A/N: There will be direct references from the Anne of Green Gables series in this chapter. I can't write it better than L.M herself! So I thought I'd put in a disclaimer here. I claim no credit to anything you may recognize from the Anne of Green Gables series. That's all the wonderful work of the amazing L.M. Montgomery.
Warning: Please be aware that this chapter contains potentially disturbing details.
Sunday church service was rife with rumors and consternation surrounding Anne's return. The rumors of her lack of engagement ring fueled the consternation as the reliable Mrs. Lynde was unhelpfully mute on the topic.
When Gilbert arrived with his mother, his presence added fuel to flame regarding the absence of Anne's fiance. Gilbert barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes at the whispers as he escorted his mother into the family pew. His indignation softened though, as he laid eyes on one of the chief gossipers, Ruby Gillis. Her delicate beauty had become more fragile as consumption consumed her. Thin and pale with startlingly rosy cheeks, Ruby's eyes still sparkled with thoughts of beaux and parties. She was dying far too young, and everyone knew it but the Gillises. A lump rose into Gilbert's throat.
The lump was there to stay as the Cuthberts arrived. Gilbert watched with dismay as Marilla and Anne guided a frail Matthew Cuthbert into their family pew. Even Davy Keith was subdued. The shy and reclusive Matthew had been having "heart spells" for the past several years, but he had managed to recover each time. The Cuthberts had been obliged to have a hired man for the farm work since his first spell just before Anne left for college.
Mr. Cuthbert must have had a bad spell very recently, because Gilbert could not recall seeing the man this ill at the previous week's services. Gilbert wondered why he had even come to church at all. But as Gilbert's eyes landed on Anne, he knew why. Matthew Cuthbert was doing his utmost to assure his beloved girl that all was fine. But from the thinly veiled distress on Anne's face, it wasn't working. Anne was so distracted that she was momentarily shocked when she finally noticed Ruby. She hastily assumed a natural manner, but Gilbert, who could not keep his eyes from Anne, took note, as well as a few others. Mrs. Lynde kindly wrapped an arm around Anne as she joined the Cuthbert pew, and Diana Barry turned around in her pew to give Anne's hand a squeeze.
The service was uneventful beyond the gossip mongers in the congregation readying themselves to pounce, and once the service was over, Gilbert guided his mother past the throng. He longed to go to Anne, but thought better of it, as the Cuthberts remained in their seats, waiting for others to pass. In the churchyard, the Blythes were swarmed by the Avonlea biddies eager to learn more straight from the source. Fred helpfully popped up at Gilbert's side to draw him away from the fuss.
"Diana's volunteered me to fetch the Cuthberts' wagon, and I figured you'd want to help," he told Gilbert.
"Thanks," grinned Gilbert, delighted. "You're the best, Fred. They didn't intend to stay and chat?"
"Naw," Fred replied. "Miss Cuthbert says she has something to tend to at home, but I wager it's because of Mr. Cuthbert. He's not looking well, is he?" Gilbert shook his head, his lips pressed together. "Will your Ma be alright?" Fred asked a bit worriedly, looking over at the swarm of middle-aged women.
"Yeah, she won't admit it, but she secretly loves the gossip," Gilbert assured him.
The young men located the wagon and gently led the Cuthberts' mare to the churchyard where they found the Cuthberts, Anne, the twins, and Mrs. Lynde awaiting them. Fred held the bridle while Gilbert bounded over to the folks to assist them. He was just about to speak, when Ruby swirled in, chattering excitedly.
"Oh, Anne, it is so wonderful to have you back!" she exclaimed, clasping Anne's hand with her own thin one. "We MUST catch up. PLEASE say you'll come to my party on Friday! Diana and Fred will go, and there'll be lots of dancing and young gentlemen!" She squealed happily, before lifting a lovely brow in Gilbert's direction. "And Gilbert will be going, too, won't you Gilbert?"
Before Gilbert could reply, she flounced away to calls of her name from the Gillises waiting by their buggy.
"Ta ta!" she called over her shoulder. "You had all better come!"
A startled moment of silence followed Ruby's departure, broken by Matthew, who turned to Anne and said softly, "Well, Anne, I guess you had better go to that party."
The group broke into nervous laughter, but Mrs. Lynde clucked disapprovingly.
"The last thing that girl needs is a party," said Mrs. Lynde. "What the Gillises should be doing is taking Ruby on the first train to Alberta."
"Oh, Marilla," sighed Anne passionately. "Why didn't you say that Ruby was ill? Why didn't any of you?"
"I know I've mentioned her being ill in my letters," Marilla said matter of factly.
"But you made it sound as if she merely had a headcold, not…." Anne swallowed. "Not this."
"Those Gillises want to think it's a headcold," Mrs. Lynde muttered darkly. "And at this rate, they'll go on thinking it until her final day, poor girl."
At this, Anne stifled a sob.
"Come now, dearie," puffed Mrs. Lynde. "As the good Lord tells us, "one must be joyful in hope and patient in affliction."
"That makes sense," Davy mused at Anne's elbow. "What does God say about reading non-flicktion? I want to know."
"That's non-fiction, Davy boy," Anne said kindly, suppressing a watery smile. "UH-ffliction is something else."
"Anne, be sensible and let's be off," said Marilla, rolling her eyes and ushering her and Matthew to the wagon.
Anne smiled sadly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I'm afraid I've never been what anyone would call 'sensible.'"
"It's never too late to start," Marilla contributed wryly.
Anne's eyes met Gilbert's, and he could almost see her thoughts on her pale face. Tuberculosis brought death to too many.
It was at this moment that Josie Pye called loudly across the churchyard. "Anne! Oh, dear, leaving so soon? In tears? It won't do to be sad over being jilted! You must buck up, Annie!"
Anne flushed hotly. "I could strangle her sometimes!" she hissed under her breath, and Gilbert grinned. He silently helped her into the wagon along with the Cuthberts, Dora, and Mrs. Lynde.
"Thank you, gentlemen," Mrs. Lynde said magnanimously as she hoisted her considerable bulk onto the wagon seat.
Davy swung himself up beside Matthew with a loud whistle, nearly startling the placid mare. After a moment of soothing the poor horse, Fred glanced over at Diana, waiting by her family's buggy. "Have a nice day," he said to the wagon with a tip of his hat. "See ya, Blythe."
Gilbert also tipped his hat and farewelled. He watched the wagon as it rolled away, and just as he was about to return to his mother, Anne swiveled around to look back. Their eyes met again briefly before she blushed and turned away. Gilbert's heart thudded loudly as he walked across the churchyard to his mother. Before he could reach her, Josie caught his arm.
"Gil," she cooed. "I haven't seen you in ages."
"It's been a whole week," Gilbert said wryly, trying to slip free.
Josie tenaciously held onto him, saying, "Shall we go together to Ruby's party? You wouldn't want to go alone, would you?"
A momentary panic clutched Gilbert at the thought of going anywhere with Josie, and he quickly lied, "Already spoken for, actually."
Josie released him, her face puckered. "With who?" she asked suspiciously.
Finally free, Gilbert made good use of it. "A good friend," he called over his shoulder as he hurried away, hoping Anne might accompany him to Ruby's party.
As it happened, Anne blushingly accepted Gilbert's stammered request a couple days later to escort her to Ruby's party, and so the two happily made their way to the Gillis home that Friday eve. It was awash with the Avonlea young folks talking and laughing and dancing. Ruby was the belle of the ball, resplendent in a gown of vivid red with matching painted lips that would have shocked the older generation had any been present.
It was a surprisingly riotous party for Avonlea, and Anne confessed to feeling overwhelmed as she danced a reel with Gilbert under the lantern-strung trees of the Gillis yard. Gilbert had noticed all eyes upon them as they spun and stomped, and he felt rather overwhelmed himself. As the reel ended, he led her to the row of chairs at the edge of the porch steps.
Anne sat with a sigh, her eyes on Ruby, who swirled and spun with her latest flame, a young man from Carmody.
"Is there anything to be done for her?" she asked, softly and sadly.
Gilbert swallowed. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "If only there was a cure."
"Would going to Alberta help?" Anne queried.
"Perhaps. But it might do nothing at all."
Silence fell between them, before Anne sighed again. Gilbert glanced at her, surprised to see her jaw clenched determinedly.
"I've notified the Summerside school district that I won't be accepting the high school principalship," she said. "That's… that had been my plan… to work there, but I can't. Not with Matthew… I can't leave him. I've been away too long."
"You were offered the principalship of Summerside High School?" Gilbert asked in amazement.
"Yes," said Anne uncomfortably. "But - oh don't you see, Gilbert? I left them behind! Matthew and Marilla, when I went to Redmond. They needed me then, and now they need me more than ever. I can't do it to them again. We fear… we fear Matthew… " Her voice broke. "Matthew… might not be long for this world."
She then burst into tears before a startled Gilbert. Before he had even blinked, Diana Barry swept in with Fred in tow.
"Anne!" Diana exclaimed, before adding soothingly, "Don't cry, Anne." She wrapped an arm around her friend and gently raised Anne to her feet. "It's alright. Why don't we go inside?"
She ushered Anne into the house, leaving behind Gilbert and Fred on the stoop.
"Well, it seemed to be going well for a little while," Fred said with a curious expression on his face. "What did you say to her?"
"Nothing," sighed Gilbert. "Unfortunately."
Anne didn't come back out for so long that Gilbert feared she didn't want to see him. He lingered by the punch bowl, avoiding dances and fretting. His mood was not improved by Charlie Sloane joining him in his punch bowl vigil. Charlie had the good fortune to have attended Redmond with Anne the past couple of years, but higher education had not reduced his Sloanishness in the slightest.
Charlie began a stream of pompous advisement on farming improvements that Gilbert could undertake to improve the Blythe fortune in the wake of Mr. John Blythe's 'pitiable demise.'
"I almost envy you, Gilbert," Charlie continued. "Farming is a noble endeavor for the masses."
For once in his life, a witty repartee did not come to Gilbert. He seethed inwardly, thinking things unlawful to put that goggle-eyed Sloane lump in his place. Thankfully, before any of these unpleasant thoughts could be put into action, Anne emerged from the Gillis house and made for Gilbert. Relieved, Gilbert nearly stumbled as he closed the distance between them. Anne's eyes were dry, although somewhat red and puffy from crying. Her gaze darted to Charlie with suspicion before she pleaded softly so only Gilbert could hear, "Will you please take me home?"
Gilbert was delighted to do so and hastily brushed past a sulky Sloane to get Anne and himself away as quickly as possible. They skirted the edge of the party and headed toward Green Gables via the Haunted Wood and Lover's Lane. In the privacy of the dark forest, they slowed to a stroll, Anne's glossy red head hanging forlornly.
"The luster of life has felt stripped away lately," she said softly. "Dear, darling Ruby…" Then so softly that Gilbert could scarcely hear her, "and beloved Matthew."
"Life is precious and… fleeting," Gilbert contributed softly.
"Too fleeting," Anne whispered.
In the weeks that followed, the joy of renewed dreams was tempered by sadness. Old-time rambles continued, but were few and far between as Anne devoted time to care for Matthew and visit with Ruby. Many an evening was spent by Anne at the Gillis home at Ruby's behest, but whether these visits did much good for either of them remained to be seen. Ruby was in unfailing high spirits, making plans for the future even as her health declined rapidly. Gilbert knew this firsthand in his own visits to Ruby. Her prattling joy regarding her summer wardrobe, her beaux, and her future plans wore Gilbert down as surely as Anne must feel as they watched the spectre of death relentlessly ignored at the Gillis household.
Matthew Cuthbert grew even more reclusive, no longer managing to attend the weekly church service. Anne attached herself to him in his reclusivity as primary caregiver. Marilla and Mrs. Rachel were seen to shake their heads as Anne absorbed every moment with the ailing man, even succumbing to the same spirited and fanciful speeches she witnessed with dismay at the Gillis home.
When she would finally be shooed out of Green Gables for a much needed reprieve, a ramble would happen, with walks to the red sandstone cliffs, the Fletcher strawberry patch, and Hester Gray's garden. As lovely and longed for as these walks with Anne were, they lacked the sense of adventure and excitement, weighed down with the fast-approaching and inevitable grief. Still Gilbert treasured these walks, and he sensed that Anne did, too.
The next official gathering of Avonlea young folks after Ruby's bash was the A.V.I.S. midsummer dance. Gilbert jubilantly escorted Anne, both setting aside their sadness to enjoy the evening. And, while light feet danced and bright eyes laughed and merry tongues chattered, there came a summons to a soul in Avonlea that might not be disregarded or evaded. The next morning, the news went from house to house that Ruby Gillis was dead. She had died in her sleep, the news said, lovely and peaceful.
Gilbert found Anne later that morning, sitting by the brook in the Haunted Wood, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes glistening with tears. He sat down and took her hand.
"Oh, Gilbert, how difficult it is to realize that one we have always known can really be dead," said Anne with a sigh. She gave his hand a squeeze. "At least her passing was calm and painless. She had feared death so. I like to think that Death came to her as a friend at last, welcoming her to the Great Beyond."
A shiver swept through Gilbert, and he clung to her hand, thinking of Dr. Spencer's visit to the Blythe home earlier. The doctor's many visits to the Blythes during the illness of Gilbert's father had developed a rapport between Gilbert and the good doctor. Dr. Spencer had freely lent his medical texts to the 'promising young man' and had enjoyed discussing diagnoses and procedures with him. That rapport and those discussions had continued after Mr. John Blythe's death, and the doctor had stopped by the Blythe home after his last vigil with Ruby Gillis.
The story of Ruby's peaceful death was just that, a story spread by the Gillis family. Ruby's death had been far from peaceful or painless. Even Dr. Spencer had been deeply shaken by the deathbed scene. Ruby had drowned in her own blood.
Gilbert could never tell Anne that. He would never want to shake that starry look in her eyes as she dreamed of Ruby's beautiful face in eternal sleep. He would never mar that with the grisly truth of Ruby coated in her own ruby-red blood.
Her funeral was as showy and stylish as she had been in life, and every bit as lovely as her purported death. The Gillises had spared no expense for their daughter's funeral, replete with a white velvet casket. Her loveliness, as she lay, white-clad, among the delicate flowers that Anne had placed about her, was remembered and talked of for years in Avonlea. Ruby had always been beautiful; but her beauty had been of the earth, earthy; it had had a certain insolent quality in it, as if it flaunted itself in the beholder's eye; spirit had never shone through it, intellect had never refined it. But her horrifying death had touched it and consecrated it, bringing out delicate modelings and purity of outline never seen before - doing what life and love and great sorrow and deep womanhood joys might have done for Ruby.
Gilbert, looking down at his old playfellow, thought he saw the face God had meant Ruby to have, and remembered it always.
Ruby's beau from Carmody was inconsolable, and one of her elder sisters dissolved into hysterics. It was a theatrical moment for most of Avonlea, enjoying the spectacle of a grand funeral, but chilling for Gilbert. He knew that Leah Gillis had been present at Ruby's horrendous death. For all those who knew the true circumstances, hysterics seemed an incredibly natural and inviting reaction.
When Mrs. Rachel Lynde declared emphatically that she had never seen such a beautiful corpse, a shaking and distraught Gilbert fled the Gillis home. He stumbled away toward the Haunted Wood, which felt appropriately haunted this day. It almost seemed as if he saw the ghost of Ruby swirling and spinning with a beau beneath the trees, dancing and flirting forever as she loved to do. He hurried onward until he reached the Blythe cow pasture. Leaning against a comforting and curious cow, Gilbert cried.
Later, as he walked to the Blythe farmhouse, his eyes red and puffy, he wished desperately that there was something he could do to end tuberculosis.
Matthew Cuthbert had his final heart spell only a week later. The news spread quickly through Avonlea, and folks thronged Green Gables on errands of kindness for the dead and living.
Gilbert had hastened to Green Gables, still in his work clothes, having heard the news while out in the fields from the Cuthbert's hired man, Jean-Michel. It was not until he was halfway there that he realized he still had a scythe clutched in his hand. Abandoning it in a place he hoped he could find again, he continued on, sweaty and dirty. He never did find that scythe for the look of anguish on Anne's face when he arrived at Green Gables erased it utterly from his mind. She let him draw her into his arms and hold her, still and silent. Their embrace shocked a good many friends and neighbors who witnessed it and fostered a temporary windstorm of gossip.
On the day of his funeral, Matthew Cuthbert lay in his coffin in the parlor, his long gray hair framing his placid face on which there was a kindly smile as if he slept, dreaming pleasant dreams. For the first time shy, quiet Matthew Cuthbert was a person of central importance; the white majesty of death had fallen on him and set him apart as one crowned. The funeral may have lacked the aplomb that Ruby's had, but there was an undeniable aura of a grand occasion. Perhaps it was because of Anne, both ethereal and austere in black lace, her face a tearless agony. Perhaps it was because of Marilla whose grief broke into an impassioned wave in front of all present, breaking all the bounds of natural reserve and lifelong habit in its stormy rush. Or perhaps it was because of Davy Keith, who - thwarted at having a 'Viking funeral' for his beloved guardian - burned a straw effigy in Harmon Andrews' dory. The flaming dory floating across the Lake of Shining Waters transfixed the stupefied mourners gathered at the nearby churchyard to lay Matthew Cuthbert to rest.
Davy's last tribute to Matthew became an Island-wide sensation, put in print by amused writers at the Charlottetown Guardian. Gilbert filched a copy from Fred Wright to take home to his mother and they both eagerly read the account of the funeral they had been present for.
"What an obituary… poor old Matthew," Edie sighed. She turned to her son, watching as he carefully folded up the newspaper. "I thought you were an unholy rabble-rouser, Gil, but I now stand corrected."
A/N: This chapter has disturbing elements, and I felt a bit concerned about going through with it. I hope you'll forgive me for Ruby's tragic end. It is definitely not holiday material so I thought it might be best to post it earlier, since I finished it sooner than expected. I am going to take a bit of a break from writing during the holidays, so the next chapter might not be published for a couple weeks. Thank you for reading and for all the lovely reviews. I treasure them! Thanks again, and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season.