Little Vampire Women. Lynn Messina

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      “They needn’t see or speak to anyone, but run in at any time. For I’m shut up in my study at the other end of the house, Laurie goes to bed early, and the servants leave at nine o’clock.”

      Here he rose, as if going, and Beth made up her mind to speak, for that last arrangement left nothing to be desired. “Please, tell the young ladies what I say, and if they don’t care to come, why, never mind.” Here a little hand slipped into his, and Beth looked up at him with a face full of gratitude, as she said, in her earnest yet timid way…

      “Oh, sir, they do care, very very much!”

      “Are you the musical girl?” he asked, without any startling “Hey!” as he looked down at her very kindly.

      “I’m Beth. I love it dearly, and I’ll come, if you are quite sure nobody will hear me, and be disturbed,” she added, fearing to be rude, and trembling at her own boldness as she spoke.

      “Not a soul, my dear. So come and drum away as much as you like, and I shall be obliged to you.”

      “How kind you are, sir!”

      Beth, not frightened now, gave the hand a grateful squeeze because she had no words to thank him for the precious gift he had given her. The old gentleman softly stroked the hair off her forehead, and, stooping down, he kissed her, saying, in a tone few people ever heard…

      “I had a little girl once, with eyes like these and the same unearthly pale complexion. God bless you, my dear! Good day, madam.” And away he went, in a great hurry.

      The next evening, Beth, after two or three retreats, fairly got in at the side door, and made her way as noiselessly as any mouse to the drawing room where her idol stood. Quite by accident, of course, some pretty, easy music lay on the piano, and with trembling fingers and frequent stops to listen and look about, Beth at last touched the great instrument, and straightaway forgot her fear, herself, and everything else but the unspeakable delight which the music gave her, for it was like the voice of a beloved friend.

      After that, the little brown hood slipped through the hedge nearly every night, and the great drawing room was haunted by a tuneful spirit that came and went unseen. She never knew that Mr Laurence opened his study door to hear the old-fashioned airs he liked. She never saw Laurie mount guard in the hall to warn the servants away. She never suspected that the exercise books and new songs which she found in the rack were put there for her especial benefit, and when he talked to her about music at home, she only thought how kind he was to tell things that helped her so much.

“Mother, I’m going to work Mr Laurence a blackout hood,”¹⁵ she said, referring to the heavy garment that provided protection to those vampires who would look outside the window on a sunny day. It was typically made of wool and had narrow eye slits that afforded only a limited view of the world. “He is so kind to me, I must thank him, and I don’t know any other way.”

      “That will please him very much, and be a nice way of thanking him,” replied Mrs March, who took peculiar pleasure in granting Beth’s requests because she so seldom asked anything for herself. “But be sure to remove some of the fabric that covers the face so that Mr Laurence can breathe.”

      After many serious discussions with Meg and Jo, the pattern was chosen, the materials bought and the hood begun. A cluster of grave pansies on a deeper purple ground was pronounced very appropriate and pretty, and Beth worked away early and late. When it was finished, she wrote a short, simple note, and with Laurie’s help, got it smuggled on to the study table one morning before the old gentleman was up.

      When this excitement was over, Beth waited to see what would happen. All night passed and a part of the next before any acknowledgment arrived, and she was beginning to fear she had offended her crotchety friend. At midnight of the second day, she went out to do an errand, and give poor Joanna, her armless, legless, headless doll, her daily exercise. As she came up the street, on her return, she saw three, yes, four heads popping in and out of the parlour windows, and the moment they saw her, several hands were waved, and several joyful voices screamed…

      “Here’s a letter from the old gentleman! Come quick, and read it!”

      Beth hurried on in a flutter of suspense. At the door her sisters seized and bore her to the parlour in a triumphal procession, all pointing and all saying at once, “Look there! Look there!” Beth did look, and her already white skin somehow turned impossibly whiter with delight and surprise, for there stood a little cabinet piano, with a letter lying on the glossy lid, directed like a sign board to “Miss Elizabeth March”.

      “For me?” gasped Beth, holding on to Jo and feeling as if she should tumble down, it was such an overwhelming thing altogether.

      “Yes, all for you, my precious! Isn’t it splendid of him? Don’t you think he’s the dearest old man in the world? Here’s the key in the letter,” cried Jo, hugging her sister and offering the note.

      “You read it! I can’t, I feel so queer! Oh, it is too lovely!” and Beth hid her face in Jo’s apron, quite upset by her present.

      Jo opened the paper and began to laugh, for the first words she saw were…

      Miss March:

       Dear Madam, I have had many hats in my life, but I never had any that suited me so well as yours. Heartsease is my favourite flower, and this will always remind me of the gentle giver. I like to pay my debts, so I know you will allow “the old gentleman” to send you something which once belonged to the little granddaughter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain

      Your grateful friend and humble servant,

       JAMES LAURENCE.

      “Try it, honey. Let’s hear the sound of the baby pianny,” said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows.

      So Beth tried it, and everyone pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie order. Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright pedals.

      “You’ll have to go and thank him,” said Jo, by way of a joke, for the idea of the child’s really going never entered her head.

      “Yes, I mean to. I guess I’ll go now, before I get frightened thinking about it.” And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences’ door.

      “Well, I wish I may die if it ain’t the queerest thing I ever see! The pianny has turned her head! She’d never have gone in her right mind,” cried Hannah, staring after her, while the girls were rendered quite speechless by the miracle.

      They would have been still more amazed if they had seen what Beth did afterwards. If you will believe me, she went and knocked at the study door before she gave herself time to think, and when a gruff voice called out, “Come in!” she did go in, right up to Mr Laurence, who looked quite taken aback, and held out her hand, saying, with only a small quaver in her voice, “I came to thank you, sir, for…” But she didn’t finish, for he looked so friendly that she forgot her speech and, only remembering that he had lost the little girl he loved, she put both arms round his neck and kissed him.

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