Little Tranquillity

Notes

And here is a little bit of Fred and Flo for the wait

And he ended up in Rome. He did not know why. Did he really need 'inspiration' for his business? He thought not. His real intention might have been to call on Miss Carrol. And he was sure Grace understood that well, judging by her mischievous grin when he announced he would like to visit Rome. He could not forget that expression, and to wipe it off his mind was not quite as easy as it was thought to be. But he found his task, presently, much more difficult than that.

He was not a saint: far from it, in fact, and what he thought of Miss Carrol turned from plain affection to honourable admiration and to, he blushed to recollect, some undeniably sinful thoughts. If Grace could read minds - Lord help him - he would never hear the end of it. If he had one wish - naught but one, he would gladly wish he had never seen Florence Carrol.

Flo Carrol was, to say the least, interesting. But that could, by no means, justify his interest in her. Jo March was interesting enough, but did he spare any more glances at her than he should? Nay, he was too afraid of her. But Miss Carrol was an utterly different character. While Miss March was stern and mean she was amiable and encouraging. Miss March looked as if she wanted him out of her sight while she would sit calmly and listen with interest as he talked.

He shuddered at the thought. If he went any further he would have begun on such sinful thoughts that if he was to listen to that boring old clergyman Mr Edwards for an entire morning he would still have half of them left. And as far he was concerned, he had never managed to sit through any of his hour-long morning sermons.

He strode through the streets and looked up: he had to sigh and resist the urge to crash his head against the wall. Why was he even here? No: he could not possibly look at Miss Carrol in the face with his present state of mind, and surely Miss March would be able to make out his motives towards her cousin and despite her apparent disdain towards her younger, more frivolous cousin he was fairly certain Miss March would gladly have his head chopped off and hung on her parlour wall if she'd ever learnt that he'd harboured suggestive thoughts about Miss Carrol.

But here he was, and there was no possibility of leaving just as he had arrived. Perhaps he should try his luck and pray that Miss Carrol had gone out to see her friends or perhaps to see the old Roman ruins he so detested. And so he puffed his chest, pretended to be the brave idiot he appeared to be and knocked on the door. A young girl appeared and on inquiring his motive had replied in forced English that Mrs March, Mr and Mrs Carrol had brought Misses March and Carrol to the theatre and was rather unlikely to return before supper. Has was secretly relieved, and pretending to be disappointed, he left her a note, and prayed silently, in vain, that dear Miss Carrol would at least read it.

His relief was short lived, however, for the March family presently came charging down the street with Aunt March looking inconsolably angry. The blithe Miss Carrol reached him first and said, delightedly, in a hushed tone, 'Why, Mr Vaughn! I had not been told that you are in Rome! Perhaps Jo had hidden it from me on purpose, to spite me over our fight on gloves, but oh, that should be impossible, for that is so very long ago and I'm certain Jo would never so anything as stupid. Is this a new plan of yours, to see Rome? I assure you there is not much to see. Perhaps I might change my mind when we see the ruins tomorrow, but the theatre was terrible. You already know that, I reckon. Look there! I'm babbling as if I'm daft. Aunt March would be very disappointed in me. I should stop talking. I should, don't you think?'

And poor Mr Vaughn had to bite the insides of his cheeks to refrain from answering Miss Carrol, lest he said something idiotic right in front of her (almost) entire family. He shook his head, and said, amiably, 'I came on business, and I thought, perhaps your family could spare me a half hour and listen to me talk unstoppably about every other silly thing I can think of. But you had not appeared to be around and now I must leave you, perhaps you could spare me that half hour next week, and I shall be very much obliged to you. Good evening, Sir, and Mesdames, I must leave you, and see you in the near future,' and shoving his note into Miss Carrol's hands, he flew down the street in the most cowardly way ever witnessed by the human eye possible, leaving an incredibly bewildered Miss, Mr and Mrs Carrol, an incredibly disapproving Miss March and an incredibly furious Mrs March.