Glen St. Mary, Canada
July 2016

How everything still turns to gold

I'm woken by soft kisses being placed on the back of my neck and a hand sneaking over my bare hip. Stretching slightly, I move my head for better access.

"Good morning," Ken murmurs, brushing his nose against the curve of my ear.

I sigh appreciatively. "Good morning."

"I've missed waking up like this," he tells me between kisses, his hand lightly stroking over my hip and thigh.

"Not just you," I reply, arching my back slightly so that it's touching his chest.

His hands creeps forward as his lips move down to kiss my shoulder. Reaching back, I brush my hair out of his way, while allowing my eyes to flutter shut again.

Of all the possible ways to wake up, this is surely among the most satisfying.

It is also, admittedly, one of the longest ways to wake up and thus, it's quite a while later that we finally emerge from our tangle of sheets, both laughing and dishevelled and a little breathless still.

"Good morning," Ken stresses.

"Hmmm," I hum, looking at him coyly over my shoulder.

He reaches for me, but I'm quicker, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and getting up. The blanket slips from my shoulders as I cross the room to my wardrobe, but I don't make any attempt to catch it. Even with my back to him, I can feel Ken's eyes trailing over me. When I briefly look back, I see him lying stretched out on the bed, an easy smile on his face. His gaze is openly adoring and I can't help but bask in his admiration.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask, raising both eyebrows.

Ken grins. "Very much so."

Stepping into my underwear and slipping a dress over my head, I tease, "I guess that's too bad for you then, isn't it?"

"Oh, that's okay," replies Ken, sounding very relaxed. "After all, I'm the one who gets to peel that dress off you again tonight."

"Now, don't you get cocky!" I warn. "Or else, I'll have no other choice but to wear my Snoopy pyjamas to bed!"

Ken knows my Snoopy pyjamas. They're cosy, comfy and about as un-sexy as sleep wear can possibly get.

Today, however, not even the prospect of thick flannel pyjamas is enough to dampen his mood. "I always enjoy looking at you, no matter what you wear," he tells me. A second passes, before a wolfish grin spreads over his face and he adds, "Or what you don't wear."

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes at him, but without quite being able to hide my smile. "If that was supposed to be a compliment, I'm sorry to say it wasn't a very good one. You're seriously off your game!"

"And here I was thinking I just showed you how very, shall we say, effective my game is," Ken retorts, not missing a beat. "But no matter. I'll just show you again tonight."

Laughing, I fling his trousers at him. "You can certainly try. But for now, it would please me ever so much if you could get up and get dressed. I'm sure they're already waiting for us downstairs."

Ken catches the trousers easily. "Will there be breakfast?" he asks, perking up.

"Between Grandmother Marilla and Joy, I can assure you there will be breakfast and a delicious one, too," I inform him as I sit down at my vanity table. "In fact, you'll find that your famed fry-up can't hold a candle to what they magic up."

He doesn't rise to the bait though. Instead, he rolls out of bed and walks over to me, trousers still in hand. I watch him a little warily in the mirror, but he merely stands behind me and gathers my still unbrushed hair into a loose ponytail with one hand. Meeting my eyes in the mirror, he states, "I've missed you."

"And I, you," I reply without hesitation.

"Let's not stay apart again for so long, okay?" he asks, dropping my hair and watching it fall around my shoulders.

"No, let's not do that," I agree, smiling.

He holds my gaze in the mirror for a moment, before leaning forward and dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

To be honest, I'm not totally sure whether he means our six months of separation or the previous few weeks, but the truth is, both time spans felt too long. We spent a glorious week in Ingleside last month, just the two of us, before he had to return to England, where Owen is still recovering and Persis and Teddy shouldn't be left running the country for too long. I, meanwhile, went back to Halifax to prepare for my belongings to be shipped back to London. Dad teased me quite a bit about the fact that I never even unpacked most of the crates, but I think it's really very convenient. Much less work and much less hassle!

Ken and I kept in very close contact in the past three weeks, right up until he came back to Canada some days ago, arriving straight from France where he took Owen's part in several events commemorating the 100th anniversary of the Battle of the Somme. He's just in time for Nan's wedding, which is to take place tomorrow. The day after that, we will fly to London together and I will officially move into Wren House. George is travelling with us, though I haven't dared tell him that yet. My romantic indecisions are turning that cat into quite the seasoned traveller and I feel more than a little bad for it, but at the same time… a life without George is not a life worth living, right?

As I put on some light makeup and braid my hair, I keep an eye on Ken in the mirror. His morning routine is much quicker than mine, so by the time I'm finished, he's already by the door, waiting for me. After a brief detour to the bathroom, we walk down the stairs to where the majority of my family is already gathered. The rest of them will arrive today, though they will do so in great secrecy. Nan has decided that she wants her wedding to be completely private and to achieve that, some subterfuge is necessary.

The press hasn't yet cottoned onto the fact that Ken and I are back together, but there's still residual interest in me and my family. Nan's wedding would definitely raise press attention and if they were to cover it, they'd quickly discover Ken's attendance, at which point everything would surely go crazy. Ken offered to stay away, but Nan would hear none of it, so the only solution is to keep things firmly under wraps.

For Ken, this meant doing his travels by private plane and under a veil of secrecy to avoid detection, with his protective officers having to be even more inconspicuous than usual. For the rest of us, it meant keeping quiet about the wedding plans, which was helped by the fact that Nan and Jerry chose to forgo the big party they had planned the first time around and instead just focused on closest friends and family for tomorrow. They didn't have much time to organise this wedding either, so everyone pitched in to help.

Luckily, we could rely on the good people of Glen as well. While I managed to hide Ken's presence from them last month by simply keeping him inside, they were always going to find out about Nan's wedding. To keep news from slipping out beyond the village, John Meredith called a town hall meeting and implored everyone to give Nan and Jerry the privacy they wanted. They're well-liked around here, Nan and Jerry are, and Glen is a close-knit community of people who protect their own, so they rallied around and agreed to keep the secret.

Thus, it's all set to be a lovely day tomorrow, as it well should be.

"Good morning," I greet brightly as I step into the dining room where everyone has gathered for breakfast. Ken follows me, keeping our hands firmly intertwined. I think he's still a little nervous that my family blames him for our breakup, even though I reminded him that technically, he didn't break up with me and anyway, if they forgave Jerry, they can surely forgive him, too.

"Good morning," my family choruses back, before there's some shuffling to make space for Ken and me around the table. Shirley, unusually gentlemanly, even goes to fetch a chair for me from the living room.

As I predicted, Joy and Grandmother Marilla served a breakfast that absolutely compares to the meals regularly prepared in the Buckingham Palace kitchen and we all tuck in heartily. As usual with a family such as mine, there are about three different conversations going and I focus on the one closest to me.

"I still don't understand how you got Irene to stay mum," Jem remarks around a mouthful of bacon. Joy immediately reaches over to lightly hit him under his chin and make him shut his mouth. Jem rolls his eyes and on the other side of the table, Izzie sniggers.

"It wasn't that hard, actually," Nan replies. "I explained my reasoning to her and asked politely. She was surprisingly forthcoming."

Di snorts. "If you think that was because you asked nicely, you're more naïve than I thought."

Nan swivels around to look at her twin. "You didn't threaten her with something, did you, Di?"

"Ah…" Di squirms slightly in her seat. "I wouldn't say I threatened her. Let's say I employed a tactic of enhanced negotiations to drive my point home."

Which means that yes, she totally threatened Irene. I'm also pretty positive she had some choice words for Jerry after learning about the renewed wedding plans, and the way she's been eyeing Ken since his arrival yesterday, I already resolved not to leave those two alone anytime soon. Di can be very protective when the well-being of one in the family is on the line.

"Di!" exclaims Nan. "Just can't just go around threatening people!"

Di shrugs, looking a little defensive. "It worked, didn't it?"

"No, it didn't work," Joy interjects calmly. "She was all set to report about the wedding in her little newspaper until I spoke to her."

Nan looks at her warily. "What did you do?"

"I struck a deal," Joy reports, clearly pleased with herself.

"Ever the lawyer," mutters Jem. Without looking at him, Joy gives him a light smack on the back of his head.

"I promised her that if she toed the party line until after the wedding, she could not only exclusively report about the wedding itself but that she'd also get the scoop about those two being back together." Joy points her fork at Ken and me.

Immediately, everyone at our corner of the table turns to look at the two of us. Ken squeezes my hand while I meet their gazes openly and shrug. Not that I enjoy being a bargaining chip in Joy's deal, but this entire subterfuge wouldn't be necessary but for Ken and me being a couple, so the least I can do is do my bit to make it better. It's not like we'd be able to keep our reconciliation a secret long past my return to London, so it doesn't make much of a difference if Irene reveals it a day or two sooner.

"I don't like this," Nan murmurs, frowning.

"Needs must," I remark, making sure to make my voice sound unconcerned. This is her big time and I'll be damned if anything puts a damper on it.

Nan doesn't look convinced, but when both Ken and I offer reassuring smiles, she reluctantly turns back to her breakfast. Beneath the table, Ken's thumb brushes over the back of my hand and I sneak him a grateful look. I know that striking deals with the press, even if it's just Irene and her backwater newspaper, goes against his convictions, but he's willing to go with this for Nan's sake and that's quite lovely of him.

The rest of the breakfast passes uneventful, with lots of laughter and merry conversation. When Grandmother Marilla deems all of us to be sufficiently fed, we're allowed to get up from the table and proceed to drift to different parts of the house.

Ken is immediately monopolised by Izzie, who is about as happy as I am that he's back in our lives. Chattering cheerfully, she drags him to the living room to show him a comic book she created herself and that elaborates on the story of the flying girl that she told me on Christmas Day. I already saw it a few days ago and it's quite a remarkable work for a girl her age.

I look after the two of them, unsure whether I need to follow. After all, it's been a while since Ken had my family unleashed on him unfiltered and they can be… a lot. Before I come to a decision, however, Jake catches my eye.

"I've got it," he assures me. "It's okay."

I smile at him, privately marvelling at the fact that he'll be sixteen later this month. He's very nearly grown up! "Thanks. That's sweet of you."

"Well, I think you're needed elsewhere." He nods at something behind my back and when I turn, I see my sisters gathered by the foot of the stairs, joined by Nia, Faith and little Zoe.

Di waves me over impatiently. "Come on!"

"It looks like you're right," I tell Jake, smiling wryly. He shrugs, showing a lop-sided smile of his own.

I don't get time to reply, because Nia has unceremoniously grabbed my arm and already starts dragging me up the stairs. It's all I can do not to stumble over my own feet, so there's nothing for it but to trust Jake that he won't let Izzie chew Ken's ear off with her talking nor allow Grandma Bertha to try and convince him to renounce his throne rights and turn the UK into a republic. (She denies that that's her goal, but I don't believe her, certainly not since Shirley saw her creating actual charts showing the annual cost of the British monarchy to the taxpayer.)

Upstairs in Nan's bedroom, we all find a place to sit, while Nan herself takes her dress from where it's hanging from the inside of her door and starts changing into it for a final trial run.

"Is your family coming over today?" Joy asks Faith. While she speaks, she swivels around and around on Nan's revolving chair, reminding me suddenly very much of her daughter.

Faith, sitting on the bed, has unbuttoned her shirt and is now nursing a fussing Zoe. "Yes, I understand they're all coming for lunch. Mum and Lily are already at the Manse and Jerry, too, of course. They're expecting Una and Carl sometime later today."

"They're meeting with Walter at the airport in Halifax, so they can all drive up together," Di supplies from her place on Nan's desk, letting her legs dangle. I can't help noticing, for the umpteenth time, that Di has enviably long and toned legs. Nia, from the looks of it, has noticed, too, though her gaze it appreciative rather than envious.

"Can someone zip me up, please?" Nan asks, motioning to the back of her dress. It's a lovely, light summer dress, knee-length and with lace accents in a borderie anglaise-style. It's also very different from the elaborate robe she had planned to wear for the wedding that wasn't, but it's very fitting for this new, more intimate celebration.

I scramble up from where I'd been sitting cross-legged on the floor to help Nan with the dress. "You look gorgeous," I tell her, meaning every word.

She smiles gratefully. "It's a pretty dress, isn't it?"

"Very pretty!" Faith agrees while she lightly jostles Zoe into a more comfortably position. Di and Nia both nod in agreement and Joy makes an affirmative sound.

Closing the tiny hook at the top of the zipper, I take a step back and plop back down on the floor. "Are you nervous?" I want to know, looking up at the bride-to-be in our midst.

Nan smiles over her shoulder and shakes her head. "Not at all."

"As it should be," declares Di.

"It's nice, being married," Faith agrees.

"Very," emphasises Nia and shares a loving look with her wife as she slips an arm around her shoulders.

"Most of the time," stresses Joy with the long-suffering sigh of a woman who just celebrated her sixteenth wedding anniversary.

Di swats at her. "Don't listen to her, Nan. She's only joking."

"That is true," confirms Joy jovially. "Mostly."

Nan laughs. Turning to me, she explains, "I know I probably should be nervous, but I'm really not. We took a long and not very straight-forward path to get here, but for all that, I'm very sure that Jerry and I are right for each other. Maybe I'm even surer because it wasn't easy. We chose each other and we chose to find a way to be together. In a way, it feels more meaningful now than it did when we were first together, because we had to work for it."

Faith nods approvingly and Joy smiles. Di, however, mutters something intelligible and while I don't understand what she says, I can take an educated guess, especially when Nia reaches out to pinch Di's upper arm. We all know that Di, while happy for her twin, hasn't fully forgiven Jerry yet and is of the decided opinion that things would have been much easier if he'd just – how to say it? – kept things firmly wrapped up.

It certainly, there's no doubt about that, would have been quicker. Though I guess I'm not one to judge anyone on the speed with which their relationship proceeds.

As if having read my thoughts (or maybe simply to distract from Di), Nia turns to me. "Speaking of working for it," she begins thoughtfully, "how are things working out between you and Ken?"

"Quite well, thanks for asking," I reply, though I do so a little warily. I don't know where Nia is heading with this, but I'm pretty sure the final goal is to tease me about something.

Alas, it's not Nia but Di who grins at me and asks, "Did Mum and Dad really walk in on you going at it on the couch last month?"

Groaning, I hide my face in my hands. "We were just kissing, okay? It was not… it wasn't what you think now. And I will kill Mum for telling you about it!"

"I think she mostly had to share it with someone because she was so happy about the two of you being reconciled," Nan chimes in, rising to Mum's defence.

Not, of course, that Mum deserves being defended. It was near the end of Ken's and my week together last month that Mum and Dad barged into Ingleside unannounced to surprise me with their plans to spend the weekend there. I mean, I admit I might have neglected to tell them I had company, but still. I can hardly be blamed for kissing my boyfriend (oh, okay, maybe it was a little more than kissing) when I thought we were alone!

Laughing, Faith switches Zoe to her other side. "Don't be embarrassed, Rilla," she consoles me. "Having your parents walk in on you almost counts as a rite of passage. We've all been there, I'm sure. I still remember the time Jem and I –"

Before she can finish, I throw my hands up and scramble to my feet. "I think I can do without that particular information, but thanks all the same!" Having said it, I almost flee from the room, the laughter of my sisters accompanying me all the way down the stairs.

I arrive downstairs just in time to see Mum open the front door and witness the rest of the wedding guest pile into the hall. As predicted by Faith, I spy Walter, Carl and Una, plus Katya, which isn't a surprise, and Anglican George, which is, though a decidedly pleasant one.

Stopping three or four steps from the ground, I catch Una's eye over the general bustle and I nod discreetly towards Anglican George, grinning widely. She blushes slightly, but there's a smile on her face. Looks like those two worked things out for good!

"I'm so happy to have all of you here," Mum declares as, one by one, she wraps the new arrivals into welcoming hugs. "Did your journey go well? Was the drive okay?"

"We actually had a flat tire just after crossing Confederation Bridge, but Katya changed it in no time," Walter answers, looking at his girlfriend with pride in his eyes.

Katya just smiles modestly. "It was nothing."

I can imagine that for her, it really was nothing, but I also know that without her, the rest of them might still be standing by that road near Confederation Bridge, trying to figure out what to do about that tire. When I look at her and raise an eyebrow, she grins back, telling me that she is very aware of that, too.

As Mum starts collecting jackets, I feel a light touch at my left leg and glance down to see George looking up at me. (He's mostly taken to living upstairs since Jem and Dog Monday arrived, but they're out for a walk now, so George apparently deems the downstairs to be safe at the moment.) If I had to wager, I'd say he's probably hungry already, despite the many people who sneak him food all the time. Alas, I'm a hard-hearted human, so instead of providing food, I pick him up and walk down the last few steps with my arms full of cat.

"Anglican George, meet real George," I declare, stopping in front of Una's plus-one and presenting my disgruntled cat to him.

"Rilla!" chides Mum.

Anglican George, however, just laughs good-naturedly and reaches forward to pat George's head. "I'm very honoured to make you acquaintance, Georgest of Georges."

George blinks at him, as if trying to decide what to make of this new human who has the audacity to touch him. Anglican George has been well trained by his own feline companion though (a very pretty tabby called Magnificat) and also has lots of practice when it comes to ear-scratching, which is always a handy way to bring this particular cat around. (Calling him 'Georgest of Georges' probably helped, too.)

"I'd tell you where he stands on the question of bread, but I'm afraid he's mostly just not a fan," I joke, looking down at George fondly.

Anglican George smiles. "Also, as everyone knows, a cat accepts no-one but itself as deity."

"Quite right," I agree. George purrs in agreement.

With the exception of Una, the others listened to our exchange with varying levels of bemusement. We don't get a chance to explain, however, because Mum choses that moment to whisk off the newly arrived guests into the living room, though not before calling to the kitchen for Grandmother Marilla to make more tea.

While the two couples follow Mum readily, I notice that Carl hangs behind a little, so I move to catch up with him. George struggles against my hold on him and I open my arms to let him go. Jumping down, he immediately proceeds to attach himself to Anglican George's heels, making me smile. Looks like those two are set to be firm friends!

Turning away from the cat, I touch Carl's arm to get his attention. "So, you're flying solo tomorrow?" I ask. "I was hoping we might finally get to meet Kara."

Carl shrugs. "Actually, it's unlikely you will ever get to meet her now. We broke up earlier this year."

Ah, drat! Talk about putting one's foot in!

"I'm sorry, Carl," I tell him sincerely. "I didn't know that. I wouldn't have asked if I had."

He shakes his head. "You had no way of knowing. And besides, it's okay."

"It is?" I ask, surprised. After all, I've just been through a breakup and I know that they can be a lot of things, but rarely are they ever okay.

Again, Carl shrugs. "Yeah, it's okay. If you must know, it was me who ended things. It wasn't anything sudden, either. I just realised over time that we weren't necessarily seeing eye to eye anymore about important things."

I frown, confused. "What kind of things?"

For a moment, Carl looks like me might tell me to go mind my own business, but then he sighs softly and answers anyway, "Part of it was what we were doing, or rather, her way of doing it. I mean, I detest animal cruelty more than anyone, but somehow, despite all the laboratory windows we smashed and all the factory farms we broke into, the only thing we ever achieved was getting arrested. We never really changed anything, you know?"

I blink at him, then nod slowly. I didn't expect to be drawn into such an existential discussion so quickly (he's still wearing his jacket, for God's sake!), but it looks like Carl has some need to share this with someone and it looks like that someone is me.

"In the past two years, we got arrested so often that my lawyer warned me I might find myself having to do some actual jail time at some point," Carl continues pensively. "It wasn't just that though. My one goal has always been to make a difference and we weren't achieving that. Last autumn, I met some people at a rally against fur trade and they shared some very interesting ideas with me."

"Is that so?" I ask, feeling a little steamrolled but trying to be supportive.

"Yeah." Carl nods. "One of them, Reo, runs an animal shelter outside Vancouver and I've been helping out there for a few months now. They're also active with the local Green Party and I started going to their meetings as well. They really have some great ideas and very sound plans to make them happen. Reo says we can achieve the best results by working with the system instead of against it."

That makes me smile. "It sounds like they're doing their best to turn you from revolutionary to politician."

"Ah, well. It's still early days and it's very much grass-roots work, but who knows?" Carl grins. "Maybe, in thirty years' time, I will be a member of parliament who is present as it's opened by the King and Queen of Canada and I can brag to all the other MPs that I already knew the Queen when she still wore pigtails and told me I couldn't kiss for toffee."

"I'll have you know that I never wore pigtails," I inform him, laughing softly. "As for the rest of it, however…" I pause as I look through the open door into the living room, where Ken sits in a circle with Grandpa John, Dad, Dan and Jake. When he feels my eyes on him, he looks up and smiles.

"As for the rest of it…" I repeat, speaking to Carl but holding Ken's gaze. "Who knows? It might really happen yet."


The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Stairway to Heaven' (written by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, released by Led Zeppelin in 1971).


To Guest:
Thank you! I hope this chapter brightens up your Thursday just the way the last one did! =)

To AnneShirley:
For George, I tried to imagine the utter indignation my cat would feel if someone were to wake her by playing the bagpipes (and badly, to boot!). Running to hide under the bed would be the kindest of her reactions and breakfast would be the least I'd have to provide to make it better again. (Sometimes, I do absolutely think my opposable thumbs are what she likes best in me.) Truthfully, some things just should not exist in a world ruled by cats and bagpipes surely count among it!
You're right to put hope in Rilla's observation that Ken looks better. His mental health has improved and there are several reasons for it. Being with Rilla again and getting to believe in their love is one of those reasons, but as you said, love isn't a cure for everything. We'll learn about the other reasons that came together to make him feel better in the next chapter. Lots of talking happening next week!
I love that you approve of Owen's little "side job". I wanted to give him a way to put his writing talents to good use in this universe as well and seeing as I'd already made him a bit of a history nerd specialising in royal trivia, what better to make him write than the ultimate royal guidebooks? I think he is secretly quite pleased that all those tourists have no idea that he wrote those books himself, so he would never reveal it himself, though of course someone else might out him at some point. We hope for him that it will remain a secret though, because there'd only be half the fun in it if he wrote those books as HM The King. Selwyn Ford and his other alter egos are a big part of what makes this fun for him.
Your reaction made me laugh! Sometimes, *excited fangirl squee* is truly the best way to put it. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with "at last!" either ;).

To DogMonday:
No, no, please don't apologise. You raise perfectly valid points and I'm happy to address them!
I can assure you that, Ken's mental problems have not miraculously disappeared. As a psychologist myself, I take the subject of mental health very seriously and I know that mental issues never go
poof! and disappear just like that. He is better now, but even that isn't a miracle. If anything, it took a lot of hard work to get to this point. I haven't dealt with that subject yet because I feel it's important enough to be due its own chapter, but I will be posting that chapter next week and I hope it addresses your concern adequately =).
Now, as for them being equals, that's a bit trickier, because Rilla was always going to have to do the moving. Due to Ken's position, she'll have to become a part of his life more than he can ever become a part of hers. That's just how it is. My thinking is that though she's always going to have to adjust to his position, the question is whether she does so simply as an extension of him or if she makes this life her own. She needs to create her own space in the royal world independently of him and I think she's realised now that she can do that. To me, them becoming equals means that Rilla learns to navigate Ken's world confidently and independently, without needing him to guide her or prop her up. She needs to come to the point that allows her to look at the royal life and say that this is just as much her life as it's his. That, I think, is the kind of equality that works best in their situation - if she is a 'player' as much as he is.
I do actually believe Hanson was around, but the PPOs kept their distance because Ken asked them to. Nothing to kill the mood like having the police barge in while you're trying to woo your lady love, right? ;)
And before I forget, re: Selwyn Ford.
Did you read 'Readying Rilla', by the way? According to it, Selwyn was the name LMM originally intended for Ken, which... would have been a choice alright!