Disclaimer: I don't own Pat of Silver Bush, Mistress Pat, or Jane of Lantern Hill, by L.M. Montgomery; I've just borrowed some of her characters from those novels for this fanfic.
"Here you are, Miss Gardiner." The ticket agent pushed the train ticket over the counter towards Pat.
She thanked him and took the ticket in her gloved hand. Turning away from the counter, she started across the room towards the row of seats along the wall. Then, changing course abruptly, she left the lamp-lit warmth of the station to sit on the bench outside. The early December wind was bitterly cold, but it helped numb the dull ache in her jaw, and more importantly, the pain in her soul. Her toothache would soon be remedied during her dentist appointment in Charlottetown. But she feared she would find no easy cure for her soul-sickness.
She gazed out bleakly over the desolate landscape. Withered fields, interspersed with groves of skeletal hardwoods and dark, brooding evergreens, stretched away
before her. Heavy slate-coloured clouds pressed down toward the earth like the ceiling of a cave.
If only Rae were here! The two of them would have had a merry time riding in on the train and then prowling about the Charlottetown shops after Pat's appointment,
before catching the evening train home. But Rae had still not forgiven Pat for putting an end to her ill-advised flirtation with Lawrence Wheeler, and Pat had not dared invite her along. "I'd simply love to come with you, Pat, but I'm just too busy," Pat imagined Rae telling her with the artificial cordiality she'd displayed toward her since their estrangement. "Besides, don't you think you'd enjoy yourself more with someone your own age?" Would the breach between them ever heal? wondered Pat hopelessly.
Then there was the rift between Sid and the entire Gardiner family. Brooding and distant toward his kin since being jilted by Dorothy Milton, Sid was caught up in an
ill-advised flirtation of his own. Pat could not fathom how anything, even being twice unlucky in love, could have driven Sid to rekindle his boyhood infatuation with May Binnie. Poor doomed Bets Wilcox had been Pat's dearest friend; Pat well remembered her own jubilation when Sid had transferred his affections from May to Bets. And, in spite of her fickleness, Dorothy was a nice, well-bred girl. But May...all she had to recommend her was a certain flashing, overblown beauty.
Suppose Sid did marry her! Pat shuddered, imagining all too vividly how things would be. She and May had always hated each other; how May would triumph over her! By gaining May as a sister, she would certainly lose Sid, her favourite brother...they could never possibly be friends again. And the newlyweds would have to live at Silver Bush until Father could afford to build them a house on the other farm. In the meantime, May would make life miserable for her in-laws: engaging in embarrassing public displays of affection toward Sid...attempting to usurp Mother's and Pat's authority...antagonizing Judy Plum...trying to pick quarrels with Pat...poking and prying...cluttering up the house with her tawdry bric-a-brac and suggesting tasteless "improvements"...making scenes and sulking when she
didn't get her way...shattering the serenity of Silver Bush with her incessant clamour. The entire Binnie tribe and all of May's friends would descend on Silver
Bush...there would never be a moment's peace or privacy...poor Sid would be crushed when his infatuation with May wore off and he finally saw her for what she was. Oh, the prospect was unendurable!
Finally Pat's thoughts turned to Hilary Gordon, far away at college in Toronto. She missed him dreadfully. Pat had a sudden conviction that, much as she liked David
Kirk, he was no substitute for Hilary, just as his sister Suzanne, good friend though she was, could never wholly replace Bets. But Hilary had not been back to PEI for several years - would not be coming home for the holidays, or at any time in the foreseeable future.
Pat's musings were interrupted by the mournful whistle of the approaching train. Once aboard, she made for the nearest empty seat. "Is this place taken?" she asked the passenger in the adjacent seat. She found herself looking into the warm, golden-brown eyes of a girl somewhere in age between herself and Rae.
"No, you're welcome to sit here," the girl replied.
Pat sank down gratefully. To her amazement, the girl was gazing out the window at the blighted landscape with an expression of the sheerest delight. Noticing Pat's
surprise, she explained, "This is the first time I've ever seen Prince Edward Island in the very late autumn. And I find it beautiful even now."
Pat instantly warmed towards her, sensing a kindred spirit. "Oh, I do love PEI in all seasons. And I agree, even now it's beautiful in an austere, haunting way. But it's
just difficult to appreciate it while suffering from a toothache." And heartache, she added silently.
The girl looked at her very understandingly, almost as if she were aware of what Pat had left unsaid. Indeed, she somehow gave the impression of being able to look
into one's soul.
"Well, if it isn't Jane Stuart!" said a pleasant-looking middle-aged man who had boarded after Pat. "We all missed you this summer. What brings you to the Island
now? Not another rash spur-of-the-moment visit, I hope," he said with a twinkle. "I don't want to have to nurse you through another bout of life-threatening
pneumonia!"
"Don't worry, Dr. Abbott," laughed Pat's seatmate. "I'm not here because of any family crisis this time, and I have no intention of falling dangerously ill again and ruining my Christmas holidays. We've decided to spend Christmas and New Year's at Lantern Hill this year to make up for not coming down last summer. I'm travelling on ahead of Mother, Dad, and the children to open the house up and get things ready."
"I take it, then, that you've arranged for a ride from West Trent? If not, Clara and I would be happy to give you a lift to the Corners. I'm just returning home myself -
I've been away at a medical conference in Halifax and a visit to my sister in Silverbridge, so I'm behind on all the local news."
"Punch Garland is meeting me at the station, but thank you all the same."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Jane, Dr. Abbott nodded civilly at Pat and continued along the aisle to an empty seat further down the car. When the conductor came by a moment later to collect Pat's ticket, he too spoke to the girl called Jane in the manner of an old friend. Pat herself thought the girl seemed strangely familiar. There was that same sense of instant friendship as she'd felt upon meeting Hilary, Bets, David and Suzanne - "we've known each other for
hundreds of years. I recognized you as soon as I saw you", as Suzanne had said when first they met - but quite apart from that, she was sure she had actually seen
Jane before somewhere. Then it came to her.
"You're the girl who captured the escaped circus lion!" she exclaimed. "I remember seeing your picture in the papers years ago!"
Jane laughed ruefully. "I never could understand why everyone made such a fuss over that. It wasn't the daring exploit it was made out to be - he was really just a
tame old lion."
"No matter, I never would have dared to try to round him up!" retorted Pat. "I remember thinking at the time that you had to be the bravest girl in the world."
She introduced herself, and without further ado they set to getting acquainted. Pat learned that Jane, her parents, and her younger brother and sister spent their
winters in Toronto, where Jane's father, a writer, was the assistant editor of Saturday Evening magazine and Jane attended the University of Toronto, and summered at their vacation home on PEI - except for the past summer, when the Stuarts had done a swap with friends who owned a cottage on an island in Muskoka. The husband was a nature writer and had needed to spend time on PEI researching a book.
"It must have been dreadful for you," said Pat fervently, gazing at the snapshot of Lantern Hill that Jane was showing her. Of course no house could compare to Silver Bush in her eyes, but the quaint frame cottage, embowered by gracious trees and an old-fashioned garden, possessed something of the charm of the Gardiner
homestead. Pat knew how much she'd hate having to give up her beloved home, even temporarily, and spend an entire summer in a strange new place. She also
wondered how Jane could bear to live elsewhere for the rest of the year.
"Dreadful? Not at all!" said Jane. "Oh, I was homesick for Lantern Hill - I've been coming here every summer since I was eleven - but Muskoka was just as enchanting
in its own way. Mrs. Redfern told me she was in tears when they went away from their island for the first time - they'd lived there all year round for the first year of
their marriage. She didn't think any place in the world could be as lovely. Mr. Redfern assured her the places they'd be visiting on their trip abroad were just as lovely, only in different ways - that there are so many kinds of loveliness in the world. And he's right. Lantern Hill is beautiful in a very pastoral way, while Muskoka has a rugged, untamed beauty, and our house in Toronto is somewhere in between...it's at the outskirts of the city, near Lake Ontario, on the edge of a ravine. Then there are all the wonderful places we've seen on our travels..."
She went on to describe a trip her family had taken to Boston when her father's first book was published; stopovers at the Redferns' house outside Montreal, and in
Montreal itself, on their way to and from the Island; sightseeing expeditions to other beauty spots in the Maritimes; a train trip out to the Rockies she had taken with her aunt, uncle and cousin at the beginning of one summer before joining her family on PEI. "And there are still so many places I want to see some day," she said. "I hope to visit all the places the Redferns have been - Egypt, Samarcand, Italy, France, Spain. My cousin Phyllis and I are thinking of going to Europe next summer."
As she listened to Jane, Pat was suddenly reminded of how she and Bets had once planned to take a trip to Europe. But that was when she had expected Sid to marry
Bets some day and bring her to live with them at Silver Bush. Then Bets had died, and in her grief Pat had grown ever more fiercely attached to Silver Bush, her only
solace - the one constant in a mercilessly changing world.
"...if everything were always to stay the same, year after year, now that would be dreadful," concluded Jane. "I have a horror of such an existence. I once knew
someone who tried to keep her home and the person dearest to her from ever changing. She didn't succeed, though - they merely stagnated. When her loved
one finally went away from her, she never forgave her and she never recovered...she just withered away, a lonely, embittered old woman in a dreary old house."
Pat shivered involuntarily. But then she ruthlessly suppressed her sudden unease. Her love for her home and the people in it wasn't an unhealthy obsession...not in
the least. There was simply no place in the world like Silver Bush, that was all. Why, hadn't Judy Plum cancelled her trip back home to Ireland because she couldn't bear to leave Silver Bush?
"Well," she said a trifle defensively, handing the snapshot back to Jane, "Lantern Hill is one place that couldn't possibly be improved on. It's perfect the way it is."
"Oh, but it has changed since we bought it. The little ell on the west side is new - we had to add it on after my brother and sister were born," responded Jane, leaving Pat feeling greatly disconcerted.
At the next stop, the dozing elderly couple in the seats facing Pat and Jane roused themselves and got off the train. An instant later, Pat gasped in shock, for among the oncoming passengers were Sid and May. May, vulgar, insolent, in a coat of a violent crimson with large gold buttons and cuffs and collar of artificial fox. Her lips painted carmine to match. Her loud teal hat anything but matching. She met Pat's eyes boldly, then sashayed right over and sat down opposite Pat and Jane. After a moment, Sid defiantly followed suit.
"Sid, what are you doing here?" demanded Pat in a mortified whisper. "You're supposed to be helping Father and Tillytuck slaughter the pigs!"
"I decided that my poor honey-boy needs a holiday," announced May, making no effort to lower her voice, and looping her arm possessively through Sid's. "He
spends far too much time slaving at Silver Bush. I've convinced him to run up to Charlottetown for the day. We were too late to catch the train at Silverbridge, so
we hitched a ride to this station, and here we are!" She gave Pat a self-satisfied smirk. "Who's your friend?" she continued, eyeing Jane (who was glancing
perceptively from Sid to May to Pat and back again).
Pat made the introductions through clenched teeth.
"So, you're from Toronto?" said May. She proceeded to comport herself in what was intended to be a sophisticated manner, in an obvious attempt to impress the
stylish city girl.
Pat tried to catch Sid's eye to cast him a disgusted look. To her even greater disgust, he was gazing at May with a besotted expression.
Now May had whipped out a movie magazine and was showing Jane a picture of her favourite screen star.
"Yes, he's good-looking," said Jane politely. "But I don't really care for the matinee idol type myself." She started a little, then examined the picture more closely. "Isn't
that funny..." she murmured.
"What?" May demanded eagerly.
"It's just that this actor could almost be the twin brother of a boy who got on the train in Montreal," Jane answered. "He was on his way to the Island too. I heard
him tell his seatmate that his father is a wealthy businessman in Charlottetown. I think he's in the next car," she added casually. She studied the picture again. "Well, maybe they don't look exactly alike. But the boy I saw was still very handsome."
A strange gleam came into May's eyes; Pat had often seen Bold-and-Bad look the same way as he stalked a mouse. She began to shift restlessly in her seat, frequently glancing down the aisle towards the door of the next car. Finally she leapt to her feet. "I've just remembered that my cousin Emma said she was going to Charlottetown today," she blurted. "I'm going to look for her."
"I'll come too," Sid offered.
"Oh no, that's not necessary," said May hurriedly. "Why don't you just stay here and have a nice visit with Pat and Jean. It was nice meeting you, Jean," and with that she was gone.
As the minutes passed, it was Sid's turn to grow restless. At last he stood up. "I think I'll just go see what's taking May," he explained, looking a little sheepish.
Once he had gone, Pat turned to Jane, whose eyes were dancing. "Jane - I'm sorry, Jean" (they both laughed) " - the wealthy businessman's son in the next car - does he really exist?"
Jane nodded. "Actually, that's why I'm in this car. I was seated across the aisle from him all the way from Montreal to Sackville. He spent the entire time boasting to his
seatmate about how wonderful he was, ordering the porters around, and trying to flirt with every female in sight. I think he and May are made for each other!" She had time for no more, for Sid was stalking back down the aisle towards them - without May.
"She was sitting beside that fellow from Charlottetown, flirting like mad!" he choked, flinging himself into his seat. "She frowned when she saw me and then acted as if I were invisible!" He glared at Jane. "Why did you have to mention him to her?"
"It's hardly Jane's fault that May decided to chase after this boy," Pat pointed out.
Sid glared at her, too, and then stared gloomily out the window. After some time, he turned to face them again. "I'm sorry," he told Jane. "I shouldn't have spoken to
you like that." Then he looked at Pat. "I know you've never approved of me associating with May. Well, you were obviously right about her all along," he said bitterly.
Underneath all her elation at this turn of events, Pat, perversely enough, found herself filled with rage at May for causing Sid such pain. How dare the wretched girl throw him over for some playboy! She watched him anxiously.
"It's all right, Pat," he said, seeing her scrutiny. He laughed cynically. "I'm not likely to pine away and die of a broken heart. After all, it's not as if this is a new
experience for me."
Jane spoke up then. "You don't have to apologize. It was presumptuous of me to plant that suggestion in May's mind. I just thought it was a shame to see someone as nice as you in the clutches of someone like her," she said frankly.
"I should thank you for rescuing me before it was too late, then," he replied with a half-hearted smile. He looked back over at Pat. "If I get off at the next station and
take the next train back to Silverbridge, and get a ride with someone from there to North Glen, I can still be home in plenty of time to help Father and Tillytuck."
Pat gazed at him with shining eyes. This was the old Sid, whom she had despaired might be lost to them forever, not the reckless stranger of the past months. All at
once she resolved that the moment she returned home, she would go straight to Rae and apologize to her as forthrightly as had Jane to Sid. She didn't regret
thwarting Rae's romance - such a match would have been as disastrous as one between May and Sid, and she knew that Rae had really only imagined herself to be
in love with the Reverend Wheeler - but she realized now that she had been abominably patronizing towards Rae, treating her like a silly child. She would tell her so and ask her forgiveness.
Jane produced a box of meringues of her own concocting and offered them to Sid and Pat. Those meringues were perfection, melting in one's mouth, and Pat ate
several, dentist appointment or no dentist appointment. It seemed that Jane succeeded at everything she turned her hand to, be it cooking or capturing escaped circus animals or ending unsuitable attachments.
The three of them chatted together, but though Sid made an effort to be pleasant, he was clearly still in low spirits.
"Poor Sid," sighed Pat, after he had taken his leave of them at the next stop. "Oh, I can never thank you enough for opening his eyes about May! It was a nightmare
the way he kept dangling around her. But do you suppose anything will come of her pursuit of this new boy? It seems incredible that a rich man's son who could have his pick of society girls would seriously consider taking up with someone like her. You've seen how low-bred she is. And her whole family is the same way. They have no breeding - no background."
Jane shrugged. "For all his father's fortune, he's every bit as crass as May. They really are true soul mates...insofar as either of them have souls. His family probably won't approve, but he's obviously used to having his own way. And May is nothing if not determined. She's also the type that draws men like a magnet."
"Don't I know," shuddered Pat. "She'd always meant to get Sid. And he was completely under her spell." Then she laughed a little giddily. "May's mother likes to say that her girls aren't 'soulless sassiety women'. Won't she be surprised if May and this young man do make a match of it? But then she'll doubtless put on airs about her daughter 'the wealthy Charlottetown stalactite' - she has the worst trick of malapropisms you ever heard - "
" - I don't know about that," murmured Jane. "You haven't heard my friend Mrs. Meade."
" - and her daughter's father-in-law 'the business typhoon' and her son-in-law 'the ire to a fortune,'" Pat mimicked. She sank back in her seat, feeling almost dizzy with
relief, and fought an urge to dissolve into hysterical laughter. "You've spared Sid from an unspeakable fate! You've spared my entire family from an unspeakable fate!"
Jane smiled sympathetically. I know just how you feel, she thought. I felt exactly the same way when Dad told me there was no truth to Aunt Irene's insinuations that he meant to divorce Mother and marry Lilian Morrow. "Glad to be of service," she said. "Like I said, I hated to see Sid throwing himself away on May. They were so obviously ill-suited. It really would have been the worst thing in the world for him if he had wound up marrying her - he would have spent the rest of his life regretting his mistake. But now, even if nothing comes of this new flirtation of hers and she tries to get Sid back, he should be immune to her wiles."
As the train drew near to Jane's stop, she and Pat exchanged telephone numbers and agreed to visit back and forth over the holidays. "And you'll have to visit us in
Toronto," said Jane. "We're always happy to have visitors from the Island."
Only a short time before, Pat would have balked at the thought of travelling hundreds of miles away from Silver Bush, but now she felt oddly receptive to the idea. In fact, a strange restlessness had taken possession of her. For the first time in her life she began to think that it might be possible to be happy away from Silver Bush - that she could come to love other places with the same devotion. For she admitted to herself with a sudden pang that Silver Bush would not stay the same forever...the changes she so dreaded would inevitably come to pass. Rae would eventually marry and move away...Sid would also get married, to a woman of whom
she could no doubt approve, but who would someday reign as chatelaine of Silver Bush. Her old dream of living out her days at Silver Bush and keeping house for Sid died then and there. She knew she would always have a place in his household, but did she really want to impose on her brother, sister-in-law, and their family? No, she would much rather have a home of her own...although, of course, Silver Bush would always hold a special place in her heart.
She remembered Hilary's long-ago promise to build a wonderful house for her one day. And what had he said to her on the eve of his departure for Toronto? His words came rushing back to her - "Wherever you are, Pat, will always be home to me." But when he had asked if they could be more than friends, her love for Silver Bush - her misguided love, she saw now - had risen up between them like a barrier, and she had denied her true feelings for him. And when he had repeated his question in a letter a few years later, she had again denied him. How foolish she had been! How could she not have seen the truth of his words...that, as the old saying went, "home is where the heart is"?
Well, I've finally come to my senses now, she thought joyfully to herself. When she visited Jane in Toronto, she would seek Hilary out. "I've come to tell you that we can be more than chums after all," she would say to him. "And to remind you of your promise to build me my dream house."
She emerged from her reverie and smiled at Jane. "Thank you! I'd love to visit you in Toronto," she said warmly. As she spoke she recollected another invitation, that
of her distant cousin Lady Medchester, extended during the countess' visit three years before, for Pat to look her up if ever she was in England. Pat had the agreeable feeling that she and Hilary would take up Lady Medchester's invitation sometime in the not-too-distant future.
As the train pulled away from the little siding of West Trent, where Jane and Dr. Abbott were the only passengers to disembark, the first snow of the season began to fall. Pat watched with delight as the large, lacy flakes swirled down thickly, transfiguring the dreary landscape as if by magic.
Meanwhile, as Jane drove away from West Trent with Punch Garland, she was thinking to herself, I wonder how Sid Gardiner and Jody Turner would suit each other? I believe they'd get along really well. I must arrange for them to meet during the holidays...