Chapter Eight

Grandfather had been delighted with Laurie’s enthusiasm to learn the business. For his part, Laurie was pleasantly surprised at how well the work suited him. He had thought of business as all numbers, but there was a great deal of communication and management involved that he actually enjoyed.

The two were having lunch together when the letters arrived. Amy’s lay on top, and Laurie grabbed it up with an eagerness that drew his grandfather’s attention. Refusing to meet his eye, Laurie opened the letter as calmly as he could.

My dear Laurie,

I shall first address the issue of Fred Vaughn. He has gone back to England, and I will have no more news of him to relay. We parted as friends. Fred could see my feelings more clearly than anyone else has ever done, and for that I am grateful.

Now, onto more pleasant topics. I have been hard at work fulfilling your commission for your grandfather. I do hope you will both be pleased once it is finished. Your advice to me was most helpful. I have returned to my sketches and paintings as you urged and find enjoyment in the pursuit—more so than I did when I was pursuing genius. My heart is at ease now when I paint and sketch.

So I shall admonish you to do the same. You must keep playing, Laurie. Music cannot be gone from your life, for you play so beautifully. I wish I could come to London and hear you play, but you know I cannot. Although I thank you for the invitation, I must stay here with my aunt and Flo.

From your description, it is apparent that Mrs. and Mr. Darcy are very amiable, lovely people. Perhaps I shall be lucky enough to meet them one day.

It is wonderful to know that you are working closely with your grandfather now. You will make him even more proud of you than he already is. And though it is not so monumental as the recognition from dear Mr. Laurence, I am proud of you too.

Write to me soon.

Amy

Fred had come back to England permanently? What the devil did she mean when she said that he had seen her feelings clearly? Was she heartbroken? Did she wish that Fred would return?

He thought back to the dinner party at Darcy House. No wonder Fred had appeared displeased when Laurie spoke of Amy.

Laurie looked up to see Grandfather watching him keenly and felt a sharp pang of regret. Grandfather anticipated only news of Beth.

“No news, Grandfather.”

The old man nodded thoughtfully. “Surely Amy has something to share?”

“Of course. Her aunt is still ill. She would love to visit us, but cannot at the present time. And, um…Fred Vaughn has returned to England permanently.”

At this, Grandfather raised an eyebrow. “I see. I assumed he was to return directly. Does Amy…is she quite well?”

Laurie knew what he was asking. It was, in fact, the very thing he wanted to know. How did Amy feel about Fred’s departure?

“I cannot tell. She seems resigned to it.”

“That does not mean that her heart is untouched.”

“That’s absolutely true. Though she guards it well, she has a soft heart. Jo often criticized Amy for her sharp tongue and snobbish way, but I think Jo misunderstood Amy’s motivations.”

He looked up from his lunch to find his grandfather staring at him.

“What?”

Grandfather cleared his throat. “That is the first time you have spoken of Jo since we left Concord.”

Was it? Had he really never mentioned her? “I suppose you’re right.”

“And I agree with you. Amy March is a good woman. I have a letter from her today, though you may not have noticed.”

There was something in his tone that made Laurie wary. “Oh, I had not noticed, I must confess.”

“She asked after you. Says you told her about your plan to pursue business. She is very proud of you—I can tell by her way of expressing herself.”

Laurie felt a warmth in his chest, and he smiled. “She’s a dear.”

“Perhaps you might go to Nice and visit her once again? She must be lonely.”

Laurie was a bit taken aback by this suggestion. “I believe she would not like that, Grandfather. She would want me to keep up my studies with you.”

His grandfather nodded knowingly. “Yes, she would want you to finish what you started. She is her mother’s daughter.”

Now that they had begun speaking of her, Laurie found he wanted to continue. “She has returned to her art.”

“That is an excellent thing. I was quite worried when she told me she would give it up. There is no need to be a genius to pursue something.”

“Precisely. She urges me to do the same with my music.”

“I hope you take her advice.”

“I believe I will. That’s twice now that she has aided me.”

“Twice?”

“Yes. She admonished me to be serious once more and to stop my idle ways.”

“Then I owe her thanks, as well. I had been quite worried about you. But when you returned from Nice you seemed changed, somehow. For the better.”

“Yes, my time with Amy did me good.”

“Perhaps…” Grandfather looked at him seriously and then shook his head. “Never mind.”

Laurie took a large gulp of his coffee, extremely grateful that his grandfather had thought better of suggesting something. Whatever it was, he felt too shaky in his mind and heart to respond with any sort of clarity.

Amy had written that Fred had seen what no one else had. What did that mean? If he had recognized that Amy didn’t love him…well, others had seen that. Laurie had, at any rate, and he was willing to wager that Marmee had, as well.

An image of Amy at the ball on Christmas Day flashed into his mind. She had been absolutely stunning, standing near the red curtains with her white dress and golden hair making her look like an angel.

With a shudder, he remembered his rudeness—his refusal to dance with her, his lounging and insufferable moping. How had she put up with him?

In the end, she had decided to ignore him and wound up dancing with that Polish count all night. Laurie chuckled as he recalled her poise when her dance partner had more energy than grace.

He returned to his own room, eager to reread Amy’s missive and pen one of his own. He sat at his writing desk for several moments, contemplating how to begin. After some thought, he decided on honesty—he and Amy had always had that bond between them.

Dear Amy,

I find myself surprised by your letter. You and Fred seemed like a good match, and I am very sorry if his absence causes you pain. I recall you saying that you had chosen this path. I hope that the decision to end things between you and Fred was yours or, at least, one that you are at peace with.

It is wonderful to hear that you are hard at work on Grandfather’s painting. Whatever you make will be brilliant, I am sure. Grandfather mentioned the other day that you will always be the favorite artist of his acquaintance. There, that is high praise for you! The old man knows quite a few more artists that you might suppose.

Sometimes I wonder what he was like when he was my age. He came to Europe then too, you know. What did he do here? What kind of scrapes did he get into? What kind of friends did he make?

I do know the Darcys are among those he met at that time. They are such dear people, Amy. I know you cannot travel now but, as I said before, someday I must introduce you to them. Mrs. Darcy reminds me of Marmee, which makes me miss your mother all the more.

Though Mr. Darcy at first struck me as rather standoffish, I have since discovered he is as warm and caring an individual as your own wonderful father. We had a long talk one afternoon about our fathers. Like me, Mr. Darcy lost his when he was young. It was good to speak with someone who understands.

Perhaps you might feel the same. Speaking with a friend about heartache can be a balm. My dear, what did Fred see that no one else has? I cannot but ask, for I mean to help you if I can.

Your friend,

Laurie

After signing his name, he read the letter again. Was he wrong to probe for an explanation? He thought of their trip to the ruins and Amy’s declaration: I shall be respected if I cannot be loved.

He wrote a postscript to the letter.

If you are very lonely, you only have to ask and I shall come to you in Nice.

***

Amy read Laurie’s letter several times before finally sitting at her desk to reply. What should she say? She desperately wanted Laurie to return, but she would not ask him. He was finally pursuing business with Grandfather, making a life for himself, and she could not interrupt that—no matter how badly she wished to see him.

She thought over her response very carefully. At last, she began.

My dear Laurie,

First, I must tell you that Aunt is a little better. We are traveling to Vevay this week. The doctor here believes her condition will improve in the clean air, so we are all a-tumble packing and making preparations. I am eager to leave, for I feel like we have been in Nice for quite some time.

I cannot imagine your grandfather getting into any scrapes! He has always been the epitome of a gentleman. That image of him is firmly ensconced in my mind, so I cannot think of him in any other way!

Thank you, my dear friend, for your offer to come to me. I cannot ask you to do that when you have just started making a diligent effort to learn the business from Grandfather. Do you find you like it after all? I always thought that you would. You are marvelously creative, and you have a quick mind. The world of business might fit you very well indeed.

I am quite artistic like you, but I find that, despite my creative nature, I like order and rightness. The business world might suit me, if women were allowed that kind of freedom! So try to find joy in the work, Laurie, even if the joy is only from a job well done.

Regarding Fred Vaughn, I appreciate your kind words and offer of help more than I can express. I am sorry, but I cannot tell you more about it. It is a matter of the heart that must be felt to be understood.

If I might be so bold, how is your heart faring? I do not wish to pry, but I hope you are well in spirit.

Laurie, I have had a letter from Marmee today. Beth will not recover, I am sure of it now. Marmee says she is too weak to write. I am sick at heart about it. My dear, dear Beth! However shall we get on without her? I feel as if I am staring into a void. I cannot prevent what I know is coming, however desperate I am to avoid such pain. Take very good care of Grandfather, for he shall feel it keenly.

Oh, how I wish I were home!

Your friend,

Amy

Amy looked over the letter, blotting away the tears that had fallen as she wrote of Beth. Though Laurie always championed Beth’s recovery, Amy knew that her sister’s heart was too weak—physically, at least. She retrieved her handkerchief from her pocket and did not try to stem the tears that came. Her heart was full of sorrow.

Part of her wished she had never traveled to Europe at all.