This story is not based on the books (although a better book has never seen the light of publication day), but instead on the 2017 TV series "Anne with an "E"". The series was amazing, and I really-really hope that they will continue it. Geraldine James and Amybeth McNulty are a truly convincing and wonderful pair of actors, and their work on "Anne" is just great.
The series stopped at a teasingly interesting point, when the Cuthberts have welcomed two ruffians to stay at their house. And since there's no way to watch what is going to happen next, I made it up. So, this story takes place not long after the series finished. I hope it's not too awful a plot, but I'd be happy to know what you thought.
Marilla Cuthbert opened the small drawer and took out her brother's gun. He had had it since they were both very young. Never had Marilla thought that Matthew could ever plan to use it to end his own life. But that was all solved now; he had come to his senses, and realized his foolishness; she had forgiven him. And Anne would never have to know.
Marilla trusted her brother; even after he took out a loan against Green Gables behind her back; even after he had wanted to leave her and Anne alone in this world; she still trusted him. But in spite of being certain that Matthew would never try such a thing again, Marilla was not going to leave the gun where her brother could find it.
With cold determination written all over her face, Marilla stormed out of the parlour, the small gun in her hands. Not quite sure yet where to hide it, she set the weapon on the dining table, and went about laying the table.
It came as a surprise to the woman when a young redhead burst through the front door and into the kitchen.
"Anne? I thought you were with Diana," Marilla said, slicing the bread.
"I was," the girl answered happily. "But our wondrous adventure in the Woods of Spirits had to come to an untimely end when Diana was summoned away by her mother. Can I help you, Marilla?" she asked, following the woman to the dining room.
"You could finish laying the table," Marilla offered.
"What's that?" At the girl's hollow tone, Marilla turned to find Anne staring at Matthew's gun.
"Oh, that!" Marilla said, snatching the pistol from under the girl's nose. "I was just putting it away."
"This is an object of most horrible intentions." Marilla looked up at Anne to find the girl's eyes wide and theatrical. "A life can be taken from a most wonderful living being with a single cruel touch. Can you imagine that, Marilla? One moment the person is there, smiling happily at the most beautiful sky and sun, and then - poof! - they're gone!"
"Yes, I can imagine that," Marilla admitted in annoyance. "Although you shouldn't. Now, come and help me."
"Is it yours?" Anne asked, setting the plates on the table.
"No," Marilla answered plainly.
"Then does it belong to the two men that live here now?" Anne questioned before Marilla had a chance to speak on. "They are a suspicious pair, I can tell."
"Anne! That's not a very nice thing to say," Marilla scolded.
"But it's true. I've kept an eye on them, just in case there is an intriguing story behind them. It's odd, isn't it? They said they came to the island to explore, but they hardly leave Green Gables."
By now Marilla was staring at Anne in disbelief. The girl really did think too much about things.
"Well, I admit I prefer it when they are not around," Marilla said. "But then again, I've never been too fond of strangers. And we need the money they pay for staying here."
"I have a feeling you are talking about us," came a male voice from the door.
Marilla and Anne turned to see that their two guests had entered the room - Larry and Joe as they called themselves.
"Oh, hello," Marilla greeted them. "Lunch will be ready in a few minutes." And she returned to the kitchen with Anne hot on her heels.
"Where's Matthew?" Anne asked, standing in the doorway and watching Marilla head for the stove.
"He's at Rachel's," Marilla answered. "He'll be back shortly. I've asked him to call Mr. and Mrs. Lynde for lunch. With any luck they'll all be here before our guests grow impatient."
"So I should add two plates? For Mr. and Mrs. Lynde," Anne asked, opening the cupboard to take out the forks and knives.
"That's right," agreed Marilla, bending over the stove.
"Where are all the silver spoons?" Anne asked then, bringing the utensils to the kitchen table before taking them to the dining room.
"Why, they should be right there in the cupboard," Marilla answered without sparing the girl a look. "But we don't need silver spoons for lunch."
"I know we don't, although it would be so special to serve the lunch with silver spoons. Then we could imagine that the plates were made of the finest china, and that we'd be eating in a beautiful dining room at a glorious castle."
"That's enough of that," Marilla brought Anne out of her daydream. "And I don't consider my dining room by any means hideous. Now, take this on the table." She handed Anne a bowl of something or another.
"But the silver spoons were not in the cupboard," Anne told her, leaving the kitchen.
Marilla watched the girl head to the dining room table, and having taken in what she had said, hurried to the cupboard. Opening the drawers, she realized that Anne was right; the spoons were nowhere to be found. Marilla had decided not to let Anne sell them with the rest of the valuables, hoping that there wouldn't be the need to. But now that they were gone, she felt - for a brief moment - utterly helpless.
"Anne, do you know where they might be?" Marilla asked when Anne returned to the kitchen.
"I don't know where they are. Truly," Anne replied, her eyes wide with honesty, and her tone certain.
At the sight, Marilla was painfully reminded of the time when Anne had desperately tried to tell her the truth about her brooch, and she hadn't believed her. Marilla instantly remembered that truthful expression on the girl's face, and hated herself for thinking even for a second that Anne might know anything about the spoons.
"Of course you don't," Marilla agreed. "Why would you."
"Maybe our guests know," Anne supposed, brave now that there were no doubts about her. Marilla turned to look at her incredulously. "They are a strange pair. I don't like strangers at Green Gables, do you?"
"I don't," Marilla admitted reluctantly. "But it's very rude to make such accusations."
"Then I shan't," Anne promised, carrying another bowl to the dining room.
This time Marilla followed her. As reluctant as she was to admit it, she shared Anne's view of the "strange pair". It couldn't hurt to ask them about the silverware, could it?
Once Marilla was in the doorway, Anne was by her side again. In a moment, Marilla understood what upset her about the picture in front of her. Larry and Joe were both standing next to the table, looking exactly like they always did, standing up tall with hands behind their backs. But the gun was not on the table anymore.
Swallowing the lump that was rising in her throat, and averting her gaze from the place on the table where she had left Matthew's gun, Marilla looked up at the men, who all of a sudden looked much scarier to her than before. "Gentlemen, we find ourselves in lack of some silverware. I'm sure you wouldn't have anything to do with that." It was a hesitant question.
"I think we might," replied Joe, the bearded one.
Marilla blinked. In this short sentence, purposefully or not, he had assured her that Anne's suspicions had been right.
Before Anne had a chance to say anything - which is indeed quickly - Marilla turned to run, pulling Anne with her. She heard the men's footsteps behind herself, and a pang of dread rushed through her when a strong hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her to a stop before she could reach the door.
"Get your hands off me!" Marilla shouted, disdain written clearly all over her face.
"You miserable, vile creatures, let go of her!" Anne added fiercely, following the men who dragged Marilla back into the dining room and towards the stairs.
"We didn't actually strike gold with this house; there isn't much to steal," Joe said, his voice more taunting than ever. "But we can still use the old lady in our advantage." He grinned a most wicked grin at Marilla.
Larry had by now taken hold of both Marilla's arms, pulling her quite successfully to the staircase.
Anne dashed forward, grabbing on to Larry's arm and trying to make him let go of Marilla. Joe pulled the girl away, gave her a hard blow in the chest, and pushed Anne away, so she fell on the floor.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Marilla shouted, trying to yank herself free. "She's just a child. Anne! Stay away!"
But regardless to her cries, Anne tried one more time to free Marilla. This time she was greeted with a simple strong push and a gun aimed at her face. Marilla shrieked.
"Do as the old woman says," Joe said in the silence that the sight of the gun had caused to settle upon them for a moment. "Stay back, girl, this is not about you."
No matter how bad Anne wanted to reply - and she had a lot to say - the gun in front of her face and the fearful Marilla behind Joe willed her to keep silent.
When Joe realized that the girl was not about to answer, he turned and told his friend, "Take her upstairs." And Larry started to guide the struggling Marilla upstairs.
"No! Please, don't do this, gentlemen!" Marilla pleaded with the men, but her words were left unanswered.
Anne stood still, rooted to the ground, for a couple of moments. She heard Marilla's shaking voice. She heard her trip over her long brown skirt thrice on her way upstairs.
And suddenly Anne was alive again. Images of heroic knights and courageous heroines rushed through her mind as she took a large knife and a kettle of boiling water from the kitchen.
Rushing upstairs as quickly as she could with the hot kettle in her hands, Anne heard Joe's voice say, "The girl's room is the closest."
"No-no! Don't! Please!" Marilla cried when Larry pulled her towards the door.
A terrible shout suddenly came from Joe who had been poured over with boiling water. This slowed down Larry and quieted Marilla for the moment. Joe turned around to find the culprit, only to gain a blow at his face with the hot kettle.
"Anne!" Marilla cried, not quite sure whether in relief or fear.
Thanks to the blow from Anne, Joe crashed to the floor quite like Anne had a little while before downstairs. The gun fell from his hand, but before Anne could reach it, Larry had taken hold of her.
Now free, Marilla didn't stop to think of her own safety, but instead pulled at Larry's arm, hoping to make him leave her girl alone.
"Let go of her!" Marilla's voice sounded angrier to Anne than she had ever heard before, not a trace left of the fear her tone had held only moments ago.
Larry turned to give Marilla a sharp slap across the face, sending the woman tumbling backwards. Paying no attention to Marilla's pained shriek, Larry turned to regain his hold on Anne. In the end it was Anne who made Larry pull away with a deep cut in his hand.
The next moment the familiar sound of the gate of Green Gables' opening reached Marilla's ears. A quick decision made Marilla turn and rush into Anne's room. With force quite unnatural to her, she opened the window, and leaned out to shout, "Help!" She repeated her call for three more times to make sure she was heard, and was relieved to see three quickly approaching figures.
Marilla returned to the hall just as fast as she had left it, only this time she found Anne struggling in the two men's arms. Before she could approach, Marilla had a glimpse of the gun in the middle of the struggle. When the shot sounded, two female shrieks followed shortly.
The next moment Larry sank to the floor, clasping his hands to his leg; and Anne saw the opportunity to hit Joe's hand, so that the gun fell out of his hand and down the stairs.
As soon as the gun was out of sight, two men came into sight. Taking in the scene quickly, Matthew and Thomas Lynde took the situation under their control.
Anne jumped over Larry's outstretched leg and crushed into Marilla, putting her arms around her. Quicker than ever before Marilla returned the embrace.
Relief flooded over Marilla, holding Anne in her arms again, safe and sound. The girl's face was pressed against her chest, and Marilla realized with surprise that she felt her blouse get slightly wet.
"Anne?" Marilla asked softly.
"Tears are so silly," replied Anne without raising her head. "They're such small drops of water, yet they're bigger than any words I know. They express such unbearable sadness. But I am not sad now; I don't understand why I'm crying."
With considerably less difficulty than at the first times, Marilla caressed the girl's head fondly.
"Sometimes tears can also express uppermost relief and happiness," explained Marilla, paying no mind to the single tear that managed to escape her eye.
"Those bastards!" Rachel commented on Anne's story. She paid no attention to the disapproving look Marilla sent her way, and set a cup of tea in front of her. "Thomas and Matthew are taking them away to Charlottetown. I packed them their lunch while you two were tidying yourselves."
"Thank you," Marilla said, taking her cup of tea.
Both her and Anne had been quite a sight after the awful scene. One of Anne's plaits had come undone, and some of Marilla's hair had escaped its usual knot. Anne's dress had gotten a bit wet - it was not easy to aim perfectly at a struggling man - and her face was flushed. Marilla had found a little tear in her blouse and had had to change also. She was still as white as a sheet, and her hands were shaking when she took her cup.
"What a brave girl you are, Anne," Rachel said as she sat down at the table. Anne beamed at her.
"I've had many great adventures in my daydreams and stories. All it takes is to believe in yourself, and to imagine that you can succeed. Then you actually can. Although I must admit it's not so much fun in reality as I thought it would be. Those men were really scary. I'm glad we will never have to know what they were planning to do to Marilla."
Marilla and Rachel exchanged a look.
"It must have been something extremely horrible," Anne supposed. "I don't even want to imagine it."
"Well, that's something new," Rachel noted, trying to lighten the gloomy atmosphere in the room. Marilla was staring absently into her cup.
"I think they were planning some terrible torture," Anne said, her tone more dramatic than fearful. "I don't know what else would have upset Marilla so much. Now that I come to think of it, you knew what they were planning to do, Marilla, didn't you? I've never seen you so distraught. Did you know what they were going to do?"
Marilla's head snapped up, and she stared at Anne, deciding what to say.
"You ought not to think about such things, child," Rachel interfered quickly. "How could she have known?"
"I did," Marilla answered Anne, looking away again.
Rachel sighed in surrender. "I tried," she told Marilla apologetically.
"You knew, too?" asked Anne, confused. "But how? You were not even here. Why don't I understand?"
"Perhaps you will once you're older," Rachel replied.
"I hope you won't," Marilla added. "Don't let's talk about it anymore," she continued, taking Anne's hand. "You're my hero, Anne. And we're both safe now; that's what matters." Turning to Rachel she said, "I hope Matthew and Thomas won't have any trouble with them on their way."
"I'm sure they won't," Rachel assured her. "And when they get back I should expect all of Avonlea to be at your doorstep, waiting to hear all about it."
The End