"Laurie," Amy said, her voice wavering in the purple twilight dusks of their bedchamber. She paused as if to wait for an answer; then, when he did not speak, she opened her mouth again—and her voice was even softer, more tentative, dulcet with her usual cultured tones. "My Lord?"
Laurie had heard the note in his wife's voice and sighed inwardly from his place in the pillows; why, he thought, could Amy not just let things be for once? He had prided himself on his attentiveness to his wife that evening; he had come home with lilies-of-the-valley and in hand; he spoke to her tenderly, and at her look of grateful surprise, had kissed her with a sudden spark of need that surprised even him. Unlike the first few weeks of their marriage, he had not touched her in nearly a month, since Professor Bhaer had returned—but that was something else entirely.
The carnal side of Laurie did not regret their intimacy that evening , not a bit; Amy, with a gentle urgency that surprised her husband, submitted to his attentions with a passion he had no idea the ice-maiden possessed; after all, this was prim, cool little Amy, notoriously reserved. However, her small white hands had explored his frame without fear and with a little desperation; and their moments of passion were short, but left them both trembling and somewhat breathless.
Amy was now by the washstand, where she'd fled afterwards, sponging her pale skin with lavender water. This was something she often did on hot summer nights like this one; and when they were first married, Laurie liked nothing better than to follow the nubile, slender figure as it moved round the room in perfect grace, with all her 'bright hair streaming down,' bare and exposed in a manner of beauty no one else could boast of having seen. She would comb through the silvery strands, tease him with coquettish looks, spritz perfumes into the air and promenade until he, choked with laughter, called her back to bed.
Today, however, his eyes were distant, dark, somewhere else entirely; and Amy saw this. Something inside her chest turned to ice.
"Laurie?" she said for a third time, hesitantly now.
Her husband dragged his gaze from the ceiling and focused on her, hazily. She bit her lip, goose-bumps suddenly breaking out on her still-wet arms and back; she dropped the sponge on the carpet, barely noticing the damp spreading round her feet. "Is everything…all right, my Lord?"
"Really, Amy, what a question to ask." Laurie's voice was light, effortlessly so. "After such an evening," he added, shooting her one of the rakish looks he knew she loved.
Amy did not smile at this; she turned her head to the side, pressing cool palms to cheeks that were suddenly very hot. "You seem…distracted," she answered, her voice still a shadow of its former self.
Laurie made a noise that was intended to dismiss his wife's concerns; he meant it in fun, she knew, but she was still hurt; and suddenly feeling rather naked, grabbed her muslin dressing-gown from the back of the vanity chair, pulling it on without drying herself; then, she lit a candle.
The flame cast a watery yellow light over the mirror, the walls, the windows, her skin. Laurie still lay in bed, not moving; and she noted at once what a picture he made, light and shadow dancing across sinew and hard, corded muscle and a fine-boned face. His hair, longer than it normally was, fell in a dark shock across his forehead, even as his lips curled up lazily; and Amy's heart beat just as fast as it had done on her wedding-night, in a hot, rose-musk scented room in Valrosa, where the young lovers had spent a very happy honeymoon.
Laurie, however, looked much differently than he did then; he was somewhere far away, somewhere he'd gone weeks ago, when Fredrich Bhaer had returned from the West—and he and Jo's day of marriage had finally been set.
Amy glanced away from her husband and in the mirror; as usual, she could find no fault. Her hair in this light had a subtle sheen and brilliance, the curls falling well past a small waist; the thin night-rail clung alluringly to the soft points of her body. And yet…Laurie had looked at her sister today with more raw passion in his face, this afternoon at the dress-fitting, when Jo had burst from the confines of the sewing-room, in a rage over the "confounded frills" Meg had added to her gown…
Oh, but Jo was a beautiful bride. Radiant. Ripe, ready for her husband. And Laurie had taken this in, Amy remembered, with a flash of pain that had crossed his face in an instant, and was quickly hidden behind the laughter shared with the rest of the group.
Amy gave herself a little shake and turned to the big bed with its eiderdown and silk; and she blinked back sudden tears, determined not to lose her composure.
Laurie smiled at her, oblivious; that boyish, crooked smile that always could make her lose her head; then, he held out his hand.
"Come, dear, and put the globe on the light; it will be safe that way; we can talk if you wish it."
His words were so sincere that Amy nearly believed them; and she climbed under the covers, allowing him to nestle close to her, to brush a kiss on her temple. Her body was warm, damp, scented; mingling with his good clean scent; he inhaled once, then closed his eyes.
Amy licked her lips, drew courage. "Laurie?"
"Yes, my lady?"
She had asked the question before, she remembered tiredly; and whatever the cost, she would ask it again. "Shall you care very much if Jo marries Mr. Bhaer?"
Her voice was barely audible in the room; but oh, it was gunpowder! Laurie stiffened beside her, and Amy's steady blue eyes met black ones that were suddenly defensive and veiled.
"I believe I answered that question once before, Amy," Laurie replied, his voice tight.
"I know, but…" Amy's voice trailed off,; then she straightened, determined suddenly to look her husband in the eyes. She blurted the words out, very badly and very quickly; however, she could not have stopped herself, even if she wanted to.
"Do you still love her, Laurie?"
At that bluntness, a myriad of emotions crossed her husband's face; he had never been the best liar, and now was no exception. His face changed color, he stuttered, and then he finally said---
"I married you, Amy. You. "
At that, the tears spilled over; and Amy turned her head away, drawing her robe close together over her chest; Laurie drew away from her, cursing softly under his breath in a tone she had never heard him use before. He put a hand on her shoulder in a moment, trying to get her to look at him. "Amy, please…"
When she did, her face shocked him; it was not reproachful or angry, but full of pity—pity for him!—and very, very sad, as if she…as if she felt sorry for him.
She reached out, cupped his face in her cool hands, running a thumb over the well-cut nose; when she spoke, her voice was full of grief mingled with a bitter truth that she had long accepted.
"I'm sorry, dear," was all she said, and then he broke down, covering his face with his hands, shielding it from the innocent girl that looked upon him with devotion he knew he could not return. "Amy…"
"I know, don't say it," she said, lips trembling not a little; and she reached out, wrapped her arms around him. "I'm…sorry, Laurie, that I'm not enough…I'm not enough. I know. I've known. And if there is anything, anything at all I can do so that you will---I know I'm not her, Laurie, but I will try to be what you want---"
She broke down there, unable to continue her plea; however, her meaning was clear.
The humiliation, though she tried to hide it, the despair…he groaned aloud. Was this any way to treat any human being, specially one that he had promised to cherish…?
Why could he not hide his emotions better? And now, on the eve of Jo's wedding, a new marriage was at the verge of a beginning; a slightly older marriage seemed at an end.
'I am a wicked, selfish brute,' he thought with a shudder; and forcing himself to look up, chocking manfully on tears that he'd rather die than release, he took Amy's chin in his fingers, forced himself to look at her.
She looked hollow, empty; even the sadness was gone, now. He couldn't read her anymore.
"Amy," he said, and his voice was heavy. "I…will do better. I swear to you."