Little Vampire Women (15 page)
Read Little Vampire Women Online
Authors: Lynn Messina
Tags: #Young adult fiction, #March; Meg (Fictitious character), #Family life - New England, #Fiction, #Families - New England, #March family (Fictitious characters), #Families, #Horror, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Sisters, #19th Century, #Humorous Stories, #Alcott; Louisa May, #New England - History - 19th century, #Juvenile Fiction, #Family Life, #Fantasy & Magic, #United States, #Historical, #Classics, #Vampires, #Family, #Sisters - New England, #General, #Fantasy, #March; Jo (Fictitious character), #Horror stories, #New England
“Not the least, my dear,” said Jo smugly, removing herself from Tudor’s person and allowing him to stand up while the magistrate was called for to apprehend him. She knew that the villain, being from one of the best families and related by marriage to a living
lord, would suffer nothing worse than a slap on the wrist, but she couldn’t very well eliminate him there in the Porters’ drawing room, for, though her sister gave her no credit for manners, she did realize that was not precisely the thing.
Having completed her task, Jo tried to extricate herself from the rest of the visits, but Amy insisted they carry forward with their original plan. Luckily, the Phillipses were out and the young ladies in the fifth house were engaged. That left Aunt March, who Jo thought they should skip entirely, but Amy insisted they go, for her aunt liked them to pay her the compliment of coming in style and making a formal call.
They found the old lady preparing to pay a call on them, and grateful she wouldn’t have to leave herself open to attack by stepping out of her house, she invited them to have a small rodent in her drawing room. After their grueling night, both girls eagerly accepted the snack, which Jo wolfed down and Amy sucked daintily at for fifteen minutes.
“Are you going to help about the fair, dear?” asked Aunt March.
“Yes, Aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give.”
“I’m not,” put in Jo decidedly. “I hate to be patronized, and the Chesters think it’s a great favor to allow us to help with their highly connected fair. I wonder
you consented, Amy, they only want you to work.”
“I am willing to work. It’s for the freedmen as well as the Chesters, and I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun. Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant.”
“Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear. It’s a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts. Some do not, and that is trying,” observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression.
If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one of them, she would have turned dove-like in a minute, but unfortunately, extrasensory vampire powers do not extend to mind-reading, no matter what it says in some sensationalistic French novels.
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Better for them that they cannot as a general thing, but now and then it would be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper. By her next speech, Jo deprived herself of several years of pleasure, and received a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue.
“I don’t like favors, they oppress and make me feel
like a slave. I’d rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent.”
This was a very damaging statement indeed, as Jo had cause to learn a few moments later, when Aunt March announced that she would be taking Amy with her to Europe the next week. The advantages to the girl were obvious, Aunt March said, but she listed them again for Jo’s benefit, including her excellent manners, docility, fluency in French, and her deft skills as a protectress, for she could see her niece was very disappointed by the information, though she admirably, and surprisingly, held her tongue until she got home.
“Oh, Mother!” Jo cried. “She’s too young, it’s my turn first. I’ve wanted it so long. It would do me so much good, and be so altogether splendid. I must go!”
“I’m afraid it’s impossible, Jo. Aunt says Amy, decidedly, and it is not for us to dictate when she offers such a favor.”
“It’s always so. Amy has all the fun and I have all the work. It isn’t fair, oh, it isn’t fair!” cried Jo passionately.
As her mother pointed out all the ways in which the decision had been influenced by her daughter’s poor performance, the girl thought of all she would be missing by not going to Europe. Oh, what a desperate tragedy! How she longed to travel and see new places and meet ancient vampires who lived in gloomy castles atop menacing cliffs!
“…no hope of it this time, so try to bear
it cheerfully, and don’t sadden Amy’s pleasure by reproaches or regrets,” her mother said, concluding her little lecture on Jo’s dreadful behavior, most of which its subject missed.
“Jo, dear, I’m very selfish, but I couldn’t spare you, and I’m glad you are not going quite yet,” whispered Beth, embracing her, basket and all, with such a clinging touch and loving face that Jo felt comforted in spite of the sharp regret that made her want to box her own ears, and humbly beg Aunt March to burden her with this favor, and see how gratefully she would bear it.
But the sight of Beth’s sweet face reminded her of a more important journey she had to undertake, which that night’s disappointments had driven entirely from her mind, further proof, she thought, that paying calls was nothing but a time-wasting faradiddle. Dr. Bang was still at large, and Beth would never be safe until the sworn enemy of all the Marches had been stopped and his evil plans thwarted once and for all. To accomplish that, Jo would follow him anywhere, to the ends of the earth or the bowels of hell if necessary, so New York City didn’t seem very far to go at all.
TENDER TROUBLES
“I
want to go away somewhere this winter for a change,” announced Jo to Marmee.
“Why, Jo?” and her mother looked up quickly.
With her eyes on her work Jo answered soberly, “I want something new. I feel restless and anxious to be seeing, doing, and learning more than I am. I brood too much over my own small affairs, and need stirring up, so as I can be spared this winter, I’d like to hop a little way and try my wings.”
“Where will you hop?”
“To New York. I had a bright idea yesterday, and this is it. You know Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young vampire to teach her children and sew. It’s rather hard to find just the thing, but I think I should suit if I tried.”
“My dear, go out to service in that great boardinghouse!” and Mrs. March looked surprised, but not displeased.
“It’s not exactly going out to service, for Mrs. Kirke is your friend—the kindest vampire that ever lived—and would make things pleasant for me, I know. Her family is separate from the rest, and no one knows me there. Don’t care if they do. It’s honest work, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
“Nor I. But your training?”
“All the better for the change. The salon has an affiliate in New York, and Gentleman Jackson has written a letter of introduction for me. I shall see and hear new things and get new ideas.”
“I have no doubt of it, but are these your only reasons for this sudden fancy?”
“No, Mother.”
“May I know the others?”
Jo looked up and Jo looked down, wondering how much to tell her, for Marmee had also noticed Beth’s low spirits. The girl sat alone a good deal, didn’t talk to their father as much as she used to, sang sad songs, and had a look in her eye that was hard to understand. Jo knew the strange behavior was on account of her fear of Dr. Bang, but she couldn’t tell her mother that, for Marmee would never let her go to New York City if she suspected danger. But nor could she lie to her mother. “It may be vain and wrong to say it, but—I’m
afraid—Laurie is getting too fond of me.”
It was a convenient truth commandeered on the spot, but it was also a relevant one, she realized, recalling the odd mixture of anxiety and merriment in Laurie’s face yesterday when she instructed him to devote himself to one of the “pretty, modest girls” whom he did respect, and not waste his time with the silly ones.
“Then you don’t care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?” and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.
“Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him, but as for anything more, it’s out of the question.”
“I’m glad of that, Jo.”
“Why, please?”
“Because, dear, I don’t think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.”
“That’s just the feeling I had, though I couldn’t express it,” Jo said, knowing it was true. She would never love someone so well that she would happily surrender that freedom she was so fond of. But she
feared Laurie would never understand that. “I’m glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy, for I couldn’t turn the dear old fellow into a vampire merely out of gratitude, could I?”
“You are sure of his feeling for you?”
Jo grew more uncomfortable as she answered, with the look of mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking of first lovers, “I’m afraid it is so, Mother. He hasn’t said anything, but he looks a great deal and you know how he’s always wanted to be a vampire. I think I had better go away before it comes to anything.”
“I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go.”
Jo looked relieved, for she had no idea what she would do if Marmee didn’t grant her permission to go to New York to find Dr. Bang, and after a pause, said, smiling, “Thank you. Let us say nothing about it to Laurie till the plan is settled, then I’ll run away before he can collect his wits and be tragic.”
The plan was talked over in a family council and agreed upon, for Mrs. Kirke gladly accepted Jo, and promised to make a pleasant home for her. The teaching would render her independent, and such leisure as she got might be made useful by training, while the new scenes and society would be agreeable. Jo was eager to be gone, for she could not rest comfortably in the home
nest knowing it was threatened. As well, her restless nature and adventurous spirit loathed to be idle when there was work to be done. When all was settled, with fear and trembling she told Laurie, but to her surprise he took it very quietly. He had been graver than usual of late, but very pleasant, and when jokingly accused of turning over a new leaf, he answered soberly, “So I am, and I mean this one shall stay turned.”
Jo was very much relieved that one of his virtuous fits should come on just then, and made her preparations with a lightened heart, for Beth seemed more cheerful, and knew she was doing the best for all.
“One thing I leave in your especial care,” she said, the night before she left.
“You mean your books?” asked Beth.
“No, my boy. Be very good to him, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, but I can’t fill your place, and he’ll miss you sadly.”
“It won’t hurt him, so remember, I leave him in your charge, to plague, pet, and keep in order.”
“I’ll do my best, for your sake,” promised Beth, wondering why Jo looked at her so queerly.
When Laurie said good-bye, he whispered significantly, “It won’t do a bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you, so mind what you do, or I’ll come and bring you home.”
JO’S JOURNAL
New York, March
Dear Marmee and Beth,
I’m going to write you a regular volume, for I’ve got heaps to tell about my situation, though I’m not a fine young vampire lady traveling on the continent like Amy. I enjoyed my journey with all my heart, and Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little sky parlor—all she had, but there is a stove in it, and a roomy coffin far from the window. The nursery, where I teach and sew, is a pleasant room next Mrs. Kirke’s private parlor, and the two little girls are pretty children, rather spoiled, I fancy, but they took to me after telling them “The Seven Bad Pigs,” and my days have already fallen into a familiar pattern of teaching, sewing, and training.
I have my meals with the children, for I’m too bashful
at present to eat with all the strangers at the great table, though no one will believe it. The children dine on rats, squirrels, and chicken, as do I, for Mrs. K. knows that I have been raised a devout humanitarian and would never want to undermine your teachings in any way.
The house is a mix of humans and vampires, which is an unusual combination and makes for some interesting interaction at sunrise and sunset, when there is the most dealings between the two. On the second evening, as I went downstairs after breakfast, two of the young human men were setting their hats before the hall mirror after a long day at work, and I heard one say low to the other, “Who’s the new party?”
“Governess vampire, or something of that sort.”
“What the deuce is she doing here?”
“Friend of the old lady’s.”
“Handsome head, but no style.”
“Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on.”
I felt angry at first, and then I didn’t care, for a governess is as good as a clerk, and I’ve got sense, if I haven’t style, which is more than some people have, judging from the remarks of the elegant beings who clattered away, smoking like bad chimneys. I hate ordinary people!
The vampires in the house are much lovelier, for none of them are particularly plump in the pocket and have none of the airs of the wealthy. They are down-to-earth folk and very kind, even the ones who hunt their own food, and I’ve had many interesting conversations
with my fellow-boarders.
One such pleasant vampire is Professor Friedrich Bhaer, whom I first saw taking a heavy hod of coal out of the hands of a human servant girl and saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent, “It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such heaviness.”
Wasn’t it good of him? I like such things, for as Father says, trifles show character, and so many vampires pay scant attention to humans, let alone ones who are maids and such.
Professor Bhaer is from Alba Iulia,
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very learned and good, but poor as a church mouse, and gives lessons to humans to support himself. For some of his scholars, Mrs. K. lends him her parlor, which is separated from the nursery by a glass door, so while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. He appears to be about forty years old but is almost six hundred in chronological years. A regular Transylvanian—rather stout, with brown hair tumbled all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one’s ears good, after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn’t a really handsome feature in his face, except his beautiful fangs, yet I liked him, for he had a fine head, his linen was very nice, and he looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat and there
was a patch on one shoe. He looked sober in spite of his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the moon.
Tina, the child of the Frenchwoman who does the fine ironing in the laundry here, has lost her heart to Mr. Bhaer, and follows him about the house like a dog whenever he is at home, which delights him, as he is very fond of children, though a “bacheldore.” Kitty and Minnie Kirke likewise regard him with affection, and tell all sorts of stories about the plays he invents, the presents he brings, and the splendid tales he tells. The younger vampire men quiz him, it seems, call him Old Fritz, Lager Beer, Ursa Major, and make all manner of jokes on his name. But he enjoys it like a boy, Mrs. Kirke says, and takes it so good-naturedly that they all like him in spite of his foreign ways.
I met him when he came into the parlor with some newspapers for Mrs. Kirke. She wasn’t there, but Minnie, who is a little old woman, introduced me very prettily.
“This is Mamma’s friend, Miss March.”
“Yes, and she’s jolly and we like her lots,” added Kitty, who is an “enfant terrible.”
We both bowed, and then we laughed, for the prim introduction and the blunt addition were rather a comical contrast.
“Ah, yes, I hear these naughty ones go to vex you, Mees Marsch. If so again, call at me and I come,” he said, with a threatening frown that delighted the little wretches.
I promised I would, and he departed, but it seems as if I was doomed to see a good deal of him, for the next day as I passed his door on my way out, by accident I knocked against it with my umbrella. It flew open, and there he stood in his dressing gown, with a big blue sock on one hand and a darning needle in the other. He didn’t seem at all ashamed of it, for when I explained and hurried on, he waved his hand, sock and all, saying in his loud, cheerful way…
“You haf a fine night to make your valk. Bon voyage, Mademoiselle.”
I laughed all the way downstairs, but it was a little pathetic, also to think of the poor man having to mend his own clothes. The Transylvanian gentlemen embroider, I know, but darning hose is another thing and not so pretty.
Although I don’t have much time to spare, I was moved to offer my help, which he only accepted as an even exchange of services, so now I’m taking Transylvanian
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lessons. The Professor also teaches German, Romanian, and Hungarian but I chose Transylvanian because it is, as my tutor says, the hidden language of our ancestors. I’m somewhat reluctant about the endeavor, for as you know I have little skill when it comes to languages but the
Professor is confident that I’ll catch on quickly. I’m sure my first few lessons will go smoothly and then I will get stuck fast in a grammatical bog.
I’ve been so busy settling in, I haven’t had much time to spend at Gentleman Jackson’s New York affiliate, called the New Institute for Vampire-Slayer Hunting, but I have stopped by and introduced myself to the instructors, who are worldly and wise and somewhat rougher or harder than their Concord counterparts. No defender could be higher in my estimation than Gentleman Jackson, for he has been about this business for many centuries, even before our kind ceased to live in shadows, but the vampires here seem very experienced and knowing. I’m positive that, with their help, I’ll learn a great many things.
I think that’s enough information for one missive, for it’s late now and I must go to my coffin if I am to get any rest at all this day. Please know that so far my big-city adventure is shaping up to be most happy and productive and yet I still miss you all dreadfully. I will promise not to get into any mischief if you will all promise to be well and not change. (That goes double for you, Bethy!) Send my love to Laurie, who I hope is happy and busy, that he has given up smoking and lets his hair grow. Read him bits of my letter. I haven’t time to write much, and that will do just as well.
Bless you all! Ever your loving…Jo
