Quick update - I accidently published Chapter 9 without publishing the proper Chapter 8.
If you have been following this story during Oct/Nov 2018, please re-read chapters 7 and 8, before continuing on to chapters 9 and 10. It makes far better sense now.
The Prince didn't visit as regularly as he used to. In the beginning, he was there every day. Sometimes it was breakfast, sometimes it was dinner. He always joined her for a meal during the day and they talked about … well, nothing really. Any time Anne brought up the dragon or the garden or the unusual absence of any other people in the castle, the Prince merely smiled and said it would all take time. That she should simply adjust to this new lifestyle and enjoy it. Anne didn't even consider mentioning The Woman. As enjoyable as the company was, Anne found herself disconnecting from the conversation and unwilling to reveal too much. It was easy enough to partake in the small talk, and even to listen to the romantic recitals of his favourite literature. However, it was horribly easy to daydream about the adventures awaiting her.
Like the gate at the back of the garden. Anne knew it did not lead outside of the castle. But it *did* lead to the bailey and the surrounding laneways of the main building. Anne's main concern was the open area sitting just outside the gate. Would she be in danger of the dragon? Could it see her? Is that why there were no people around the castle, with the dragon picking them off one by one? This fear was enough to stop her from venturing out.
At least for a few days. Today was different. Today she had heard something, like a tinkering. A clanking of metal. It was enticing. It was calling her. Today, she was going to venture forth and explore this grand castle.
Anne fashioned a sling and filled it with fresh fruit from the garden. This time, she noticed the flowers and picked a few to add to the wide-brimmed straw hat she found in today's wardrobe. She had even found a canteen of water and felt more than prepared. It was the only thing to help to quiet the nerves as she approached the gate.
Suddenly, Anne was hit with a thought: What if it was locked? Of course, it would be locked! The Prince was trying to keep her safe in the castle. It's not like he would leave the gates unlocked and allow anyone to just wander in and take her away!
Anne carefully walked up to the gate and lightly touched the handle. Without any resistance, the gate easily swung open. Anne's last excuse crumbled away. She stood there with her mouth as wide open as her eyes. And then she stepped through the gate.
To be absolutely honest, there was nothing spectacular about the laneway. Except for the fact it was OUTSIDE. The dark brown soil of the gardens gave way to a light-sandstone gravel, leading out to a courtyard. Just around the corner, Anne could hear the light banging sound. Metal on metal. Anne followed her senses and set a path in that general direction.
It was not long before Anne found the source of the noise: A blacksmith. Another person! And for an added treat, Anne found The Woman from The Doors talking with the Blacksmith!
"There you are, Queen Anne. We were wondering when you would finally come out." The Woman greeted her with a great big smile.
"You called me that last time too. Am I really a Queen?"
"You are to me, lovely. It's just something about you that carries like a queen."
Anne blushed under the compliment. To break the awkwardness, Anne turned and introduced herself to the Blacksmith. "Hello. My name is Anne. I haven't seen you around here before."
The Blacksmith looked up from the sword he was making and said, "Well, that's not a surprise since it took you this long to come down from your ivory tower."
Anne was slightly taken aback from his forthrightness. Ivory Tower? Did he not know she was being protected from a fiery dragon? How dare he presume!
"Oh Smithy, lighten up. Poor Anne didn't even know there was a garden to begin with. She had to know she wanted one before she could appreciate it."
The Blacksmith smirked at The Woman's comments and returned to his sword. Anne watched as he whispered something to the sword. "Excuse me, what did you say then?"
"It was not for your ears" was the curt reply.
The Woman intervened. "Now, don't be silly, Smithy. What he should have said was, it's a secret. Being a blacksmith requires a certain level of magic to manage the elements and imbue the craft. Some blacksmiths think it helps them control the elements. For some blacksmiths, they simply implore the elements to work with them and do as they request."
Anne looked back to the Blacksmith. "So are you controlling or imploring?"
The Blacksmith looked right into Anne's eyes. "Neither. I'm just telling the elements what is already there in front of them. I gave up long ago trying to second guess what they would do. It's up to them what they want to do with it."
Gilbert landed with a thud on his bed. He was back in his boarding house but in a different room. This one was on the top level, with a larger bedroom and a separate study. Even better was the window opening on to the green courtyard below with a giant oak tree in the middle. This comes with the perks of the Cooper Prize, and its allowance for accommodation amongst other things.
His landlady had welcomed him back with warm eyes and a generous hug. It was good to have some familiarity, especially when it came with a fresh pot of tea waiting on his new desk. She had even left him a jam tart, all of it resting together on a tray with a letter from Redmond Medical School.
Gilbert sighed. Even after enjoying his tea, the letter remained unopened on his desk. If there were any correspondence he should be reading, it would come from the large pile he brought with him from Avonlea. He had promised his father he would read the letters on the ferry crossing, but he had been so tired. Gilbert's comment about sleeping had been more premonition than comedic charm.
Gilbert rolled over and looked at his desk. He could just see it from his bed, with the letter taunting him. Being from the School and waiting on his desk were indicators of its importance. With a huff, Gilbert walked over to the desk and ripped open the envelope.
Dear Mr. Blythe,
Congratulations on receiving the esteemed Cooper Prize! We anticipate you are as eager to start the academic year, as we are to bring you on board.
As the winner of the Cooper Prize, you will benefit from certain advantages not available to the general student body. One of these is the invitation to participate in special research projects conducted within our school.
One such project has recently come available, and we invite you to attend in our office at your earliest convenience to discuss the matter in greater detail. It is a rare opportunity; one that will provide you with experience across a range of specialties.
We look forward to seeing you.
Regards,
Dr. William B. Chamberson
Head for Neurology
"And so it begins", Gilbert muttered to himself. He glanced at the time. It was only 4 o'clock. He had enough time to head over and see what was on offer.
Dr. Chamberson was a tall, solid man with a big bushy moustache that failed to hide the grin on his face. Here was a man who was happy with almost everything in his life, and was not afraid to let everyone know. His eyes twinkled and his ears twitched, ready to wiggle whenever the laughter finally escaped him. Gilbert would never have guessed he was the Head of the Neurology Department. In fact, Dr. Chamberson didn't look anything like the stories shared by other medical students.
And yet, here he was. Sitting across the desk from Gilbert, with a big smile on his face. Offering him tea. Gilbert was a little stunned, to say the least.
"Well, the Cooper! That's an achievement and a half! Lesser men have tried and failed over the years. Many of them have failed physically as well. How is your health, Blythe?"
Gilbert squirmed a little in his seat. "I won't lie, Doctor Chamberson. I, unfortunately, suffered Typhoid Fever during the Summer, after tutoring a student who later died from the infliction. The Fever was quite severe; I have been told I am lucky to survive. That too came with complications, the greatest concern being pneumonia and a constant headache I have been told should fade with time. Fortunately, that is the limit for the most serious consequences. Liver and gallbladder are healthy, my hearing is fine, and my sight is still strong. My family doctor believes I will return to full health by the end of the year."
"Good to hear, good to hear. It's not an easy task, studying to be a doctor. But you have already proven yourself with the Cooper. And our special project will release you from some of the more remedial activities usually experienced by first-year year students. Copying of articles and reports for senior doctors and other tasks we create for the purpose of weeding out those who can't handle the stress. Believe me when I say, how you manage the sight of paperwork is as much a determining factor as for how you manage the sight of blood. I know which one I prefer." Dr. Chamberson punctuated his statement with a deep chortle that added to the jolly image.
Dr Chamberson handed a moderate file to Gilbert. "This is our special project. A comatose patient, suffering a traumatic accident with numerous physical injuries that have mostly healed now. This is not your standard coma. The patient's vitals are indicative of your typical patient recovering from a traumatic injury. There is minimal muscle atrophy, however, there is also minimal reflexive response. Otherwise, she is simply… asleep."
Gilbert opened the file and started to read the notes. He did not make it past the first line.
"Anne? Anne Shirley?!" Gilbert looked up at Dr. Chamberson. His face had gone pale and the room felt like it was spinning slightly.
It was the first time Gilbert saw Dr. Chamberson's smile fail, ever so slightly. "Yes. Miss Shirley is the patient. Do you know her?"
Gilbert swallowed his panic and struggled to maintain some equilibrium. "We went to school together. Back on the island."
"Ah, yes. Avonlea? I had the pleasure of talking with her guardian, Miss Marilla Cuthbert. Remarkable woman. Obviously very close to Miss Shirley, and yet had a brilliant head on her shoulders. I was surprised she hadn't been snapped up in her younger years. Oh well. Is this going to be a problem for you?" Gilbert's response had worried Dr. Chamberson a little.
Gilbert swallowed. Hard. There was no room to panic, despite the world rising like bile in his throat. "No, Dr. Chamberson. Not at all. In fact, I am very eager to join the project. When do I start?" Everything Gilbert had just said was true. He only hoped he had hidden the urgency from his voice.
Fortunately, Dr. Chamberson had not noticed. "Excellent! How about Monday morning? That gives you the next few days to read over the file and wrap your head around it all. And still, a week to settle in before classes start." Dr. Chamberson stood up and offered his hand to Gilbert. "Welcome to the Neurology Department, Mr. Blythe."
Back in his room, Gilbert looked like a mad man as he tore into the correspondence he had brought with him from Avonlea. It was not the first time in his life that he regretted ignoring the advice of his father.
"Damn it, Dad. You tried. I know you tried to talk to me about it before I left. Damn it!" Gilbert was frustrated with the haphazard way his letters had been collected.
There! A letter from Phil! And another! Three in total, each looking a little older than the one before. Starting with the letter looking the oldest, Gilbert ripped into the envelope and slid to the floor near his bed.
Dear Gilbert
I know you are expecting some elaborate invitation to our wedding or the like. Well, as is my luck, the invitation will have to wait. Oh, don't fret pet. I haven't completely scared Jo away. However, if he can stand by my wailing from the last week, then he can definitely survive anything.
I really don't know how to say the next part. I especially can't say it without crying, as you can see from the state of this paper.
Gilbert - Anne was in a horrible accident.
I'm sorry. I had to step away from the letter. Just thinking of our poor Anne hurts my heart.
The good news is Anne is alive! However, after seeing her lying in the hospital, we are all amazed for this to be true. We have learned from others that Anne stepped out on to the road and was trampled by a horse and buggy. What was that foolish girl thinking!
That's not true. Because some of the blame lies with me. And I hope you forgive me.
It was after Convocation. I'm sure you will not be surprised to hear Roy proposed to Anne. However, I do expect you to be surprised to hear SHE REFUSED HIM. I know *I* was surprised. In fact, we had quite the argument about it. She was so upset when she came in… and I … well, I steamrolled her. I kept asking her why and she kept saying I don't know. And then I was horrid and compared it to your proposal. Yes, Gilbert. I know all about that.
Anne only whispered that this was different because Roy didn't belong in her life. She cared for him but not enough to give up her life for him. Not like she had cared about giving up her life for you. I was so confused by her behaviour, I yelled at her "What Do You Mean?" but she replied was "you wouldn't understand." And then she walked out.
We all thought she was out in the garden. None of us realised she had ventured further afield. In fact, none of us realised she had not returned at all until we noted her absence from breakfast. Considering she was supposed to be leaving for the ferry after breakfast, with Priscilla and Stella, this was what raised our concerns.
Please please forgive me for not noticing her absence sooner! I am so sorry I was not there for Anne earlier! I can only assure you, once we realised the situation, we abandoned all plans until we could find our dearest Anne. We searched our private garden, then St John's Cemetery, the Botanic Gardens and finally the College Library. It was only after exhausting all of Anne's usual haunts, I suddenly realised we needed to check the hospital. I am so sorry it took me so long to suggest this but I hope you understand our fear in doing so.
Fortunately, Anne's 'unique' features made it easy for us to find her at the hospital. If Anne ever speaks another word against her glorious red hair, I will positively shake her! Although she had been registered as a 'Jane Doe', the nurses easily recognised who we were looking for. The doctors were very quick to come and advise of the situation.
I expect the Cooper Prize recipient will know more than I do but we were simply told Anne is in a deep coma. A sleep we cannot wake her from because it is her body's way of recovering. And recovery is exactly what she needs right now. There are many broken bones, internal bleeding and bruising. We are unsure of the extent until she awakens, if she does.
I have promised Jo, our wedding will go ahead as planned but the honeymoon will be short. I don't want to be away from Anne for long. Please write to me. Please talk to me. I don't know what happened between you and Anne but she needs you.
With my dearest apologies,
Phil
Gilbert finally noticed the tears running down his face. There was too much to process in one reading. He needed to read it again. And a third time. Each time he read the words, it hurt a little less but that was more to do with shock than anything else.
Anne was hurt. Gilbert saw that, or at least he saw the file. And it was serious. This was why he had not heard from her when he was sick. Dad had tried to tell him and, once again, Gilbert would not budge from an idea in his head. If only he had spoken to Marilla before running away from the island!
Wait… Anne had refused Roy? Gilbert hurriedly scanned Phil's letter again. Yes, Anne had refused Roy Gardner! Something about he didn't belong? Gilbert started to cough again, his lungs struggling under the stress of this discovery. He crawled over to his desk to reach the cup of water sitting there. Slow measured breaths, Blythe. Slow and measured. This was all such a shock to him. Like Phil, Gilbert had thought Anne's betrothal to Roy was a sure thing. But something else had clearly influenced Anne; between her decision and the fight with Phil, Gilbert could see the perfect storm forming over an upset accident was almost inevitable.
Gilbert's breath started to calm. It still burned his chest but he started to think clearly again. He realised, with a grimace, he did not have the luxury of grief or emotional response. He needed to maintain confidence in his own rehabilitation. The fact that Dr Chamberson was still eager for Gilbert to join the special projects team was a godsend. He wanted… no, he needed to be there for Anne. Gilbert felt guilty about abandoning their friendship; he would not abandon her now. However, to do so meant projecting a higher level of professionalism than he felt. He could do that.
Gilbert sat up at his desk. "Right", he said to himself. "What's my plan of attack? What am I doing next?" With a raspy breath, Gilbert considered the day ahead. It would take too long to hear a response from Green Gables, or even his father. He already had Anne's file here, so that was his reading material tonight. But what should he do next?
Gilbert's eyes fell down to Phil's letter again. Of course! Gilbert knew Phil would have visited Anne at least once over the last month, even with the wedding. First thing after church the next day, Gilbert was heading to Phil for a much needed catch-up.
