are calling me by my family name that soon shall be yours,"

"I apologise, Wayne," This Wayne, a 26-year-old blonde male who stood a good few inches above Catherine, let out a disappointed sigh, refusing to break the eye contact that Catherine had stopped long before.

"You're as formal as ever," he seemed to be speaking to the floor. "And I am only asking you, Cathy. Would it be a dream to take you as my wife?" His tone had such compassion and respect for Catherine.

Catherine barely answers that's if you accept the strained smile as a response. Placing her slender fair fingers on the piano, she played a melody in mind to load in the awkward tension between them. Wayne observes his fiancé intensely, his mind refusing each question being shown, knowing the girl beside her would merely dance around the truth.

Something click in the male's mind at the previous conversation he had with Amy, "I was talking with Amy before..." Wayne purpose took a long pause in his sentences, trying to catch anything with Catherine. "She said, you meet an old friend at the park... Theodore Laurence?"

Wayne's brows lowered together at how Catherine's fingers froze mid her performance, it was a second, a fleet millisecond before she proceeds as if nothing. "... Is he someone special?"

Her face was blank, her eyes fixed on a way further. "Amy was talking about you and that man." He had his reasons to be wary and Catherine understood that. "And, will you tell me? Is this something I should know?"

𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖, 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 - Theodore Laurence ✅Where stories live. Discover now