I think I'm ill.
I keep replaying the events of New Years over and over inside my head, and the image of the Laurence boy twirling me around the kitchen as we stifle laughter into our palms is on replay.
"Oh god," Laurie outright giggles girlishly. His hip had just knocked into the kitchen table, and we freeze for a moment, eyes wide, before we hear the chatter from the living-room continuing.
"This is not proper at all—whA!" I gasp. Laurie dips me dangerously low, and I can't breathe I'm laughing so hard.
Thank God above my sisters like to hear their own voices, or else we would've been discovered by now. He yanks me up, one hand on my waist and the other tightly clutching mine, and when I'm upright my head is so close to his I can feel his breath—sharp with mint—against my face.
"Who cares about what is proper." He grins, and then dips me again.
"You alright, Lillian?" Meg's soft voice cuts into my daydream, and I force the smile off my face.
"Yes." I mutter, and clench my fist in my lap, forcing my eyes back down at 'Pride and Prejudice.'
A loud clang resounds as Jo drops down into the chair across from me, munching charismatically on an apple. The table shakes so I glance up, annoyed, and she meets my gaze.
"Wha?" She garbles around a mouth of red russet, and I glower at her.
A particularly large twirl almost sends me into the wall, and I grab onto Laurie, a rush of adrenaline singing in my veins. He laughs breathlessly and grasps onto me, and we stand still for a moment, just holding each other and struggling for air.
"Please don't talk with food in your mouth," Meg chastises, and Jo holds up one hand, mouthing off and imitating Meg's words with a flapping palm.
Beth snorts from the end of the table and I glance at her, my lips twisting into a smile. One of the cat's kittens is curled up in Beth's arms, and my quiet sister meets my eyes, smiling faintly.
She isn't feeling good lately.
"Hey Beth, wanna go for a walk?" Jo pipes up, having swallowed, and Meg informs them that it's too cold. "Why must you always be so boring?" Jo retorts, and upon the hurt look on Meg's face, I cut in.
"Why must you always be so rude?"
Jo displays another one of those painful looking eye rolls and pulls her knees to her chest in the seat, deeming to ignore me for once. Hmph.
Meg huffs, Beth sighs, Jo crunches, and I grumble.
"I'm walking Laurie out!" I call to the girls, and step briskly out of the front door before anyone can ask to join me. Once it's shut, he's waiting, still bouncing on his toes with energy.
"I'm just over the hedge," he says, and points to the Laurence mansion next door.
While our house is brown and wooden and a bit shabby looking, his grandfather's is a sprawling stone manor coated white in the snowfall. I nod with a tight lipped smile like I didn't already know that was his house.
"It's lovely," I say, because I suddenly have run out of words now that we're completely alone, not just out of earshot.
"I suppose," he muses, and then turns to me, giving me a tiny bow. "Goodnight mademoiselle—it was lovely."
"And you as well, kind sir," I sink into a deep curtsy, and he laughs, shaking his head at me.
"You're an interesting person, Lillian March."
Unable to take Jo's crunching or the stiff silence anymore I leave the table, headed to my room which happens to have a good view of the Laurence mansion (not that I've noticed or checked to see if Laurie was around or anything).
I lock my bedroom door for good measure even though Meg will scold me later and slide over to my window. Marmee and Hannah (the caretaker who's been with us for years) set me up a sort of window seating display, where I do most of my reading.
After a few moments of trying to read I realize I've reread the same paragraph at least three times, so I shut the book with a sigh. My eyes turn towards the window, and I see him.
An unruly mass of curls is attached to a head, and that head is gazing out the window too, just not across. He hasn't seen me. I debate with myself for a good few seconds about why this is a terrible idea before thinking oh—why not?—and open the window.
"Hey," I call out a little breathlessly before I can stop myself, and green eyes turn to me. A smile pulls itself onto the Laurence boy's face and he waves lightly at me.
"Good morning," he calls back, his voice gravelly and hoarse. He clears his throat before continuing with a wince. "Do I sound like a smoker?"
"Where've you've been?" I interject, and it comes off much more stalkery than it should, but I haven't gotten a glimpse of him since that night a little over a week ago, and it started to seem like he'd left.
He shrugs and rubs his head, carding his fingers through the thick curls. His smile is lopsided when he responds.
"Been sick—bad cold. Good to know you've been checking up on me."
"I haven't," I deny, and shake my head. "But I'm sorry you're ill."
"Nothing can be done," he sighs, and drops his chin into his palm with a frown.
I think about offering to make him tea, but wonder if that would be odd. After a second I realize it's just tea after all, so I just do it.
"What if—" I start, then feel embarrassed by the notion. Curious, he raises his eyebrows. "What if I made you..I don't know, tea?" I offer, then add, "butonlyifyouwantit." The sentence smushes itself together quickly, and I can imagine Auntie scolding at me for speaking too fast.
Laurie smiles bigger.
"Lily March, are you being thoughtful?" He asks, and quirks up one brow.
I allow myself to grin and shake my head. The air outside is chilly, but in my day dress, in this window, I don't feel it. I feel strangely warm, actually. And I want to bring up the dance.
"You should be so lucky," I sniff, hoping I come off as mysterious and funny and not reproachful and rude.
Laurie throws his head back with a laugh, and I'm so pleased by the action a dimple-causing smile grows on my face. He slaps the window pane and inhales with a broken laugh, before ruffling his curls again.
"Jesus, Lil', it's like you have a sense of humor!" The casual use of Jo's nickname for me sounds much better coming out of his mouth.
Well, at least I think so.
After he stills himself with a cough, I decide I'll ask him about that night, then go get the tea, then somehow make my way over the hedge and maybe convince him to let me into Mr. Laurence's library.
"S0," I start, and run my finger across the window pane. "I've been wondering if...I mean, I was thinking and—"
A snowball hit's Laurie's window.
His eyes dart to me in surprise, and he looks down, hanging his head out of the opening. He seems confused for a moment, but I don't dare stick my head out to look. I know it's Jo.
He falls for her classic trick and the next snowball thwaps him straight in the face. An explosion of laughter from below followed by a grinning Laurie leaping up and racing away from the window, most likely to go outside and get her back, leaves me feeling a bit disappointed.
I shut the window pane.
________________________________
"Shoulders back," Auntie scolds, and I straighten my posture.
I was thinking about Laurie again, a dangerous pastime I've developed which I need to curb. When Laurie left to play with Jo this morning I stewed for nearly an hour wanting to join them, and as soon as I'd prepared myself to go out there and play in some freaking snow, Meg pointed to the carriage outside.
"Bring me back one of those dresses you know I like!" Meg begs, handing me my gloves as I head out the door. "And also new gloves for Beth, if you remember! Aunt March always gives you anything you want."
She adds the last sentence a bit bitterly, but I choose not to respond to it. I simply nod, already working on adjusting the mask I'll need to wear when I visit my dear, sweet aunt.
Auntie is working on needlepoint while I read, but every once in a while she'll look up and point out something wrong with what I'm doing. 'Tummy in'. 'Don't cross your legs'. On, and on.
"There's something we need to discuss," Auntie begins, and I look up from 'Jane Eyre'.
"Sure," I mumble, and close it, keeping my finger in between the pages so as not to lose my place.
Auntie pauses her needlework for a moment and looks up, beady eyes pinned onto me. My eyes shift over her shoulder to the clock—I can head home in half an hour.
"As you know, I have strong connections in Europe." She begins, and this time my attention is on her completely.
"Yes?" I push, resisting the urge to curl up with my legs in my seat like I want to.
"And well," she stares at me thoughtfully for a moment. "you know I like you better than the rest of your sisters." She sniffs. "For a multitude of reasons."
I smile stiffly.
"Any who," she waves her hand in the air and sighs daintily. "I've found you a husband."
I blink. It takes me a moment to register what she's said, and once I do, it's hard to force a grin. She hands me a photograph, a crisp coated, black and white photograph, of a young man who's exceedingly handsome.
I grimace.
"Oh don't make that face," Auntie scoffs, and takes the photograph back from me. "He's very rich. He'd make you happy."
"He'd make me comfortable," I correct as politely as I can, and for once she doesn't reprimand me. "What's his name?"
"Thomas Gently," she muses. "his family's from France. Very respectable. Much more so than your despicable parents."
When I glance up and raise one eyebrow, she stares me boldly back in the face, never willing to back down on her statements. Ha—while most people would say Auntie is most like me, in moments such as these it is Jo who shines through the most. It's why the disappointment was so great when Auntie couldn't force Jo into a box—they're the most alike in spirit.
"Thomas..." I ponder, and force myself to put a cheery note into my tone. "When will we meet?"
"The sooner the better, frankly," she says, "but that's the other topic I've been meaning to discuss."
She sets her needlepoint down fully, and bats her hand at me, wanting the photo. I hand it to her with widened eyes, and she snatches it up, peering closely at the boy it depicts.
"I want you, not Amy, not Meg, not Beth, and certainly not That One," she hisses, clearly referencing Jo, and I smirk. "to go with me to London."
I'm quiet for a moment as I process this statement, and then jolt to my feet.
"London?!" I demand, and Auntie starts, gasping at the grandeur of my outburst.
"Good heavens child, sit down or I won't!" She wails. I plop very Jo-like into the seat. Auntie narrows her eyes at me, looking like if she were given binoculars she would like to use them, and then huffs very Meg-like. "It will just be for a little bit," she insists. "I want company, and frankly, you would do good to get out of that house. We would stay with the Gently's."
"But—" I start, then pause, crossing my ankles and forcing myself to keep calm. "Why me?"
"Well someone has to get married and you have the only face worth looking at." She waves her hand dismissively. "It's settled. You will meet Thomas, and you will be married once you're old enough and it's socially expectable."
________________________________
By the time Aunt March is done with her preening and I've managed to smuggle more than one dress (and gloves!) out of her clutches, it's time to go. The carriage rumbles to a stop in front of the house, and a coach-men helps me out.
The front door flies open and Amy rushes out, her blonde hair flying behind her. She barrels into me with a hug, and I squeal, confused but nonetheless appreciative of the gesture.
"Don't act weird. Laurie is watching and I'm trying to seem nice." She grumbles into my shirt, and I sigh, but plaster a smile on anyways.
My eyes snap up and I catch said boy making his way out of the house, Jo talking up a storm behind him. Meg follows, a big grin on her face when she notices the box waiting in the carriage. Amy lets me go and dashes over to Laurie, adding something to the conversation they're having.
"Lillian!" Meg bursts, overjoyed when the coachmen brings the box out. "You didn't!"
Amy rushes over and helps her carry it inside, and Jo storms up to me, eyes narrowed and Hell to raise.
"Did you bring back anything else besides dresses?" She demands, fists planted on her hips. Laurie wanders up beside her, looking smart with a white neck tie and dark velvet coat. Jo elbows him and whips the cap off of his head, ruffling his hair, and he grins.
"I didn't," I reply, and she does a signature eye-roll, before crossing her arms over her chest.
"Typical." She snorts, and twists around, shoving Laurie lightly before rushing off into the house after Amy and Meg.
He laughs and watches her go, looking like he's about to chase her, before he pauses, turning back to me. His eyebrows furrow and he rocks back on his heels, the only sound outside the rumble of the carriage rushing away.
"So," he mumbles, and runs a hand through his curls. "I was wondering, if it isn't too much," he pauses and looks up at the sky, then back at me. "Would you—"
"The cat." I interrupt, my eyes widening.
"Well, I was thinking it would be fun if we—what?"
"The cat!" I burst, and rush towards the towering Oak in our yard.
Up in the branches, shaking and looking like a lightning victim, Cat (as named by Jo, fondly), is stranded on one of the lower branches. Laurie pops up beside me, his breath forming a cloud in the air.
"You—does it not normally do this?" He asks exasperatedly, and I turn to him, grabbing onto his arm.
"She has kittens please, Laurie, can you climb it or something?" I beg, eyes wide at the boy with the dark hair hardly a foot away from me.
His lips purse and he shakes his head at me, eyes lit up with amusement.
"Can I climb a tree—do bears shit in the woods?" He mocks, and sets on up, tossing his velvet coat on the ground like it's nothing.
"Do bears—oh, be careful with this it's more expensive than anything in my entire house!" I scoff breathlessly, trying not to laugh at the crude statement he made, and scoop the jacket up in my arms.
The fabric has a lovely scent, and since Laurie isn't looking I bring it closer to my nose: lavender, mint, pine trees and a hint of tobacco—I of course didn't know Laurie smoked, although I think maybe it's a habit he must've picked up in France, where that is a common act.
"Got her!" Laurie calls, sounding a bit exerted, and I yank the coat away from my face with a slight blush before he notices me blatantly sniffing his clothes like a simpleton.
"Oh Laurie," I gasp, almost dropping the coat to the ground.
The boy, all long and lanky as he is, still hangs several feet off the ground with one hand on the tree branch like a monkey and Cat clinging desperately onto the front of his vest like a burr.
"There you go kitty," he coos once he drops lightly into the snow, hardly making a noise.
"I'll never be that graceful," the sentence leaves my lips before I can stop it, and Laurie raises his eyebrows.
"Maybe Aunt March should find me a husband to marry," he jokes, and I feel as if an ice bucket has been throw over my head.
"W-What?" I stammer, and he laughs, seeming not to notice my momentary disarray.
"Jo said you guys' aunt has been playing matchmaker as long as she can remember," Laurie explains. "Since I'm such a fine lady I think I would be the perfect victim."
I force a wide smile and nod frantically, trying to force the name 'Tom Gently' out of my mind. The memory of what Auntie had said was dormant until now—now it's ripped forward without warning.
"Is that my cat!" Amy's voice reaches both of our ears, and Laurie turns towards the house.
"On my way, your highness!" He shouts, bowing deeply towards the open door, and then gives me one last glance. "Coming?" He asks, and I nod, giving him the freedom to race inside with the cat shrieking against his chest.