Aunt March wanted Jo for the next week. It seemed that Laurie's arrival had motivated her tenfold to make haste towards Paris, only she was too sickly to manage it right away, and so she only talked about it constantly and worked hard to groom Jo for it.

Corsets, stiff clothing, and uncomfortable shoes had been the norm since Jo had gotten off the ship. Suddenly Aunt March wanted to besiege her with shoes that pinched so much as to make Jo feel firmly hobbled, and a corset laced so tight as to make it difficult to breathe.

In Britain Jo had been introduced to the curious spectacle of bearing reigns on carriage horses. These devices pulled up the horses' heads so that they had a constantly proud countenance that looked very pretty but that Jo hadn't been able to think of as anything but cruel, for it left the poor beasts unable to move their heads.

"It's not so bad as you think," Flo had explained when Jo had mentioned it to her. "The handlers don't pull up their heads tightly all at once, but do it a little each day by degrees, until they're used to it and perfectly comfortable."

Jo was beginning to wonder if her Aunt March had spoken much to horse handlers, and was trying to break her in just as they did their steeds, for fashionable torture devices were being added one by one, little by little. Alas, Jo did not think she could tolerate it placidly as the horses did.

The first time that Laurie suggested a tramp up to the Heidelberg castle Jo was thrilled. She'd not had a chance to go yet, for the castle was on a hill; Aunt March had been taking her all over the city, but not to that interesting place, being too frail to climb and perfectly satisfied with seeing it from afar anyway. To Jo's great delight Aunt March conceded to give her the day off from her companion work, and Jo rose early, donning one of her old dresses from Concord for the occasion.

Aunt March had seen her trying to slip out and quite nearly had a conniption at what she was wearing. A long fight in which Jo tried to make Aunt March understand why her fashion sensibilities were not suitable for exploring ruins ended in Jo winning in the sense that Aunt March conceded to her point of view, and losing in the sense that she was not permitted out to the castle at all.

"I do try to be kind to you Josephine, but you make it very difficult," Aunt March had said indignantly. "We'll have that boy over to tea this afternoon. That's an excellent compromise, and you'd do well to learn from my example."

Laurie exerted himself a great deal at tea in terms of making himself pleasant to Aunt March. Jo could hardly believe that the man in front of her was her childhood playmate – he seemed so worldly and sedate.

Perhaps he would have to be like this all the time one day, Jo thought, for he was a grown-up now with his Grandfather's business waiting for him to lead. She didn't much like the idea, for she was very fond of the boy Laurie.

Laurie spent a great deal of time talking about the lovely gardens near the castle and managed to convince Aunt March to let Jo come with him to see them the next day. There was a boyish glint in his eyes when Aunt March agreed.

The next morning Jo decided to take a leaf out of Aunt March's own book and compromise. She dutifully put on her corset and laced it up firmly but not too tightly, before pulling a dress that Aunt March had chosen for her over it. She chose a pair of shoes that she hoped would be uncomfortable enough to please Aunt March, though she bypassed the pair that was actually painful. She even bothered to find a coordinating hair ribbon, hoping that would be enough to distract her Aunt from any other problems her appearances might present.

"Come here Josephine, and show me what you're wearing," Aunt March said, as soon as Jo crept out of her room.

"Nothing you haven't bought me," Jo said, with a stiff nod, hoping that she could just get out the door.

Aunt March nodded with what was almost approval.

"You just need some finishing touches," she said. With that Jo was sent back to her dressing room, where the shoes were exchanged and the corset tightened.

Jo held her tongue, but shot her aunt the dirtiest look that she could. The old bat deserved to know she was displeased, with all that she'd put her through.

"Oh really Josephine, one would think that you care more for climbing some silly mountain than you do for finding a good husband."

"Then one would be entirely right," Jo shot back. "Besides, there hasn't been any royalty living in that castle for a good centaury now, so you needn't worry yourself about some ridiculous prince that I'm failing to impress."

At that moment Laurie knocked on the door and Jo ran up to meet him, slamming it behind him before he could so much as greet Aunt March.

"Being chased by bears Jo?" He asked, as she pulled them along at a pace that was quite painful considering what she was wearing on her feet.

"No, just one crotchety old aunt who won't let me be."

"What's she done now?"

Jo stopped, and pointed down at her feet, "I defy anyone to walk more than five inches in these."

"You've just managed to pretty well."

"At a cost. They hurt like the dickens, Teddy."

"They do look pretty small," Laurie admitted.

Jo just nodded, making a concentrated effort to keep moving forwards at a reasonable pace without limping. She'd been doing it for the last several days, after all, though she hadn't gone too far from the hotel rooms.

"You could borrow a pair of mine? Here, stop for a minute." He lined his feet up besides hers so he could compare sizes, frowning when he saw just how significant the difference was. "Um… you could wear heavy socks with them. Lots of them."

Jo laughed at the idea, and then groaned. "I may have to. The skirt is long enough I think… yes, I think it shan't be so noticeable, and I'm willing to try anything."

"We'll try it then," Laurie said. "It's a short walk to my rooms, and it will save you a world of pain."

"Do I think it will be all right for me to go in there?" Jo asked, for she knew it was hardly proper.

"Why not? You were in my room hundreds of times back in Concord, and we'll make sure no one sees us."

They made there way carefully to Laurie's hotel, up the staircase, and finally dashed to his room once they reached the hallway, just managing not to be seen. Jo was gritting her teeth with pain by the time she got in and found it necessary to let Laurie support her as she hobbled off to find somewhere to sit.

"Does any lady you've met really wear shoes like these, or is all of this just a delusion of Aunt March's?" Jo asked, as Laurie went into his drawers to find enough socks for her.

"Quite a few do, actually. It's not at all uncommon."

"Poor things, what do they do all day?"

"Paint, read, play piano, learn French…"

"Things that don't require much movement. I'd go mad."

"You'd still have your writing to console you," Laurie pointed out.

"And a husband, according to my aunt."

"Not that you'd marry anybody who forced you into uncomfortable shoes. I know I wouldn't want you to go and do such a thing."

Laurie sat next to Jo – very closely she noticed – and waited while she pulled sock after sock onto her aching feet.

"I'm not likely to go and marry anyone, if only for the joy of disappointing Aunt March," Jo pulled on one of the shoes Laurie had given her. "At first I worried that she was right about some things… I know I'm too old to behave the way that I do sometimes, and that I've embarrassed poor Amy more than once. I wouldn't want Amy or Beth to be prevented from somebody eventually loving them, just because I make a bad name for myself. Aunt March is more likely to make a ruin of me than improve me though, and I don't mean to take another word of her advice."

"That's fair enough," said Laurie. "I know you won't marry to please anybody but yourself, but I hope you won't refuse to marry just for the sake of someone else's displeasure either."

"It hardly matters at the moment, since it's all hypothetical anyway," Jo pointed out. She looked down at her feet. Laurie's shoes looked huge and clunky under her dress, but they were more comfortable at least. "Ah, these shoes are very obvious, aren't they? We'll just have to hope that nobody looks down at my feet."

"On the bright side, maybe word will get back to your aunt, and she'll be scandalized for life. I don't think the family back in Concord would care so much, so you're safe there."

"That is an exciting idea," She kicked the shoes she had previously been wearing. "Ought to take these with and throw them in the river."

"Or bring them up to the castle. Offer them up to the ghosts of dead royalty."

Jo smacked Laurie's arm at this. "Don't be a fool. There aren't any such thing. Let's go before the day gets too late."

…

They did reach the castle later than planned, due to their stop at Laurie's rooms. Laurie thoroughly enjoyed the walk up, watching Jo as she clomped up the path looking much happier than she had when he'd first met her that morning. He told her about the boat ride over and she told him again about the museums and things that she'd seen.

"I almost feel bad for complaining so much about Aunt March's treatment, for my world has expanded since coming here," Jo said.

"Expanded and contracted at once. In Concord you may not have had any new sights to see, but you had a great deal more freedom to be yourself. Which do you prefer?"

"Concord," Jo admitted. "But I don't regret coming here. It won't last forever, and it's worth it to have seen the world."

"I should like to be able to go back to Concord and do just as I please, but I know that won't be the case. I have this holiday, then a lifetime of my Grandfather's offices."

Jo took his hand at that, for which Laurie was grateful.

"I know, but I mean to help you bear it just as you've helped me bear my captivity here," she said.

Laurie stopped, a feeling of warmth flooding him.

"Do you Jo, truly?" He asked. Please say yes, he prayed, hoping that if she did and in just the right tone he would not have to put off his question any longer.

Something in his expression made her remove her hand from his.

"Of course," she said, but it didn't sound right to Laurie at all. "When you're not at your work and I'm not at mine, we can talk as we always have, and have larks if nobody else catches us at it. It'll be just like it's always been between us."

Laurie tried to smile at her as they made their way up the rest of the hill. There would be time later to tell Jo that he wanted more from her than what there had always been.

…

Within the dank interior of the ruined castle, Jo felt at peace. She and Laurie were far from being the only people who had come exploring. The chatter of men and women and the occasional shout of children echoed through the stone halls. Still, Jo preferred to imagine vast halls as being forgotten, deserted and uninhabited for centuries on end.

"It must have been quite a fire to destroy the walls like this, look," Jo said, placing her hand on the rough, mossy expanse of stone.

Laurie placed his hand over hers, "Imagining fire and brimstone, Jo? You look so cheerful, that has to be it."

"I'm imagining a terrible war, and the King running about like a headless chicken while some lowly chambermaid remains levelheaded and guides everyone down the hill and through a secret path in the forest to safety."

"And does the king burn to death?"

"No, the chambermaid rescues him too. He offers her a title for it, but she doesn't want it for…"

"She's actually a run away Russian Princess in disguise," Laurie suggested.

"Oh? Is that it? Then tell me why she ran away."

"Because she hated her shoes," Laurie said.

"She has all of my sympathies in that case. Let's see… she hated her shoes, and some spies from France were trying to murder her. Anyway, she understood the problems that came with a title and wasn't about to reenter that world. Better to be a lowly maid."

Jo wandered off to the window to look at the view outside, knowing that Laurie would follow her.

The sun was already growing low in the horizon, something that surprised Jo. She hadn't noticed just how long they'd taken to climb up to this high vantage point. They hadn't even had lunch, and it would be well past supper by the time they got home! Not that she wanted to think about food; drinking in the scenery was more than enough for her.

"I wish we could stay here longer," Jo said as Laurie appeared beside her.

"We could always move in. Tourists walk in and out as it is. We'd go unnoticed for a time, and then become part of the attraction – a pair of eccentric Americans living in a ruined castle and catching spiders for our meals."

Jo made a face at that, but then she laughed. How different Europe had been before Teddy had appeared. She'd been as full as ever with wild dreams and fancies, but they hadn't been half so fun without anyone to share them with.

"I'm so glad you came," Jo said, resting her chin her hands as she looked out past the horizon.

She felt Laurie's hand on run through her hair, as lightly as the spiders they'd just been discussing. At least she thought so. It was an interesting feeling to say the least.

Jo had meant to push him away, but then she was struck with curiosity; What would Laurie do, exactly, if permitted to continue? Jo stood as still as a statue.

"It's good to hear you say that, Jo." Laurie said, in a surprisingly normal tone, as he leaned in close to her. Jo stared at him, and then he leaned in to kiss her.

It only lasted for a second, his lips warm and dry, pressed against hers as they stood in the ruined castle. Jo jerked away quickly, but Laurie himself was already backing off.

"I didn't mean for you to become sentimental," Jo said gruffly, brushing her hand across her lips.

"I don't suppose I meant to become sentimental. You're the one who started it," Laurie tried to joke, but Jo could tell that she had hurt him.

The walk down the mountain was much quieter than the walk up it.

…

Aunt March scowled at Jo when she came home at past eight o'clock in the evening, dusty, gloveless, and wearing Laurie's shoes. Jo had been expecting this, and so she sat down at the table to weather the storm.

Jo avoided listening to Aunt March's rant, her mind still somewhere among the ruins and the problem of Laurie's kiss, until the a mention of the very person she had been thinking of brought Jo out of her own thoughts.

"What did you just say about Laurie?" Jo asked.

"I said, Josephine March, that it is the responsibility of somebody in your family to marry well if only to put an end to the financial ruin your father brought upon you all. You can't mean to live and die a pauper. I can trust Amy to try but there's never a guarantee for such things. I fear, heaven forbid, that Beth may be useless in this respect. You have an excellent prospect in that young man and you are destroying it by gypsying around the city as you do."

Jo stared open mouth at Aunt March for a moment rage coloring her features. She thought she was bound to shout at her, but then quite suddenly she laughed, for it was all absurd.

"You can't think I've been trying to…" Jo started, quite at a loss, "to… to make Teddy propose to me. I wouldn't. I do love him very much as a friend, but it's never been anything other than that."

"If I were you I would try to change that. Friendship is the foundation for the best marriage. Even your dear deluded mother would agree with me on that count, I think. Besides, you're getting older each day. It's time you gave up that writing of yours and started a family like a sensible girl. That friend of yours has money enough to make a comfortable life for you and your children."

"As though I'd marry for money! No, I don't plan to marry Laurie, and that's final."

Jo stood up to leave the room, much ruffled by her Aunt's strange ideas.

"We'll see about that," Aunt March said confidently as Jo was heading towards the door. If any words could have more firmly set Jo's heart against marrying her boy, those were them.

Back at in her own room Jo scowled at herself in the mirror before pulling off the wretched dress she was wearing. The corset she struggled with, for the ribbons were tied too tight and her fingers couldn't quite manage the knots; they only opened up for her after several minutes of sustained effort, right around the time that she was considering getting some scissors and being done with it.

Now she sat upon the bed wearing only a chemise, a slip, and Laurie's shoes. She caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror, and thought she looked perfectly silly. She kicked the shoes off, and flopped back on the bed, much exhausted by all she'd done that day. The castle had been such fun. Why had Laurie had to ruin it by going and kissing her like that? Why had Aunt March chosen that moment to suggest she marry the boy?

Jo did not sleep well that night, for her mind was awash with thoughts and ideas. What would it be like to marry her Teddy? He'd need someone fashionable, Jo was sure, perhaps not as much so as her Aunt was grooming her to be, but fashionable none the less. Even if he thought that he didn't, his business associates would expect it of him. Teddy's wife would have a big house with servants who gossiped about her and kept everything rigidly perfect. Teddy's wife would be too busy with the management of a large estate to write or do anything much, and nobody would need what little income her words could bring in among such a sea of money.

Jo really couldn't see any benefits to being Teddy's wife except… well, except that Teddy's wife would have Teddy, in those rare moments behind closed doors when he could allow himself to be himself, and not the business man working always behind his desk.

No, Jo decided. It wasn't enough. It simply wasn't.

That night she didn't dream about silk or gloves; instead she dreamt about being kissed in a castle upon a hill. When she woke she told herself firmly that it had been a nightmare. A nightmare and nothing else.