The characters are created by LM Montgomery, and are her property... the original characters & storyline are unique to this story are copyright 2021, by Nell Lime.

Author's Note: Ozdiva & TLWtlw, yes the rumors start… and yes… fevered addled man has started the rumors to Prissy, wife of the hotel owner. (SPOILER yes! Mr. Philips). And if you noticed the rumors were a bit more then they eloped. I figured A, Anne would respond fairly well to being spewed on because he's so sick she'd be more concerned about him being sick, and there, to be upset. And because of the rumors I figure let's get Christine & Roy out of the way quickly for once.

— Anne —

Saturday June 19th, 4:30pm

Boarding House, Brookfield, Nova Scotia

Gilbert Blythe was dead to the world within minutes in a deep sleep. I tapped his shoulder, trying to wake him. He still burned up. Well, I best find out for myself where the other room was. Taking the key from his hand, I left him to dreamland. Leaving my bag there for now, I went down a long passage to the main stairs, and down them to the lobby. There, I saw a young maid, perhaps sixteen or seventeen sitting as she read a book at the chair dressed smartly in a black and white uniform. I glanced about the room, there were three sitting areas clumped together, and a desk where the maid sat in the center straight in front of the stairs, being the desk on either side were two doors, and above them a sign reading "The Brookfield Hotel, an establishment of high moral caliber. No immoral behavior tolerated." I gulped. But then I'd have my own room quickly, where I could rest between checking in on Gilbert.

"Hello, I… A Mr. Gilbert Blythe came in to book some rooms, and well he's rather ill and I only got out of him one room 203 when he'd fallen asleep. He's, I don't think he's slept much in the past few months."

The girl laughed like a bell. "Yes! Mrs. Teddy told me of him before she left. Took the last room, that..." She glanced down at the registry. "You must be Mrs. Blythe. She said he had that look all husband's get. Well, she's gone to drop the mail off. Always writes her mother every Saturday she does. Now, Teddy's normally here, but they're preparing for my Aunt's, that Teddy's mother's arrival. And that is an event. She doesn't like Mrs. Teddy you know. So Mrs. Teddy was here, rather then home. And now it's just me, just good old Clara. Why your husband got one of the last rooms, and we'd had to turn away the last three who'd asked. Is everything in your room in order Mrs. Blythe?"

I blinked as I stepped closer. And there, I saw looking upside down in Gilbert's hand. The room was let to Mr. & Mrs. Gilbert Blythe. I gripped the counter noticing my kid gloves I wore were covered in residue from Gilbert's sickness. I was going to find a slate to break on his head... My mind was whirling. He was too sick to sleep somewhere else, and clearly someone needed to keep an eye on him. "No, he's just rather unwell, and I'd hoped for…"

"No more said. Mrs. Teddy had that look that says a girl can't know all the mysteries of a married woman's life. Mr. Teddy's my cousin and she rather likes to rub it in that she's ten years my senior and married a year when she was my age. But then, I've five brothers and they make nasty sick bed patients. You look as though you're dealing with a sick baby or a sick man. Often they're one in the same. Men don't make good sick bed patients. Especially when they have to share. I remember one time three of them were sick at once, Dad made them all share a bed and I'm shocked the house didn't come down with their fighting. Well, you'll be wanting things to keep the man clean no doubt and yourself too, and I best show you. Mrs. Teddy won't mind now. I'll show you were the extra linens are and cleaning things are kept. Men folk can be good at hiding how ill they are. Thats why you have to look to their women folk to see just how ill they really are. And I'm guessing he's worse then a babe teething right now by the state of you."

"Yes."

Almost blindly I followed the girl to a room behind the counter. "Just let us know if you need extra linens. Has he a fever?"

"Yes."

"Landsakes, then you'll need extra bedclothes, and my Mother always said onions for fever. Stuff the socks with them." She started to pile sheets into my arms. "Men folks tend to sweat awfully bad in a fever with their sweats. Now there's a wash room down the hall from you, but Mrs. Teddy won't like any sickness spreading, so I'll have to ask you not to use it. But we've an old hip bath I'll tell Sam to carry to your room. Oh and Alcohol for cleaning. Mrs. Teddy believes in keeping everything clean, and doesn't allow alcohol on the premise for any other purpose. Why I remember Teddy kicked out a couple in the snow for he'd found they'd not been married really, and were drunk on top of it. Caught them, and kicked the man out in the snow and made the lady sleep in the lobby until their train came."

"Oh…" I tried to speak, but was caught off… We were not a married couple. What was I…

She ignored me though. "But where was I? Oh and flannel. Sick folk always need flannel. I'll run to the store for you and fetch it, with something for that fever."

"Flannel?" I asked weakly.

"Oh yes. Why men folk when they're sick can be rather bad about missing the chamber pot. Best treat him like the babe he'll be until he's well I say. There's a stove in your room and I'll put a note you'll need fresh coal in the morning, and some of the leftover soup my Aunt will make tonight. She don't care for Mrs. Teddy's cooking and so she'll be making something fresh herself. Newly installed, Mr. Teddy had my brothers install just last month. Quite proud of them stoves, not even been used yet been warm enough. Now there's plumbing with a sink in each of the rooms. Quite handy if you ask me. Mr. Teddy says that's why we're a hotel and not a boarding house. Because we've got sinks."

I walked in a daze behind her, found myself giving her $1.00 for what she claimed I'd need for caring for my "Babe of a sick husband" and was debating whether it could be something quite sinister such as Scarlet Fever, or simply he'd come down with influenza.

So with my arms loaded, promises to return in an hour with Sam and the hip bath for my husband, I'd been pushed back into the room. I gulped, our room. Perhaps I'd be better off in that Apple Bough, but one look at Gilbert. His suit soaked with sweat. I probably shouldn't leave him alone. He was tossing and turning too, lying on his back now, his suit clearly needing to be carefully cleaned. "Gilbert Blythe." I spoke leaning over him, in my best school ma'am voice. "What sort of scrape did you get us into. If I had a slate I'd be breaking it…"

He woke with a start and bumped my head with how quickly he sat up.

—*—*—*—*—

Authors note… it'll become clear, but for those guessing, Prissy is Mrs. Theodore Philips in this story. I wanted to make sure it doesn't become clear for Anne to suspect there's any connection, and think that she can keep it contained.