Chapter 7

Anne Blythe stood nervously on the tiny veranda of the Mushroom, holding her carpet bag in one hand while her husband struggled to extract the key from his pocket. She couldn't help but smile as he placed the bags he carried next to the trunks that Jonas had dropped there, muttering under his breath, and removing what looked like a whistle, random pieces of paper, a pen and a jeweler's bag- for the ring now hiding underneath her gloves, she assumed. Gilbert's hat fell to the step next, and she chuckled.

He looked up, amused. "Not married three hours, and you're laughing at me? What kind of marriage is this?"

Anne blushed, trying to laugh. "One with me, I suppose," she said in embarrassment. "I was just thinking that you always have pockets full of things- even on your wedding day."

He grinned, loosening his tie slightly. "Well, you know me. Ah- now I've got it." He fished the key out from his breast pocket with a sigh of relief. Leaving the bags on the step for the moment, Gilbert took her hand in his and together they stepped over the threshold of their cottage, and he turned to her with a smile that somehow conveyed his own nerves and excitement. "Welcome home, Anne."

If there had been any idea of an entirely romantic homecoming, it was quickly squashed in the effort it took to move Anne's trunks inside the cottage. Together they made an incongruous pair, dressed in their modest wedding finery and carting the large trunks through to the bedroom with comments that were less than polite. Anne was laughing too much to assist Gilbert effectively, and she dropped at least one case on his foot- that one had been full of her bedding. When it was all done, Anne closed out the early winter afternoon with the teeth-jarring sound they would soon become accustomed to, and turned to look into the dark house.

Brown, she thought dumbly. How on earth could they enliven the walls? How could they bring light, and sunshine and warmth into the dank little house over the coming winter, rumoured to be a severe one? She could hear Gilbert dropping the bags on the floor of their room, and through the doorway she could see him removing the jacket of his light grey suit, his white shirtsleeves visible in the gloom. Her breath caught suddenly. Gilbert needed her to not be weak right now- he was punishing himself enough for the house they were living in. He needed her to be able to manage, to make this a home for them.

Gilbert returned to the living room to find that Anne was still standing in the same place he had left her, and his heart broke at the way she stood frozen. He'd had the same reaction the previous night- he'd battled even that morning, and vaguely understood that he needed to let her process this in her own time. He approached her the way he would a frightened animal- he could see that she was struggling not to cry, and after a brief hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. There was some comfort in the way that her arms tentatively came around him, and he held her for long minutes, rubbing her back soothingly. He could feel the way her breath shuddered against him, and he buried his face in her red hair, waiting for the tears to subside.

Eventually Anne stilled, and pulled herself out of his hold, a hectic flush on her cheeks. She stepped away with a quiet word of thanks, and turned to look around the room curiously. Gilbert almost smiled, seeing her natural optimism begin to peek through.

"Well, we can't exactly change the colour of the walls," she said quietly, and Gilbert grinned.

"No- but it's distinctive. We'll always remember our first home, don't you think?"

Anne chuckled, feeling her breath catching in her throat at the comment. "True. You can only remember the farm, I suppose."

He shrugged. "I was born there- out in the back garden, actually."

Anne paled, and he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Seriously, Gilbert?"

He gave a wry grin. "Mother does like to tell the story- no doubt you'll hear it all soon enough."

Anne sat down at the table, beginning to laugh. "But- the garden?"

He smiled, leaning on the back of the sofa, his hands in his pockets. "I was in a bit of a rush, it seems. Dad arrived home a few minutes later to find me there with mother. Luckily, both of us were well."

Anne merely gaped at him. "I've heard of such things," she admitted, showing none of the usual embarrassment about the facts of life, "However none of the births I witnessed were so dramatic."

Gilbert in turn only stared at her. "Anne? You saw childbirth?"

Anne, to his surprise only smiled. "I was a serving girl in two households with more than twelve children between them. That's with three sets of twins, Gilbert. What do you think?"

He seemed to be unable to process this train of thought and looked at the remarkable girl before him. "But you were so young."

"I was." She stood then, her face wry. "This is a day of surprises, isn't it? You don't know who you married."

Gilbert looked insulted by this. "I do so. I just don't know everything about you, yet," he protested, following her to the bedroom where she stood in the doorway, her hands on her slender hips. He couldn't help but smile at the brave way she squared her shoulders.

"Did you have a plan for tonight?" she asked, and he moved away, not wanting her to see the look of raw hunger that was no doubt on his face at her innocent question. He moved to straighten the perfectly smooth quilt on the bigger bed and then ruined it by throwing himself face down on it with a deep sigh.

She chuckled, moving to sit on her own bed demurely. "You should never throw yourself on a bed, Gil- it's bad for the supports. Didn't you know that?"

Gilbert's head came up, amused. "Says who?"

"Marilla," she said, her eyes twinkling. "She didn't approve of me flinging myself on my bed in an excess of emotion. And it happened a lot. Like when I got Diana drunk- or when I insulted Mrs Lynde- or when I flavoured Mrs Allen's cake with liniment or Marilla accused me of stealing, or when she cut my hair when I dyed it or you called me Carrots-"

Gilbert struggled upright. "Excuse me?" he said. At her confused look, he chuckled. "I've not heard half of those stories, Anne."

She shrugged, her look mild. "We had plenty else to talk about when we first became friends, Gil. You won't have heard all my tales yet- nor I yours."

He smiled. "Something tells me that we've got time, now. And I actually did have a plan for supper tonight," he admitted sheepishly. "It didn't seem right to just eat and go to bed as normal- not today, anyway."

Anne's cheeks flushed. "Oh."

"So I thought we'd have a picnic supper in front of the fire like we used to do back home."

She nodded, before looking down at the trunks in some chagrin. "That would be lovely. Now, I know I had sheets in here somewhere…"

Gilbert gave the small cupboard and chest of drawers an uneasy glance. "You probably need some time to unpack- did you want me to- er, go out so you can do that?"

Anne's cheeks were fiery, and she gave him a swift nod. She didn't look up as her husband left the room, and for a brief moment she closed her eyes, still reeling in shock that she was in their bedroom. How long would it take for that to become normal? And what would happen when it was?

With a gulp, Anne set to work, not willing to continue the dangerous line of thought. Instead, she turned her mind to the problem of settling into her new home.

She pulled open the chest of drawers, somewhat relieved to see that Gilbert had already unpacked his belongings and left most of the drawers for her. After another few minutes spent wringing her hands in disbelief, Anne shook herself, her eyes showing glints of green in them.

"This won't do," she muttered crossly, moving to the first trunk. "I have work to do."

Twenty minutes later, and the trunks containing her clothing were emptied. She shoved the others under her bed and was pleased to find a small shelf up high in the adjacent room for her hats. She had tried to convince Gilbert that her bed could fit in the tiny space, and scowled for a full three minutes while he mathematically proved that it wasn't possible. Besides, he'd said, he wasn't going to have his wife living in a closet. The room instead would be used for changing privately, and Anne was gratified to find that there was a new sliding lock on both this and the bedroom door. Her relief was short-lived- Gilbert wanted to make her feel safe, however, she would still be sharing a bedroom with him- something that caused great butterflies to rocket through her. She closed and locked the door quickly, hoping that Gilbert wouldn't mind her not explaining what she was doing. She was halfway through changing from her wedding dress, when she stopped, puzzled. Did she need to tell him if she did something? She didn't with the girls. A small part of her rebelled at this thought, and yet she didn't know what was expected.

Anne's eyes suddenly twinkled, as she changed into an older green dress. She couldn't imagine Marilla or Mrs Lynde taking any man into consideration with regard to their daily habits- and besides, Gilbert knew her too well to be swayed by a sudden concern for his opinion. She would just behave as she normally did- and she did need to get out of the pretty but impractical gown. The sooner this marriage began to feel normal, the better.

That night, Anne and Gilbert sat on Mrs Lynde's red tulip quilt in front of the crooked fireplace as they shared their first meal in their new home. Anne looked around her with eyes that were bright with unexpected emotion, somehow overwhelmed by the simplicity of the moment. Gilbert had been right to do something so normal- and yet it had always seemed like a treat, back when they were teaching. Sometimes Gilbert had come to Green Gables when Marilla had taken the twins out- and a bewildered Anne now realised how unusual that was. Of course, they had done the same at the Blythe farm too- sometimes out in the orchard with a fire, sometimes warm in the sitting room when Gilbert's parents were visiting relatives. How on earth had their elders ever allowed them such leeway?

Anne pushed away the unwelcome certainty that Gilbert's words to her a week ago had been accurate- based on their behaviour, they had indeed had this coming. She turned instead to look at the boy who had been her accomplice for so many years. He had gathered some fruit and cheese, bread and a Polish sausage that Phil had insisted they try. He'd used some of the preserves his mother and Mrs Lynde had sent, and a pat of butter that the landlady had unexpectedly gifted them with that afternoon. She would, she said imperiously, order their milk when she did so for the household- money must be paid to her on Thursdays- and they were to tell her if they required more. Relieved that at least one job could be left to someone else, Anne had nodded thankfully. She had made them tea in the old mugs, and somehow- somehow on this wedding night that was so wholly unexpected, it was enough.

Gilbert had been talking easily enough before, but now he lay stretched out on his side as he had done in days gone by. The fire crackled in the hearth before them, and she thought absently that the dark little house almost felt like a cave. He looked up at Anne's thoughtful face, and sighed, reluctant to break the moment.

"So I was thinking," Gilbert said carefully, nudging the arm she leant on. "-that it might be good to establish some basic boundaries with each other."

Anne turned to him, suddenly anxious. "Alright."

He sat up, wiping his hands on his pants nervously. "We give each other space when the other one asks us to."

She only nodded. "We always knock when entering a room." She chuckled then, to his surprise. "Not something the girls ever adhered to."

Gilbert snorted. "Nor Charlie. It's why I refused to room with him when we came to Redmond. I like my privacy, thanks very much."

"And I'll try and give it to you."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "You can't assume I have the same feelings with you, Anne- sharing a room with a pretty girl is way better than Charles."

She repaid his flirtatious tone with a shove that he laughingly dodged. He sobered, then. "I want us to be honest with each other."

Anne blinked in the firelight. "Aren't we always?"

He scowled, then. "Yes. But it's going to be hard until the gossip dies down. The next two weeks are going to be especially difficult. If news gets out too fast, it could make it back to the island before we do- and I'm nervous enough about that. If it doesn't get out fast enough, people will see us arriving and leaving together, and ask why- and I need to know if people are saying things to you that they shouldn't."

Anne drew in a long breath. "Gil, I've weathered gossip before."

He broke a small piece of bread in his fingers, a shuttered look on his face. "Not like this, Anne. Neither of us has faced anything like this."

Anne bent down to look her husband in the eye. "That goes both ways, Gilbert. You can't protect me from everything. You have enough to do."

"Wrong," he said baldly. "Standing together is the only way we can get through this- but they won't come at us while we're together, will they? Think how Josie used to work."

Anne groaned. "I know. Little asides- asking impertinent things in hope that you'll contradict yourself-"

"And that's just the start of it."

Anne glared at him. "Gil, it is our wedding day. Don't make me wish that I'd run away now."

He shuffled closer to her, his hand on her arm in apology. "I'm sorry- I don't want to scare you- or make you regret marrying me. But I can't pretend that it's going to be easy."

Anne huffed. "Well, I know that."

"And that's why I need you to tell me what they're saying to you. It might tell us what we need to do to avoid further gossip."

Anne's grey eyes looked into the fire moodily. "I never cared for gossip, Gil. People were always making comments about me when I was younger- they way I talked, my background- all of the things I did that scandalized folks back home. I had to learn to ignore it, or I wouldn't be me. I couldn't let them change me. And now we must bow to the tide of peer pressure-" she broke off when he suddenly moved to face her, his face close to her own in the low light.

"No. That's not it, Anne. It's not about bowing to it- it's staying who we are in spite of it. Daniels told us that we needed to keep our heads down for a time- that's strategy, not capitulation." Anne slumped for a moment, her sensitive heart hurting at the thought of disapproval. Gilbert saw the emotion for what it was and shook his head. "No, that's not just semantics. If you can forgive the term, we're playing a long game here. The goal is eighteen months away- although I think we'll have proved something when we return next autumn. We can do this. But I won't have you hurting if I can prevent it- and if it means being gentle as a dove and cunning as a snake, then I'll do it. You have to tell me."

She nodded, outwardly composed. "Then you need to let me be an adult."

To this, Gilbert blinked. "Sorry?"

She sighed, pulling a pin from her hair to rub her scalp, not noticing the lock of soft hair that fell as she did so. "Look, I haven't fought my way through the past twenty years for nothing, Gil. I'm no innocent that needs to be protected from passing butterflies." Gilbert had been sipping a glass of water at that moment and choked on it in his amusement at her sarcasm.

"Anne, I would never think otherwise- not if I want to live, anyway."

Anne rolled her eyes. "Gilbert, I don't want you to save me from things that I don't need saving from. I've been taught to be independent- I couldn't have made it this far without that."

He looked at her, a curiously warm look in his eyes. "Now look here, just who did you think you married? I know this about you. I'm not thinking that you'll dissolve into a clinging mess. You fought me for five years over one insult. You stood in the face of bad teachers, and you stood in front of your own students courageously. You went head to head with the director of Redmond- and you stopped this from being on the school's terms. Yes, we need to toe the line here for a time- but I know who you are. I don't want you to change."

Anne's face was filled with confusion. "Then why are you telling me to come running to you at the slightest sign of trouble?"

He sighed. "I'm not, Anne. But-" he paused, looking at her curiously. "Interdependence. Not dependency, not independency- you and I together. We have our own strength, but we sometimes need each other's strength too. It doesn't mean you forfeit your own."

She frowned. "Well, that does sound better," she admitted.

"Look, we do it already, Anne. You make me look outside my own head for perspective- and I bring you back down to earth."

Anne couldn't help but exclaim at this, but Gilbert only grinned at her smugly. "Come on, you know it's true."

She muttered something then; Gilbert thought he heard the words "ridiculously simplistic interpretation-" and he chuckled. "We're unique. We're not going to be like Di and Fred- Not that there is anything wrong with their way of doing things," he added hastily. "I only mean that we need to be who we are." He looked at her, his face suddenly grave. "I think we are going to have to be careful who we trust," he said slowly. "Plenty of the wrong sort of people are going to want to know what our story is."

Anne had recovered her poise now and met his gaze frankly. "And we tell them most of the truth. That we are old friends- we respect and care for each other a good deal- and that we decided impulsively that we wished to be married now, rather than waiting until we were finished college. Our families will know soon- and while I agree that it is risky to not write immediately, they would rather hear it from us in person. We can convince them better, that way."

He took her hand and spoke softly. "I want to know whatever they say to you, Anne. I want to know so that you're not trying to carry it alone."

Her fingers tightened on his without conscious thought, and her worried face was close to his own. "Will you tell me everything, Gil?" She saw his hesitation and sighed. "When the wrong sort of men call me hard names to your face and accuse us of sleeping together and covering it up? Will you tell me everything that they say?"

He swallowed, his face shadowed. "I-I wouldn't want to upset you with their words."

Anne reached out to touch his cheek gently, unsure of where her boldness was coming from. "They can't say anything I haven't heard before, Gil," she said sadly. "I know that you don't want to accept that, but it's true."

He turned his cheek into her palm, his eyes closing in pain. "It doesn't make it right, Anne."

"You married Anne Shirley, Gil. That means you get all of me- not just the good things." She pulled her hand away with a deep flush, reminding herself again of the boundary she was most concerned with. "I have something to ask too."

He grinned. "You mean you weren't going to let this be on my terms alone? How disappointing."

Anne didn't laugh. "You said that we needed to slow things down." He nodded, unsure of where she was headed with this. "I was serious when I said that I wasn't ready to be married yet. Can we please take our time with- becoming close right away?"

He frowned. "Anne, I thought that was implied."

"No; not sleeping together was implied," she said in a low voice. He seemed to flinch at her unexpected bluntness and waited anxiously. "I mean- everything. You made my first kiss beautiful- and it was appropriate for us to do that, today. I- I wondered if we could put that on hold for a time. I don't want to leap into a physical relationship right now- I want to allow that to grow naturally over time between us."

Gilbert's face was impassive, not wanting to show her how much he had hoped otherwise. He had enjoyed the innocent touches between them- and the fact that he had kissed her twice had made the day one of the happiest he had known. Nevertheless, his father's words came back to him, as he looked into eyes that seemed to be pleading with him to understand. With a lump in his throat, he nodded. "Of course. If that's what you want, Anne."

Her blush was deep, and she swallowed. "I don't want to start something we aren't really ready for- and we have so much to get used to right now- I-"

Gilbert shook his head, summoning a smile. "Anne, it makes sense. Of course, we can wait. I hope it's alright if I can hold your hand, especially when we are out- we'll still need to convince others that we are a couple."

She nodded, flushing. "Of course. If we can't convince everyone, then all this is for nought." She placed a gentle hand on his knee then. "Just for a time, Gil. Then- we can begin properly."

Gilbert seemed to breathe again, his gaze soft. As he studied the slim fingers that rested on him, he sighed. He knew that it would never be as simple as she believed- perhaps she didn't understand that yet. He had never thought of her as younger before- the girl who would go head to head with him in their schoolroom days had seemed to exude a presence as large as his own- she had matched his intellect and curiosity point for point, and not once had she given him the impression that she wasn't keeping up with him. Something twinged in his heart at the enigma of Anne Shirley, now Blythe. In some ways she was worldly-wise, and in others- in others, he could suddenly see the difference the years between them made.

"As you wish, Anne. So I kissed you beautifully, you said," he teased, wanting to return them to safer ground. "That's good for the self-esteem, at least."

Anne's eyes twinkled. "It's not like I have anything to compare it to, Gil."

"Ouch!" he exclaimed theatrically, and Anne chuckled.

"Then stop being so smug."

There was a stillness, and for just a moment grey eyes met hazel earnestly. "Sometime?" he whispered.

"Yes." Anne sighed and shyly reached up to pull the rest of the pins from her hair. At Gilbert's startled look, she smiled sheepishly. "It's almost bedtime. We're married now- and we share a bedroom. You're going to see my hair down at some point- and I would rather it be now, when it is under some form of control."

He reached up to brush the loose curl with a smile. "It's soft."

"What did you expect?"

He grinned, offering his own curly head for inspection, and Anne touched it with an amused look. "Well, that's hardly coarse, Gil."

"Nope- but it's not as soft as yours."

Gilbert's clock struck ten then, and he looked over to see his bride suppress a rather large yawn. "Did you want to get ready for bed first?"

At this Anne froze, telling herself to calm down. "Certainly."

He got to his feet and reached for her hands, his eyes burning. "Anne, do you trust me?"

Anne forced herself to breathe in and out and managed a terse nod.

"I mean really trust me," he said heatedly. "Trust that I would never do anything to hurt you- that I would never do anything that you don't want to do. I know this is uncomfortable, and you have to share a room with me- but I promised you that I would choose to put you before anything else in our wedding vows. So I'll ask you again- do you trust me?"

Anne was shaking now, and she nodded, her lips trembling. She saw him relax and realised how badly he wanted her to accept. "You're my best friend. I do." He didn't release her, and she looked up at his face searchingly. "Gil? Will you remember our wedding day happily? You wanted to have good memories."

He smiled down at her, thinking about how lovely she looked, her red hair unwinding in the lamplight. "I will. You were stunning, Anne- and you wore a wedding dress and a veil for me- for us. A friend performed the ceremony, and your Kingsport family was around us-"

"Yours as well, now."

"And then we came here, and we started to make this house our home." Anne raised one eyebrow, and he chuckled. "You're here now. That's home enough for me, for now. Anne, I want to thank you," he said self consciously. "I don't take it lightly that you chose to be with me. I'm beyond happy that you did. And I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can to be worthy of your trust." He made to release her, however, she didn't move away from him, her eyes flickering to his mouth as she remembered the ceremony and the breathless moment in her blue room upstairs. She swallowed, unconsciously biting her own lip.

"Anne?"

She tucked her hair behind one ear, her cheeks flushed. "I- I suppose I wondered- I do want us to wait- and I do think we should go slowly- but it's still our wedding day right now."

The smile twisted on his face, his eyes bright with mischief, and another emotion she pretended not to recognise. "One more time until later on?"

She nodded, and then his hands cupped her face gently, and he looked into her eyes before pressing a sweet kiss to her parted lips, thrilling at the soft curls that cascaded over his fingers. When he pulled away, he released her and cleared his throat noisily. "Alright. You use the room first. I'll clear this up before I come in."

"Oh, but-"

"No, groom's privilege. Off you go."

She gave him a slight smile, and turned to do as he said. He walked to the kitchen bench, bending over tiredly to place his head down on folded arms. He could hear the sounds of Anne- of his wife- opening the drawers in their bedroom and closing the small dressing room door, and he exhaled.

"Eighteen months," he muttered, a self-depreciating grin on his face. "Maybe I should take up jogging."

Anne and Gilbert's first Sunday together was spent quietly, greatly helped on by a driving rain that blanketed the city. In the forenoon they had breakfast together and spent time reading, and Anne managed to finish an essay that she had fallen behind on in the lead up to the wedding. After lunch they worked on preparing for the week to come, and Anne wrangled the strange stove into producing Marilla's plum puffs for supper that evening. There was quiet laughter and absorbing work, enlivened by some domestic squabbles about where the desk and rickety bookcase should be placed. All in all, it was as normal as a day could be for a couple who had been forced into marriage by a malevolent governing body.

When Monday morning came, after breakfast, Anne took up her satchel from the rusted hook on the wall, waiting silently for Gilbert to put on his coat. He wrapped a scarf around her throat carefully before taking up his own, and the door was wrenched open to a wind that instantly chilled the couple to the bone.

The walk to Redmond was mercifully short, and Anne and Gilbert stood at the iron gates for long moments watching the procession of students milling through the courtyard on the way to their lectures. Somewhere inside Professor Hallett was waiting for the news that the two of them had failed to meet his criteria- and somewhere inside Professor Daniels was hoping to be proved right about his prize student.

Gilbert turned to see Phil, Stella and Priscilla coming up behind them rosy-cheeked and shivering.

"Just in time. We want to ask about your weekend, but perhaps it should wait. You can't be late today." Phil said breathlessly. She seemed to take in the tension of the newlyweds beside them, and eyed them sternly. "We're behind you, you know that," she stated, and Stella and Priscilla moved to flank the couple.

Anne nodded silently, her chin rising.

The girls waited as Gilbert took her hand, and through their gloves, he could feel her fingers tightening on his.

"Are we going in with guns blazing?" he asked quietly.

There was an answering twinkle in Anne's green-grey eyes, and he smiled at her. "Oh, I think so. Boldness is our old friend."