Who Am I, Mr Laurence? -Theodore Laurence

SCENE THREE

"I can't find my glove!" Meg cried, bustling around the house.

Eva frantically looked in her carriage for her purse. The one with a lock and fur surrounding it. The one that had her gloves. Her only pair of gloves.

"No!" Eva looked through the small locker inside the carriage, all to no avail. "Michael!" the fourteen-year-old cried. "Mi-"

"Yes, Miss?" Michael asked, popping his head from around the carriage. 

Eva looked at her footman. "Do you perhaps know where I have misplaced my glove?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Michael was about to laugh at her "joke" when he realized she wasn't joking. "You're serious?" he asked, his mouth slightly gaping. 

Eva groaned. "That was my only pair of gloves!" 

"I'll pay for myself!" Amy suddenly cried from inside the house. 

Eva was loosing her patience. "Good lord! Jo, Meg, stop talking and come on!" she yelled. 

"I'm sorry, my sweet, but Jo is right. Next time," Meg said, hugging her little sister. 

"Come, Meg, stop petting her!" Jo yelled at Amy. 

"MEG!" Eva yelled again, helping Jo onto the carriage. 

"You'll be sorry for this, Jo March! You too, Evangaline! You'll regret this!"

Jo just rolled her eyes as Meg got on but Eva carefully looked out the window, regreting what she said. 

-Theatre-

Eva let out a full applause and smiled at the stage, now that the play had finished.

"Madam," Laurie said, mock-bowing to Eva as she sashayed through the rows of chairs to get out. 

Eva laughed delicately, hitting Laurie softly on the arm. "Oh, stop, Theo. You know I hate it!" 

Laurie just gave her a cheeky smile. "Theo?" he asked, helping her down the stairs as Jo, Meg, and Mr Brooke in the front. 

Eva blushed lightly. "It's, um, everyone was calling you Laurie and I, you know, uh, nevermind. I'll call you Laurie," she muttered, blushing a deeper red. 

Laurie laughed. "Oh, I don't care. I like Theo." he jested playfully. 

Eva laughed. "Oh! Have you seen my purse anywhere?" she asked, climbing into her carriage. 

Laurie tilted his head. "The fur one?"

Eva nodded. "Oh yes. I had my only pair of gloves inside it and I have no idea where they went," she replied smoothing her dress. 

Laurie 'ahhh'ed in understanding. "It's at my study room. You left it the other day. I'll bring it to you tomorrow," he promised, kissing her knuckles before letting Michael shut the door of the carriage and take off. 

-Marches-

"Has anyone taken my novel?" Jo asked, coming down from the stairs. 

Eva quickly came rushing down, a distressed look on her face. "Oh dear, I can't find my shawl. I need it dreadfully to go home," she said, searching around the house. "You haven't seen it, have you, Bethy?" she asked. 

Beth shook her head. "I'm very sorry, Eva. I have no idea where it is."

But Amy just read even more intently. 

Eva's eyes narrowed. "Amy, sweet, did you use it and put it somewhere?" 

Jo clapped her hand. "You took my novel!" she yelled, shaking Amy's shoulders.

Amy shook her head. "No, I haven't!"

"Amy..." Eva looked at one of her closest friends with horror. "What..what did you do with my shawl?"

"Tell me or I'll make you!" Jo yelled, shaking Amy. 

Amy threw up her hands. "FINE! I BURNT IT UP! EVERYTHING! YOUR BOOK AND EVA'S SHAWL! I SAID I'LL MAKE YOU PAY AND I DID!" 

Jo jumped on Amy as Eva covered her mouth. Her shawl...the one her mother had gifted her when she was only 10. It was burnt up. 

"YOU WICKED GIRL! YOU WICKED, WICKED GIRL! I CAN NEVER WRITE IT AGAIN! I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU AS LONG AS I LIVE!" Jo screamed as Eva's eyes welled up. 

"MARMEE!" Meg called. 

"Eva?" Beth asked, touching Eva's arm. 

Eva turned her head to her friend. "I-I'm so sorry. Tell Marmee that I left, Bethy. I'm very sorry," she whispered before pulling on her heels and running out of the house, ignoring Michael's calls, and to the Laurence's white house. 

She knocked on the door, furiously wiping her eyes as tears threatened to spill. She couldn't believe it. Amy had burnt her shawl. Her mother's shawl. Her dead mother's only shawl. 

"Who-oh! Come in!" the maid said, ushering her in. 

Eva wiped her eyes. "I'm so dreadfully sorry but could you tell me where Laurie is?" she asked hoarsely. 

The maid nodded. "Mr Laurence in up in his room, madam," she replied. 

"Thank you," Eva said, rushing up the stairs, her gown in her hands. She knocked on Laurie's door three times before it opened. 

"Sarah, can't you-Eva?" he looked down at the crying girl in his doorway. "Eva, are you okay? Did something happen?" he asked, pulling her into his room and sitting her down on his bed. 

Eva buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed. "Amy burnt my mother's shawl!" she cried, sobbing into Laurie's button down. 

Laurie patted her back and stroked her hair. "It's gonna be okay. Why did-"

Eva sobbed even more. "My mother is dead, Laurie!" she wailed, rocking back and forth. 

Laurie's mouth opened slightly. "Oh," he muttered, hugging her close again. "She...she really burnt it?" He asked, giving her one of his fluffy throw blankets to Eva, who was shivering.

Eva deadpanned but still thanked him. "Yes, she really burnt it! It was one, my mother's; two, it was, even to my fortune, very expensive; three, it was my absolute favourite and does not sell anymore in any shop in France which it was handmade in. Theo, I do not think I can forgive her," Eva whispered.

Laurie sighed and laid his head on her shoulder. "Forgive her, Eva. You know that it's the right thing to do," he said, playing with her rings on her delicate but worked fingers.

Eva curled into his side, ignoring the fact that it wasn't proper at all. "It's not fair," she mumbled, her eyes fluttering. "She destroyed something of mine, Laurie," she said.

Laurie leaned back on his pillows. "Well...sometimes things need to be un-Eva?" He looked at the sleeping younger girl in his arms, still dressed in her evening dress with a throw blanket over her shoulders.

And for some reason, his heart involuntarily fluttered before settling down because, how could it not? He was looking at Evangaline Beauxbateaons. The Magnificent French Beauty.
But he pushed it down.