Well, that last chapter was a popular one! I am SO glad you all seemed to love it. I think I truly did have a few moments where I was ready to bowl over because of you. So, thank you all for staying aboard this journey.
A quick note to guest reviewer, Chrissy. RIGHT?! I know! Alas, Maud has written that they were away for a full three months and came back in May, just before Rilla's sixth birthday. With that being said, the rest is for me to create and I completely agree. As a Mom, I'd very likely be begging to come home early. I laughed when I read your review from the last chapter because this chapter was already started...
Anne Blythe sighed with a shake of her head and tried to resume her train of thought within the letter she was penning. The letter, destined for Leslie, would normally be quite effortless to compose; however, Anne's mind continued to wander to melancholy matters.
She was perched at a writing table in their Viennese hotel's parlour. Behind were floor to ceiling glass doors which lead onto a stone terrace and further into a garden. This day though, the nip in the air prevented outdoor writing. It was a peaceful mid-morning hour with only the odd passing servant interrupting the stillness. Gilbert had stepped out on his own; a brief furrow of concern on his brow when Anne insisted that she stay behind. She assured him that she only needed a bit of calm for her correspondence.
The morning sun shone through the doors, warmed by the glass, and a cat-like Anne was tempted to curl up in it. It should have been soothing but that Anne couldn't help but wish she was at Ingleside, sitting down to a cup of tea with Susan after watching her children depart for school.
Simply put, Anne was feeling juxtaposed. She'd certainly had moments of ardent homesickness but this was bordering on obsessive. She and Gilbert had been away for one-and-a-half months; their connection and bond once again as strong as it had been years before, and yet she felt nervous to share with him the growing sense of detachment. She discovered that while the telegrams from home were treasured, they hadn't quenched her longing for more. In fact, they seemed to make her all the more eager. She thought on the changes that were happening without even her slightest knowledge. Would they return home to find Jem struggling with a pitchy voice? Anne taught enough adolescent boys to know how fast his voice could've changed. Had she heard his childlike timbre for the last time? What of Walter? Of the girls? The questioning thoughts assailed her. Her mind turned to Shirley. Her one child, whom she believed would be the least changed for the fact that *his* one constant hadn't left his side. There was no immediate cure for her ailment. Even if she chose to share her thoughts with her husband, even if she convinced him to return home early...they would still have an agonizingly long journey back to Canada.
So, Anne abandoned her letter to Leslie and began a long, sorrow-filled, extra motherly letter to her children. Five pages were gone in what seemed to be the blink of an eye. Anne paused to read back her words, as she did with most letters, and realized she could not send such lachrymose home. It was fine to let the children know that she missed them; however, the overall tones of her mothering had to be sunny. Anne fingered the edges of the letter, knowing full-well it could not be sent, and walked to the hot fire - feeding it the mere morsel.
Gilbert shivered and tugged the scarf around his neck tighter. He couldn't help chastising himself - a born P.E. Islander should be able to tolerate a dip in the temperature; how fast his body acclimatized to a warmer spring.
He was marching along the Vienna streets, passing gorgeous architecture and hardly noticing. Why was Anne suddenly behaving so withdrawn? He turned into the bank and joined the queue. Gilbert processed their recent interactions. She was delighted with the events of her birthday - had shown him as much. But, then she was a touch morose on the train last night. What had changed? He quickly counted the days since her last menstruation cycle. No, he thought, that was still several days away. He pondered the issue further. A gruff clearing of a throat from behind shook his thoughts and he stepped towards the teller's cage to replenish the krone in his billfold.
The Blythes sat primly in the chairs which were placed before a desk, flipping through tourist pamphlets and discussing possible sightseeing options with the tour organizer. It was decided that another escorted trolley tour would be best - the dropping temperature indicated that snowfall was imminent. Anne's facade had warmed, though, and Gilbert was, for the moment, mollified in his concern.
After a warm lunch of Vienna bread and gulasch they met up with tour. The bundled-up group boarded a trolley; grateful for the mink blankets that were passed around. With a shake of the reins the tour was off on the Ringstrasse to Hofburg Palace, the winter residence of the Hapsburg dynasty - current residents Emperor Franz Joseph and Empress Elisabeth, whom most knew as Sisi. They passed by the famous statue at Josefplatz and the many other wings, eventually stopping at the entrance of the Kunsthistorisches Museum. As big, fluffy snowflakes began to fall Anne and Gilbert ducked into the museum to learn of the Hapsburgs extensive collections of artwork. The group emerged two hours later to a winter wonderland; the sticky snow that turned to slush underfoot. Next they trudged the short walk to the twin museum, Naturhistorisches - or the Museum of Natural History.
At five o'clock the lot was bid to return to their accommodations to dress for the evening; meeting again for what was sure to be a delicious group meal and night at the opera.
Gilbert was tying his cravat in the small mirror above the washstand while a noticeably cantankerous and huffing Anne was completing her business in the toilet room. Gilbert approached the open doorway.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked, point blank.
"My boots are wet, my stockings are wet, my hair is this floppy mess," here she gestured to her over-worked, sodden mane, "...and I have seen too many museums today, Gilbert," came Anne's snarky reply.
"Anne, you have dry stockings to change into. I can try to dry your boots for you but I thought you brought along more than one pair," Gilbert tried to offer solutions.
"That's beside the point," she contradicted as she stood from the toilet and rearranged her skirts.
"You've been 'off' ever since we left Prague," Gilbert pointed out, once again in a very direct manner. "What has caused this change?"
His tie now sat limp around his neck and he stood facing her, hands on his hips.
"I don't wish to discuss it, Gilbert. Finish tying your tie, dearest," Anne tried to push through her emotions and carry on with their plans.
"Not before you tell me of what's happening in your brain at the moment," he pressed.
Anne could feel the walls crumbling; the dam was about to burst. She hedged passed him and into the bedroom.
"It's been too long, Gilbert. I can't continue-"
"What's been-"
"I need to go home," she blurted, completely exasperated.
Gilbert stared at her, shocked entirely. "Are you not enjoying yourself? Our time?" he asked, his form now seated in defeat on the foot of the bed.
"It's only been too long without seeing the children. I miss home. I miss the island," Anne tried to explain again. She was frustrated with her waning ability to articulate her emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Gilbert. Fortunately he was beginning to piece it together.
"Anne," he started, "I don't know what to say. You want to pack up and ship home?"
"Yes," she mewed.
Gilbert struggled to form his response. A rolling sense of sadness, anger, and hurt boiled in him. He wasn't sure which emotion would win out.
"I brought Anne Shirley to the opera and she's miserable over it," he muttered and rubbed his forehead in frustration.
Taking in the sight of her distraught husband, Anne tilted her head and moved to sit next to him.
"She would normally be over the moon about the opera in big city, dearest. You're not wrong. But, Anne Blythe has been apart from her home for long enough," she explained with mustered tenderness.
He turned to study her. "I don't understand where this is coming from. On your birthday you were happy as a clam at high tide."
"It's been building up, Gil. We've been so busy that I haven't been able to work through it. Those telegrams from home just...pushed it up," Anne continued brokenly. "I can't help imagining all of the changes at home and we're missing it. We aren't there."
They sat quietly for a beat and Gilbert eventually sighed. "Well, we won't be able to get out tonight. I'm not even sure where the nearest port city is. Anne, just think of all the letters waiting for us in France. Remember what the children said - 'many letters sent.' If we leave now you'll never read them."
She considered this but didn't budge.
"I suppose then that we will sleep on it and look into arrangements tomorrow," Gilbert quietly offered, and then, "Are you feeling up to a night out?"
His disheveled, red-everythinged wife wiped tears from her face and shook her head.
He nodded. "I didn't think so. Stay here and I will bring us some supper."
With that he dressed in his warm coat, stepped out of the room, and wondered how in the devil this holiday had suddenly ended up such a mess. That night he and Anne missed a divine performance of "The Merry Widow," which indeed all versions of Anne would have thrilled over.
The next morning a well-rested but emotionally exhausted couple awoke. Each moved slowly about the room in quiet preparation for the day. They exited the hotel, making their way back to the tour office to ask pertinent questions as to how to leave the continent for their own.
"We are sorry to have missed the outing last night," Gilbert remarked to the agent, without offering a real explanation. "Something has come up and we may have to return to Canada early. Could you tell us what the closest sea port is?"
The gentleman behind the desk sifted through his papers, pulling out a map. He inspected it and flipped it around to present to the Blythes. To avoid sailing around the whole of Italy they'd need to travel to Genoa.
"And how long would that take?" Anne questioned.
"You could take the train to Salzburg tomorrow. From there, approximately two days on the train. However, there are not any ships to the Americas for several weeks."
An increasingly disheartened Anne glanced over to Gilbert.
Clearing his throat, Gilbert prodded further. "Are there any other options?"
"The Cunard Line, I believe, has a steamship from Trieste to New York in two weeks."
Gilbert turned to Anne, who had paled to near translucent.
"Well then, there's much to discuss - thank you," Gilbert spoke. "Are we still able to participate in today's activities?
"Of course. Your group is scheduled to meet at the same location at twelve-thirty."
When they had escaped to the privacy of the general public, or rather the walkway along the street, Anne turned to Gilbert and released the breath she seemed to have been holding.
"I think we ought to find a quiet bench to sit on," Gilbert suggested.
Anne nodded and clasped her arm around his. They hurried down the street, backtracking to the small park they had passed along the way. Anne and Gilbert collapsed onto a bench with heaved sigh.
"It's not looking good, sweetheart," Gilbert started, tapping into his ability to break bad news gently. There was little point sugar-coating it.
"I realize that," Anne murmured, and then she spoke louder, "I was obviously hoping for something more immediate. By the time we'd get to Italy and then aboard the ship, we wouldn't have saved all that much time."
"Maybe be home a week or so early," Gilbert continued for her.
Anne nodded and sniffed. Gilbert wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her into his side.
"We're heading to Italy regardless, Anne-girl. I think we ought to stick to our original routing and by the time we reach Italy, we can make more decisions then."
Anne nodded again, this time into his collar.
"I was also thinking that if we need to hear from home more frequently we could allow for them to respond. I'd imagine they'd all love that as well," he offered.
This brought Anne's head off of his shoulder. She looked at him with a smile.
"I'm quite sure you have a bargain, Gilbert Blythe."
He chuckled. "I'd like that, too. It has been difficult for me. You aren't alone with this, darling."
"Really? Gilbert, I could've sworn that you've been on cloud nine ever since we boarded that ship!" Anne exclaimed.
"Well of course I miss the children. You know better than to peg me as one of those fathers, Anne. It's just been nice to be away with you with no interruptions."
"That it has," Anne sighed and snuggled back into his side.
"Now, should we get ready for the rest of the day? We could go back to the same restaurant? It was rather good, wasn't it? This way we would be near the meeting point," Gilbert jabbered, simultaneously slapping his hands on his knees.
Anne laid her hands on him and said, "There's no rush, Gilbert. Let's sit for awhile."
When the Blythes had taken up their spot at the meeting point they noticed a few new faces amongst the small crowd. One of the new faces, Anne noticed, was staring at her. It began as quick glance; innocent and unalarming. It did not take long for the glimpses to occur more frequently and Anne could feel the stare. Each time that Anne caught it, the woman would immediately avert her eyes.
Anne turned to Gilbert so to best inconspicuously speak to him. "Gil, there's a woman over there that is continuously staring at me."
"Really?" Gilbert asked, more amused than concerned. "I wonder why. Where is she?"
"Just over my shoulder, to the right - don't look! Please tell me that nothing is out of place on me, Gilbert, and if there is, you ought to have told me before!"
"Relax, Anne-girl. That can't be it. You look divine. Besides, if something was amiss on you, others would be staring, too," Gilbert returned.
At that moment the group was instructed to board the trolley again - this time headed to St. Stephen's Cathedral.
The group followed their leader throughout the tour of the majestic church. They learnt of the style and architecture of the building, the number of years it took to complete, and of the importance of each little detail. The details were well and good but Anne was more taken with the stunning views - just as she had back in Cologne. When the grand tour had been completed, the tour director allowed for some free time to explore or sit in quiet spiritual contemplation.
Anne and Gilbert chose contemplation. They each took a seat in a pew which was about mid-way through the nave. Gilbert closed his eyes, his head bowed, and his long fingers entangled with each other on his lap. Anne wasn't entirely sure if he was turning to God or attempting a nap. She, on the other hand, was sitting in rapture of the calming surroundings. Her chin was pointed up as she studied the smaller details. Out of the corner of her eye, Anne spotted the woman - and she was looking towards her again. This time Anne managed to catch her eyes. The woman's face pulled a grimace and slowly she approached the Blythes pew.
"I really should apologize," the woman began. "It's only that I can't seem to stop looking at your hair. I've never seen hair so beautiful."
Gilbert's head had flown up at the sound of the nearby southern voice. Anne smiled politely at the woman.
"Oh - thank you, I suppose," Anne stammered.
"I've always wished for a more vibrant hair colour, you see, but God gave me this dishwater hair. You should know how very lucky you are," the woman commended.
Gilbert now had his arms crossed and was highly amused; his signature smirk giving it away.
"Red hasn't always been my preferred choice of colour. It tends to make one stand out and there were boys at school that taunted me for it," Anne explained, throwing a side-eye to her husband. "I've come to accept it though."
Uninvited, the woman injected herself into the row and squeezed into the pew, next to Anne.
"It is simply stunning, darlin','" she finished. "You don't mind if I sit awhile, do you? My husband is a reverend and he's quite taken with all these churches. They are pretty to look at but once you've seen one, you've seen them all. If I know him, he will be cornering the priest into a pastoral debate, not that it'd be welcome, 'course."
"Certainly, you're welcome to sit," a stiff Anne commented belatedly.
"Bless your heart." The woman heaved a sigh and then spoke again, "My name is Lottie Richards and we're from Charleston. And you?"
"Gilbert and Anne Blythe, from Prince Edward Island. What brings you to Europe?" Anne continued in polite conversation, her senses still tingling by way of the supremely forward belle.
"My husband accepted a calling in Lucerne. Well, it's more of a missions calling. In any case, we thought to do some touring before the post officially begins. We started out in Naples and are working our way up and around," Lottie explained.
"That sounds lovely. We are traveling the opposite direction," Anne replied.
"Oh, goodie! We can compare notes! Now, where are your next stops?"
Anne glanced over to Gilbert, whom had thus far allowed his wife to carry on the brunt of the conversation. Neither him nor Lottie seemed to catch on to her cues. Inwardly, she wondered if her suddenly dense Gilbert was tormenting her purposefully.
When he didn't add a remark, she continued awkwardly. "Well, if everything goes according to our plan we are headed to Salzburg, and then to Munich, Zurich, and then down into Italy."
From that point the conversation bubbled, still mainly on the part of Lottie, whom immediately dove into rapturous descriptions of the scenic mountains and then the rolling hills of Tuscany.
"Four years ago, we honeymooned in the 'Great' Smokies over at Gatlinburg. Back then we thought nothing could be any 'greater' but let me tell you, the glory of these mountains is by far the greatest I've seen. I'm simply convinced of it- oh, and honey, be sure to be on the day-time trains. You'll miss it all if you travel at night. We learnt that on our first week."
Anne found herself starting to enjoy the company and conversation; freely sharing her own tips, tricks, and suggestions. Gilbert even blurted a few of his own. When Lottie's husband returned to collect her, Anne turned to Gilbert.
"Really, Gilbert? You couldn't have pitched in a bit more? That was nearly rude!"
He chuckled at her. "Oh, come on, Anne-girl. You can hold your own in any conversation. Did you not notice that you haven't been able to think on your woes this whole time?"
Anne leaned back into the pew. "I suppose that is true. I must say that a bud of excitement has bloomed now. Those mountains sound spectacular! I've never seen one before."
"I have, once," Gilbert said, suddenly turning quiet and introspective.
Anne quirked an eyebrow and he continued.
"When I was in Alberta with Dad. The sanatorium was on the edge of the mountains," he paused to take a deep breath. "When he was well enough again, we took a days trip into them. They are spectacular."
At the mention of his father, Anne moved closer to Gilbert's side and took his hand in hers; running her thumb along his.
Anne was about to murmur a comforting sermon of her own - she knew Gilbert had taken his fathers death hard but he had fallen into his grief in the same way she'd seen for years already. He had continued his work and rarely voluntarily brought up the topic. However, there had been a handful of times in which one of the older children, usually Jem, had shared a story or memory of their time with the Blythes. Each time Gilbert had managed to chuckle along with the family but quickly found an escape to his study. On one occasion, Anne had followed him to the room just in time to catch her crumbling husband.
Now, before she could offer her comforting words, the tour director called their attention to the exit of the cathedral. The next stop: a tour of the grounds at Schonbrunn Palace, which was soon to become the summer residence once again. For the remainder of the afternoon the Blythes were supplemented by Lottie and her equally outspoken husband. It wasn't an intentional friendship but at the close of the day, they bid each other a jovial farewell.