DISCLAIMER: We're not LMM, but we love Anne to pieces, really, we do.
ANNE WAKENED on the morning of her wedding day to find the sunshine winking in at the window of the little porch gable and a September breeze frolicking with her curtains. She had had a weird dream that she couldn't quite remember. In it, she had been getting married to someone... someone she had dreamed about for a long time. Then she blinked. Of course, she was getting married to Gilbert Blythe, today! This wasn't a dream.
Anne threw off the covers and ran down to the kitchen. Marilla, who had cooking since five o'clock that morning, looked up mildly when Anne's flaming hair streamed before her eyes.
"Oh, Marilla," gushed Anne, unable to contain her excitement, "I still can't believe it. I'm getting married, I'm getting married to the most wonderful man in the world!"
Marilla continued to stir the pot of porridge pensively, thinking how different life would have been had she got married and had children of her own. Would she have stayed in Avonlea? What would have happened to Anne then?
"...Marilla?" asked Anne hesitantly. Marilla, who had been staring into space with a dotty expression on her face, jumped guilty and stirred the pot with unusual vigour.
"Yes, yes, completely natural," replied Marilla, without a clue as to what she'd just agreed to.
"Well, if you're sure," said Anne as she walked out the door, "I should only be a little while.'
Anne was perched on the trunk of fallen tree, her hair was blowing gently in the breeze and her eyes shone with dreamy remembrance as she looked out upon the Lake of Shining Waters. She was therefore surprised when she saw Diana walking hastily walking towards her and flapping her arms about like a chicken.
"Why, Diana!" Anne called out in delight, 'Whatever are you doing out and about this early? And what is that in your hand?"
Diana silently handed an envelope to Anne, it looked old and the writing on the front was smudged as if it had been written in a hurry.
"Diana, what's wrong...why are you--?" asked Anne and then stopped.
Mr. Mathew Cuthbert of Green Gables
Avonlea, Prince Edward Island.
Anne quickly flipped the envelope over to see who it was from, it was blank. Surely everyone knew that Mathew had been dead for years now? Who would do such a thing?
"Come Diana," said Anne, her voice tight with emotion, "we must show Marilla."
The girls quietly walked into the kitchen, Marilla who was sitting at the table sorting out a box of ribbon looked up when she heard them enter, before she could speak Anne held out the envelope for Marilla to read.
"It's a letter to Mathew," said Anne.
"Read it out loud, please Anne," said Marilla quietly.
It was dated three months previous and read:
Dear Mr. Cuthbert,
This very day not two hours past, my dear mother Lady Catherine Dronsburry Elot died of a fever. I mention this to you, as it is my belief that my mother was acquainted with you some time ago. Nine months before I was born to be precise.
What I am saying Mr. Cuthbert, is that I believe you are my father.
In the next two hours a boat is leaving England directly for Canada, and I plan to be on it. We have a lifetime of catching up to do and I will be arriving at Green Gables in exactly three months. I hope you will understand my haste.
Sincerely, L. Elot.
"So it's true!" gasped Marilla, scandalized.
"You knew Mathew had a son?" cried Anne.
"Oh my," said Diana, "someone is knocking at the door!"
"Hello?" called out a voice, with a decidedly English accent, "is anyone home?"
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Chapter by rhoswen. Part of a "round robin" at in 2006. The first line comes directly from Anne's House of Dreams and the first few lines are added by Bets.
