26

A RECKONING

After the two men were inside and their coats hung up to dry next to the fire—after the surprised hellos, the embraces, and (in the case of Meg and Brooke) a furtive kiss in the pantry—Jo took them upstairs to Amy, who cheered to see Laurie and rallied a bit, sitting up and whispering how glad she was that he’d come.

“You look—different,” Amy wheezed. “Happier—than when—I saw you—last.”

“I suppose I am,” said Laurie.

“Don’t speak, dearest,” Jo whispered, smoothing Amy’s pillow. “Save your strength.”

“That’s right.” Laurie gave her small white hand a squeeze. “Let us do the talking for you.”

Amy smiled weakly. He gave her a little doll he’d bought in Boston, a fancy one with a china face and a beautiful gown of gold brocade. Amy, who’d never received such a lavish gift, clutched it to her. “It—will—be my—most favorite—possession,” she said.

Jo nearly wept. But then Amy’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she went limp—fainted from exhaustion or happiness, or both.

Laurie made a startled noise. Alarmed, Jo rushed Laurie out of the sick-room and back downstairs while Mama and Hannah scurried around fetching smelling salts and more camphor. The beautiful doll was put aside on a nearby table in hopes that Amy would be cheered by it later, when—if—she felt better.

The four young people waited downstairs, the two girls trembling with fear that Mama would come downstairs to tell them that the worst had happened, the two men helpless to ease their suffering. For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of the wind rising outside. An autumn blow, with a hint of thunder. Everyone both tense and gloomy.

No one said as much, but it was there in the air, unspoken: Amy was unlikely to make it through the night.

“Your father?” Laurie asked, looking at Jo’s dark eyes.

“I’m afraid he won’t come in time,” Jo said, quietly.

“Oh, Jo,” Laurie said, for the third or fourth time.

Jo simply nodded. There was little else that anyone could say.

An awkward silence descended. Meg bustled into the kitchen for some tea and some bits of biscuit, leaving Jo alone with Laurie and Brooke.

Jo couldn’t decide if she wanted to sob with relief to see Laurie there, or to slap him so hard his teeth rattled. For punishing her so. For ruining everything.

Except, wasn’t this love, also? Showing up when you were needed, without being asked?

She softened. Everything was forgotten, everything forgiven, because he had come to her family in their most desperate hour. “I’m so glad you’ve come, Laurie.” Her voice carefully neutral. She wouldn’t cry, not now. Not if she could help it.

“I’m glad I could be here,” said Laurie. “If . . . to see Amy. She’s a dear girl, and I’m so very sorry she’s ill.”

“And thank you for bringing him to us, Mr. Brooke,” said Jo warmly.

Brooke nodded. They were all emotional, and being as careful not to upset one another as they could.

For his part, Laurie was surprised that there was not a single teasing note in Jo’s voice, nor the barest hint of sarcasm or mockery. She was genuinely glad to see him.

She doesn’t know, he thought. Brooke hasn’t told her.

But then, how could Jo know Laurie’s news when Brooke himself had only just learned of it earlier in the day? No one knew. And Laurie was not relishing the telling of it—not under these circumstances.

Jo seemed not to notice his distress. “I hope your journey wasn’t arduous.”

“Not at all.”

Brooke bent to build up the fire and gave Laurie a significant look as he passed. Get on with it, the look said, but Laurie would not. Let someone else ask if there was something they wanted to know; he would volunteer nothing if he could help it.

How different things were now than they’d been in New York, where Jo and Laurie had been each other’s dearest confidants. Where the four of them had been so merry, going to the opera and eating in cafés and rambling up and down Broadway all day long! Laurie could hardly believe that had been just a few short months ago.

“How is university? Cambridge treating you well?” asked Jo.

“You’ll be proud of me, Jo; my Latin has improved leaps and bounds,” replied Laurie with a faint smile, even as Brooke snorted.

“And how is your sequel coming along?” asked Brooke. “Meg tells me you are working on the latest draft?”

Jo stiffened, as every writer does when asked about the progress of the current work. “Oh, it’s coming” was all she said.

At last, Meg came in from the kitchen with the tea things and spent a few moments pouring and passing out cups, which gave them all something to look at and a way to pass the time.

“Thank you again for coming, Laurie,” Meg said, sitting down with her own cup. “It’s so good of you to be here now. I’m sorry if it will cause trouble with your studies?”

“Of course not,” Laurie said. “Not even wild horses could keep me away.”

A look passed between Meg and Jo, but Laurie couldn’t guess what it was. Jo looked pale herself but not physically ill, as far as Laurie could tell. She was worried for her sister, nothing more than that.

“And so,” Meg began, trying to sound cheerful, “will you tell us how you and Lady Harriet came to be engaged?”

Jo’s teacup rattled.

Laurie looked uncomfortably at her.

Jo’s face had gone positively ashen. “You are engaged?”

“John just told me congratulations are in order. How wonderful!” said Meg, her voice only the tiniest bit strained.

Jo said nothing more. She was speechless.

Laurie bit the inside of his cheek. Meg was merely making polite conversation, he knew, better to keep everyone’s mind off what was happening upstairs. Was this subject any better, though?

Laurie sighed. Better to be out with it. Be direct with the truth, his grandfather always said, even if it’s painful. As usual, the old man was right.

He leaned forward. “Thank you. It happened so quickly, it was too late for the post. It’s not meant as a surprise by any means. But yes, I asked her in Boston. It’s been agreed to all around. You can imagine how glad my grandfather was. I suspect that was his plan all along.”

Jo now pretended to be very interested in her gloves. Meg looked at her, then back at Brooke. “But how did she happen to be in Boston? I thought she’d gone back to New York?”

“Her mother had some business in Boston, I gather. I’m not sure. But we met again at a dinner, hosted by some friends,” Laurie began. “The horses slipped as I was getting out of the carriage, and I fell in the mud. You can guess what a sight I was.”

Brooke chuckled, and Meg smiled, but Jo’s mouth tightened around the corners. Laurie found himself enjoying her discomfort just a bit. Let her see what her stubbornness has wrought.

“Anyway, I was standing there dripping and contemplating going home for the evening, when who came along, carrying an umbrella and laughing at my misfortune?”

“There’s nothing like a friend who can make you laugh at yourself,” said Meg. She cut her eyes at Jo just for a second.

“Yes. It was nice to see a friendly face, and I told her so. She had come down on my grandfather’s urging. He thought she might need a bit of company as well. He thought she was melancholy for some reason.”

Jo looked at Brooke but said nothing. Had she guessed, or had Meg told her that Hat had set her heart on Brooke and been denied? Laurie couldn’t tell. It wasn’t like Brooke to tell tales of his rejected loves, even Lady Harriet. But Jo had a keen mind, and might have guessed.

It didn’t matter. Harriet was his now, and he was hers. Everything past was prologue, including the fact that both of them had loved, and been rejected by, other people. Only the future mattered now.

“After we went inside, Harriet spoke to one of the family’s servants and was able to procure me a new pair of trousers. She’s quite resourceful that way.”

Jo scoffed. Laurie went on with his tale. “At any rate, the evening was saved. We spent the whole dinner in conversation together, fairly ignoring the other guests. It was quite a scandal! But I’d nearly forgotten how much I enjoy her company.”

“So what happened next?” asked Meg.

Jo stood up and paced the room in front of the fire.

“I saw her home that night. She was as lively as I’ve ever seen her. We joked that we were like the lovers in some novel, thrown together by fate. Roderigo and what’s-her-name.”

“Rodanthe,” Meg and Jo said automatically.

He nodded, as if he hadn’t known. “That’s the one.”

Laurie watched Jo pick up the poker and stab the fire furiously. Sparks flew off the logs and toward the hem of Jo’s dress, where one left a little burn mark. How incautious she was. How maddeningly unreachable, in every way.

He went on. “I called on her the next day. All of this was at Grandfather’s urging, you understand. He seemed quite determined to throw us together as much as possible. But it worked. A few days later, I asked and she agreed. It was settled quickly.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Meg cried, “Oh, Laurie, I’m so happy for you both!” She went to embrace him. “How happy you will be. And will you be married here in Concord?”

“London, most likely,” Laurie said. “Though that’s still a long ways off. Next summer, most like. I have promised Grandfather that I will finish my first year at Harvard before we wed. He’d rather I continued and got my degree, but he’s thrilled, as you can imagine, since he and the dowager are old and dear friends. The joining of their houses and all that.”

There was a long silence that stretched across the room like a cobweb. Had it only been two months ago he’d professed to love Jo forever? Only two? Goodness, Jo thought, how fickle boys are!

“So everyone is satisfied, then,” Jo said. “That’s wonderful, Teddy. I’m—I’m so glad for you. And Harriet, of course. You’re well suited for each other.”

“Thank you,” he said. There was a hint of steel in her voice. You’re well suited for each other was an insult, but one only Laurie would have noticed.

She was still angry. Good. Let her be angry, he thought.

Meg watched Laurie and Jo looking at each other in puzzlement. Neither would give an inch. “So you’ll make your home in Concord, then?” she asked.

“I suppose not. We haven’t discussed it in detail yet. Harriet’s estates are all overseas, and we will have quite a lot to do to manage them all.” He looked at Jo. “It may be that we don’t come back here very often.”

“Well, if you are in London, Jo shall be there soon, to supervise the play based on her book,” said Meg.

Brooke reached over for Meg’s hand. “And we shall hope to be there for the premiere and visit you both.”

Laurie arched his eyebrow. “The four of us in London! It will be just like old times.”

“Jolly,” agreed Meg, to fill the conversation, since the cat seemed to have gotten Jo’s tongue once more.

“I need to check on Amy,” Jo said, finally.

Meg watched her sister stand up straight to buck up her courage. Perhaps no one but a sister would have seen the little tremble in Jo’s chin, the hurt in her eyes. Laurie certainly didn’t seem to notice. Only Meg felt all the air go out of the room as she realized Jo was very close to tears—that in another minute they would have a scene on their hands, and it would all come out at last.

Instead, Jo said, “Congratulations, Laurie. I hope you’re very happy together.” And she ran up the stairs and away before he could say another word.