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And where would any of us be without Maud?


Chapter 7 – 'Reconstructing Worlds'

A world without any Gilbert in it! Anne repeated the words drearily. Would it not be a very lonely, forlorn place?

- Anne of the Island, Chapter XX, 'Gilbert Speaks'

It was late into the afternoon, and Gilbert had still not arisen from his bed, oblivious to the outside world. The grief in his chest had left him stunned, the acute pain superseding everything else around him. He lay huddled under the covers, unable to face the reality of what lay outside the protection of his tiny boarding house room; unable to contemplate how to reconstruct his world without Anne in it.

Anne's words from the previous evening were still swirling through his head, as they had been all day.

"Don't say it. Don't – please Gilbert." But even though she was pleading with him, he still didn't stop talking.

Instead, he'd continued on like a stupid, lumbering buffoon. Why didn't I stop?

"I never, never can love you." He'd been such a fool.

In his desperation to have Anne love him, Gilbert realised he'd tricked something into his head that he imagined was her love, but now he knew it wasn't real. All those girlish glances and blushes, all those passionate debates, all those romantic moments that he'd fancied were an indication of Anne's love. None of it was real. They meant nothing beyond friendship to Anne. They'd all been illusions, the creations of his feverish imagination.

"You've spoiled everything." It was his fault. He'd spoiled their beautiful friendship with his declarations of love, and now he must pay the price for his idiotic mistake.

Just as the glowing tints of sunset were transforming the grey walls of his drab room into glorious golden and pink hues, there was a loud knock at the door. Gilbert didn't move to answer it; fervently hoping whoever it was would go away. He knew he wasn't prepared to face his landlady, or Charlie or anybody else for that matter.

After a few more moments, there was another insistent knock, this time accompanied by a deep male voice.

"Blythe! Are you in there?" It was Ronald Stuart.

Gilbert didn't open his eyes or move as he silently wondered how long it would take for Ronald to leave if he didn't answer the door.

"Gilbert," Ronald called through the door. "Sloane told me you were too unwell to come to Redmond today and I've come to check on you."

Still Gilbert didn't move, and Ronald began pounding on the door again.

"Gilbert?" Ronald's voice sounded concerned now. "Are you all right?"

Gilbert muttered something under his breath about stubborn friends.

"Gilbert Blythe, if you don't open the door, I'm going to ask the landlady to come and unlock it."

Gilbert took a deep breath as he rolled onto his back, slowly opened his red rimmed eyes and blinked them rapidly in the fading light. He ran his fingers nervously through his tousled brown curls and the bed springs squeaked in protest as he sat up slowly and swung his long legs around so his feet touched the floor. Gilbert sat there for a moment, scrubbing his hand over the rough bristles on his unshaven face with a sigh and still pondering whether he would answer the door.

"I know you're in there," Ronald said. "I can hear you moving, so you'd better let me in. Right now."

Reluctantly, Gilbert pushed himself up and off the bed slowly and stepped across the tiny room to open the door. He was still wearing his crumpled shirt and trousers from the day before. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the dark hair covering his muscled chest. One side of his shirt was untucked from his trousers, the cuffs unfastened so the sleeves were dangling loosely at his wrists and his brown curls were a tangled mess atop his head.

When Gilbert opened the door, he was greeted by a concerned pair of dark blue eyes which immediately scrutinised his unkempt appearance.

"Good Lord, man, what has happened?" Ronald asked without preamble, looking aghast at Gilbert's dishevelled form. "How ill are you?"

With a sigh, Gilbert immediately turned from the door and lay face down on the bed again. He slowly drew the covers back over his head with one hand and his feet were dangling off the edge of the narrow bed. He turned his face away from Ronald towards the wall.

"I really don't feel well, Ronald," Gilbert said hollowly. "Please, just leave me alone. I'll be fine."

"Sloane told me you were in a bad way, old chap," Ronald said worriedly. "I see that he wasn't exaggerating for once. Is it something you've eaten?"

"No," Gilbert shook his head slightly.

"Do you have a fever then?" Ronald continued. "Perhaps I should call a doctor? Let me ask your landlady…"

"Ronald," Gilbert mumbled into his pillow. "I know you mean well. But please, could you just go away and leave me alone for a little while?"

There was a pause as Ronald looked around the small room, taking in the cluttered desk in the corner, which was laden with multiple towering stacks of books all leaning at precarious angles along with scattered reams of notepaper covered with Gilbert's neat, upright handwriting. The bed was placed along one wall directly underneath the window and a small armoire stood against the opposite wall. Knowing Gilbert's customary neat habits, Ronald was surprised to see Gilbert's jacket, suspenders, vest and collar lying in an untidy pile on the floor. His hat had been tossed carelessly on the chair next to the desk and his shoes lay under the bed where he'd haphazardly kicked them off.

"I'm not leaving until I know you're going to be taken care of properly while you're so unwell."

Moving Gilbert's hat to place it on the desk, Ronald sat down on the chair as he peered at Gilbert's prone figure on the bed.

"Tell me what ails you, and I'll do whatever I can to help," Ronald said gently. He leaned forward, with his legs placed wide and his elbows resting on his thighs as he clasped his hands together between his knees.

"Trust me, Ron, you can't help me," Gilbert muttered. "I just need to rest for a bit."

Or perhaps never leave this room again.

"That's it, I'm going to ask your landlady to call a doctor," Ronald stood up.

"No," Gilbert said. "I don't need a doctor."

"I think you do," Ronald looked at Gilbert sceptically.

"No, a doctor isn't going to help, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?" Ronald looked more carefully at Gilbert's back. "What's the matter with you?"

"It's nothing."

Nothing at all. I've just discovered the girl I've been in love with for half my life doesn't love me, can never love me, and never wants to speak to me again.

"This is about a woman, isn't it?" Ronald asked bluntly.

Gilbert didn't answer.

"Is it?" Ronald persisted.

"How did you know?" Gilbert answered finally.

"I know enough of women's evil tricks to recognise heartbreak when I see it, Blythe."

"She's not evil," Gilbert's muffled voice came from the depths of his pillow. "She's the most beautiful, glorious thing in the world. I think I've loved her since I was thirteen years old. And now she hates me."

"Is this about Anne Shirley?"

More silence.

"What happened?" Ronald asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ronald."

"Did you quarrel with her?"

"No." I only wanted her so desperately that I imagined she wanted me, too.

"Well, what then?"

"I proposed to her," Gilbert muttered forlornly. "And she refused me."

"Gadzooks, man!" Ronald exclaimed. "It's worse than I thought."

"I know," Gilbert agreed miserably. "How could I be so stupid?"

"That settles it, then," Ronald said decisively as he abruptly hauled the covers off Gilbert's prone body and flung them on the floor. "Get dressed. We're going out."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Gilbert hadn't moved from his position on the bed, and his hands were still clasped over his head. "I'm afraid I won't be very pleasant company for you."

"I'm not here for good company," Ronald declared. "I'm here to help you, Blythe. You know you'd do the same for me."

"Thank you for your kindness," Gilbert said. "But I'd really prefer to stay here. Forever."

"You have to gather yourself together, man," Ronald was all business now. "Have you eaten today?"

Gilbert shook his head, still face down on the bed and not meeting Ronald's gaze.

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'm famished," Ronald retorted, grabbing Gilbert's elbow and trying to pull him up off the bed. "Come along."

"Truly, Ron," Gilbert began. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'm fine…"

"I've been through this before," Ronald interrupted. "And I can tell you that you're not fine and this is certainly no conversation to be having on an empty stomach. I'm taking you out for supper."

"No!" Gilbert protested. "Ronald, I know you mean well, but I'm really not up to that."

"Pish tosh," Ronald exclaimed impatiently. "What's that line from Virgil you're always quoting to me?"

Gilbert winced painfully at the mention of it.

"Audentis Fortuna iuvat," he mumbled miserably.

"Yes, that's it," Ronald nodded. "Fortune favours the brave. So, come on, Blythe, be brave. Get up. You'll feel better once you've eaten and then you can tell me all about it."

"I really don't want to talk about it," Gilbert mumbled into his pillow. "Thanks all the same."

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," Ronald said. "So, this will be much better for you if you just get up now before I summon the entire football team to lift you bodily out of this bed. Count yourself lucky that Sloane's gone out for the evening, otherwise I'm sure he'd be insisting on joining us."

Ronald bent to pick up Gilbert's discarded jacket, collar, tie and waistcoat from the floor. Ronald carefully placed the tie and waistcoat over the chair in the corner.

"I wish my valet were here," Ronald muttered to himself while he held up the jacket in front of him, trying unsuccessfully to brush the wrinkles out of it with his hand.

As Gilbert reluctantly sat up and raked his fingers through his hair, Ronald looked him over critically.

"You could do with a shave, Gilbert. I'll wait downstairs while you wash. You've got fifteen minutes or I'm coming up here again."

Less than an hour later, a freshly washed and less rumpled Gilbert and Ronald were being seated at a table in the corner of the dining room of the best hotel in Kingsport. Gilbert looked around him uneasily as they sat down.

"I don't think this is the sort of establishment that I can afford, Ronald."

"Nonsense, Blythe," Ronald didn't glance up from the menu. "I invited you here, so I hardly expect you to pay. Please, order anything you want."

"I'm really not hungry," Gilbert said.

"Very well, I'll order for you then," said Ronald as he gestured for the waiter.

As soon as their meals were placed in front of them, Ronald picked up his knife and fork and began eating, but Gilbert looked doubtfully at the food on the plate in front of him. He wasn't sure whether he could get anything past the painful lump of anguish in his chest.

"You must eat, Gilbert," Ronald gestured towards Gilbert's plate with his knife.

Gilbert picked up his silverware and began to push the food around his plate indifferently before taking a reluctant mouthful.

"That's the way," Ronald smiled and nodded approvingly. "You'll feel better for it."

After they'd finished the meal, the waiter placed balloons of cognac in front of each of them. Ronald settled back in his chair, swirling the liquid around in his glass as his steely blue eyes studied Gilbert's face carefully.

"Now, tell me everything," Ronald demanded.

"I've already told you everything," Gilbert replied, pushing his glass of brandy further away from him.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," Ronald persisted, sipping at his drink.

"Yes it is," Gilbert muttered, not meeting Ronald's gaze. "She hates me now, Ronald."

"I'm quite sure she doesn't hate you, old chap," Ronald shook his head. "Why don't you just go and see her? You'll apologise for upsetting her and make up nicely. Easy."

"It's not that easy, Ron," Gilbert argued. "You didn't see the look in her eyes."

"Oh, yes I did," Ronald averred. "I saw the look in her eyes during those discussions you two are so fond of, and I can assure you, that most definitely wasn't hate."

"Well, apparently it wasn't love either," Gilbert said bitterly.

"She'll forgive you, no matter what you said," said Ronald. "So, why won't you go and speak with her if you feel that badly about it?"

"I can't," Gilbert said morosely. "I threw her attempt to continue our friendship back in her face."

"Just go to her and do whatever you can to salvage the friendship," Ronald urged. "If that's what you want."

"It's too late for that," Gilbert shook his head miserably.

"It's never too late," Ronald argued. "Won't you at least try to talk to her? You're both very good at that."

Gilbert closed his eyes and sighed heavily as he remembered Anne's words from last evening. "You must never speak of this to me again."

"No," Gilbert said finally. "I can't. She doesn't want to see me."

"Are you sure?" Ronald asked.

His eyes still closed, Gilbert swallowed hard and nodded.

"Well then you'd best move on," Ronald advised.

"I can't move on," Gilbert said bleakly. How can I reconstruct my world without her?

"Can't or won't?"

"It doesn't matter," Gilbert said. "I know you're trying to help, but I'd really rather not talk about it anymore."

There was another brief pause while Ronald examined Gilbert's pinched face.

"Well then, there's nothing else for it," Ronald announced, already gesturing for more cognac. "We're both going to get roaring drunk tonight."

"Leave the bottle here, please," he said to the waiter, who carefully placed the crystal decanter on the table in front of them.

"Ronald, you know I'm not really much of a drinker," Gilbert protested. He'd only taken a few sips of the wine with dinner and now he was looking askance at the cognac in front of him.

"Well, it's about time you started in that case," Ronald said decisively.

"I don't think liquor is going to help me," Gilbert objected.

"Listen to me, Blythe," Ronald leaned forward as he spoke seriously. "If you're really not going to go and try to get her back, then my advice to you is to forget her and move on. Cognac will help you to stop thinking. There's plenty more girls out there, you know."

"I don't care," Gilbert stated flatly. "None of them are Anne."

"Look at those girls over there, for instance," Ronald nodded in the direction of two girls seated at a table across the room from them. "They've barely stopped staring at us all night."

Gilbert glanced briefly at the two extremely pretty girls who were smiling and giggling at them before he slid his gaze back to Ronald.

"I don't think so," Gilbert said.

"I'll grant you, Anne Shirley's unique," Ronald said. "But, there's no point in eating yourself up over just one woman. You're young, you're clever, you're about to be the next President of the Lambs, and judging by the looks those girls over there are giving you, apparently not entirely unappealing to the fairer sex. Now, down the hatch, Blythe."

Ronald pointed to Gilbert's glass impatiently. He watched while Gilbert picked up his brandy balloon dubiously, looking at the amber liquid as though it might poison him.

"Go on, Gilbert," Ronald encouraged. "I guarantee you'll feel better for it."

Gilbert took a hesitant sip and gasped. His eyes watered as he felt the liquid slowly burning a trail down his throat until it finally settled into a not entirely unpleasant warmth in his belly. It did seem to alleviate the ache in his chest slightly.

"That's the way," Ronald nodded approvingly. "Now the rest of it."

Without further protest, Gilbert drained his glass and Ronald did the same with his.

Ronald poured more cognac into their glasses and motioned for Gilbert to drink again.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Ronald asked as Gilbert downed the cognac.

"I'm done with talking," Gilbert declared, shaking his head resolutely.

I've already done far too much talking, and look where that got me. If only I had stopped talking when Anne asked me to…

Ronald threw back his cognac in one gulp and poured them both another generous splash.

"Very well, then," said Ronald. "No point in wasting away in despair because a woman is fair and cold."

"She's not cold, Ron…"

"Now," Ronald said, standing up abruptly and glancing across the room once more as he seized the decanter of cognac from the table. "Let's go see if I can't get those girls over there to talk to us. Doesn't appear like it'll be too difficult judging by the looks they've been giving us all evening. I'll take the blonde one and you may have the brunette."

I don't want either of them, Gilbert thought, but said nothing.

The two girls looked delighted as Gilbert and Ronald approached them.

"Good evening, ladies," Ronald said, smiling warmly as they approached the girls' table. "I wonder if I may be so bold as to introduce myself to you? Ronald Stuart, President of the Redmond Lamba Thetas, and this is my right hand man, Gilbert Blythe. How do you do?"

Two hours and quite a few more cognacs later, Ronald and Gilbert were standing on the street outside the hotel as they waited for the carriage that Ronald had ordered to take them home. Both men seemed to be quite unsteady on their feet. The cognac also seemed to have suddenly loosened Gilbert's tongue.

"She's perfect, Ronald," Gilbert slurred. "How could I be so foolish and ruin our friendship like that?"

"She's not perfect, Blythe," Ronald flung his arm haphazardly around Gilbert's shoulders.

"She's perfect to me," Gilbert sighed glumly. "She's perfect for me."

"What about Betsy in there?" Ronald suggested. "She was very pretty and she seemed quite smitten with you, even though you barely spoke to her. I'm sure she'd like to help you forget Anne Shirley."

"Eliza," Gilbert corrected.

"Pardon?" Ronald looked confused.

"Her name was Eliza," said Gilbert. Not Anne.

"Never mind her name," Ronald waved his hand impatiently. "She was extremely charming and I'm sure she would be more than delighted to help you to forget Anne."

"I don't want to forget her," Gilbert moaned. "I want her to love me."

"Better to think on something else, man," Ronald advised, swaying slightly as he grasped Gilbert's shoulder. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that women are far too confusing for my liking. I suggest you focus on your studies and do your best to keep your life simple from here on in. You still want to be a doctor, don't you?"

"I suppose so," Gilbert nodded morosely.

"All right, well go to Redmond tomorrow and follow that ambition."

When Gilbert awoke the next morning, even though he had a shockingly painful headache, it was still no match for the excruciating ache in his heart. Nevertheless, Gilbert found that Ronald had succeeded in convincing him that he wasn't willing to throw his college career away, so he was able to get up and go to Redmond. Gilbert assiduously avoided the places he knew Anne frequented and he was grateful that he managed to not see her at all that day.

A few weeks later, Ronald graduated Valedictorian of his year and Gilbert was elected President of the Lambs. Even though he was pleased, the election had lost some of its lustre since the person Gilbert most wanted to tell never wanted to speak to him again.

Gilbert had continued on attending classes in his painful fog, so he was relieved when finally, it was the last day of his Sophomore year at Redmond and he had successfully avoided seeing Anne at all in that time. That afternoon, Gilbert was invited to high tea at Ronald's boarding house and he was saddened to be bidding farewell to his good chum.

"I'm going to miss you, Ronald," said Gilbert. "I don't know what I would've done without you these past few weeks. I – I can't thank you enough."

"Don't mention it," Ronald waved his hand in front of him dismissively. "I know you'd do the same for me, and I promise to make sure to get you involved next time I'm heartbroken."

"Nevertheless, I want to thank you for everything," Gilbert said sincerely. "Not just these past weeks."

Ronald eyed Gilbert speculatively for a moment before he replied.

"I've been wanting to ask a colossal favour of you, old chum," Ronald said slowly. "But it hardly seemed right to ask when you've been so unhappy."

"Anything for you," Gilbert replied, trying to smile encouragingly.

"My sister's coming to Redmond in September," Ronald said. "And I wanted to ask if you'd look after her."

Gilbert opened his mouth to protest at the same time that Ronald held his hand up to stop him.

"Now before you tell me you don't socialise anymore, hear me out," Ronald said. "I'm not trying to match make you, because she's already engaged to the oldest son of one of our father's friends, and he's richer than Croesus. I think he's a complete oaf, frankly, but Christine seems totally smitten and assures me the fellow's wonderful. Anyway, Christine's quite attractive and I wouldn't trust her with anyone else but you until she finds her feet at Redmond, and since she won't know anybody here with me gone, she'll be awfully lonely. What do you say? Would you mind terribly?"

"In that case, of course I won't mind, Ronald," Gilbert said.

"You really won't have to do too much," Ronald assured him. "You only need take her to a few of the dances and introduce her around, that's all. I'd be much obliged to you."

"You'd better warn her that I'm not the best company," said Gilbert.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Blythe," Ronald smiled. "I'll let her work that out for herself."

The next week, Gilbert commenced his job at the Daily News. He spent the summer working hard, grateful for the activity. Gilbert was aware of feeling "something gone which should be there" and he felt a piercing pain to his heart every time he realised it was Anne's absence. Even though she was in Avonlea for the summer and he wasn't, Gilbert knew she would have written to him while he worked at the newspaper. Every day of that summer, Gilbert missed each and every one of those precious letters from Anne as keenly as he felt the absence of their banter and closeness.

At the end of August, Gilbert received a letter from Ronald Stuart.

Gilbert, old boy,

I'm enclosing the details of Christine's accommodation when she arrives in Kingsport on September 6th. I'm relying on you to look after her, because I know she'll be dreadfully lonely when she first arrives. And, believe me, Christine is such a social creature, she won't like that at all. I've also told her to expect you to call on her once she's settled.

I feel sure you'll enjoy her company if you give her a chance and get to know her. Christine's quite a jolly thing, and she'll do a lot of the talking, so I expect you'll like that. Just wait till you hear her play the piano, she's really very good.

I can't thank you enough for this favour, you must know I am most appreciative.

Ronald

Just take her to a few dances and show her around. Ronald had asked it like that would be an easy task.

Gilbert knew he could never take Christine to a dance without thinking of Anne, and that it would be even more agonising for him if Anne was there, too. He'd managed to drag himself around the Redmond campus to attend his classes in the last few weeks of term, but he just couldn't imagine dancing again if it wasn't with Anne.