Little Vampire Women (7 page)

“I’m not Meg tonight, I’m a fine vampire lady who does all fine society vampire things. Tomorrow I shall repent these acts and be desperately good again,” she answered with an affected little laugh.

“Wish tomorrow was here, then,” muttered Laurie, walking off, ill-pleased at the change he saw in her.

Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did. After supper she blundered through a new game called “the German,” which consisted of driving one’s fangs into the pulse points of a large German man, a skilled player who made scoring almost impossible. The sport was played in teams of two, each earning points for every well-placed tear made, and Meg, little experienced in parlor games of such energetic high zeal, nearly upset her partner with her long skirt. She romped in a way that scandalized Laurie, who looked on and meditated a lecture. But he got no chance to deliver it, for Meg kept away from him till he came to say good night.

“Remember!” she said, trying to smile, for her jaw had begun to ache from exertion, a development she hadn’t known was possible.

“Silence à la mort
,
”
replied Laurie, with a melodramatic flourish, as he went away.

This little bit of byplay excited Annie’s curiosity, but Meg was too tired for gossip and went to her coffin, feeling as if she had been to a masquerade and hadn’t enjoyed herself as much as she expected. She was sick
from too much rich human blood all the next night, and on Saturday went home, quite used up with her fortnight’s fun and feeling that she had “sat in the lap of luxury” long enough.

“It does seem pleasant to be quiet, and not have company manners on all the time. Home is a nice place, though it isn’t splendid,” said Meg, looking about her with a restful expression, as she sat with her mother and Jo on the Sunday evening.

“I’m glad to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid home would seem dull and poor to you after your fine quarters,” replied her mother, who had given her many anxious looks that eve. For motherly eyes are quick to see any change in children’s faces.

Meg had told her adventures gaily and said over and over what a charming time she had had, but something still seemed to weigh upon her spirits, and when the younger girls were gone to their coffins, she sat thoughtfully staring at the fire, saying little and looking worried. As the clock struck nine and Jo proposed sleep, Meg suddenly left her chair and, taking Beth’s stool, leaned her elbows on her mother’s knee, saying bravely…

“Marmee, I want to ‘fess.’”

“I thought so. What is it, dear?”

“Shall I go away?” asked Jo discreetly.

“Of course not. Don’t I always tell you everything? I was ashamed to speak of it before the younger children,
but I want you to know all the dreadful things I did at the Moffats’.”

“We are prepared,” said Mrs. March, smiling but looking a little anxious.

“I told you they taught me games but I didn’t tell you we played those games on vampirists. Laurie thought I wasn’t proper. I know he did, though he didn’t say so. I knew it was wrong, but everyone was so nice and said how well I fit in, and quantities of nonsense, and the humans didn’t seem to mind, so I let them convince me it was all right to be cruel.”

“Is that all?” asked Jo, as Mrs. March looked silently at the downcast face of her pretty daughter, and could not find it in her heart to blame her little follies.

“No, I drank human blood and romped and tried to flirt, and was altogether abominable,” said Meg self-reproachfully.

“There is something more, I think.” And Mrs. March smoothed the soft cheek, which remained pale white despite her clear distress as Meg answered slowly…

“Yes. It’s very silly, but I want to tell it, because I hate to have people say and think such things about us and Laurie.”

Then she told the various bits of gossip she had heard at the Moffats’, and as she spoke, Jo saw her mother fold her lips tightly, as if ill-pleased that such ideas should be put into Meg’s innocent mind.

“Well, if that isn’t the greatest rubbish I ever heard,”
cried Jo indignantly. “Why didn’t you pop out and tell them so on the spot?”

“I couldn’t, it was so embarrassing for me. I couldn’t help hearing at first, and then I was so angry and ashamed, I didn’t remember that I ought to go away.”

“Just wait till I see Annie Moffat, and I’ll show you how to settle such ridiculous stuff. The idea of having ‘plans’ and being kind to Laurie because he’s rich and may marry us by-and-by! Won’t he shout when I tell him what those silly things say about us poor children?” And Jo laughed, as if on second thought the thing struck her as a good joke.

“If you tell Laurie, I’ll never forgive you! She mustn’t, must she, Mother?” said Meg, looking distressed.

“No, never repeat that foolish gossip, and forget it as soon as you can,” said Mrs. March gravely. “I was very unwise to let you go among vampires of whom I know so little, kind, I dare say, but worldly, ill-bred, and full of these vulgar ideas about young people. I am more sorry than I can express for the mischief this visit may have done you, Meg.”

“Don’t be sorry, I won’t let it hurt me. I’ll forget all the bad and remember only the good, for I did enjoy a great deal, and thank you very much for letting me go. I’ll not be sentimental or dissatisfied, Mother. I know I’m a silly little vampire girl, and I’ll stay with you till I’m fit to take care of myself. But it is nice to have fun and flirt with boys, and I can’t help saying I like it,” said
Meg, looking half ashamed of the confession.

“That is perfectly natural, and quite harmless, if the liking does not become a passion and lead one to do foolish or unmaidenly things. Learn to know and value the fun worth having and the boys worth admiring, Meg.”

Margaret sat thinking a moment, while Jo stood with her hands behind her, looking both interested and a little perplexed, for it was a new thing to hear Meg talking about cruelty, flirting, and things of that sort. And Jo felt as if during that fortnight her sister had grown up amazingly, and was drifting away from her into a world where she could not follow.

“Mother, do you have ‘plans,’ as Mrs. Moffat said?” asked Meg bashfully.

“Yes, my dear, I have a great many, all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat’s, I suspect. I will tell you some of them, for the time has come when a word may set this romantic little head and heart of yours right, on a very serious subject. You are young, Meg, but not too young to understand me, and mothers’ lips are the fittest to speak of such things to girls like you. Jo, your turn will come in time, perhaps, so listen to my ‘plans’ and help me carry them out, if they are good.”

Jo went and sat on one arm of the chair, looking as if she thought they were about to join in some very solemn affair. Holding a hand of each, and watching
the two young faces wistfully, Mrs. March said, in her serious yet cheery way…

“I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good. To be admired, loved, and respected. To have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To love and sire a good human man is the best and sweetest thing a woman can do, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, sire rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing, and when well used, a noble thing, but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I’d rather see you poor men’s wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace.”

“Poor girls don’t stand any chance, Belle says, unless they put themselves forward,” sighed Meg.

“Then we’ll be old maids,” said Jo stoutly.

“Right, Jo. Better be happy old maids than unhappy wives, or unmaidenly vampire girls, running about to find mates,” said Mrs. March decidedly. “Don’t be
troubled, Meg, poverty seldom daunts a sincere lover. Some of the best and most honored women I know were poor girls, but so love-worthy that they were not allowed to be old maids. Leave these things to time. Make this home happy, so that you may be fit for homes of your own, if they are offered you, and contented here if they are not. One thing remember, my girls. Mother is always ready to be your confidant, Father to be your friend, and both of us hope and trust that our daughters, whether married or single, will be the pride and comfort of our lives.”

“We will, Marmee, we will!” cried both, with all their hearts, as she bade them good night.

L
aurie set up a post office in the hedge in the lower corner of the garden, a fine, spacious building with padlocks on the doors and every convenience for the mails (also the females). It was the old martin house, but he stopped up the door and made the roof open, so it would hold all sorts of things, and save them valuable time. Beth was postmistress, for, being most at home, she could attend to it regularly, and dearly liked the nightly task of unlocking the little door and distributing the mail. One July night she came in with her hands full, and went about the house leaving letters and parcels like the penny post.

“Here’s your posy, Mother! Laurie never forgets that,” she said, putting the fresh nosegay in the vase that stood in “Marmee’s corner,” and was kept
supplied by the affectionate boy.

“Miss Meg March, one letter and a glove,” continued Beth, delivering the articles to her sister, who sat near her mother, stitching wristbands.

“Why, I left a pair over there, and here is only one,” said Meg, looking at the gray cotton glove. “Didn’t you drop the other in the garden?”

“No, I’m sure I didn’t, for there was only one in the office.”

“I hate to have odd gloves! Never mind, the other may be found. My letter is only a translation of the German song I wanted. I think Mr. Brooke did it, for this isn’t Laurie’s writing.”

Mrs. March glanced at Meg, who was looking very pretty in her gingham morning gown, with the little curls blowing about her forehead, and very womanly, as she sat sewing at her little worktable, full of tidy white rolls, so unconscious of the thought in her mother’s mind as she sewed and sang, while her fingers flew and her thoughts were busied with girlish fancies as innocent and fresh as the pansies in her belt, that Mrs. March smiled and was satisfied.

“Two letters for Doctor Jo, a book, and a funny old hat, which covered the whole post office and stuck outside,” said Beth, laughing as she went into the study where Jo sat studying.

“What a sly fellow Laurie is! I said I wished bigger hats were the fashion, because I burn my face looking
out the window on sunny mornings. He said, ‘Why mind the fashion? Wear a big hat, and be safe!’ I said I would if I had one, and he has sent me this, to try me. I’ll wear it for fun, and show him I don’t care for the fashion.” And hanging the antique broad-brim on a bust of Plato, Jo read her first letter. In a big, dashing hand, Laurie wrote…

“Here’s richness!” cried Jo, flying in to tell the news to Meg.

“Of course we can go, Mother?”

Marmee agreed easily, for she knew her daughters
were delightful emissaries of the humanitarian way of life and the more people they met, the more people they would win over.

“I hope the Vaughns are not fine grown-up people. Do you know anything about them, Jo?” asked Meg.

“Only that there are four of them. Kate is older than you, Fred and Frank (twins) about my age, and a little girl (Grace), who is nine or ten. Laurie knew them abroad, and liked the boys. I fancied, from the way he primmed up his mouth in speaking of her, that he didn’t admire Kate much.”

“I’m so glad my French print is clean, it’s just the thing and so becoming!” observed Meg complacently. “Have you anything decent, Jo?”

“Scarlet and gray boating suit, good enough for me. I shall row and tramp about, so I don’t want any starch to think of. You’ll come, Bethy?”

“If you won’t let any boys talk to me.”

“Not a boy!”

“I like to please Laurie, and I’m not afraid of Mr. Brooke, he is so kind. But I don’t want to play, or sing, or say anything. I’ll work hard and not trouble anyone, and you’ll take care of me, Jo, so I’ll go.

“And I got a note from Mr. Laurence, asking me to come over and play to him tonight,” added Beth, whose friendship with the old gentleman had prospered finely in the months since his Great Change. Many of the servants had left his employ for fear of being consumed, so the timid girl could now roam freely around the
house without worrying about running into humans.

On the evening of the fete, the sky was bright and clear, and the girls eagerly prepared for the big event. Moonlight and laughter were good omens for a pleasure party, and soon a lively bustle tramped enthusiastically out of the house to board the boat that would take them to Longmeadow, where those guests for whom the direct light of the sun did not serve as a match for a giant conflagration had gathered many hours previous.

“Welcome to Camp Laurence!” said the young host, as they landed with exclamations of delight. The tent was pitched and wickets were arranged on a pleasant green field, with three wide-spreading oaks in the middle and a smooth strip of turf for croquet.

Laurie presented them to his friends in the most cordial manner. The lawn was the reception room, and for several minutes a lively scene was enacted there. Meg was grateful to see that Miss Kate, though twenty, was dressed with a simplicity which American girls would do well to imitate. Jo understood why Laurie “primmed up his mouth” when speaking of Kate, for that young lady had a standoff, don’t-touch-me air, which contrasted strongly with the free and easy demeanor of the other girls. Beth took an observation of the new boys and decided that Frank, who was lame, was not “dreadful,” but gentle and feeble, and she would be kind to him on that account. Amy found Grace a well-mannered, merry, little person, and after staring dumbly at one another for a few minutes, they suddenly became very
good friends, despite being of different species.

“Brooke is commander in chief,” Laurie announced cheerfully. “I am commissary general, the other fellows are staff officers, and you, ladies, are company. The tent is for your especial benefit and that oak is your drawing room, this is the messroom, and the third is the camp kitchen. Now, let’s see about dinner.”

The commander in chief and his aides soon spread the tablecloth with an inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green leaves and appropriate for vampires and nonvampires alike. A very merry supper it was, for everything seemed fresh and funny, especially the frogs, for they ribbitted furiously whenever a fang touched their thorny backs, and frequent peals of laughter startled a venerable horse who fed nearby. There was a pleasing inequality in the table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates, acorns dropped in the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree to see what was going on.

When they could not eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing room to play games.

“Do you know Truth?” Laurie asked.

“I hope so,” said Meg soberly.

“The game, I mean?”

“What is it?” said Fred.

“Why, you pile up your hands, choose a number,
and draw out in turn, and the person who draws at the number has to answer truly any question put by the rest. It’s great fun.”

“Let’s try it,” said Jo, who liked new experiments.

Everyone piled and drew, and the lot fell to Laurie.

“Who are your heroes?” asked Jo.

“Grandfather and Napoleon.”

“Which lady here do you think prettiest?” said Kate.

“Margaret.”

“Which do you like best?” from Fred.

“Jo, of course.”

“What silly questions you ask!” And Jo gave a disdainful shrug as the rest laughed at Laurie’s matter-of-fact tone.

“Try again. Truth isn’t a bad game,” said Fred.

Jo’s turn came next.

“What do you most wish for?” said Laurie.

“A pair of boot lacings,” returned Jo, guessing and defeating his purpose.

“Not a true answer. You must say what you really do want most.”

“Genius. Don’t you wish you could give it to me, Laurie?” And she slyly smiled in his disappointed face.

“What virtues do you most admire in a man?” asked Kate.

“Courage and honesty.”

“How many people have you devoured?” asked Fred.

Meg gasped as Laurie jumped to his feet, personally
offended by the insult, for everyone knew the March girls were out-of-the-ordinary vampires and did not deserve such vile suspicion. Also, he’d assured them on his honor that his friends would not ask vulgar questions about their feeding habits, and here one was at the very first opportunity.

Jo felt her bosom enemy stir and rise slowly, anger coursing through her veins much in the way blood once had. Her eyes, always a sharp gray, glowed violently orange as she imagined tearing out Fred’s throat. Her fangs throbbed with thirst. One movement, a slight one at that, and the smug smile would be removed from his face forever. Just a few inches…

But Marmee’s voice, calm and wise and never far from her heart, warned her to control her temper. “Go on, dear,” it said, “patiently and bravely, and always believe that no one sympathizes more tenderly with you than your loving mother.”

Jo leaned back and said calmly, “Well, I think Truth is a very silly game. Let’s have a sensible game of croquet.”

Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game played by the other six. Mr. Brooke chose Meg and Fred. Laurie took Kate and Jo. All proceeded smoothly until the last wicket, which Jo was through and had missed the stroke. Fred was close behind her and his turn came before hers. He gave a stroke, his ball hit the wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was very near, and running up to examine,
he gave it a sly nudge with his toe, which put it just an inch on the right side.

“I’m through! Now, Miss Jo, I’ll settle you, and get in first,” cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow.

“You pushed it. I saw you. It’s my turn now,” said Jo sharply.

“Upon my word, I didn’t move it. It rolled a bit, perhaps, but that is allowed. So, stand off please, and let me have a go at the stake.”

“We don’t cheat in America, but you can, if you choose,” said Jo angrily.

“Vampires are a deal the most tricky, everybody knows. There you go!” returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away.

Jo opened her lips to say something rude, but checked herself in time and stood a minute, hammering down a wicket with all her might, while Fred hit the stake and declared himself out with much exultation. She went off to get her ball, and was a long time finding it among the bushes, but she came back, looking cool and quiet, and waited her turn patiently. It took several strokes to regain the place she had lost, and when she got there, the other side had nearly won, for Brooke’s ball was the last but one and lay near the stake.

“By George, it’s all up with us! Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. Miss Jo owes me one, so you are finished,” cried Fred excitedly, as they all drew near to see the finish.

“Vampires have a trick of being generous to their enemies,” said Jo, with a look that made the lad redden, “especially when they beat them,” she added, as, leaving the tutor’s ball untouched, she won the game by a clever stroke.

Such gentlemanly behavior from a parasitic creature inferior to him in every way offended the Englishman to such a degree that, with a deep-hued cry of fury, he pulled a stake from the ground, lifted it high in the air, and threw it directly at Jo’s chest.

To Jo’s everlasting disgust, she didn’t move. All her fine training as a vampire defender, the many hours of study, the pile of books she’d read, all the feints and maneuvers she’d memorized, came to naught in this moment when she needed them most, the stake sailing through the air intent on its target. It was Beth, amazing Beth who tiptoed upon the earth as if afraid to disturb the grass, who engaged her super vampire speed and saved Jo from certain annihilation by catching the stake a mere half inch from its mark.

Nobody could believe it, least of all Beth, who sank softly to her knees, the stake clutched in her hand, then slipping from her fingers as her clenched fist opened almost by compulsion. The company stared first at Beth, who was too shocked to shrink from the attention, then Fred, a foreigner surrounded by hostiles.

Although much alarmed by the astounding turn of events, Meg tried to smooth things over as she
imagined a fine vampire lady like Mrs. Moffat might, by introducing a new topic as if nothing untoward had happened. “How beautifully you do it!” she said, with a look at Kate’s sketch pad, which was open on the blanket. “I wish I could draw.”

The rest of the company remained frozen, unsure of how to proceed. Laurie thought Fred should be brought up on charges of assault and attempted murder and was happy to drag the villain to the local magistrate himself. Jo thought they should re-create the entire episode so she could attempt to handle it in a way befitting an aspiring defender. Fred rather thought he should run.

Kate was scared for her brother and worried for her siblings, innocent little Grace and lame Frank. Keeping one eye on Fred, she replied graciously to Meg, though her voice was stretched thin with fear, “Why don’t you learn? I should think you had taste and talent for it.”

“I haven’t time,” explained Meg.

“Your mamma prefers other accomplishments, I fancy. So did mine, but I proved to her that I had talent by taking a few lessons privately, and then she was quite willing I should go on,” Kate said, relaxing just a bit as the territory grew more familiar. “Can’t you do the same with your governess?”

“I have none.”

“I forgot young ladies in America go to school more than we. Very fine schools they are, too, Papa says. You go to a private one, I suppose?”