Pride and Prejudice, Emma, and Persuasion, combined in a Little Women story. 19th century New England, as Alcott had it.
Disclaimer: names that you recognize from Jane Austen's masterpieces are NOT mine. And lots and lots of the writing is not mine, either. More lines than I care to admit are stolen shamelessly from Louisa May Alcott. Much of the plot is borrowed from her lovely story, too. To surmise, anything that you recognize is NOT MINE.
The March Girls, Chapter Three
"Emma, Emma! Where are you?" cried Jane at the foot of the garret stairs.
"Here," answered an exasperated voice from above, and, running up, Jane found her sister painting one of the nearly wilted hothouse bouquets by the sunny window. This was one of Emma's favourite refuges, and she often retreated here to paint or draw to her heart's content. Now Emma laid her paintbrush aside and waited to hear what news had her sister so excited.
"Such fun! Only see! A regular note of invitation from Mrs Gardiner for tomorrow night!" cried Jane, waving a piece of paper and then proceeding to read it with girlish delight.
"'Mrs Gardiner would be happy to see Miss March and Miss Emma at a little dance on New Year's Eve.' Marmee is willing we should go, now what shall we wear?"
"Our poplins, of course," said Emma, standing up and arranging the flowers. "What's the use of asking that? We don't have anything else." There was a touch of resigned melancholy in her tone.
"How I wish I had silk!" said Jane mournfully. "Mother says I may when I'm eighteen, perhaps – but two years is such a long time to wait."
"I daresay our pops are good enough for us. Yours will look like silk, it looks so new," said Emma, in a soothing voice, but then her face turned frantic. "Oh Lord! But what of mine? I forgot the burn and tear in the back." She thought it was very kind of her not to mention whose fault it was (Lizzy's). "Oh dearest Jane, what shall I do? And there is a rip in the hem, too."
"Now, now, Emma," consoled Jane. "It won't show very badly if you sit still, and keep your back out of sight. Your dress is still a bit long for you, so I shall help you tuck it in, and then there will be an end to that problem." Jane then turned to more pressing concerns. "Do you think Mother would lend me her little pearl pin?"
"Yes, it would look lovely in your hair," agreed Emma. "And oh, but my gloves are so stained with paint – maroon paint! – and what shall I do with my slippers? They're tight and hurt so."
"I suppose you may wear Marmee's old ones in her trunk, though they are a bit old-fashioned and worn. As for your gloves, you can embroider over them, in little ivy or flower designs. It would be just the thing, and look so quaint!" said Jane.
"Yes, but maroon, though it does match my dress," said Emma, woefully. "I suppose I can do my initials."
Jane kissed her, and pranced happily away, singing blithely as she skipped down the stairs to "accept with thanks" Mrs Gardiner's note. She then proceeded to look over her dress, and do up her one lace frill; and not forgetting Emma's dress, she carefully tucked in her sister's hem.
On New Year's Eve the parlour was deserted, for the younger girls were busy upstairs playing maid to their older sisters. They were all absorbed in the all-important business of "getting ready for the party". Simple though the toilettes were, there was a great deal of running up and down, laughing and talking, and when finally the two were finished, they all claimed the effect was quite splendid.
"Christopher Columbus, you both look so nice that I do declare I'm nearly tempted to be a lady myself," said Elizabeth, laughing.
"Nearly," replied Emma with a smirk.
"Yes, you do look nice, but I think Lizzy would look odd all dressed up like that. Besides, I like her the way she is," said Anne, taking Lizzy's hand. Elizabeth squeezed her fingers fondly.
"Do you really think it looks fine enough?" said Jane, anxiously peering into the mirror.
"Oh yes," said Elizabeth, nodding her head emphatically.
Jane did look beautifully resplendent, in her silvery-blue dress, poplin or no. The little pearl pin looked lovely against her golden hair, as Emma had predicted; speaking of which, that young lady looked pretty too, in her maroon dress, which matched the "E.M." on her gloves. The dress was done up with all sorts of different little artistic touches, and Anne commended her ingenuity.
"You chose to wear your slippers after all?" said Jane, looking down.
"Yes," said Emma, wincing even at the thought of those horrid shoes. "Mother's pair was stained, and so old. They are terribly tight, though."
"Of course, but, dear me, let us be elegant or die," remarked Elizabeth, bouncing on the bed, and got whacked by a pillow for it.
"Have a nice time, dear Emma," mumbled Elizabeth, her voice muffled.
"Thank you," was her laughing response, and she descended, with Jane following.
"Goodbye!" cried Anne, leaning out the window, when she saw two bonnets bobbing out the front door. Then she heard her mother's voice, calling from the dining room window below, "Jane! Emma! Have you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs?"
"Yes, very nice ones, and Jane has some cologne on hers!" Emma called back.
Elizabeth smiled from her spot on the bed, hugging the pillow to her chest. "I daresay Mother would ask that if we were running away from an earthquake."
Meanwhile, Emma and Jane were walking daintily down the street. "... one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a real lady is known by neat boots, gloves and handkerchief," Jane was saying. She had a good many "aristocratic tastes" of her own.
"Now, don't forget to mind your back, Emma," said Jane, after a prolonged prink in the Gardiners' dressing room. "And do be careful of those slippers."
"I will."
Down they went, feeling slightly timid, for they rarely went to parties, and even though this was a small gathering it was an event for the two girls. Mrs Gardiner greeted them kindly, and her daughter Sallie immediately drew Jane into conversation. Jane's pretty looks and ladylike manner appealed to her, and Sallie went about the room introducing "Miss March" to all her friends. As soon as the music started Jane was asked to dance, being about "five times prettier than any other girl in the room" as Emma saw it.
Emma herself seemed to attract some partners too, but she always slipped away, thinking how mortified she should be if the burn and tear in the back of her dress were to show. And then there was the matter of her shoes. They were pinching her toes dreadfully.
Slipping into a curtained recess, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. But another person had also taken refuge there, and she found herself face-to-face with a serious-looking boy some two years older than her.
Emma started to stammer an apology, and inched away slowly, all the while blushing furiously, but the boy smiled and said pleasantly, "It's alright, you may stay."
"I – I'm not disturbing you?" said Emma doubtfully.
"Not at all."
Silence reigned for awhile, with the boy gazing sombrely at her, and Emma biting her lip nervously. At last she came up with an unoriginal, "Well?"
"Yes?" the boy looked startled.
"Shan't you introduce yourself? I'm Emma March. You may call me Emma, if you like."
"Oh! I see," he inclined his head, having not much room to bow. "George Knightley."
"Charmed," said Emma, absently fingering the stitching on her glove. Then her head snapped up, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Charlie mentioned something..."
"Charles Bingley, you mean?" said George, smiling. "He's my cousin, and right this moment out there prancing about somewhere. He likes this sort of thing, which is more than can be said for me."
"So you're the bookish fellow he was talking about," said Emma carelessly, then she reddened. "I beg your pardon, Mr Knightley."
"It's quite alright, and I'm not Mr Knightley, only George," said the boy solemnly, but his eyes twinkled with fun. "Charles did speak of your conversation, and – what was it, Snuff box? – anyhow, I've wanted to meet my charming neighbours ever since."
"Snuff box!" cried Emma, a little indignantly. "Mind, George, it's Annie's cat, and a regular good one too. His name is Snuffles."
"I apologize," said George, hiding a smile.
"Oh, it's alright," said Emma. "It is a funny name, and I told Annie so, but she thought it was sweet. At least it is better than Chris – that's what Lizzy wanted to call him, after Christopher Columbus, you know. She's always saying it."
"I see."
"Yes. Why do you not dance? I'm not because there is a terrible tear on the back of this dress," confided Emma. Somewhere in the back of her mind Jane's voice sounded and told her in stern tones that one did not relay this kind of information at such a party; but Emma dismissed it. George didn't seem the sort of boy to laugh at something like that.
And he didn't. "I feel awkward. I've been abroad a good many years, and haven't been in company enough yet to feel entirely at ease."
"Abroad! Oh, do tell! I love dearly to hear people tell of their travels. Did you visit any great museums? You see I love to hear about art especially."
George was at first uncomfortable, but Emma soon set him at ease, having a natural sort of lively charm that drew people out. She chatted gaily, asking eager questions, and George answered them with growing enthusiasm.
"Did you go with Charlie then?" asked Emma.
George nodded. "Speaking of which, he wanted to introduce me tonight to a 'Jane March'. He somehow found out that she was to be here, and has been excited to come ever since."
"Oh!" cried Emma. "I hope Jane has not missed me."
Emma drew the curtain aside a little, and peeked out. She spotted Jane, who by her horrified expression most likely saw her poking her head out. Glancing about her nervously, Jane gracefully made her way to where Emma stood.
"Emma," she hissed.
"I'm sorry," Emma whispered back. "But I didn't want to dance, you know, with the burn and all. So I had to hide."
"There is such a thing as declining an offer, you know."
"It's all Lizzy's fault, anyway," said Emma petulantly. Then she recalled herself, and stepped out, beckoning to the solitary figure still inside.
"Jane, this is George Knightley, Charlie Bingley's cousin."
"How do you do?" said Jane politely.
"Very well, thank you," replied George. He seemed to be looking beyond Jane, with a curious expression on his face.
"George, there you are, I've been looking for you. Where were you? I wanted to point out Miss Mar—," Charlie halted abruptly, when he saw who was with his cousin, and turned a truly remarkable scarlet.
"Miss M-March," he stuttered. Emma thought it infinitely amusing that he didn't even remember to acknowledge her.
"So you are Charlie," said Jane pleasantly. "You may call me Jane, if you wish. Thank you for retrieving Snuffles the other day. We did appreciate it ever so much, especially Annie."
Emma meanwhile was looking at Jane and Charlie thoughtfully, a gleam in her eye. "Jane looks very lovely tonight; don't you think so, Charlie?" She watched, her blue eyes merry, as Jane pinked slightly with pleasure.
"Y-yes," said Charlie. He still had not gotten over his embarrassment, and had not yet fully regained his ability to form coherent sentences.
"Will you not ask her to dance?"
"Of- of course," said Charlie, stumbling as he turned to Jane. He held out a hand, and looked to her with such entreaty in his eyes that Jane smiled, and took it.
Emma turned gleefully to George after they departed.
"Emma," he said in a slightly reproachful tone.
"Well, he did seem happy," said Emma defiantly. "Wait till I go home and tell Lizzy. She and I will have a grand laugh then."
"At the expense of my cousin and your sister."
Emma looked up at him, hurt. "Of course not! Only they are so suited to one another, and at least I hope they will be friends."
"You are very young to be matchmaking," said George, though his voice was less stern.
Emma shrugged. "It's not matchmaking. I shan't wish them to marry – heavens, no! Jane is only sixteen, and shouldn't for at least many, many years. I only wanted to help poor Charlie, he seemed so unhappy that Jane took no notice of him. Like a little schoolboy who can't overcome his admiration."
"That is a very apt description!" exclaimed George. "He fancies himself in love at the drop of a hat – or rather, a pretty face and blue eyes. Mind, he likes blue eyes, preferably big ones."
Emma laughed, catching the note of exasperation in his voice. "You are very cruel to say such things of your cousin."
"He also tends to fall out of love just as quickly. You do think that your sister is not in any, erm, danger?"
"Lord, no. She sees him as a small child, really. You see she has this older-sister complex, what with having three younger siblings and all," said Emma. Then she winced slightly.
"Are you alright?" asked George.
"Perfectly. Only – promise you won't tell?"
"Of course."
"My slippers are bothering me. They're quite terribly tight, and I don't know how in the world I'll be able to make it home. And Hannah shan't be here till much later," said Emma, wincing again.
"You should call a carriage," said George, looking at her in concern.
Emma coloured. "I'd prefer not," she said quietly.
Comprehension dawned, and George looked shamefaced. He opened his mouth to apologize, but a cry escaped Emma, and – lo! – she tumbled to the floor.
Many heads turned, and Emma's face flamed in mortification; Jane was at her side in an instant, looking as embarrassed as she, while George lent her a hand to pull her up.
"Oh, I am so very, very sorry," cried Emma.
"What is the matter?" said Jane worriedly, leading her to a chair. "Oh! Never mind, I know. It's your slippers, isn't it? Well, I shan't say 'I told you so', but... Lizzy told you so!"
Despite everything, Emma laughed, albeit weakly. "I've sprained my ankle very badly. How long do you think, before Hannah comes?"
"Not very long," said Jane, glancing at the clock.
Soon Emma was installed in a side room, with her own slippers off and a pair of Sallie Gardiner's on. She entreated Jane to leave her for supper. She was adamant that at least one of them have a good time tonight.
"Keep an eye out for Hannah, and the minute she comes, tell me," said Emma. "Now go, and enjoy yourself."
Jane left, after a kiss on her cheek, and Emma was left to fret on her own.
Jane returned straight after the supper though, with George and Charlie in tow. Charlie was ever eager to obey Jane's every command, and since entertaining Emma was one, he did it with great enthusiasm. George amused Emma with tales of his and Charlie's travels, and the rest of the evening was thus pleasantly spent, until Hannah came.
She came, she saw, she scolded. Emma assured her that she was fine now, although she wasn't much for walking. Hannah sighed and worriedly said they had to call a carriage; Emma immediately protested that it would cost ever so much. George then spoke up quietly, and offered their grandfather's carriage for use, which would come in fifteen minutes. Charlie insisted fervently, quite overwhelmed by the idea of rendering the beautiful Jane March a service – even if by proxy.
Seeing not much other choice, Hannah, Jane and Emma accepted, with heartfelt thanks. When the carriage came they all piled into it, and chattered until they reached home.
Thanking them again, the girls descended, Emma with some difficulty. She limped into the house with Hannah's and Jane's aid, and the moment she entered Elizabeth and Anne bounded to her, Lizzy demanding to know every detail of the party.
When they got a sufficiently intricate account of the evening's events, Elizabeth remarked with a condescending air,
"See! That's what happens when you try so hard to be elegant. I daresay you walk just like a grasshopper in a fit, now."