"Anne-girl, I do believe you are drunk," Gilbert said, looking at his wife across the table, her flushed cheeks and the loose auburn hair around her forehead. She'd complained of the heat and had unbuttoned her lace collar, though he hadn't found the room over-warm and the day had been temperate at most, cool with the beginning of night and the wind off the sea. She'd served the dinner proudly, a particular sort of cassoulet she'd had the receipt of from Mrs. Thibodeau down in the Harbor, and he'd smelled the fragrance of herbs and shallots when he walked through his front door.
"Gilbert Blythe! How dare you!" Anne exclaimed. She gestured a little wildly with her hands, those slender white hands he loved so and in so many ways, and he managed to make his guffaw only a chuckle, to spare her addled feelings.
"Tipsy, then," he offered. He'd bet a good deal of money she'd wobble away from the table, needing to take a hold of his elbow to keep herself steady, and the Blythes weren't gamblers. He was certain of his diagnosis but wondered how? He'd seen her wrinkle her nose at the scent of spirits and they were not in the habit of taking wine or even a homemade cordial with their meals.
"Gil! You're a dreadful prevaricator! To think, to think that I-" she cried, breaking off. Managing both prevaricator and dreadful had taxed her and she hiccuped, clapping a hand to her mouth, and slumping just a bit in her chair.
"I shan't tell Miss Cornelia, you know. I only wonder, what did you drink? You've been a devotee of temperance as long as I've known you and I always thought it was because of that time with Diana, when you gave her the raspberry cordial, but now, I don't know. Did Captain Jim bring something by and you were curious?" Gilbert said.
"No! You think I had a tot of rum while I was making your dinner?" Anne said. Now she pursed her lips, such an adorable moue of sanctimonious displeasure he couldn't help laughing, thinking how she could not have looked less like Rachel Lynde while bringing that stalwart matron to mind with her declaration.
"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you had, Anne-girl," he said gently.
"Perhaps, perhaps it was while I was cooking," she began, sounding less insulted but no less intoxicated. "Mrs. Thibodeau said it wasn't worth making if I left out the wine, but I didn't want to use very much. I kept tasting it, to make sure it wasn't too strong."
"I think you must have had quite a bit before the alcohol cooked off," Gilbert replied.
"You must think me a fool," Anne said, entirely disconsolately. He found himself rising and at her side before he knew it, crouching near her like a devoted courtier at his lady's throne, and took her hand in his, then brushed her rosy cheek with his thumb.
"Never that, my lady Anne, and well you know it. But it's clear you're not used to spirits. I can't be disappointed in that and the dinner was one of your best," he said affectionately. "Now let's go sit in the parlor and open the windows, see what the fresh air off the sea does for you."