New York City: 1869
Jo March was fidgeting outside the noisy door of Mr. Dashwood's editing company. Consciously trying to smooth out the wrinkles of her meager skirt before huffing and squaring her shoulders then entering.
A few minutes later the grinning writer, with skirts pulled up showing the trousers underneath, was booking it to the children's learning center eager to begin teaching. The meeting was a success if anything despite being paid less than what a man would make. Jo counted it as a win. While catching her breath, back faced to the fireplace casually glancing at a group of professors talking, specifically one named Friedrich Bhaer an immigrant with a strong masculine nose as well as an accent.
With a brief but entertaining interaction that ended in a burned hem of her dress Jo March was ready to take on the day.
Paris: 1869
One of the youngest of Marches, Amy concentrated on her painting of the picnic scene in front of her, took a step back to discreetly look over the shoulder of the fellow painter beside her. It was vastly different from her painting, less realistic and more... bold. Deciding that she was done painting for the day, Amy cleaned up her supplies and headed towards the carriage occupied by Aunt March who was patiently waiting for her with a letter from her family in Massachusetts. The ride through the park was filled with Aunt March's chatter as Amy read the letter from home: Mother, Father, Hannah, and Beth were doing fine, Meg and John were taking care of the children, Jo was a published writer in New York, and.... no word from Andy.
It had been 4 years since the... fall out of the sisters. Andy still manages to send money to the family as well as to Jo and Amy. Reluctant as she is to spend the hard-earned money her sister had freely given her, it was at least a sign to Amy that her twin was alive somewhere.
Glancing up to reply to Aunt March's question about her letter.
"Mother doesn't say anything about Beth. I feel like I should go back but they all say stay"
"You can do nothing if you go back. The girl is sick, not lonely. And you shouldn't go home until you and Fred Vaughn are properly engaged." Aunt March leaned close as she mentioned the last part.
YOU ARE READING
Unsent Letters: Theodore "Laurie" Laurence/ OFC
FanfictionIn a homely house in Massachusetts lived 5 little women. The oldest at 16, Margaret "Meg" March, was a budding actress with dreams of an elegant warm house filled with the laughter of children and a loving husband. Next was the assertive Josephine...