Chapter 8

In later years Anne would compare the first week of her marriage to that of being a mouse waiting for an invisible cat to pounce.

Every day, she and Gilbert would rise in the morning to breakfast together, and Anne would wash the dishes while Gilbert split kindling for the evening and did other chores. In the interest of maintaining a low profile at Redmond, the pair left for college earlier than usual, either attending early classes or finding sanctuary in the library. In this way they had avoided the appearance of anything out of the ordinary- however, Anne found herself constantly on the edge of panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Outwardly, Gilbert seemed to be fairly sanguine- at least until a highly strung Anne ordered him to stop drumming his fingers on the various tables and desks they frequented that week. The new husband had not noticed that particular nervous habit of his, however, wisely he tried to stop. Anne checked with him daily to see if anyone had asked him anything- and each day he said they had not. Her own circle remained in ignorance, as far as she knew. Professor Winston congratulated her after class quietly, sending his good wishes to Mr Blythe, and suggesting that her essay could use some further revision.

As a matter of fact, only once did anyone go near the subject of Gilbert with her- when Anne was asked if she was going with him to the Christmas dance. She had been able to reply composedly that yes, Gilbert Blythe would be escorting her- and no, she hadn't a clue what she was wearing yet.

At home was a stress of a different kind. She had been trained in the care of a home by Marilla, and again whenever Mrs Lynde would visit- which had been often. She had been stunned to find that the girls looked to her for guidance on household matters- this, she thought in bewilderment was for the girl who had starched the handkerchiefs and allowed a mouse to drown in pudding sauce? Eventually, she realised that Priss and Stella had both had mothers who ran the household- and with the twins and Marilla's eyesight, more of the responsibility for Green Gables had fallen on her shoulders over the years- teaching her more than any Household Science course could do.

She had been determined not to let Gilbert down so early in their arrangement. She was his wife, she would do what a wife was expected to do. Every afternoon she arrived home from school to don her apron, sweep, tidy and prepare their supper. Schoolwork needed to wait until later in the evening, and by the time Anne went to bed, she was as tired as she could humanly make herself.

Of course, this was only half the problem.

Anne had grown to detest night times.

For the first night as husband and wife, Anne had lain in bed awake for most of the night, terrified to move lest she wake Gilbert with her restlessness- and every sound he made had her bolting up in bed, and muffling a shriek. At about four in the morning, tightly wound and ready to climb the walls with exhaustion, she had actually done it- Gilbert had thrown himself out of bed in a panic, only to run into the screen he had placed by her bed.

Needless to say, it had taken quite some time to settle down again.

When the sun rose on Sunday morning, the couple were curled up on their respective beds, finally in an exhausted sleep after their white night. Anne was the first to wake at almost nine in the morning, and she had not dared to move in case she disturbed Gilbert. She had at first attempted to block out the light and go back to sleep, but then realised that he might wake first- and she didn't like the idea of him finding her sleeping either. After an inordinate amount of too-ing and fro-ing, she had jumped out of her skin as she heard his husky voice had bid her a good morning. He rather sheepishly told her to go ahead and use the dressing room before him, remaining under his own quilts safely until she had left the room.

After a night or two, Gilbert was able to start sleeping again. Each night Anne lay scowling in his direction until the wee hours of the morning, wanting to sock him with a pillow for being able to sleep. gradually, a routine was being formed. Every night in the living room Gilbert would squeeze her hand as he wished her goodnight before they took turns readying themselves for bed. Anne rarely spoke after she entered the bedroom, and Gilbert had followed suit.

Mealtimes had been almost as tense. They had both fallen behind in their schoolwork, and a harassed Anne insisted that now wasn't the time for him to learn to cook- instead, Gilbert was shooed off to the desk in the living room. Anne chopped and prepared with a faintly crazed look as she read her texts and took notes on the windowsill above the bench. She had watched him anxiously to see if he preferred one meal over another, and yet for every meal, he thanked her with the same level of courtesy. What was that supposed to tell her? She found herself debating over meals, remembering that Stella did not like beans, and Davy would not touch carrots. Priscilla would eat almost anything- unless it had been poached.

She didn't have a clue what Gilbert preferred best.

Unconventional though this marriage was, Anne was grimly determined to meet the standards expected of a girl from Avonlea. The two of them would have enough censure to deal with- but they would not be able to criticize her housekeeping.

By Friday morning, they had agreed that if they were asked now, they would tell people that they were married. The faculty knew, of course- in a further indignity, Anne was asked for proof in the form of the marriage certificate by Professor Hallett, who had only nodded curtly after verifying that it was real. Predictably, Professor Daniels pulled them into his office to reiterate the need for them to remain out of the spotlight.

"Keep your noses clean, and your heads down," he'd said bluntly. "When it comes out, the best thing you can do is appear madly in love, they'll assume you got married in a fit of whimsy. A few simpers and smirks might help- they'll be watching you, Miss Shirley-"

Anne had sat stiffly in his office next to Gilbert, her eyes green. "That's Mrs Blythe, now, Professor."

The older man had waved his hand impatiently over the trifling detail. "They will be watching to see if you appear to be guilty, or in the family way."

Anne's cheeks flushed, however, her voice was steady. "Sir, I would not be continuing my BA if I thought there was a chance I would not finish it. In nine month's time, it will be clear where our priorities are."

He'd given Gilbert a curious glance then, and at the corresponding look of stubbornness on his face decided to not push the point. He turned his attention to Gilbert to talk about the exams to come.

Anne had radiated tension throughout the interview, and once the Blythes were outside Gilbert took her to a secluded place to talk.

"We knew they would be like this."

Anne's eyes smouldered. "That doesn't make it any more palatable. Gil, I don't trust him."

Gilbert pulled her onto the bench beside him. "Who- Hallett?"

She gave him a telling look. "Professor Daniels."

"Look, I know he's blunt-"

"No, he's far too involved in this situation," Anne said angrily. "It's hardly for our good, Gilbert. Phil said that the school will lose the Cooper Prize if someone doesn't win it- it's college politics here, not a real concern for our well-being. I don't like the idea of you being used."

He couldn't help but smile at her over-protectiveness. "Well, neither do I- although his concern has kept us here, albeit on the school's terms."

Anne didn't noticeably relax. "Please, just be careful with him, Gil."

He took both of her hands in his, bending to look at her. "Anne, I swear I will be. What have we said since this started?" He pulled her nearer to him, and despite the seriousness of the situation Anne couldn't help but smile at his earnest look. "It's you and me. You're the only person I trust, right now," he said simply. "I hope you feel like you can trust me too."

There was a moment then when she almost moved toward him, almost reassured him with a touch to his cheek- and she swallowed, remembering where she was, suddenly feeling vulnerable. She cleared her throat and looked up at her husband. "I do."

Gilbert grinned. "Good. Now, come on, Mrs Blythe- we both need to have lunch, and you have a history assessment this afternoon."

"And you have your Greek."

There was a groan then, and Anne stood up with a chuckle. "And you never know- Professor Whitehead may not call on you this time."

"If wishes were horses…."

As they walked together toward the dining room, Gilbert spoke suddenly. "It's nice to be able to spend more time with you. It was something we never really got enough of, before."

Anne looked up at him in surprise. "I suppose not- Redmond kept us too busy. I almost didn't make it to the market yesterday."

Gilbert stirred uneasily, shoving his satchel over his good shoulder. "Did you have enough money to get what you needed? We probably sit down and make sure tonight."

Anne's cheeks likewise showed her embarrassment. "I- I suppose so. I'm still not very sure what to buy- most men do eat more than women."

"The same things as you, I suppose. I've got no complaints."

Anne rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Well, I don't want your mother telling me that you've dropped weight- although perhaps asking for your favourite recipes will cause her to like me more- Diana swears that Fred's mother hated her until she asked her for her shortbread recipe."

"And did she give it over?"

"Dear me, no. But she quite affably told her that she would give her a copy on their wedding day. Di supposed it was as good as she would get."

Gilbert sensed her disquiet, and tucked her free hand through his arm, wincing slightly at the movement. "Well, Mother will give you the moon if you ask for it, I promise. Even with everything else, they'll be happy because it's you."

Anne nodded. "Marilla will be about you, as well."

That afternoon found Anne once more in the comfortable lounge room at Patty's Place. Aunt Jimsie had welcomed her with a long hug, clucking about her thinness and suggesting that she needed to slow down a little- and to come to her if anything was bothering her. Anne had only smiled as Jimsie tucked her in her favourite chair before she asked after her husband.

Gilbert had suggested that she continue to spend Friday afternoons with the girls. Anne wondered if he had seen the heart-hungry look on her face when the two of them had left Patty's Place the other day- he had simply taken her hand in his own as they drove away, his presence beside her a steadying strength. He himself had classes until five that day and would come by to spend the evening, taking her home with him afterwards. As Anne had hung her coat on the old coat rack, a tiny bubble of fury rose in her at the way she had been forced to leave her home. She guiltily thought of Gilbert then and sighed. Oh, she had much to be grateful for- she could not ask for a better companion, she realised- unless it was the trio of girls now sitting around her with hot tea in their hands, leaning in to hear how her first week as Mrs Gilbert Blythe had gone.

Stella was first to ask, her dark eyes twinkling merrily. "Come on, I bet you have all kinds of juicy details for us by now, Anne-"

She spluttered for a moment, her eyes flashing. "What on earth would make you say that?"

Phil grinned. "Anne darling, this is easily the most exciting thing that we have heard in years- "

At this, Anne's indignation almost rendered her silent. "Phil, Gilbert and I were forced into this-"

Priscilla was on hand then, moving to sit beside Anne. "Anne, sweetie, we know. But you must admit, being forced into this with someone you know and lo-" she broke off then, at the warning look on Phil's face, and changed direction effortlessly. "Like- is a very different thing. You know that Gilbert is honourable, respectful, he works hard and is good company; you know and like each other's families, not to mention that everyone back home has been wanting this to happen for years."

"Not like this they won't," Anne said caustically, nevertheless smiling when Phil offered her a cookie. "I understand it could be worse," she admitted, "and I would never have agreed if it wasn't Gil- or if I didn't think we could work together well."

Phil's voice was droll. "'Work together'," she said, heroically holding back laughter. "Well, it's a start at least, Anne."

Anne's eyes sparked with green fire, and her chin was high. "Yes. It is a start. And thankfully, we have a very long time to go until this marriage becomes- well, a proper marriage. Our degrees must come first."

To this, Phil pushed herself forward into Anne's line of sight. "Honey, we're just teasing. We were the ones with you when all of this happened, remember? We care about you. We know this will take time. But we wouldn't be us if we didn't push you along a little - we love you too much to do otherwise. You have to talk to us so that we can be there for you."

A tear slipped down Anne's cheek, and she tried to smile. "I know. And you are darlings for standing by us- heaven knows, you could have refused to ever see us again."

Priscilla's scowl was evident. "Don't be ridiculous, Anne. This is university bureaucracy at its finest. They'll see you are backed by your peers- and you know that your professors are behind you."

Anne chuckled, bending to sip her tea. She turned to Stella then, her cheeks colouring. "Well? What do you want to know?"

Stella clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, everything! What is Gilbert like to live with?"

Anne shrugged, her cheeks pink. "I don't really know yet. I think we are both too uncomfortable to be ourselves yet- we've only been in the house for a week."

Phil shuddered. "And I'm coming to help you paint the walls, soon. That muddy brown gives me the shivers."

"It isn't the most inspiring, I admit. Gilbert says that at least we are warm and dry," Anne commented with a shrug.

Stella slyly slipped another cookie towards Anne. "And you really do share a room?"

"You don't really want to know this, do you?" Anne protested, only to be met with impatient cries from every direction. Six bright eyes were on Anne then, and she sighed in defeat, blushing horribly. "You'll see when you come to visit us, anyway. There is one proper bedroom, and a room that makes Phil's nook look like a palace." Anne rubbed her forehead tiredly. "We decided that it would make a decent changing room. The washstand is in there too." She closed her eyes then. Her bed was as far as possible from his- underneath the window in the far corner. She kept her eyes averted from the girls, somehow unwilling to divulge how uncomfortable it made her, no matter how much of a gentleman her husband had been.

Priscilla gazed at her, her blue eyes wide. "I can't believe you are sleeping in the same room as Gilbert Blythe!"

"He has put up a screen," Anne said faintly. "He- he doesn't snore, at least."

At this, the entire room broke out in giggles, and slowly Anne began to unwind. She even laughed when Priscilla asked if he was a morning person. She smiled, depreciatingly. "Neither of us are, right now- although I think that has more to do with not sleeping soundly. We are used to being alone at night, after all." This prompted another set of squeals, and Stella sat back, her look wicked. "And have you seen anything of him, yet?"

Anne choked on her tea at this, making the others laugh. "Seen him?"

"Yes," the incorrigible Stella said impishly. "You are in close proximity to the man that everyone at Redmond wants, universally proclaimed the most handsome fellow on campus, not to mention your close friend; and I find it very hard to believe that a small house could conceal the two of you from each other all the time-"

Anne wiped her streaming eyes. "Well, so far, we have managed to- although I am relieved this happened in the winter. No flannel nightgown made by Mrs Lynde would leave an inch of flesh visible."

Phil rolled her eyes. "Remind me to get you some new nightgowns for your birthday, then- not to mention his."

"So you mean you haven't seen anything?"

Anne sat up then indignantly. "No! And surely you wouldn't expect me to tell you if I did!"

Stella gave a dismissive wave. "Anne darling, I have two married sisters and Priss has one- I've heard everything before. And I am purely interested in an academic sense- I am planning to marry a man myself, one day."

Anne laughed then, a strangely protective expression on her face. "Well, as this is my husband we are talking about, I think I should respect his privacy."

Stella nodded, her face sobering. "Truly, I would expect no less of you, Anne." A wicked smile crossed her face then. "Will you at least tell us when project Baby Blythe comes into effect?"

"Stella!"

Gilbert helped Anne on with her coat that night, doing his best to ignore the hot blush on her cheeks as they said goodbye to their friends. He reached for his own coat and scarf, smiling as Aunt Jimsie announced that the Blythes would be joining them for Sunday luncheon. Soon they were walking down the stairs together in the cool evening, the fresh wind pushing them together for warmth. He looked at Anne, her lovely face tipped up to study the sky.

"Did you have a nice afternoon?" he asked softly, and was rewarded when she smiled.

"I did. Thank you for suggesting it, Gil- I miss them terribly."

His smile was understanding. "I know you do."

Anne looked across at him, a small smile on her face. "The girls are very curious, you know."

He looked at her warily. "Oh?"

"They seem to view us like one of those serials you read in magazines."

"You mean, 'What will happen next to the unfortunate but handsome young couple?'" Gilbert commented, his eyes twinkling.

"Exactly. They want to know a lot more than I would rather tell them, to be honest." Anne's face was a study, and she slipped her gloved hands into her pockets with a shiver. "You are the first man who has come into our little family."

Gilbert almost missed a step at the reference, and he couldn't help but smile. "So I'm really part of the family now?"

Anne chuckled, her breath visible in the cool night air. "They love you, Gil. Of course you are."

He looked at her, intrigued. "And what about you? Am I family to you, yet?"

He saw her blush and held his breath. "I don't see you as a brother- and I don't think you would want to view me as a sister."

Gilbert stopped cold, as he digested her words. "You don't think I ever did that, do you?"

She seemed to flinch from him then. "I- I don't know."

He stopped, waiting for her to turn to him. "I've never seen you as a sister, Anne. My fiercest competition- sometimes my harshest critic- but to be honest, my favourite person in the world." Anne stopped now, her bewildered grey eyes on him. He took her hand and smiled. "And there's no one else I'd rather do this with," he said seriously, and she laughed.

"Nor I."

Within minutes the pair arrived at home, and after shedding her coat Anne moved swiftly to add wood to the stove to boil the kettle. She didn't look up from the tea tray when Gilbert stepped out to the outhouse with the lantern, only turning some minutes later when he called her.

"Err- Anne?"

She turned to see him standing at the front door, an odd look on his face.

"Gil, you goose, you're letting the cold air in."

He scratched his head in bemusement. "Would you come here, Anne? You- err, have a delivery."

Anne moved to the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, and stopped in comical dismay at the unmistakable cat on the doorstep.

"Rusty?" With a leap, he was in her arms, and Anne cuddled her pet instinctively. "However did you even find us, old fellow?"

"He must have followed us home- and we didn't notice a thing."

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "He is awfully good at that. I can't take him back tonight, can I?"

Gilbert shut the door firmly. "Not on your life. It's not fit for man nor beast out there. Will they worry at home?"

Anne shook her head, placing the cat down cautiously to survey the cottage. He took a wide berth around Gilbert and moved to sit by the fireside, beginning to wash his face as if he hadn't walked across Kingsport in the wintertime.

Gilbert grinned. "Now that feels homelike. Do you think he'll stay with us?"

Anne shrugged. "He is a one-person cat, so to speak. He adopted me- I don't suppose I had much choice, really." She smiled then, the familiar sight of him warming. "You're right- it might be rather nice to have him here, Gil."

Her husband's arms were folded, and he looked at Rusty with some suspicion. Rusty was not fond of anyone but Anne- he'd not made much headway getting to know the prejudiced animal in the past year. "And where does he usually sleep?"

Anne's grey eyes twinkled in the lamplight. "In my room, of course, Gilbert. And where will you sleep?"

Later that night, Gilbert lay in bed stubbornly awake. Anne's side of the room was silent, so he assumed she was finally asleep- and he could hear Rusty purring from the braided mat beside her bed. He couldn't help smiling. For all Anne's initial ambivalence about the feline race, Rusty had certainly laid his claim on her- although he doubted that the cantankerous beast would recognise his right to Anne's company anytime soon. Gilbert had offered him milk and some left-over meat from his dinner, hoping to earn some trust- but no. Rusty had clearly not wanted to take anything from him- a different story when Anne herself had passed it to him. The coquettish look the redhead had given him then was one he had never seen before- a look that made him want to spring to her side and kiss her senseless. He shifted in bed uncomfortably, needing to change the direction of his thoughts.

Besides, perhaps there was something in his mother's assertion that cats made a household a home. He'd been pleased to see Anne beginning to relax as they sat before the fire that night, albeit with Rusty on display cleaning himself in a rather undignified manner.

Fine. If the cat made Anne happy, then the cat would stay.

For himself, he let out a soft sigh. In another week they would travel home and break the news to their families- to their relief, Charlie was still bed-ridden and miserable, and so hadn't heard a thing. Gilbert felt slightly guilty about that and had taken him some books- only to be met with a foul-tempered and gruesomely-spotted Sloane who berated him for not coming earlier, and for not changing his plans to escort him back to Avonlea when he was cleared to do so. After a few minutes of his company, Gilbert fled the sickroom, thanking his stars that he and Anne had booked their passage home earlier. Anne had confessed to some strangeness in not making her plans with the girls, and while Gilbert understood her hesitation, he knew that they would need to start viewing things as a married couple instead. He had suggested instead that they try to coordinate with the girls for their return date at least.

He sighed, trying to punch his pillow into shape again. Subterfuge wasn't his strong suit- and Gilbert was finding himself in an odd place with Anne now. Weep with those who weep, the Bible said- and so he needed to keep the joy that bubbled up in his heart under wraps for the time being. Anne was grieving, he had realised, and trying to keep it from him. Only, of course, she was as bad at lying as he was. He found had to work to keep the look of delight off his face- seeing her working across from him at the kitchen table, in her white apron at the bench cooking for them, her red curls coming out of the braid she wore in the evenings, and the fleeting glances of her in her robe at bedtime- not to mention the quiet sounds of her breathing near him through the night. If it wasn't for the looming scandal, uncertain future, the threat of parental disapproval and a shoulder that was not healing quickly, he would be almost perfectly happy.

As per Avonlea custom, on the second Sunday following their wedding Anne and Gilbert attended church together, drawing a few curious glances. The minister had waylaid them at the door to offer his patronising congratulations, and to her consternation, Anne had been invited by his angular wife to join the Kingsport Presbyterian Women's Auxiliary- only married women were invited, she had told her virtuously. Anne could see Gilbert's smirk behind the august couple, and she somehow found her voice, saying that she would perhaps see after the Christmas break.

More worryingly, a group of girls from the younger classes at Redmond had hovered nearby as Anne and Gilbert talked with Aunt Jimsie after the service. They had whispered and giggled together, and one brazen lass had approached Gilbert asking if him there was any news he would like to share. He had only doffed his hat with a breezy smile, and returned to Anne's side promptly, his hand covering the golden ring on her left hand.

He uneasily thought that they were in a no-man's land right now- it was better for people to not know just yet- and yet the odd looks he had been getting from the young men at the boarding house when he collected the mail made him increasingly nervous.

When he had discussed this with her, Anne had only nodded. Only one person had worried her- there was a furtive, triumphant look on Claire Hallett's face whenever she caught Anne's eye- and she had found herself wondering uneasily what she was waiting for.

That night the two of them had gone over contingency plans while Rusty- who had not returned to Patty's Place- paraded a mouse that he had caught earlier in the day. Gilbert's books lay beside him, unheeded for the time, and he lay his head back on the sofa tiredly. Anne's bread and butter pudding had been delightful, and after she had finished in the kitchen she sat down on her usual chair, a familiar text in her hand- a battered copy of the Household Guide his mother had favoured.

"Where did you get that?"

She smiled, sitting back in the chair. "Mrs Lynde insisted that I bring it back with me when we moved into Patty's place a year ago."

"Not- ahem- your usual sort of textbook."

She chuckled then, not seeming to take offence. "No- it is useful, though. I was looking for some of Marilla's old recipes, and I came across the medical section."

Gilbert grinned. "Wanting to follow me to medical school?"

Anne turned her pretty nose up at him teasingly. "If I went, you might be following me, Mr Blythe. I'm fairly certain you had to work hard to beat me."

"I did."

Anne opened to a sketch of an arm in a sling. "Gil, when was your shoulder last checked?"

Gilbert blinked. "It's been a fortnight, Anne. I'm alright."

"Doctor Edmonds said that you needed to keep a sling on for that period- and with everything else, I completely forgot what began this."

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's fine, Anne."

She gave him a shrewd look and went to pass him the book- on his left side. She watched him attempt to reach out to take it, however after a moment he scowled. "Fine. I can't lift it up yet."

She moved to sit beside him. "You know, I'd never thought to question the way that you are doing things right now- I don't suppose I ever watched how you put on a coat before. I noticed it this afternoon."

"I'm flattered that you're paying such close attention-"

Anne glared at him. "Gil, how have you been cutting the wood outside? Did you not think to ask me to help?"

"Like you won't let me help you in here?"

"That's different! I'm not injured!"

She made to touch his shoulder, and he moved away, attempting to placate her. "Anne, it's fine- Mrs Whitley gave me a pot of something odd to rub into it, I just wasn't bothering with it yet."

Anne rolled her eyes, unbuttoning her cuffs to roll up the sleeves of her blue flannel shirtwaist. "And can you reach your shoulder?"

"Well, not all of it-"

She stood up, her look stern. "Just get the liniment, Gil. You said you had a good chance of being able to play again if it healed properly."

"I did, but-"

"Mr Harrison had a similar injury with a fall from his horse- he rarely uses his right arm when lifting, you'll notice. Mrs Harrison came to consult with Mrs Lynde about it."

"Who naturally is the centre of all wisdom," Gilbert muttered, getting up to walk into the bedroom. "Anne, what does that have to do with me?"

He sat down on his bed to search through the drawers and looked up when Anne sat beside him, a sober look on her face.

"You knew it was more serious than a bruise from the beginning," she said. "I'll never forget the look on your face when you first saw it. I know we've been busy with the wedding and college, but if you don't take care of it, it could end up being a lifelong injury- and twenty-three is awfully young, to begin with a handicap like that."

"Fine. I'll put it on," he mumbled. "It just smells like the liniment I used to have to rub on Dad's back."

Anne stilled. Gilbert didn't often talk about John Blythe's illness, she'd noticed. She took the tub from him, assuming a matter-of-fact tone. "Well, it's for your muscles now. If you take off your shirt, I can reach the rest."

"You're going to do it?" he blurted out.

She flinched when she felt his stunned look on her, and wouldn't meet his hazel eyes. "Well, you can't reach it, can you?" She halted then, with a short sigh. "You got hurt without me. But everything in your life got complicated when I came into it- the least I can do is see that you can move your arm a little." She unscrewed the lid and tried to not look at him slowly undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. "Your father had consumption, didn't he?"

"Tuberculosis," Gilbert grunted, stiffening as he felt her fingers on his now bare shoulder. "We took him out to Alberta- there was a kind of farm there that doctors would send patients to. Ma went back to the island to look after the farm then."

Anne's cheeks were red, and she kept her eyes on the still colourful bruise. She gently started to work the liniment in, deciding that it was best to keep him talking. "You were only ten, then, I think."

He snorted, trying not to react to the pain. "I spent three years out there- it was supposed to only be one, but the doctors kept extending the time. They were worried he wasn't healing fast enough."

"And I suppose if he'd come back too soon-"

"He'd have worked his way into an early grave, yes. By the third year, he made them let him do some work here and there- he had us repairing the cottage we lived in. It smelled of the liniment."

Anne smiled. "I suppose it would." There was silence for a time, and Gilbert flushed at her nearness. She stood over him carefully, her long, red braid dangling in front of him as she worked on the back of his shoulder. "Do you need to wear the sling again?"

He frowned. "It would look odd if I started wearing it again."

"Not that anyone but me is paying attention," Anne pointed out drolly. She straightened up at his evident sigh of relief, vexed at the way her cheeks heated. "I used to do this long ago," she said softly. "There were children at the orphanage who were crippled. The matron never had time to care for them- so I had to rub their legs from time to time." She put the lid on carefully, pretending not to see the wide-eyed look on her husband's face. "Well, that should do for tonight. If you want to get changed first, I'll go and tidy up for a while before I come to bed."

Gilbert took her hand as she went to go. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything- cooking, cleaning- for this. For just being here."

She nodded, and closed the door behind her, pausing to lean her forehead against the wall. She closed her eyes, suppressing a groan. She had been so adamant that they needed boundaries- so why had she suggested something that had both of them so vulnerable all of a sudden? Would things between them continue to change so swiftly? She couldn't be ready for that- she wasn't. With an effort, she moved to the kitchen, where Rusty prowled around the saucer of milk Gilbert had placed down. She placed the dishes in the washing up bowl, taking the hot kettle to add to the water there.

Anne worked steadily, her pale face troubled. The lines were not as simple as she had believed they would be. Should she have left Gilbert's arm? She shuddered then, remembering the way he had grimaced as he put on his coat. No, it had to be alright- it had been necessary. She would just make sure to keep a closer eye on him in the future- already she could tell that he was favouring his right arm by instinct.

By the time she readied herself for bed, she crossed the room wondering if Gilbert was asleep. When she was safely behind her screen, she called out a soft goodnight, not really expecting an answer. His voice came back instantly, and she smiled, before slipping between her covers, after dislodging Rusty from her bed. She exhaled quietly, then.

One day at a time.