Chapter Ten

Laurie found his grandfather having lunch in the little garden behind their townhome. The weather was turning warm, and today was particularly fine. Grandfather looked up when he sat down across from him.

“There you are, my dear boy. Are you hungry?” Without waiting for an answer, he signaled his servant to bring food.

“Grandfather, I wish to ask you a question of a rather… delicate nature.”

The old man looked up. “You have my permission to ask any nature of question. If I can be of help to you, I will.”

Laurie nodded but seemed unable to form the question he truly wanted to ask. He decided to come at the issue sideways. “Amy wrote that Fred Vaughn is to remain here in England.”

“Yes, so you said this morning.”

“Right.” Laurie fell silent and his grandfather looked at him patiently, waiting for him to go on. “Well, while I was in Nice, Amy and I had a conversation about him.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I-I asked her if she loved him, and she said that she was fond of him. She said…well, that is…she said that she and I were not so different. And she encouraged me to be respectable in my heartbreak, as she had done.”

Grandfather was silent for a moment. “Amy heartbroken? Yet not about Fred Vaughn? Then perhaps it is best that they have parted ways. Someone with such a loving heart deserves a loving marriage.”

Laurie nodded, gulping hard. “Grandfather… I wished to ask you if you might know…” As the silence stretched, Laurie found himself unable to say what he had come to ask. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“You wish to know who did not return Amy’s affections.”

“Yes. I was wondering if she had ever confided in you. But now that I say it, I realize that, if she had, you had better not tell me. It would be a betrayal of her confidence.”

The old man smiled knowingly. “Which would indeed be a serious matter. Amy has never confided such a thing to me. She is a very private person.”

“Yes, you’re right about that.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“I did, but she would not tell me.”

“I see.” His grandfather said nothing more but returned to his lunch.

The servant set a plate before Laurie and he ate, tasting nothing. He wished he could talk the matter out with someone. He was hesitant to speak openly about it with Grandfather, who was already too worried about Beth. And the old man had been as downcast as he when Jo refused him. Would he accept Laurie’s feelings about Amy?

A sudden idea struck him. Perhaps Mr. Darcy might offer some advice? Laurie’s thoughts were all a-tumble, but he remembered how insightful the old gentleman had been and his offer of assistance should Laurie ever need it. Well, he certainly needed some guidance now!

He made his way to the Darcy home later that afternoon. The weather was fine, so he walked instead of taking the carriage. Loping along with his hands in his pockets, he was the picture of a visiting American. When the liveried servant opened the door, Laurie gave his card, asked if Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were at home, and was promptly ushered inside to wait in the sitting room. It wasn't the usual calling hours, and he hoped they would be available all the same.

He didn’t wait long, as Mrs. Darcy soon opened the door. “My dear Laurie!” She walked across the room and took both his hands in hers as he stood to greet her. “I am so glad to see you!”

“As am I, Mrs. Darcy.”

“My husband is just finishing some correspondence.”

He tried his best to keep the anxiety off his features, but he knew at once that he had been unsuccessful. The sharp-eyed mistress of the house cocked her head at him. “My dear Mr. Laurence, whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing at all, ma’am.”

Mr. Darcy arrived a moment later. “Forgive me, Mr. Laurence, I was finishing a letter to my son.”

“Thank you for making time for me, Mr. Darcy.”

He was rewarded with one of Mr. Darcy’s rare smiles.

“I-I have no wish to burden you, yet I find myself in need of someone to talk with about something that has me utterly confused.”

“Sit, my dear,” Mrs. Darcy commanded. She rang for tea and took the chair opposite him. Mr. Darcy walked to the mantle and took up his usual pose of leaning against it.

“I am glad you thought of us,” he said.

“Well, sir, I found great comfort in our conversation in the garden. And, well…you see, I think my problem today relates.”

Mrs. Darcy glanced at her husband, who nodded in understanding. “Mr. Laurence and I spoke of our fathers, my dear. And of expectations.”

“I see. Of course, you two do have that sadness in common.” She turned her attention back to Laurie.

“When I spoke with Mr. Darcy about my father, I also hinted at a different kind of loss that I recently experienced. I…” He sighed. It was a bit more difficult to talk about than he had expected. Would they think him an awful man?

Mrs. Darcy waited patiently. He took a deep breath and manfully confessed about his proposal to Jo. He told them how he had loved her since the moment he met her at a party all those years ago. How he had worked through college for her, content in the knowledge that they would marry in the end. How she had rejected him.

"Not every lady is ready to accept a marriage proposal when first offered." Mrs. Darcy tilted her head slightly as if considering him. "But I sense that Miss Josephine March knows her own mind."

"That she most certainly does." Thinking of Jo now, Laurie remembered her emphatic refusal. She was kind but clear and firm. She could never love him in that way.

Amy's face flitted across his mind, and the now familiar pang of guilt pierced his heart.

"It is this lady, I assume, that causes you such heartache now?" Mrs. Darcy asked.

"No. It is another lady entirely."

At this she raised her eyebrows. Laurie stood up abruptly, agitation driving him to the fireplace. Mr. Darcy eyed him as he paced back and forth but said nothing.

"You will think me unfaithful, surely. Unfaithful and fickle."

“I declare you to be a very good boy, Theodore Laurence. Come. Tell us the heart of the matter.”

Seeing nothing for it, Laurie continued his confession. "A month or so ago I encountered a young lady that I have known since she and I were children."

"Another such lady?" Mrs. Darcy asked.

"Yes. We had not seen each other for several years. We were always good friends, like family. Now I find myself unable to think of little else but her. It was she who accused me of idleness, and she who made me realize I was wasting my life. It was she who urged me to return to my grandfather and pursue music seriously."

"Is the problem your youthful love?" Mrs. Darcy’s sweet tone soothed him.

"In a way."

"There is more to the story, is there not? Might this lady currently reside in Nice?” Mr. Darcy asked.

He had guessed it. Forcing himself to face them, Laurie confessed. "I think of Miss Amy March with affection that goes beyond friendship. Yet how can she accept this from me? She knows I thought myself in love with her sister!"

A silence followed this statement. Laurie felt all the awkwardness of his situation.

“I have not confessed this to the lady in question. I know she would be uneasy.”

"I can well believe she would be," Mrs. Darcy said.

"The principal point is whether or not the lady returns to your affections." Mr. Darcy said, startling them both.

Laurie turned to the older gentleman. “But what of her sister?”

Mr. Darcy looked at him sternly. “Her sister does not care for you, but Miss Amy March might indeed share your feelings. Unless you mean not to act, the sooner you ascertain her position, the better.”

“My dear, it is not a business proposition,” Mrs. Darcy said lightly. She turned her attention to Laurie. “I do believe my husband is correct, however. If you mean to keep your feelings to yourself forever, well, there is nothing to be done. But if you wish to pursue Miss Amy, then you must do so openly and honestly. You are not the first man to fall in love with a sister of your chosen one.”

“But that’s just it!” Laurie said with sudden feeling. “Jo is not my chosen one! I mean, I thought she was. But now I see that she was correct. We don’t suit at all! But how can I know my feelings for Miss Amy are true when I spent years thinking that Jo was the only woman for me? How can I be so…so…fickle?”

To his surprise, Mrs. Darcy smiled at him. “My dear boy, I understand your feelings completely.”

He looked at her, nonplussed.

“When Mr. Darcy first proposed, I emphatically refused him.”

Laurie blinked and then threw a glance at Mr. Darcy.

“I told you my initial proposal was disastrous,” the gentleman confirmed.

“It was not six months later that I realized my feelings for him had changed. I began the year 12 with such conviction in my thoughts and judgment of character. My confidence was severely shaken by certain events within my own family. By that summer, for the first time in my life, I found myself without a clear sense of my thoughts and feelings.”

“Lost,” Laurie said quietly.

“Just so.”

“How did you…mend things?”

It was Mr. Darcy who answered. “I was rather persistent.” This drew a musical laugh from his wife.

“I spent many a long, solitary walk trying to understand myself. How could I have fallen in love with a gentleman after I refused his proposal? Was I truly in love with him at all? Had I simply been awed by his glorious home and elegant manner? But when I saw Mr. Darcy again, my questions were answered in a moment. My doubts and fears fell away, and I knew I had to act. I only hoped that his feelings for me had not cooled to dislike, considering my earlier treatment of him.”

“What did you do? That is, if I may be so bold as to inquire.”

“I tried my very best to show Mr. Darcy that I no longer thought of him as the last man in the world I would ever choose to marry.”

Laurie’s jaw dropped in surprise, and Mrs. Darcy laughed. She looked up at her husband, who still stood near the fireplace. He was shaking his head, but a smile graced his lips. Then he walked to her side and took her hand. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “Do not worry, Theodore Laurence. You will find your way through this maze in time.”

Laurie felt comforted, though his head and heart were still all in a jumble. Watching Mr. and Mrs. Darcy gave him a strange sense of peace, as if he could really believe their promise that everything would work out well.

“Thank you both. Truly.”

“I believe I may answer for us both when I assure you that my wife and I are gratified that you feel you can confide in us.”

“Laurie, may I offer one more modicum of advice?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

“Of course.”

“Do not be afraid to trust your heart. Your head will catch up in time.” She took his hand and pressed it. In that moment she reminded him so much of Marmee that he longed for home.

That afternoon, Laurie returned to his piano. He leafed through the sheets of music until he found the piece he was looking for. The notes of Franz Lizt’s Liebestraum flowed as he played Amy’s favorite piece. How many times had she leaned on the piano as he had played it, always proclaiming it the most beautiful piece of music in the world? That was Amy. When she loved something, it was fully—be it her art, a piece of music, or a friend.

As he played, memories of Amy flowed about him. When Beth had first fallen ill, all those years ago, he had taken Amy away to stay with Aunt March. She had been dreadfully worried about Beth and genuinely afraid of catching scarlet fever herself. He had been just a boy, only a handful of years older than she was, but he had tried very hard to be a steady shoulder for her to lean on during that time.

He had gone every day to see her and tried to bring cheer, though they both constantly worried about Beth. They had made it through in the end. And now here they were, so many years later, facing the same fear together again. But this time, he couldn’t run and see Amy every day. She was miles away in Vevay. He sighed and continued playing on long into the night.

A special messenger arrived the next morning with a letter from Amy. He opened it with a heavy heart, knowing very well what news it brought.

Laurie,

My heart is broken, truly broken. Our Beth has gone from us.

Hold onto dear Grandfather and give him my love. I send my love to you as well, dear friend. I do not say it enough, but I very much value your friendship. More than you know.

Your,

Amy