"Theodore," Aunt March snapped quietly, gesturing for him to come closer. Laurie made his way across the parlor with haste. Even after all these years, the old woman still scared him a little.
"Yes, Aunt March?"
"Tell me why Josephine is acting so- so-" Aunt March gestured wildly. "Oddly?"
"You haven't heard yet? No one has told you?" Laurie grinned, glancing into the next room where Jo was pinning up her hair again, humming to herself.
"Obviously not."
"It's that professor," Laurie whispered gleefully. "Marmee says we must act natural, and let things progress on their own time, so don't mention a single thing about it to Jo. But she goes about singing and smiling, and we all know it's because of that man."
"A man?" Aunt March scoffed. "A professor?"
Jo was suddenly in the doorway. "What about him?" she asked.
"We were just wondering if he would be over for dinner again tonight, Jo," Laurie said quickly.
"He said he would when I asked him this morning. He should be here soon. Did I tell you I ran into him at the post office?"
She had, but Laurie shook his head with an indulgent smile so she didn't feel awkward. "That's great, I do enjoy his company."
"Me too," Jo sighed. "Speaking of, I should make sure there's coffee for dinner. Friedrich- I mean the professor doesn't care for tea much."
"Friedrich?" Aunt March muttered as Jo went away, a spring in her step. "A German professor then?"
"Yes. He really is capital, I think even you'll like him. Here he comes now actually," Laurie darted to the door as a tall bearded man made his way up the garden path. Aunt March watched as the man greeted Laurie like they were lifelong friends, took his hat off, and propped his umbrella by the door. Laurie wasted no time in introducing the two.
"This is Professor Bhaer. Professor, this is Aunt March. She's Mr. March's aunt, the one Jo is named after."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mees," the professor said. He had a nice firm handshake, which Aunt March appreciated. "I haf heard so much of you from my Jo- I mean, Josephine." Flustered at the slip-up, the professor ran his hands through his hair then stuck them in his pockets awkwardly.
Aunt March sniffed. This man was already pretty far gone. She could see it. There were flowers stuck in his pocket, and his hair had been brushed back before he ran his hand through it. He was also obviously poor. Every one of the fingers of his gloves needed mending. His coat had been mended at the elbows several times. Grey hairs stood out at his temples. What on earth did Josephine see in him? He didn't seem like the type to sweep her off her feet in the way of those horrible novels Jo was always reading. He certainly had little to no status. His thick accent made him hard to understand.
Well, there must be something, or her grandniece wouldn't be so taken with him.
"Where is Jo, by the way?" Bhaer asked Laurie.
"Who knows," Aunt March said, "perhaps in the kitchen making a mess. Or up in her gloomy attic space scribbling nonsense."
The professor laughed. "Ah, she is on fire again? I do hope she lets me read it if that is the case." His hand lingered over his pocket before loosening his cravat. "I wish to ask her something."
Alarm bells went off in Aunt March's head. Laurie's smile grew wider. "She'll be back soon. In fact, I can go get her. I think I know where she is."
Aunt March watched the Laurence boy leave and waited until he was a good distance away. "What is it that you wish to ask my grandniece? It wouldn't be a proposal, would it?"
She watched the man flush to the tips of his ears. "Not exactly," he said. "I wish to know if I could possibly be more than a friend. And then perhaps... do you object?" He looked worried.
The old woman considered it. She looked the man up and down again. She could have laughed; he really was like a bear. Big, with lots of hair. But there was something about his wire-rimmed glasses and big hands that reminded her of someone. Her feelings toward him softened slightly, but she didn't let it show yet. "Hm. I suppose she is lucky anyone wants to marry her, so she had better accept before she turns into a 'literary spinster' as she calls it. You may have to help her break a few habits, but after that, I am sure she would make... a decent enough wife."
The professor looked slightly perturbed. The old woman caught this reaction and held back a smile. "Break some habits? Such as?"
"She spends whole evenings scribbling up in that attic. When she is a married woman, that is time better spent with her husband or her children."
"I- I would not mind- in a hypothetical situation, of course, I am not saying this will happen- spending time with my own children to give her an hour or two for herself in the evenings." At the mention of these hypothetical children, the professor's flush became even worse. He loosened his cravat further. "She is good at writing. She should not quit."
Hm. That was an interesting answer. Aunt March didn't let any of the thoughts racing through her mind show on her face as she stood up and gave that man a hard look. "Josephine has an awful temper. Never will compromise, she is so hardheaded."
"I have yet to see just how awful this temper can supposedly be. In the time I have known her, I have known a very reasonable- if stubborn- woman."
Aunt March stood, leaning on her walking stick. "I suppose the passing of her sister has... softened her a bit," she hummed, taking a step closer. "And what happens if she says no?" She heard of the dramatics the Laurence boy had displayed after his botched proposal (if you could even call it that). Jo had been a nervous wreck for a week afterward hoping he wouldn't kill himself. God forbid any other man do that to her. "What happens if she turns you down and you came here for nothing? What happens if she is disgusted with you?" She turned and gave him a sharp look.
Bhaer flinched. "I... well, that would be the end of it then. I will carry on the way I planned, out west to teach and earn money to make the way smooth for my nephews. If she wishes for a friend, I will be so. If she wishes me to be a proofreader, I will be so. If she wishes us to never speak again..." He shrugged, looking pained by the very idea of never speaking to Jo again. "You think she will say no?"
Aunt March sighed. "I don't know. But if she says yes, she might be happy with you. Go ahead and ask her."
Bhaer looked shocked and wary. "Are you sure?"
"I'm not the one who has to be sure."
The professor opened his mouth to ask another question, but Jo came bursting into the room, interrupting them. Her face was flushed and Aunt March could see that she had done up her hair yet again in a different way. "Mr. Bhaer! You're here! You've met Aunt March," Jo glanced nervously at her aunt.
"Yes," Bhaer confirmed. "She is... very interesting."
"Laurie says you wanted to ask me something," Jo said, almost shyly. A hesitant sort of hope shone in her eyes as she waited for the question.
"Ah, yes, I did." The professor fidgeted. Aunt March rolled her eyes. Maybe she'd been a bit too intense with those questions. He seemed to have lost his nerve. "Do you enjoy lilies, Mees Marsch?"
"Yes," she said. "Why?"
"I thought you might," he withdrew the slightly crushed flowers from his pocket. "This is... thank you, your family has been so kind to me."
"Well, we like you," Jo said matter-of-factly, accepting the lilies. "Father has been looking forward to your visit, he started that book you recommended."
Aunt March cleared her throat. Jo turned to her, a blush on her face as if she had been caught doing something she ought not to. "Is dinner ready? I was thinking of staying over if your mother doesn't mind."
"Of course not, Aunt March," Jo offered her arm to her aunt. "Come on, let's go. Marmee told Laurie to set the table, he should be done soon. I'll shout for him to put out another plate-"
"You shall do no such thing."
"I will ask. It's just an expression, I wasn't really going to shout. Oh, I'll find a vase for the flowers too." Jo glanced back at the professor, and they shared a look that even the most oblivious dimwit would pick up on. Aunt March scowled. God, they were going to be an unbearably sappy couple, weren't they?