Synopsis: There just might be hope for Elizabeth March, when she is taken along on Amy's trip to Europe. A 'romance for Beth' fic – improbable, but we all love the notion. ;o) R&R.

Disclaimer: etc., etc.. Keep in mind that there are some direct quotes, and L.M.A. wrote them.

Whispers of Hope

I

"Glad Tidings"

"You'd better do it, Mary. I'll supply the money," said Aunt March.

To which Aunt Carrol replied, "I will, if her parents don't object. Do you think Amy will like it?"

"Of course," Aunt March said sharply. Aunt Carrol returned indignantly, "You know how fond she is of her parents. Homesickness has a way of ruining a vacation."

Aunt March stirred her tea thoughtfully.

A week later a letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March's face was illuminated to such a degree when she read it that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded what the glad tidings were.

"Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants – "

"Me to go with her!" burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an uncontrollable rapture. Beth stayed her, attempting to calm her, for she saw something in Mother's gaze that told her it was not quite as Jo thought.

And so it wasn't.

"No, dear," said Mrs. March gently. "Not you; Amy and Beth."

Jo was stunned silent. "Amy – and Beth?" she said, at the same time as Beth enunciated an incredulous, "Me?"

"Yes, hear what Aunt Carrol has to say: 'I planned at first to ask Jo, but as "favors burden her" and she "hates French", I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy and Beth are by far more docile, will make good companions for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may give them. Although initially I did not think I could manage enough for two, I am sure Amy will be much more at ease with a sister, as to make her less homesick. I mean to make her as comfortable as I'm able; Josephine and I never do any deed if not thoroughly.'"

"Me?" said Beth again, as if in a daze.

"Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue! Why can't I learn to keep it quiet?" groaned Jo. Beth immediately went to her side and embraced her, basket and all.

"Oh, how I wish I could give up my place for you to go, dear Jo! I shan't enjoy it as much as you; I know I'd prefer to stay home. Can't it be arranged, Marmee?" Beth pleaded with her eyes, which looked unequivocally scared.

"I'm afraid it can't, Beth. Aunt Carrol invites both you and Amy, decidedly," said Mrs. March.

"It isn't fair! Oh, it isn't fair! Here is Amy, who always has all the fun, and Beth, who doesn't even want to go, receiving an invitation, while I who has set my heart upon going end up getting left out. It isn't fair, I always get the work, and others the pleasure," said Jo fiercely, winking hard.

"Oh, Jo, don't – don't!" cried Beth. "You know I want you to go as much as you do."

"I, too, wish you could have gone, but there is no hope for it this time, so try to bear it cheerfully, and don't sadden your sisters' pleasure by reproaches or regrets – at least Amy's," Mrs. March said gently.

"I'll try," said Jo, more subdued. "Will you promise to write me of all that you see, Bethy?"

"I will!" declared Beth, kissing her sister's cheek.

That night as she lay in bed, her left cheek resting gently on her pillow as she looked at Amy's serene, happy face, she thought of all that she was to leave at home for some strange unknown world, and she felt a tremor run through her. One of trepidation, anxiety, and a very real fear – but also one of an odd excitement, such as one she had never felt before. No, this was alien to her; the prospect of adventure, new experiences, new explorations... and perhaps romance. But Beth shook that idea out of her head as quickly as it had come – where had it come from? She was not romantic, never had been.

And how could she have been? She was nothing but stupid little Beth, trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but there. But here was this new emotion stirring in her heart, and 'little Miss Tranquility' was frankly terrified by it.

Beth fancied that it was reflected in Amy's feelings as well, for her younger sister had expressed, upon hearing the news, a sort of elation which now touched Beth. Dear Amy! How glad she must be – but however far she might fly from home, she never will forget it. She was like a happy lark trying to get up among the clouds, but always dropping down into its nest again. Dear little girl! So ambitious, yet her heart was good and tender. Beth promised to herself that she would stick by her pretty young sister through thick and thin, however little guidance she could offer.

Her thoughts then turned to Jo; dear, funny, mischievous, harum-scarum Jo. How could she bear to leave her? She would miss her so much; but at least on this horrid trip across the ocean she would have Amy, while Jo would be left all alone – except for Laurie. With that thought, another startling idea crept into Beth's mind, sprouted wings, and took flight. Beth shook her head again to clear it. The thought of travelling was getting to her head.

Beth let her eyes lift to the quaint window in the room, through which moonlight flooded in – beautiful tonight, in a wispy, ephemeral sort of beauty. It was particularly bright that night. Under ordinary circumstances she would have thought it shone benevolently; but tonight the light was only eerie and whimsical, and bespoke of change.

She reached out a thin hand to brush aside a fluttering curl from her sister's forehead, and then suddenly stilled, her gaze caught by the almost ghostly transparency of her flesh, epitomized in the pale moonlight. She brought her hand back, close to her heart, and a quiet tear rolled down her cheek.

"Dear God," she murmured in a soft prayer. "Let me not go through the Valley of the Shadow in a foreign land; let me breathe my last where I drew my first."