“Yes, I mean to. I guess I’ll go now, before I get frightened thinking about it.” And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences’ door.
“Well, I wish I may die if it ain’t the queerest thing I ever see! The pianny has turned her head! She’d never have gone in her right mind,” cried Hannah, staring after her, while the girls were rendered quite speechless by the miracle.
They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did afterwards. If you will believe me, she went and knocked at the study door before she gave herself time to think, and when a gruff voice called out, “Come in!” she did go in, right up to Mr Laurence, who looked quite taken aback, and held out her hand, saying, with only a small quaver in her voice, “I came to thank you, sir, for…” But she didn’t finish, for he looked so friendly that she forgot her speech and, only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, she put both arms round his neck and kissed him.
It was the closest Beth had been to a human since her own transformation so many years before, and she couldn’t get over the warmth of his flesh, the lovely smell of his blood, sweet like metal, as it throbbed through his veins so loudly she could hear it. Gently, she pressed her nose to his neck, feeling his heart so strongly it was as if her own still beat, and slowly, so slowly she hardly knew she was doing it, opened her mouth and wrenched her fangs into his skin so that his blood gushed through her lips and over her tongue and down her throat like a river of life. Yes, it was life she was giving him, eternal life, born of an impulse so wholesome and pure she might as well have been an infant burying her head in her mother’s bosom.
The kindly old gentleman was hers now, for always.
Beth ceased to fear him from that moment on and sat there talking to him as cosily as if she’d known him all her life, for love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride. Mr Laurence, who had drunk Beth’s blood when she offered it to him, was too weak and disoriented to follow the conversation. Realising her dear friend needed immediate planting in the garden so the transformation could be complete, Beth led him gently outside, found a shovel, and began to dig.
When the girls saw that performance, Jo began to dance a jig, by way of expressing her satisfaction, Amy nearly fell out of the window in her surprise, and Meg exclaimed, with uplifted hands, “Well, I do believe the world is coming to an end.”
14 A rest stop for vilgrims en route to Celestial City, across from Hill Difficulty. Many scholars believe Swinton based the description of the palace on Count Arnold Dracula’s castle in Transylvania.
15 A primitive version of what is now known as a solar cloak, which makes it possible for vampires to go out in the sun. Filtering out the sun’s rays wasn’t possible until the invention of Gore-Tex in 1976 by Wilbert L. Gore (1912-1986).
“Girls, where are you going?” asked Amy, coming into their room early one Saturday evening, and finding them getting ready to go out with an air of secrecy which excited her curiosity.
“Never mind. Little girls shouldn’t ask questions,” returned Jo sharply.
Now if there is anything mortifying to our feelings when we are young, it is to be told that, especially when we are not really young and have been on this earth for more than forty years, though our appearance, thanks to its vampire nature, doesn’t show it. To be bidden to “run away, dear” is still more trying to us. Amy bridled up at this insult, and determined to find out the secret, if she teased for an hour. Turning to Meg, who never refused her anything very long, she said coaxingly, “Do tell me! I should think you might let me go too, for Beth is fussing over her piano, and I haven’t got anything to do, and am so lonely.”
“I can’t, dear, because you aren’t invited,” began Meg, but Jo broke in impatiently, “Now, Meg, be quiet or you will spoil it all. You can’t go, Amy, so don’t be a baby and whine about it.”
“You are going somewhere with Laurie, I know you are. You were whispering and laughing together on the sofa last night, and you stopped when I came in. Aren’t you going with him?”
“Yes, we are. Now do be still, and stop bothering.”
Sitting on the floor with one boot on, Amy began to cry big fat red tears and Meg to reason with her, when Laurie called from below, and the two girls hurried down, leaving their sister wailing. For now and then she forgot her grown-up ways and acted like a spoiled child. Just as the party was setting out, Amy called over the banisters in a threatening tone, “You’ll be sorry for this, Jo March, see if you ain’t.”
“Fiddlesticks!” returned Jo, slamming the door.
They had a charming time, which was a relief, for things between the Marches and Laurie had been a bit awkward of late with Mr Laurence’s transformation into a creature of the night. He was still a kindly old man, but he could not quite control his hunger yet and had thrice tried to dine on his grandson. Now all of Laurie’s defender training sessions became useful and he was able to subdue the elderly aggressor until Brooke returned with a portion of cow’s blood.
Laurie didn’t mind the violent attacks, for he knew his grandfather meant well in his desire to consume an equal rather than prey on the poor. Mrs March assured him that in a few months, two years on the outside, the old man would gain the upper hand of his new, beastly hunger. And he didn’t resent Beth at all for turning the old man. He understood how the timid young vampire had done the only thing possible, overcome with emotion as she was.
No, the unpleasantness stemmed from the fact that the Marches refused even to consider turning him as well. It seemed remarkably unfair that his grandfather should be extended the courtesy but not him. He was the one who longed to have grand adventures and duel with slayers and play music all night and never have to go to college or become a boring old businessman. He wanted super strength and eternal life.
His grandfather had not desired it and yet had been granted it.
Marmee tried to make the lad understand how precious human life was and that it should not be discarded on a whim. He was young yet, she pointed out, and would no doubt feel differently about it in a few years. Laurie insisted his feelings would not change but nobody would listen to him, treating him instead like a little boy who didn’t know his own mind. Deciding another tactic might yield better results, Marmee explained that it went against the Marches’ principles to change a human for reasons other than love. Of course the girls would sire mates when the time came, but as their mother and a devout humanitarian, she simply couldn’t condone their siring for anything less. Naturally, Laurie raised the issue of his grandfather, for they all knew Beth had not sired a mate. Marmee agreed it was highly irregular, but timid Beth was so special and her motive for changing Mr Laurence so pure that nobody could object.
Laurie conceded the truth of this but thought it was mightily ungenerous of Mrs March not to volunteer to change him herself. She already treated him like a son; why not make him a real one?
His grandfather was just as bad. Between ravenous assaults on his grandson, he explained to the boy that he was now vitally important to the success of the company, rightly pointing out that much business was conducted during daylight hours and someone who could attend board meetings, lunches and conferences was an invaluable commodity.
Laurie understood the arguments but thought they were heartily unfair and remained sullen and sulky. His tutor Mr Brooke tried to cajole him out of his disappointment by listing all the ways he was lucky