This story is AU...

Everything that L.M.M Montgomery wrote, until convocation in Anne of the Island, happened.

The rest thereafter, did not.

Gilbert never contracted typhoid.

Chapter 1

August, 1891

The crosswalk on Queen Street West was, as the saying goes, busy like Piccadilly Circus. Not that Gilbert Blythe, could account for the crowds of Piccadilly Circus, as he had not yet gone beyond the gentle shores of Canada. While he sometimes had dreamt of crossing the great Atlantic ocean, to walk in lands he read fastidiously through his youth, those dreams never included manoeuvring through throngs of people.

On one side of the street, a building loomed with the word Eatons, and behind him a similar building bellowed the title of Simpsons. Both stores selling the exact same goods, in the same style and manner. Each store was flanked by men, ready to open doors for women, eager to lay coins in exchange for something vogue. It was the exact reason why Gilbert was there, to give his money in return for an item. Truthfully, the trek to what felt like the clogged arteries of Toronto, was not made of his own choice, it was done under instruction by his wife.

His own town of Amherst, Nova Scotia was smaller than Toronto, but no less busy. While it did not have a rambunctious pedestrian like Toronto's Yonge Street, it felt like it could one day soon. Constructions were springing up like the shoots of flowers, new endeavours built on dreams and wishes. Amherst was full of promise and prosperity. The hyped up atmosphere, was at times draining, but it did provide him with a robust business as a doctor. A growing parade of upper middle class individuals, filled his list of patients, hanging on every word he made, adding to his confidence. Too confident, some of Amherst said behind closed doors.

When the move to Amherst had been decided, Gilbert was anything but confident. The prospect of having to establish himself was daunting. It hung like a dark cloud, during the early visits to his fiancee's hometown. Over time, the cloud retreated with the help of kind words from his sweetheart, and the known truth, her family was part of high social standing. He was not a fool, comfortably aware that association would help. Once they were married, in the Anglican Church where his wife's grandfather, Edward Barron Chandler, a noted politician was baptised, Gilbert's standing in the town was sealed.

He never dreamed, living across the Northumberland Strait, would be his fate in life. Journeys between the Island and mainland, passed through Amherst. Most of the time, he rarely knew the train had stopped to pick up passengers, for he had always been chatting away nonsensical with the rest of the crew heading back to Redmond College or to their Island home. It wasn't until after graduation from his B.A, and the beginning of his medical degree in Kingsport, that the town of Amherst became more than a mark on the map.

For three years, the stretch of railway between his abode in Kingsport and his fiancees home town was a worn passage. The last Saturday of each month, he would travel the distance, alighting on the station platform, with a sense that he should keeping moving until he arrived at his Island. He never did and his visits home became less.

The door into Eaton's opened for him. Gilbert looked around, floored by the scene. A sprawling space of opulence and opportunity, laid out in such a fashion that one could not stand still, and he began walking looking from counter to counter. A young woman dressed in black approached him, offering assistance. Gilbert quickly identified the staff form the customers, their simple dress almost made them disappear amongst the pops of colour and rich fabrics worn by the customers. He handed her the page from the Eaton catalogue, and with a quick nod, he was guided to the far side of the room where the jewellery cabinets were.

When Gilbert mentioned to his wife that his old professor attend a medical conference in Toronto, she did not bat an eyelid. The only mention of his trip, came with the request for a pendant to match her engagement ring. She circled the pendant in the catalogue, telling her husband that it would take longer by mail.

Her engagement ring was shopped for in the same way, with her circling the style of ring, filling out an order form and handing it to Gilbert. He joked at the time, that she was lucky he was on a scholarship. Even now, this new pendant was going to mean more hours at work and less at home. If she was unhappy with a husband constantly away, he never knew.

He had wanted to buy her engagement ring in Carmondy from a man that was known for selling well priced but also well made rings. Stones of emeralds, rubies and diamonds were fitted with care, into bands of gold. But his speciality was pearls from the island, made of salt and sea. Gilbert thought it would have been romantic, to have something made from near his hometown, as a token of his love. Instead, it was to be Eatons.

As Gilbert began to pay for his wife's new jewel, a sound of applause erupted from somewhere in the building. Glancing of his shoulder, he watched people moving towards the staircase. Once his transaction was over, the store woman bided him a good day and hurried towards the crowd. Having completed his errand, Gilbert was eager to remove himself from the scurry of people.

Before he could move two paces, a familiar voice echoed across the room, followed by a burst of applause.

He did not need to see the red hair, or her face, to know it was Anne.

She stood at the bottom of a marble stair case, addressing the crowd of people. Her attire was like something from Eatons; the dress made of rich purple velvet, hugged a bone coloured blouse with a dramatic frilled collar. A matching purple velvet hat sat atop her head, her hair coiffed into the latest fashion. He had not seen Anne in four years, since Convocation. He had never returned to Avonlea during the summer after their final year of studies. Choosing to remain in Kingsport, where he could earn a decent wage.

Gilbert could admit honestly, when he said Anne had not crossed his mind, in the last four years. She had become a forgotten memory. He had moved on from her rejection, funnelled the sadness into his work, that led to many achievements. Truthfully he was a happy man. He told Charlie Sloane, that if it weren't for Anne rejecting him, he would not have won the Cooper prize and the dream of medical school, would have been just that, a dream.

Just as he was about to take a step back to leave, Anne looked up, catching his eye. Gilbert wished he had gone into Simpsons instead of Eatons, now he felt obliged to stay.

Anne continued to read, but her concentration had been disrupted, like a leaf ripped from its tree during an unexpected gust. The visit to Eatons was rudimentary, nothing out of the ordinary. It had never crossed her mind, that she would see an old friend, amongst the crowd. She could feel Owen Ford was looking at her with unease, aware of her slip up. This was the third recitation she had given in two days, the other two were flawless displays.

The recitation ended with a long ovation. The clerks organised eager fans into a line, for Anne meet. She would glance up occasionally, checking to see if Gilbert was still there.

He stood to the side, watching the scene unfold, as Anne greeted the crowd. She was polite, warm, engaging, leaving each person with a small spring in their step. He was not surprised to see the effect, it was a practised charm she had since childhood. No matter who met her, they were doomed to fall for her.

The last of the crowd departed, leaving a clear path to where he stood. Anne looked over her shoulder towards Owen. She saw he was busily talking to a gentlemen, deciding now would be a good time to sneak over to Gilbert, before she was pulled off to some other meeting. When she turned to face Gilbert, he was flicking through her book. She suddenly felt small, nervous, biting on her lip wondering if he approved.

"What good fate, has brought you to Toronto, so that we may run into one another?" Anne asked as she removed the book from his hands, "did you come to buy my book?"

She was greeted with a large smile, his dark eyes softening as they met her own. "I don't know, but it is nice to see you Miss published author." He had not changed much, except his hair. There was not much curl left. Instead it was smoothed down, looking more like a business man, than the rugged Island boy she remembered him as.

"A Canadian agent wrote to me last year, asking if I would like to compile a series I wrote for the Womens Home Journal, into a book." She looked back at Owen. "An honour, but with it comes a rather exhausting tour of meeting and greeting. Do you live in Toronto? Last I heard you were in Amherst."

Gilbert felt a lump swell somewhere, bewildered she kept up with him. "Not, not Toronto. This city is too big and crowded for me. Amherst is the largest city I can stand. I am here for a medical conference."

"Excuse me Anne," Owen said interjecting their conversation. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

Gilbert noticed Anne's shoulders square up, slight irritation flashing across her face. It reminded him of the days when someone, mainly himself, would say something to agrivate her. "This is Mr. Blythe, a very old friend whom I have not seen for some time. We grew up together. Mr Blythe, this is Mr. Ford my agent."

"Lovely to meet you. Nice to see both of you got off the Island," Owen said shaking his hand.

"Are you of the Island too?" asked Gilbert.

"No, though I do have ties there. It's nice for a visit, but can be a bit of a bore," stated Owen. "Your driver is here Anne. He will take you back to the hotel. I have an appointment, then we will meet for supper? Gilbert if you are not busy, you should come dine with us."

Anne turned to Gilbert, smiling jubilantly at Owen's suggestion. "Yes, please come Gilbert, it would be lovely to have you. It's been too long."

Her head was tilted, familiar large grey eyes crinkled from her smile, pale eyebrows raised in excitement. There was no sign on Anne's face, that said, she was inviting him out of politeness. Instead she looked eager, hopefully even. He wondered if his own face, betrayed the apprehension he felt. Unable to think of a worthy excuse, Gilbert agreed.