In the middle of the night Marilla heard sobbing coming from Anne's bedroom and went to investigate. Anne looked up her teary eyes reflecting the light from Marilla's candle. "I'm so confused Marilla. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. Sometimes I contemplate life without him and I, I couldn't go on but then I wonder if I'm worthy. Maybe one day he'll wake up and realise he's too good for me."
Marilla held her tight and told her, "now, now darling, that's the one thing I can assure you that isn't true. You're a Cuthbert now, you matter, you are valuable. No one, not Gilbert Blythe or any soul in the world is better than you." Marilla held Anne as she sobbed, feeling wildly out of her depth. What more could she do to ease Anne's feelings of vulnerability.
After church the next week Marilla bumped into Cora Blythe. Anne had gone on ahead with the children while Marilla caught up with the neighbours. "Good morning Marilla, lovely service." She looked around for and asked, "and how is dear Anne? She and Gilbert appear to be spending quite a bit of time together."
Marilla regarded Cora for a moment wondering how much to divulge. "She's confused," she said after a moment. "I think the depth of her feelings for Gilbert are causing her some consternation."
"Poor soul. Young love can be so difficult."
"Indeed, I know it only too well myself."
There was a silence.
"It was just a wee bit awkward," Marilla confessed to Rachel later that week.
"I can imagine," Rachel replied. "You two have your own history.'
"Indeed."
"And Anne, how is she faring?"
"She's having a crisis of confidence." Marilla filled the teapot and placed it down on the kitchen table before turning around to fetch the cake.
"Crisis?" Rachel called across the room to her.
Marilla returned holding the plate in front of her. "She's unsure about her relationship with Gilbert. She seemed to be happy but then she got cold feet."
"Cold feet! Tsk, tsk. She needs a stout pat on the backside that's what."
Marilla looked at her friend sternly. "That approach has never worked with Anne as you know only too well. We just have to take it gently." She sipped her tea thoughtfully and added, "sometimes I wonder if her difficult start isn't partly to blame?"
"For goodness sakes Marilla you can't go on blaming that forever."
Pouring another cup of tea Marilla said, "Anne has adjusted admirably but there are gaps I can never hope to fill. She said she feels unworthy," Marilla sighed. "Matthew and I did our best to make her feel a part of the family, but I suppose those early feelings of inadequacy may linger. My poor girl. Maybe I should send her to talk to the minister. He might shed some light on the situation. I mean it's not like I've got any experience of married life."
"Send her to me if you like," Rachel offered after she blew on her tea.
Much as she loved Rachel, Marilla could not do it. Rachel had a heart of gold, but her brusque nature was no use to Anne to the point of being potentially damaging. The ladies sipped their tea in silence for a moment as they both reflected. "I wonder what Matthew would have made of it?" Marilla murmured.
"Matthew! He had even less experience than you."
"I know but times like this I miss him. Together we might have nutted it out."
Rachel reached over and patted Marilla's hand comfortingly. "Somehow I always feel he's still in the barn when I come by, I keep expecting him to wave."
"There's a small shock when he doesn't come in for his tea. Sometimes I almost lay out an extra cup for him but then I remember part way through the action. I know it's ridiculous to say, but you never realise how final death is? One day they're sitting down to dinner and the next they're gone. It's brutal." Marilla fumbled for her handkerchief and wiped her nose.
"Perhaps Matthew's passing might be affecting Anne too. You're both in mourning after all. When do you think she'll get out of black? It's been a while now, surely you're not making her wear it still?"
"It's nothing to do with me, I'd be happy to see her in one of her usual dresses, but she's determined to show due respect."
"What a shame, Matthew adored her in those pretty clothes. Mind the time he made me make the puffed sleeved dress?"
Marilla laughed, "she had such a longing, I don't know why I had such a set against them. I'd do anything to see her wear them now, something colourful and gay but she won't be persuaded and as we know when Anne is determined there's little that can sway her." Rachel rolled her eyes in understanding, thinking the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
"Marilla?" she turned her attention to Dora as she looked up from her sewing. "Is Anne all right? She seems a bit sad. Today I caught her gazing out the window while we were doing our lessons. Usually, she's wandering around checking our work, but she was still. It isn't like her, Marilla. Is there anything the matter?"
"Darling you are sweet to notice. Anne is fine, she's just got a lot on her mind."
"Does it have anything to do with Gilbert?"
Marilla was shocked by Dora's perception. "What makes you say that?"
"Oh, I don't know, it seemed to start at our picnic the other day. You slept through it. I don't think they quarrelled as such, but I thought they were a bit frosty on our walk home." Marilla smiled at her youngest daughter. She was so quiet sometimes it was easy to forget she was there, but she was beginning to realise just how she took everything in unlike that rambunctious brother of hers.
Later that night as Marilla read her Bible her mind drifted away to thoughts of her children. Funny she mused, once upon a time I thought life was complete and pretty much finished then Anne and now the twins fetched up on the doorstep. It was hard to imagine how she filled her time in beforehand. Motherhood took its time to catch up with her and she smiled to herself at her initial reaction; you were unprepared Marilla. I remember thinking Anne was possessed, how little I knew. But I suppose I'm not doing too bad a job of it these days despite the three of them being so dissimilar. It's not easy being a single mother, but I do my best.
She and Anne had once said they found Davy more entertaining but as time passed, she began to appreciate Dora. Really, she was a darling little thing. What did they say - still waters run deep? That was Dora. It would be interesting to watch her mature as time went by. Setting the Bible down carefully Marilla pulled the blanket up, rolled into a more comfortable position and waited for sleep.
The pattering of rain on the roof woke her the next morning and she prepared a warming bowl of porridge for breakfast. Davy was eager to get out the door as soon as possible, tearing off at breakneck speed while Dora was prepared to wait until Minnie May passed by. Initially, they went to school with Anne but now they were developing independent lives. As they should, Marilla thought fondly, admiring how both children had settled into life in Avonlea. Wasn't easy for them, she thought as she watched through the kitchen window Dora greet and then walk off with Minnie May. Poor Mary was unwell for such a long time. I'm so pleased Anne and I can give them a good upbringing, but what if their uncle fetches them back? I'd miss them so. Almost without realising it Marilla had fallen in love with children once again. She caught herself, goodness the thought of losing them is terrible. Davy might be a great deal of work, but he's a darling little boy and Dora well I think Anne is pretty but it's true to say that Dora is nothing short of stunning.
Marilla had to interrupt her musings for Rachel was due. Marilla had meeting with the ocularist in Charlottetown and as usual Rachel was accompanying her. Marilla was always a bit over wrought before these appointments. Although the ocularist always reassured her that her eyes had settled down, she feared each time that the news would be bad. The thought of going blind had scared her no two ways about it and she worried how she would manage. The thought that her disability might encumber Anne was almost the worst thing about it. She looked around the kitchen, much as I feel I might be sick of this sight, the idea that I might lose it forever worries me so.
Rachel knocked at the door with her usual staccato raps and Marilla paused her maudlin thoughts to answer it happy to welcome her excited friend in. "Are you packed? We should leave soon. Goodness Marilla, come on. Let's get away. I'm looking forward to seeing Charlottetown again, aren't you? It's been too long." Marilla struggled to keep up with Rachel's stream of consciousness, but she gathered her things and they climbed into the carriage.
Rachel talked almost the whole way, for which in a way Marilla was glad. If it kept her dark thoughts at bay, then it was only a good thing. She could look out at the scenery and make small noises of affirmation without listening too intently. It was only when they were safely on the way that Rachel paused giving Marilla a chance to ask how Thomas was faring. "You sounded a bit worried about him last week?" She felt rather than heard Rachel's reaction. The woman fairly shrunk next to her; Marilla could feel her body contract. Marilla reached out for her hand for her stillness said more than words. Very low so that Marilla had to bend her head to hear Rachel said, "I'm so worried. I know sometimes I tease him, but he really has been the most wonderful husband anyone could wish for. The thought," she paused. "The thought of losing him is too much to bear." Marilla worried that Rachel might weep in public, but she did not. She sat silently and clutched Marilla's hand for the rest of the journey.
Marilla wished she had not said anything but Rachel had recovered by the time they reached Charlottetown. When the train drew into the station, she shook herself, and announced, "well I don't want to ruin our trip. Let's put our troubles behind us for the duration, shall we." Marvelling that Rachel could manage it, Marilla followed her friend out of the train and into the bustling station. Charlottetown was always so much busier that anything she was used to, and it was comforting to have Rachel nearby to guide her. Even though Rachel was just as lost as she was, somehow, she seemed better at hiding it.
The ocularist appointment was set for that afternoon. They deposited their bags at the hotel and made their way to a café for lunch. Marilla was almost too wound up to eat but Rachel had a hearty appetite. "Buck up," she said when she watched Marilla move her food around in a poor attempt at eating. "It's bound to be good news; it's always been fine before."
Marilla sighed, "I suppose so." She gave lunch up as a bad job shortly after though, her stomach was tied up in knots. "I'll be better by dinner time I'm sure," she reassured Rachel. "Just can't force a morsel in at the moment." Rachel apologised to the waiter on her behalf when he came to collect the plateful of food.
As it turned out her fears were for nought. The ocularist declared that her eyes were no worse. "You get quite worried beforehand Miss Cuthbert," he assured her. "But you would know yourself if your eyesight had deteriorated."
"I imagine it's gotten worse before each appointment," she admitted. "Objectively I suppose I know it's the same, but my fancy gets the better of me," she laughed sardonically. "My daughter always accuses me of having no imagination, but it seems to get me into trouble regardless."
"Well, I'm very happy with the way they've settled down. Of course, if you really do think they're getting worse don't hesitate to return."
"How was it?" Rachel asked when they were reunited.
"Just fine," said Marilla. She beamed at Rachel, "what a relief that's over and he says there's no need to return for a year." Rachel pouted. "What's the matter?"
"Sorry of course that's a good thing and I'm pleased for you, but I do so enjoy our excursions. We'll have to plan another trip here in the meantime, don't you agree." Rachel cast her gaze around the street. "I find the hustle and bustle so invigorating."
"Do you?" Marilla grimaced. "I find it exhausting."
Upstairs at Green Gables Anne heard a knock at the door but before she had a chance Davy had rushed to open it. "Anne," he yelled up the stairs. "It's someone for you. She's real pretty," he added artlessly.
"Pris!" Anne exclaimed happily. "How lovely to see you. I had such a dull afternoon of marking planned. I can assure you I'd rather spend it with you. Since the rain has passed shall we sit outside? I'm minding the children today so we can't go far."
The two girls nursed their teacups on the porch within earshot of any shenanigans as Anne put it. "What brought you here, Pris?" she asked after they were settled.
"You know I hate to pry," Pris started. "But well, I bumped into Gilbert the other day."
"Oh, Gilbert," said Anne with mock indignation.
Pris grinned, "yes. And he intimated that you and he had been getting closer."
"Well, I wouldn't put it like that exactly. I mean we're just good friends. He was a dear after Matthew died but I don't think anything romantic will come of it."
Pris frowned at her. "May I say something?"
Anne looked at her oblivious, "of course."
Pris set down her now empty teacup on the floor and sat back upright. "Anne, you may disagree with what I'm about to say, but if you could just hear me out without interruptions, I'd appreciate it."
Anne nodded, somewhat mystified. She wondered what Pris was on about, perhaps she was going to tell her she'd met a new beau. As it turned out Anne could not have been further off the mark and she listened in growing dismay as Pris outlined her own relationship with Gilbert. All along she found herself tempted to blurt out how wrong Pris was, but she remembered her promise to listen.
"Anne," Pris started. "First of all, I just want to say how difficult it is for me to speak. I know both you and Gilbert, I love you in equal measure, and it hurts to watch you dance around each other as though you're mere acquaintances. I'm a bit worried about Gilbert. He's usually so animated, Anne. You know I see him from time to time and he's been so happy lately," she paused staring into Anne's eyes. "But something's happened. He just seemed so flat last week. Do you know anything about that?"
Anne shifted uncomfortably and looked away unable to meet Pris' probing eyes. She was silent for a moment looking into the middle distance. In the background she could hear Davy chatting about the prospect of dinner and absentmindedly she thought about how food focussed he was. Still, she was acutely aware of Pris sitting by her and that her question still required an answer.
"It's just," she started and paused thinking how to answer without giving too much away. "Oh, I don't know." She got to her feet wringing her hands as she spoke. "It's just I mean I like Gilbert and all. He's a lovely chap. He's sweet and kind, we have fun together. But is he beau material? I don't know Pris. It's so hard. It's such a commitment and I'll hate myself if I get it wrong and he'll hate me too. I don't want to lead him on. I have to be true to myself and to him as well." Pris watched her pace back and forth, hoping she'd reach a conclusion soon, her neck was getting sore. "Diana and I used to imagine our perfect loves when we were young. Gilbert's far from my romantic ideal. He's just Gilbert you know." She turned and looked at Pris with a wild look in her eyes.
"Just?" Pris said gently.
"What? Anne stared back at her and continued, "I suppose I'm being unfair. I've enjoyed getting to know him these past couple of years. I kept him at arms-length while we were growing up. He said something stupid to me when we first met, and it took me years to get over it. That was silly I know, and he's apologised so often for it, but it stung me to my very soul. It's been fine getting acquainted, but he wants more than friendship I know and oh Pris I don't know?" she flung herself back on the seat and put her head in her hands.