Hello again! I realise I went ahead of myself and thought that I would be writing of Anne's first proposal, but that doesn't happen until chapter 8. Funnily enough the chapter we have instead is the one where L.M.M. writes 'that no account of that night has been preserved' -I think this quote shaped the idea for a diary story in the first place. So here, dear reader, is that long lost account...
CHAPTER VII -Home Again
Thursday December 23rd; Orchard Slope, Avonlea
Dear Journalette,
Anne is home! When she left in September I thought I should never survive until Christmas I missed her so much. Of course, Fred has been a dear but some things can only be shared with one's bosom friend ~I can't very well talk about Fred to Fred, can I? Let alone a Gillis or a Pye. Those girls can think of nothing but Ruby's New Year's party. I just know every Avonlea girl is determined to outshine a certain redheaded Freshette. They can try all they like Anne will make them look like last year's hat.
She looked so divine at the station, my heart burst with pride when I saw her. She has shortened her hair a little so that the most adorable little curls kiss upon her brow. There was a moment when I thought someone else was about to kiss that brow, but Gil was only brushing something off the shoulder of her coat. Didn't Anne's face go red as he did it. They make such an adorable couple, I hope Gil agrees to be Fred's best man at our wedding. It will be a summer wedding so he can wear his handsome cream blazer with a sky blue tie I think, and Anne can wear her darling duck-egg organza. Of course, there's still more than two years until then. Perhaps modes will have changed, but, oh it's nice to dream!
I want Fred to wear brown. Whether it should be plain or a fine check I haven't yet decided. But something in a toasty, tree trunky colour ~Fred always looks a little less red when he wears brown. I am still in two minds about my dress. When I saw Charlotte Gillis' wedding gown I decided then and there that I should definitely have a six foot train. But then Ruby told me what a trial it was to be trailing behind her sister keeping the satin straight and clean. Apparently she had to hold it up while Charlotte used the water closet! I could never do that to Anne. So then I decided I would have a fabulous outsized hat until I realised it would make me taller than Fred which wouldn't do at all. Now I am all for a misty white veil but they are fearfully expensive and I wouldn't want the Wrights thinking me extravigant.
Anne says I should have puffed sleeves, so puffy as to make Fred's head look like a pin. As if I would! No one but the most old fashioned spinsters wear puffed sleeves now. Now we are all in a craze for bustles. Don't I love to wear a bustle because it makes my waist look so tiny. But Anne doesn't care a stitch for them. She says her new chum, Phil (Phil is actually a girl but every time I hear her name I think of a boy) has already given up in despair of converting Anne to bustles ~and she is even more of a clotheshorse than I am. Perhaps then this 'Phil' is also as plump as I am because Anne's bitty waist definitely does not need disguising. She complained she's lost five pounds since moving to Kingsport. Marilla and Rachel are already plotting on how to fatten her up again.
She looked so small and sweet as we snuggled up together in the Spare Room, we felt like young girls again. I even braided her hair down her back. Anne asked me to tell her truly if it looked any more auburn than it did in September. Journalette, it didn't. But I told her it was hard to tell by candlelight. Then I asked if she could see anything different about me. Did it show I wondered. Ruby swore it did but I don't know for certain because Mama has had the worst head cold and is not as eagle eyed as she generally is.
Well, Anne took one look at my big blushing face and said OF course it shows, Diana darling, half your face is raw from Fred's big bristly jaw. Ooh, I went even redder then and begged her to tell me she was only teasing. It wasn't until a good while later when Anne was describing the regal countinance of her English professor that it occurred to me to ask exactly how she knew about whisker rash.
Didn't Miss Anne go quiet all of a sudden. Finally she said she didn't know, not directly, but had heard enough about it. Then I said would she like to know even more about it. I told her how mouths were the least of it. That the fine skin beneath your earlobes tingled blissfully when someone kissed you there, and how the little hollow between your collar bones just seemed made for a boy's lips. It was strange then because even though it was dark I knew that both of us were touching those places. Of course, I was thinking of my Fred. But who was Anne thinking of -I'd never ask her. She'd shut up tighter than a bad clam if I mentioned Gilbert Blythe ~or any man who isn't from some novel. So I said, Imagine Mr Knightley kissing your ear lobe! And she said No, Mr Darcy! And then we sent our squeals into our pillows so that Mama didn't burst in and tell us to be quiet. But I know now a pillow is nothing like a real man ~and neither is a book. But that's just something Anne will have to find out for herself!
… … …
Wednesday 29th December; Mount Holly, Bolingbroke
The Rose Notebook
Alec Granger
Looks:
Thick, black curly hair
Dreamy aqua coloured eyes and long black lashes
Smooth cheeked complexion except for the sweetest bits of fluff by his ears that he calls sideburns
Full pink lips which thrill me to my fingertips
Tall, broad shouldered -basically the full Adonis
Attributes:
Only son of Malcolm Granger of Granger Dunleavy Co.
Bachelor of Arts in Mathematics and Philosophy
Plays piano, harp, flute, croquet, archery and also paints -after Millet
Essays published in Kingsport Chronicles and Patton's World of Travel
Adores Victor Hugo, Lord Byron, Schubert, Chopin and the Barbizon School
Loves his sister, Sissie, his labrador, Jupiter, raspberries and fresh cream, and me!
Loveliest thing he's ever said to me:
"Each time you happen to me all over again." *
Alonzo Hill
Looks:
Light brown hair
Dark brown eyes and short thick lashes
Golden skin and golden whiskers about his upper lip and chin
Sweet, smiling mouth with a buttery laugh that make his eyes crinkle and my heart go whomp
A nose that would cause Michaelangelo to fetch his chisel
Medium height, carries himself very confidently
Attributes:
Eldest of five sons, and heir to the Beauclaire estate
Bachelor of Arts; Modern Languages and Literature
True tenor, also plays piano, viola, polo (captain), football, hockey (captain) cross country skiing, and hunts
Written and produced three plays (for private audience)
Adores Shakespeare, Marlowe, Gilbert and Sullivan, Keats, and Bach
Loves his brothers, his appaloosa, Bonnie, his quarter-horse, Othello, maple syrup on everything, and me!
Loveliest thing he's ever said to me:
"You should be kissed often by someone who knows how." *
The Ochre Notebook
Alec
He is prettier than I am!
Whenever I see him play the harp I want to laugh
His paintings are rather derivative and his hands often smell like turpentine
I've only pretended to read his essays because they looked horridly boring -one of them was about carp fishing in Vancouver.
I like Jupiter more than I like Sissie
All he ever wants are raspberries -which is unimaginative in raspberry season and pretentious for the other fifty weeks of the year
Silliest thing he's ever said to me:
"You are my one and only thought." *
Alonzo
He will dilute my good looks should we have a family, and I would much prefer pretty children -they're so much easier to love!
He sings well enough but he is always singing, and his plays were all hilarious even though two were supposedly tragedies
He's often bruised or nursing some injury. He'll probably make me a widow far too early. I shall be stuck wearing black which drains my complexion, and, going by the size of his own family, burdened with a mountain of sons -plain sons at that.
He sometimes smells of horse liniment and there are always sticky crumbs of sugar in his pockets
Silliest thing he's ever said to me:
"If you live to be a hundred I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so that I never have to live without you." *
This is hopeless, I shall never decide. And I shall never forgive Anne for not coming to Bolingbroke. If she had come to Mount Holly for Christmas instead of hokey ol' Green Gables she would have known which of them to choose. Those grey eyes of hers can peer into a person's soul and see one's truth in an instant. Whereas I am left to draw up ridiculous lists like a Sloane. Yes I admit it, Charlie Sloane gave me the idea. I was never going to mention the circumstances as to exactly how this came about but I think that I shall now -I'm in the mood for playing the martyr.
I last saw Charlie at Gil's game against Temperley College. Well you couldn't miss him really, he was wearing the most ludicrous get up -all thanks to yours truly. Because the day I found out Gil made captain of the Reds, the day we all walked to Patty's Place and I ended up on Charlie's arm (which again was really Anne's fault because she had the captain all to herself!) I decided to take my revenge on ol' Goggles by playing a tiny prank.
I told him that Anne adored the tradition of wearing Redmond colours but wondered why no one ever wore matching trousers. Well Mother Sloane must have stitched up a storm because six weeks later there was Charlie on the number two field in a fully knitted red and white striped suit. He looked like a bug eyed candy cane, and had the audacity to march over to me and demand to know why I was so late to the game. I told him I couldn't decide what to wear of course. The weather was so bleak it really demanded my cashmere cloak, but the fuchsia colour clashes horribly with my football sweater.
In the end I decided to brave the cold without it. But my lips must have been blue because the next thing I knew Charlie Sloane was peeling off his repellent ensemble and pushing it into my arms. Of course, he wore the usual brown underneath because, he told me, the wool was too itchy against his bare skin. Well the joke was on me then, I was so frozen I had those long-johns on under my skirts before you could say social suicide.
After the game Charlie insisted on walking me to Wallace street in order to have his suit back (as if I planned to keep it!) and that is how I came to hear all about his penchant for making lists. I'm sure they make for thrilling reading. Yet am I not the greater fool for taking his advice? It hasn't made the least bit of difference. I still don't know whether I should attend the Hill's party on New Years Eve or the Granger's. Let alone whom I shall marry. Somehow I feel it's all Anne's fault! Well I absolutely refuse to blame myself. Haven't I suffered enough!
… … …
Thursday 30th December, White Lily Lodge, Avonlea
The Life and Times of Miss Ruby Rose Gillis, Chapter 1,877
Oh, I wish I could shake this pesky cold, the tickle in my throat is making me fractious. I have been sucking on lemon drops, but I shall have to quit that by tomorrow night -imagine being caught under the mistletoe smelling like you just ate a bar of soap? Not that any fellow I could name would mind one shred if I did. They are all so crazy over me. I think Charlotte misses all the attention. Well she made her choice and now she must wake up to it every morning. Imagine having to sleep next to Milty Stilton for the rest of your life! I wonder if I should keep a supply a peppermints by me when I marry in case of sour breath?
Peppermints! That's what I'll do, I'll fill a punch bowl with peppermints. Not those nasty chalky things from Lawsons, Charlie Sloane sometimes has the most awful white crust at the corners of his mouth. What agony having to kiss that! Perhaps I won't hang mistletoe, after all. It was really Josie's idea. Poor girl, she practically has to corner a man. If only she knew what a trial it was to be always having boys at your elbow. They just never let me be!
I hope those fellows realise I shall be wanting to catch up with my chums as well. I want to introduce Anne to Mr Dander. He is an utter dish with the dreamiest moustache. Don't I wish I had a teacher like that instead of moony Mr Phillips. Those Spencervale girls don't know how lucky they are -I would be asking for extra lessons! I do hope my throat clears, I sound like some screechy ol' Blewett. Perhaps just the tiniest drop of red current wine would do the trick. Now that is an idea, I feel so rattled lately -Myra says it must be love if I can't even sew a straight stitch anymore. I still haven't trimmed the cuffs of my new dress satisfactorily, I've ruined a whole yard of silk ribbon as it is.
No matter, as if anyone will be looking at the cuffs of my dress. I suppose some girls must rely on pretty feathers, I like them myself. But I never heard one boy say that he loved me for my stylish hat, or my pearl button gloves, or my french lace shirtwaist. It's always my eyes or my hair or my figure -Rob Wright would say it's my smile but I know that he really means the sweet red lips which make that smile. Oh, he's too awful!
I can't wait to see what Anne's wearing, Diana tells me she has trimmed a little fringe of curls about her face. If that's so you can just bet Josie Pye will do the same. Someone should warn her against it, she already has such a square shaped head, a style like that will likely make it worse. Well, whatever the fashion I am going to keep my hair long, straight and golden the way all the boys like it. Gilbert Blythe used to call me Corn Silk while he only called Anne Carrots and Diana Crow. He always did have a soft spot for me. But I can't be waiting around for Gilbert to make a doctor of himself -besides everyone knows he's just sure to marry Anne.
He's practically the only fellow she mentions in her letters. Fancy paying all that money for Redmond only to end up marrying a boy from your own hometown! When I think what it must be like surrounded by all those dashing young men. It's as well I never wanted to go, I doubt any of them would give me a minute to study. Gilbert and Anne seem to be taking it all far too seriously. Well and I am sure the two of them will make a quaint old pair, chatting by the fireside about some ol' book by some ol' nobody. Who was it Gil said he was reading at the moment? Was it John Stuart Mill? Sounds like a fisherman to me!
Don't I sound cross. It's this awful sore throat, it is vexing to come down so ill on the eve of my party. At least it hasn't affected my colouring, I never have to pinch my cheeks anymore. I look so bonny and bright eyed Mr Dander is just bound to propose to me on the spot! I suppose I shouldn't say yes, not if he hasn't asked Father. Besides I hardly know the first thing about him. Gertie says he has a fiancee on the mainland, that's why we haven't seen him since school broke for the holidays. Isn't that just the sort of thing you'd expect from a Pye. I have a mind to forgo the mistletoe after all then we'll see who gets kissed the most!
... ... ...
* Asterisked quotes are by Edith Wharton, Margaret Mitchell, Arthur Conan Doyle and A.A. Milne respectively
Ok, now we have the proposal -yes to Jane, Dianastorm, great idea! But who else should speak? Would anyone like to know what happened at that party?
