Chapter 9

There was a knock at the door early on Monday morning, and Anne answered it to greet their stern landlady. "Mrs Blythe, your milk."

Anne thanked her as she took the bottles, and the older woman stood in the doorway with hands clasped sternly. "You've made this quite nice looking inside, I must say. I do favour brown- it goes with everything."

To this, Anne could only nod, a suspicious twinkle in her eyes. Gilbert came out of the bedroom then buttoning his cuffs, and paused courteously to greet Mrs Whitley. After a moment she made her exit, reminding them that they needed to have their grocery order to her by Wednesday.

As she left, Gilbert came to Anne's side. "What grocery order?" he asked, bewildered.

She handed him a cup of coffee and shrugged. "For someone determined to not wait on us, she's being very helpful. She asked me yesterday if I would like to place our orders with hers- it would save on delivery, apparently."

He nodded. "Will you do it?"

Anne smiled tiredly. "It would be one less job through the week, I suppose. I need to figure out if I can bake the bread in the afternoons as it is- Saturday is wash day after all."

Anne's acquaintance with Mrs Whitley had been growing steadily. On the Saturday following the wedding, Anne had taken up her basket of dirty clothes and stood at the front door to the cottage in indecision. She had been told that the laundry was unlocked from six in the morning- but that she mustn't interfere with the linen wash on Thursdays. She moved to unclench her hands. This was an opportunity, of sorts, she thought, her chin lifting. A chance to learn about her new environment- and to have it learn about her. As she walked down the pathway, wet with the previous day's rain, she looked up to see the fir trees that ran between the apartments. A red-breasted robin bounded from branch to branch, his brown feathered wife hopping behind him docilely. As Anne turned to the back of the boarding house, a sudden thought made her smile wickedly. It was she who was the red-head- Gilbert knew that well. He would expect no such meekness from her.

When she hesitantly opened the back door, she was hit with a thug of warm, steamy air. There was a confusion of sheets hanging off temporary lines, the smell of hot soap and wet linen, the stoves bubbling along the wall merrily. The door to the rest of the house opened then, and the older woman came bustling through.

"There you are, Mrs Blythe," she said briskly, not noticing the involuntary flinch Anne gave at her name. "I thought you'd have been in days ago."

Anne's cheeks coloured guiltily. Surely she could not be considered a terrible housewife so soon. She'd asked Gilbert through what felt like splinters in her throat if he had any washing he needed her to do- he had looked nearly as uncomfortable, saying that he would take care of it later. Perhaps it was cowardly of her to flee the house so quickly after that, although she distinctly thought she heard him groan as the door closed behind her.

Somewhat rattled, Anne tried to smile. "I have early classes through the week, Mrs Whitley. My housemates and I found that Saturday was the best time for us to get our laundry done."

"Just as you like, then. I'm out here every day except Sunday. You can use that empty bench over there."

Anne was thankful to see a tub standing ready, not for the first time thankful that Marilla had drilled her so thoroughly regarding the care of her clothes. With aching arms, an hour later she had a second load boiling on the stove and had turned her attention to hanging out the first outside. There was a small clothesline outside the cottage, and Anne stood in the winter sunshine looking around her wistfully. There were faded garden beds, and a tree beside the house- would it be one she could make friends with? Could they sit under it with books, imagining that they were once more in the Haunted Wood, and life was simple and sweet again?

Anne deposited her basket back in the laundry and was startled when Mrs Whitley came behind her to peer over her shoulder. "That needs another half an hour, Mrs Blythe. Suppose we have a cup of tea in the meantime."

Anne's eyes widened, however, she nodded in some confusion, and seeing the older woman remove her apron, she did likewise. She followed the lady into the main part of the house, trying to smooth down her blue work dress and the red wisps of hair, now curling madly from the steam in the laundry. She glanced in astonishment at the long, brown halls that Gilbert had once described for her, the dining room where the young men would gather morning and night, and into a smaller parlour at the front of the house.

"Sit you down, Mrs Blythe, I'll have a tray ready for us in a jiffy."

An hour later, Gilbert came out to meet her at the back door and took her basket. "You were gone for awhile," he commented easily.

Anne followed him with a smile. "I was ordered to have tea with Mrs Whitley. I don't believe it was a request."

He grinned. "Probably not. How do you like her?"

As Anne began to peg her washing on the line, she saw Gilbert turn to avert his eyes from her clothing, his cheeks flushing. She gave herself a little shake, reminding herself that this would need to become normal for them. "I believe our landlady is a kindred spirit, Gil- she asked how we both were, she told me about her family and had some suggestions on managing the cottage's work better. We had a lovely tea in her parlour."

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "Good heavens, Anne, no one is ever allowed in that room. I should have known that only you could win her over so quickly."

Anne smiled. "I think she likes the idea of another woman around the place, Gil."

Once they were done, they walked around the front of the cottage with the empty basket. Gilbert stepped over the broken steps with a frown. "I won't have time before we go home- but I was thinking that I might bring some tools back with me. I can start to fix the place up a bit- make the stove stop whistling, for instance."

Anne pretended to be shocked. "You have tools, Mr Blythe? I should have thought that beneath an academic man."

Gilbert snatched the basket from her with a good-natured scowl. "Come on, I was a farm boy before I ever became a scholar. Who do you think got sent out to do the farm-hand jobs? We didn't have a Martin."

"Well, we didn't have a Matthew," Anne said quietly.

Gilbert dropped the basket as soon as the door closed behind Anne, turning to wrap his wife in his arms tightly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me."

For a moment she let him hold her, thinking distractedly that it felt right. She was slightly bewildered by the terms of endearment that Gilbert had begun to adopt- had he always been this way? She had never noticed the affectionate nature of the boy who lived next door. Of course, she supposed that his father had always been like that- when she spent any time at Gilbert's house she had often seen John Blythe kissing his wife, or sitting with an arm around her comfortably. She couldn't help but smile now, nestled as she was in Gilbert's arms, thinking guiltily that she didn't really mind. It was a traitorous thought indeed, but it was- nice- to belong to someone again.

This comfort was miles away by Monday evening. Anne stood in the annexed room alone, her eyes wide in horror. The red spot on the clothing in her hand was evidence enough, and she held back a whimper. In all of the furore she had forgotten to anticipate this, and she now felt the urge to scream rise in her throat. It was too soon for her to have to deal with her period here- she didn't want this- she should have been curled up safely in her blue room, where she had privacy and comfort and hot tea and she lived with other girls!

Somehow, Anne pulled herself together. She mechanically cared for the soiled clothing, making sure that she was prepared for the rest of the week- and she would make sure that there would be no further surprises. She moved out to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and sat at the dining room table, staring blankly out of the tiny windows. Eve's curse, Mrs Lynde had called it- and Anne was miserable enough right now to see why. How could she take care of this in privacy if she now shared her bedroom with him? They were friends, but they had never spoken of such things- it simply wasn't done.

That night, Anne forced herself to move through her coursework sluggishly, closing her eyes every now and then to try and ease the ache in her temples. Sickly, she thought that she would have liked someone- anyone to pat her head, to mother her a little. Big tears welled up in grey eyes then, tears that she fought valiantly. She didn't need this right now- she wouldn't have anyone thinking that she couldn't handle things. At nine o'clock she gave up the attempt to study in disgust and took herself to bed.

The day could not be over soon enough.

Several hours later, a miserably awake Anne heard Gilbert's footsteps coming up the path, and the sound of the key being turned in the lock. She huddled under the bedclothes as she heard him moving around the house for a time, talking with a recalcitrant Rusty and no doubt placing another log on the fire. After a few minutes, the door opened softly, and she could hear him pulling clean clothes from the drawer, and the sound of the other door closing. Anne cringed, hoping that she had taken care of everything as well as she could- he mustn't know. Although, why should he know anything? Gilbert hadn't grown up with sisters.

In a short time, she heard him walk back into the room again, and there was a moment of silence where she lay tensely, wondering if he had discreetly checked on her- she knew that he did so from time to time, reassured to know that she was sleeping safely. After another moment he fell onto his bed with a deep sigh, and Anne held herself stiffly until eventually, the sound of his breathing steadied. She turned back toward the wall as silently as she could, and for almost an hour she lay in frozen misery. At last, fed up with the lack of sleep and the discomfort, she slipped out of bed and noiselessly left the room, her robe in one hand as she closed the bedroom door behind her. After a chilly trip to the outhouse with a lantern, Anne shut the door to the outside world and went to place the kettle over the still-warm stove, bending to stroke her pet, who had taken to sleeping in the wood box behind the stove. She then sat down to watch the fire, her grey eyes stormy.

How on earth did married women manage this without their husbands knowing? Who was there to ask? Anne shivered, clenching her jaw to keep it from trembling. The swirling anger and anxieties were threatening to drown her, and she held onto self-control, desperately trying not to let her tears fall. Phil had often teased her that the whole household could tell when it was her time of the month- the last thing she needed to do was to draw attention to her fragile state. Gilbert would only worry- and she did not want to be coddled.

Moving around the small kitchen, Anne was fixing a small plate of food when she heard the floor creak behind her, and let out a shriek, the plate dropping as she jumped away from the looming presence behind her.

"It's me- it's just me," her husband of ten days said quickly, grabbing her wrist. "Anne, what are you doing up so late? I thought you were asleep."

She pulled away from him then, all the self consciousness from before now standing between them. "I just fancied a cup of tea."

Gilbert stooped to pick up the plate, and rubbed his eyes blearily. "I might join you, if you don't mind- I didn't get time for dinner tonight."

Feeling as if it would be churlish now to tell him that she had changed her mind, Anne set another cup on the tray, moving silently to get the sugar for his tea. He had taken it the same way since their teaching days- days in which many had speculated that the two of them were bound to end up together. This reflection did not help Anne's mood, and when she sat down it was in the furtherest corner of the sofa, a cushion self-consciously placed on her lap.

Gilbert, who had never been a casual observer of Anne now watched her with a slight frown. That she was not feeling the best was immediately obvious- but as a husband of just over a week, he wasn't sure how to go about addressing the issue. At the moment she was so tense that he thought anything could shatter her- and as long minutes stretched in uncomfortable silence, he thought uneasily that it may be just what she needed.

"Did anyone say anything to you today?"

Anne's head flew up, and she clutched her tea cup instinctively. "No- did anyone say anything to you?"

He seemed to flounder, then. "No- Professor Daniels caught up with me today, he asked how you were. He sends his regards."

Anne's face tightened, and she nodded stiffly.

"Anne?" She turned back to him, her grey eyes icy- and yet there was a pain in her expression that broke his heart. "Anne- what's troubling you?"

To this, she gave a tight laugh. "Well, as the woman who ruined Gilbert Blythe's academic career-"

Gilbert bit back an angry exclamation, gripping her hand. "Don't say that!"

She seemed to rein herself in, then, and to his frustration, she drew in a deep breath, and shook her red head with a forced calm. "You're right. I'm sorry. Forgive me for being so sullen."

He got down on his knees in his striped blue pajamas now, his hands gently on her arms. "This isn't fooling me, you know. Please, tell me what's upset you."

His compassion was becoming too much for Anne, and she swallowed convulsively, not wanting to break down now. "If I start, I won't stop, Gil. We have classes in the morning- we need sleep-"

"It's not weak to admit that everything isn't alright. You need to let it out," he said bluntly. Her brow tightened, and he could see her fighting to restrain her tears. Suddenly, the memory hit him of how she had been in the months after Matthew died, and he tightened his grip on her hands, his look desperate. She needed to break.

"Stella told me that Phil cried on the first night you were gone."

Anne's eyes flew open in hurt, and she stared at him for a moment. "Gilbert- why- why would you-"

"I'm worried about our finances next year; I'm worried that we've missed something," he stated, making her freeze. "Oh, and by the way, Charlie Sloane is moving into this boarding house. Just a few yards from our front door." A tremor seemed to shake her then, and he watched her swallow hard. "And I'm going to grow a moustache."

He held his breath when enormous, grey eyes turned to him, and then suddenly, Anne's face crumpled in misery, and she curled into a ball as great sobs began to shake her slim form. After a startled moment, Gilbert gently pulled Anne into his arms, holding her as he stroked her hair back from her face. She had turned her cheek to nestle against him, and his heart clenched, even as his voice was soft.

"It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright-" he murmured.

"You just said that it didn't have to be alright!"

He chuckled guiltily and nodded. "You're right, I'm sorry." For long minutes he held her as she cried, deeming it wiser to remain silent while she was so upset. When the tears began to abate a little while later, he used his sleeve to wipe her wet cheeks awkwardly, bending down to look into her swollen face. He was pleased that she didn't move away, and he pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

Anne sighed then, oddly comforted by the sweet gesture. "That was mean, Gilbert."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was afraid that you would be sick if you kept holding it in." He chuckled then, smoothing her wet hair from her face. "I can't believe the moustache broke you. I won't do it if you hate the idea."

Anne scowled at him. "And your mother will hate it even more. And what about Charlie?"

"Sadly, that bit is true," Gilbert said reluctantly. "He's been wanting this boardinghouse for years- closer to the college, and it's cheaper, too. Moody told him I'd moved out, although he didn't say why, and he wrote to secure his place. I found out when I was getting the mail."

She gave a slight hiccup, and he left her side to get her a glass of water. He sat back down beside her then, his look gentle. "You scared me. I haven't seen you like that for a long time."

Anne shook her head, more tears flooding into her eyes. "Gilbert, I don't know how else to do this."

"Do what?"

"Everything! The washing and cooking and sharing a room- I don't know how to be a Mrs Blythe! Your mother makes it look so easy!" she sobbed, and he coughed, trying not to smile.

"Well- she's had a fair bit of practice," was all he trusted himself to say.

"And our meals are late because we get home so late, and I haven't had time to bake and I should have changed the sheets by now only there has been no chance to do it, and I can't sleep because you are sleeping in the same room as me, and I haven't shared a room with anyone since I lived at the orphanage!" She tried to catch her breath, blinking eyes that were bleary with hot tears. "Gil, I don't know how to be a student and a wife- I'm not like Di, I won't do this naturally!"

Gilbert frowned. "Anne, no offense to Diana, but all she does is tend house under her mother. What makes you think she could do what you do?"

She pulled away then, her voice shaking. "I don't know what I need to be-"

"Hold on there, I need you to be you-"

"And what kind of wife is that, Gilbert?" she shot back angrily. "Like Mrs Lynde? Denying her husband an opinion on everything, and controlling him? Or like Mrs Thomas, saying yes to everything to stop him from hurting the children? Do I tell you everything like I used to? Or do I need to hide things from you like Ruby's sisters do to their husbands? Or perhaps I could be like Mrs Barry, who doesn't talk to her husband at all if she is angry? I didn't have a family like this."

Gilbert carefully reached out to take her hands, shifting closer to her. "Anne, we've never been like everyone else back home, why would we start now?"

Anne's head bowed in defeat. "I'm not ready for this. And we have to go home in a week and convince everyone that this was a good idea."

He sighed, tentatively cupping her cheek in his palm. "Anne, honey, I'm not ready for this either." She looked up at him in horror, and he gave her a tortured smile. "I never expected to be a husband this soon. I don't have a clue what I'm doing. My dad was forty years old when he married mother- I thought I'd be older- smarter-"

To his relief, she snorted then. "Smart is not usually one of your problems, Mr Blythe," she said thickly.

"And since when were other people's expectations yours?"

Anne sighed, hunting for a dry spot on the handkerchief that Gilbert handed her. "Since you and I found ourselves here. We are precisely where we are because of people's expectations."

"Well, that ends now." He saw the obstinate look on her face and frowned. "Whatever we do outside the house for the sake of appearance, inside this house we need to be us. No pretending to be alright when we aren't. They can't be allowed to affect us in here." He squeezed her hand, then, his face tender. "It's just you and me now, Anne. And I'm not sorry. Some of my best times were when it was just you and I together, you know."

Anne looked up at him with a faint smile, pushing her red braid behind her. "And mine."

"Then let's just be those people," he said firmly. "We'll figure the rest out in time, I promise." Settling back beside her, he smiled, seeing how close she was to his side. He took a piece of bread and butter from the forgotten plate, eying her curiously. "You never did tell me what happened today."

Anne's cheeks coloured. "It's nothing-" she saw a reserved look pass across his face, and sighed impatiently. "Gilbert, nothing happened. I was a little unwell, and I was little upset-"

"How were you unwell?"

"It- it isn't important."

Gilbert frowned at her, uncomprehending. "What upset you, then?"

"Nothing, I was just upset!"

He folded his arms stubbornly. "Anne, we need to start talking like a married couple. I can sit here all night, if you can. "

At this, Anne exhaled loudly. "Gilbert, do you know anything about women?"

Gilbert froze warily. "In what sense?"

The fiery green glint was in her eyes, and her words were enunciated carefully. "Biologically, Gilbert."

Anne was glad to see that he was slightly rattled now. Her earlier shame had fled in his confusion, and recklessly, she decided that he was bound to find out sometime- he did plan on being doctor, after all- better to hear it from her now.

"I- er- academically speaking, yes-"

"Then I suggest that you review your extensive notes from your first semester at Redmond, and see if you can figure out a biological reason why your wife has had a very trying day today, and why she might expect another few trying days after this one. And why it will happen all over again in approximately one months' time."

She could see the moment the truth hit him- and he gave a bark of laughter that he immediately apologised for, his hand coming up to ruffle his brown hair sheepishly. "Heavens, Anne, I- I never even thought about that. I'm sorry."

Anne's anger deflated. "Well, I- I didn't want you thinking about it."

Gilbert smoothed the fabric of his pajama pants over his knees, his face brick red, and Anne flinched, wondering what he was thinking. "So- so that's now." Anne's cheeks flushed, and she wondered if he would have more questions. Sure enough, Gilbert's brow soon lowered in thought. "I didn't think it made you unwell."

"Well, a textbook would hardly cover that, would it?" Anne scoffed. "Especially as it was written by a man."

"Come on, they must do some research-"

To his surprise, she laughed slightly. "Not nearly enough, Gilbert."

He turned to her then, some of his shyness abating. "So what do I need to do?"

"Just don't poke the bear," she grumbled, and then found herself laughing again at the look on his face. Somehow, Anne began to forget that they were in their nightclothes in their tumbledown cottage- it could have been any one of the nights they had spent together back home. "I suppose at times women may get a little over-sensitive," she admitted.

"Is that what that is?"

He dodged her slap with a chuckle, and she scowled. "It isn't ladylike to show your temper- and most especially when it coincides with one's- monthly visitor." The last two words caused a hot blush to cover her cheeks, and her voice was low. "But you remember how it felt when your students were badgering you, and your temper started to rise, even though it wasn't really their fault-"

"Vividly-"

"And you felt like you wanted to scream, just to clear the air, but you can't-"

Gilbert looked at her in some consternation. "Ah. I see. Do— you need to give me some kind of warning?"

Anne rolled her eyes impatiently. "There's no need to panic, women do learn self control as we grown up," she said crossly. "I only meant to illustrate how it feels."

The brand new husband nodded, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. "And you do feel unwell with it?"

She frowned, not wanting to appear like an invalid. "Yes. It hurts. And it's certainly unpleasant."

Gilbert gave her an intrigued look. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Anne's hand came up to cover her burning cheek. "No. I just need privacy to deal with it."

Gilbert nodded, rubbing his neck shyly. "Would it help to have your bed closer to the err- other room? I can swap them in the morning."

As she met his eyes, she felt relief that he had understood. "Yes, please."

"Done." He gave her a small smile then. "Well, I guess it's something husbands should know about, isn't it?"

"I don't know." Anne closed her eyes tiredly. "Matthew and Marilla were brother and sister; they couldn't tell me what it was to be married. And I hardly think the families I grew up with were any kind of model for us."

Gilbert rested his head against the sofa, and the two of them simply looked at each other in the firelight. "I'd rather make up our own rules. Don't get me wrong, my parents were wonderful. Still are, in fact." He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, and sighed. "But we're us. I want us to be able to tell each other anything- I- I don't know how else we can make up for how we started."

Anne looked at him seriously. "I understand what you did tonight, however unfair your tactics were-" she scowled at his smirk, and continued. "But I don't want to be bullied into talking whenever you think that something is wrong."

Gilbert blanched. "Do I do that?"

"Yes," she said evenly. "Oh, never for bad reasons- but you often want me to talk before I'm ready. You need to let me say no."

Gilbert seemed to struggle with this. "And what if I think we need to talk?"

"You shouldn't trick me into doing it before I'm ready. It's not fair. You used to do that when we first became friends- I always assumed it was just your way."

Gilbert swallowed. "I just wanted to get to know you better."

Anne gave a half hearted smile. "Well, you know me better, now, Gil. Treat me like a grown up and ask me- and pay attention if I tell you that I'm not ready."

He sighed, folding his arms. "Alright. I just- worry- at the thought of you holding back with me, and me having no idea what's wrong."

She lowered her brow. "I'm not usually like that, am I?"

"You have been for the past year," he said quietly.

Anne looked at him in shock. "I don't think it was that bad."

Gilbert deliberately rose from the seat, picking up his cup. "You never told me that you were uncomfortable when I got too close to you." He saw her face whiten, and studied the mug in his hands. "Anne, I worry that I'll see that look on your face again. The one that says that you wish I was a million miles away. I- I don't think I could handle that coming from my wife."

Anne rose to her feet awkwardly, smoothing her nightgown down with shaking hands. "Gilbert, I'm sorry- I should have talked to you-"

To this, he lifted his hand, trying to smile. "Don't. Whatever it was, it's in the past now. And we have a very new marriage to keep us busy- not to mention the kind of Christmas we could wind up having."

Anne saw his distraction for what it was, and came close enough to touch his arm. "I won't," she whispered. He stopped then, watching her grey eyes warily. "If something bothers me I will tell you. If I'm not ready to talk about it I will say so. And you need to remember that I chose to be here because I- I couldn't stand the thought of being so far from you."

His look softened, and he reached up to push the soft red curl from her forehead. "I know you did. Are you alright?"

She smiled faintly. "I will be. However, if we are going to make our classes tomorrow, we really do need to go to sleep."

Gilbert gave her a nudge toward the bedroom door. "Go on. I'll take care of the mess out here."

There was an unexpected lump in her throat then. The dishes from their late-night supper were few and could be left until morning, however, she saw his offer for what it was- the privacy for her to take care of what she needed to. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped into his side to give him a swift hug, and was gone moments later.

In the kitchen, Gilbert stood still as a goofy smile covered his face, still feeling her warm body pressed against his. He took his time cleaning up the area, and when he entered the bedroom, all was still. This time, when he lay down he heard her soft voice wishing him good night. He did the same, his heart almost bursting. In spite of everything that they had to battle ahead of them- in spite of the rumours and fear of expulsion, he turned his face to where Anne's bed lay behind the screen, and a deep sigh of contentment escaped him. Somehow, he was the luckiest fellow alive.