Dearest Gilbert,
We are over the moon regarding the news of your engagement! Congratulations, dear nephew! Your Uncle Dave and I wish you both joy. Anne Shirley is a wonderful young woman with charm, beauty, and aplomb! (So little is granted to us ladies, that I do love a woman with aplomb, but I digress). We feel that we already know her, and we are so glad that you shall have the rest of your lives together. I am afraid that we received your letter as I hosted our Glen St. Mary sewing circle, and I quite lost my countenance in front of all present with a cheery huzzah! Naturally, all of Four Winds shares in your joy.
Much love,
Your Aunt Katherine
Dear Gilbert,
Having received notification of your engagement, I have taken it upon myself to write to you of my congratulations. I would write to your fiancée as well, but as you have never told me about her, I would have no idea where to send my felicitations. Please rectify this immediately, nephew. I have to admit, that I am taken unawares by this engagement, and I feel distressed that I was not in your confidence about your affection for this young woman. This is because, I assume, you have long known her. However, if this is not the case, well then I have other concerns. Do we know her people? Of course I am only your great aunt, so I suppose my opinions count for little. In my day, it was different, but no matter.
Most Sincerely,
Mary Maria
Dear Mr. Blythe,
Thank you for your inquiry. Yes, we are able to construct a ring from a Sterling silver utensil within the price range you indicated. Depending on the size of the utensil, we can construct two rings, for only marginally more cost. We also have an array of semi-precious gemstones that can decorate the ring or rings, should you choose to do so. If I may be so bold, might I suggest a garnet or amethyst? We have such stones in stock for an affordable price. Again, thank you for inquiry, and we look forward to receiving further instructions from you.
Sincerely,
John Margrave, Margrave Jewelers
"Let me read that letter from your aunt again," said Anne, smiling. She reached lazily toward the pile of letters on the settee.
"Which aunt?" Gilbert asked, thinking of the letter from Mr. Margrave. Garnet or amethyst?
They were comfortably ensconced in the Blythe parlor before a cheery fire, Anne reclining on a cushion close to the fireplace and Gilbert close by on the settee. An autumn gale blew noisily beyond the parlor windows, stripping the faded leaves from trees and beckoning winter to begin. Inside the parlor, all was cozy both from the warmth of the fire and the unassailable happiness of the couple within.
"You know," said Anne. "Your Aunt Katherine, of course." She stretched forth her arm to reach for it. Gilbert teasingly held it just beyond her touch before obliging her. Anne settled back happily to peruse the letter again.
"I like your Aunt Katherine," said Anne with satisfaction, her eyes on the letter. "She seems almost like a delightful version of Mrs. Lynde."
Gilbert gave a guffaw of laughter. "I'm afraid nothing could be further from the truth, Anne-girl. Aunt Katherine is a veritable suffragist. Could you imagine Mrs. Lynde campaigning for women's rights?"
"A suffragist?" Anne asked in surprise, then fascination. She sat back on her heels, a look of contemplation on her face. "How intriguing!" She gave a throaty laugh, adding, "Mrs. Lynde actively undermines any notion of progressive thinking for women, despite being Avonlea's most ferocious woman!" Gilbert joined her in laughter. "I am almost afraid she'll learn that we are here without a chaperone."
"She'll never," Gilbert assured her, but with a quick glance at the windows just in case.
"What about your other aunt?" Anne inquired, propping her chin on her elbow and looking up at Gilbert. "She seems rather intimidating."
"Poor old Aunt Mary Maria," Gilbert said with a grin. "Or at least that's how Dad used to refer to her. She's the opposite of delightful, I'm afraid. But she's part of this family, so that's that. I'm afraid we Blythes are a clannish lot, Anne-girl."
"I shan't mind," Anne said with a dreamy smile. "On the contrary I find it delightful to soon have extended family."
Her soft spoken words cut through Gilbert, and he turned to her with regret in his eyes. But of course Anne had never had the experience of an extended family, even one as small as Gilbert's.
"Shall we have a good-sized family of our own, Anne?" Gilbert asked tenderly, although the tips of his ears reddened.
"Of course! We've already decided that," she reminded him joyfully. She caught sight of Gilbert's subtle blush and clasped his hand. "As many as Mrs. Lynde?" she teased.
His eyebrows shot up. Everyone in Avonlea regularly heard about Mrs. Lynde's superior parenting of her ten children, despite all having moved away from the Island.
Anne laughed delightedly at the stunned expression on Gilbert's face. "Well, perhaps not that many," she said, patting his hand in reassurance.
"Whatever you want," Gilbert said, only somewhat hoarsely.
Anne gave him a quick smile before rising and saucily sitting in his lap. With the ease of a week's practice, Gilbert pulled her close and kissed her. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears as his lips pressed to hers, and with a daring thrill he caressed her sides, feeling the taut boning of her stays beneath her frock. He had envisioned, although not quite believed, that Anne could be like this. But a week of heated kisses taught him that his Anne had a side to her that left him nearly weak with anticipation of their wedding night. Her hands tantalizingly stroked lower and lower along his shirt front, and all thought escaped him. When Anne abruptly broke away to sit beside him in a demure manner, Gilbert took a moment to register that the front door had opened and a swirl of cold air had blown in. He could scarcely recall his own name, let alone generate concern that someone might catch sight of such indecent behavior, and he tugged Anne back to him. She drew away playfully as Edie and Aunty Kitty came into the parlor, unwinding their scarves and beaming at them.
"Making plans?" Edie asked them knowingly. Aunt Kitty turned a laugh into a cough.
Gilbert blushed, and the twin sisters mercifully continued on to the kitchen without further comment, Edie whistling cheerfully as she went.
The whirlwind of a week's engagement had not hindered the two from their future plans. Indeed, the plans had begun nearly as soon as they had agreed to wed. Envisioned was a late spring wedding with white roses and mayflowers in the Green Gables orchard, observed by those near and dear to them. A simple wedding luncheon would follow before the happy couple made their way to Anne's new home at the Blythe farm.
Within a day of learning of the engagement, Edie had sat both Gilbert and Anne down at the worn table in the Blythe kitchen to tell them that she wished for the farmhouse to be wholly theirs. She intended to go live at the Fletchers' as soon as they were married. The couple had protested. No such sacrifice was needed. Anne's arrival surely did not mean that Edie should leave. Edie had beamed and declared herself charmed at their reluctance for her departure, but she was adamant. The two of them deserved to make a home for themselves, and she would be only be a stone's throw away with her dear sister and brother-in-law. No further plea would sway her, although she hinted she might return once they were blessed with children. The conversation ended with Edie's laughter at the couple's blushing faces.
The old Blythe farmhouse would undergo a thorough deep cleaning in the months leading up to the wedding, as well as a fresh coat of paint. Rooms would be aired out and rearranged to the bride's preference. Gilbert hoped the old house could become like a new home for them, a place to start their lives and dream new dreams.
"What is the third letter about?" asked Anne, observing it still clutched within Gilbert's hand, despite the passion of the previous moments.
Gilbert hesitated, but then said, "It's arrangements for your ring, Anne."
"My ring?" she asked him softly, her eyes tender.
"Yes, what would you like for a gemstone? Amethyst? Garnet?"
"I used to wonder if amethysts were the souls of violets," said Anne with a smile.
"What are diamonds the souls of?" Gilbert asked quietly.
Anne's eyes flicked up to Gilbert's and saw the discomfort there. "I've never really liked diamonds since I found out they weren't the lovely purple I had dreamed. They will always suggest my old disappointment."
"Will a simple amethyst disappoint you?" Gilbert asked with apprehension.
"On the contrary, it would delight me always," she said with shining eyes, and Gilbert felt heartened.
The day following the apple picking party, the best of the apples had been transported to Charlottetown market via the Fletchers' horse and wagon. Gilbert, hardly recovered from his enchanted evening, had fairly floated to Charlottetown. Thankfully, he had come to his senses before he could be swindled by the merciless shipping agents. The apples had been assessed and priced, before being loaded aboard a mainland-bound steamer. With payment in pocket, Gilbert had gone to Abby Bank to deposit the earnings and settle what debt he could. The day had been an exhausting one, enduring the chaos of the shipyard amid all the other farmers there to unload their hard-won harvest. Gilbert and his uncle's horse had walked tiredly along the main avenue as evening fell, when Gilbert caught sight of Margrave Jewelers. The shop had closed, but Gilbert slipped his inquiry regarding an engagement ring under the door.
In the Blythe parlor, measurements of Anne's ring finger were taken, and Gilbert thought of the silver spoon, now polished and shining, upstairs. Gilbert, nearly giddy with the thought of a lovely ring for Anne, only worried mildly what the 'additional cost' might entail.
After the measurements, Anne picked up a stack of papers she had brought with her, and Gilbert recognized the pages that had led him into Barry's Pond. Anne gazed thoughtfully into the fire and then began to write. After some moments, Gilbert's curiosity could not help intruding.
"What is it you're writing, Anne?"
She looked up at him and smiled. "A story about hope."
"Is that all?" Gilbert asked wryly, and Anne laughed.
"Well, it gives me hope," she said. "And perhaps, if I'm fortunate, it will to others."
"May I read it?" Gilbert asked.
Anne hesitated. "When it's ready, you will be the first to read it."
A bit put out, Gilbert sat back, but he nodded. "I'd be honored."
Anne smiled gratefully at him, and Gilbert's heart softened.
At the chime of the clock, however, he stiffened, his heart beating faster. It was five o'clock. A momentary dread swept through him. Marilla, the twins, and Mrs. Lynde would be coming to dinner at six. The thought of seeing Marilla again, the first time since the dreadful proposal, sent literal shivers of fear down Gilbert's spine. He still vividly recalled the shock he felt as Marilla accused his father of breaking her heart, indeed he would likely never forget it. In all his life, a comparison to his beloved father was a compliment he wore with pride. It was not until Marilla's bitter words that such a comparison could be hurled as an insult. And yet Anne had said the reason for their present happiness was because of Marilla. Somehow, Marilla had persuaded Anne to forgive him. But why? And how? And what did his father do to Marilla?
His thoughts were interrupted by his mother entering the parlor. "Gilbert, dear, could you fetch the milk?"
Surprised at his forgetfulness, Gilbert hurried to his feet. "Sorry, Ma, can't believe I forgot." It was then he noticed how Edie nervously twisted a dish towel in her hands.
"I'm sorry," said Anne, also rising. "Let me help you prepare supper, Mrs. Blythe. I nearly forgot, myself."
Edie's anxiety softened at Anne's warmth, and she smiled at her future two went into the kitchen, and Gilbert left for the pasture.
Outside, a frigid gale of dead leaves swept him along to the fields. The cows were huddled together and began lowing at his arrival. Issuing apologies to the herd, he unlatched the gate and guided them to the barnyard. They eagerly trotted toward the barn, where Gilbert pitched fresh straw before milking them. There was little milk, the calves nearly grown and winter approaching. With covered milk pail in hand, he hurried across the barnyard, trying to keep the wind from spilling the milk.
Inside, Anne set the table, while Edie mashed boiled potatoes and Aunt Kitty arranged strawberry tarts on a plate. Fresh rolls from the morning's baking along with cranberry jelly sat ready to be taken to the rarely used dining table. Setting down the milk pail, Gilbert grabbed the rolls and jelly and joined Anne in the dining room. In the doorway, he paused, watching Anne as she smoothed a napkin and laid down a fork. He could scarcely believe that she would soon be his wife, that she would soon live here and share a life with him. Seeing her set the Blythe table made that future life seem simultaneously tangible and arrestingly strange. How could he be this fortunate? Anne looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a tenderness and affection that Gilbert felt unworthy of. Unable to speak, he wordlessly joined her in preparing the table.
The evening's dinner would be the first gathering of the two families since the engagement a week prior. As untraditional as the proposal was, so too were the family arrangements. No blessing had been given due to Anne proposing, although Gilbert would hardly put it past Anne seeking Edie's permission. His mother would have enjoyed that. With all the chaos surrounding the proposal, little interaction had occured between the families, and this dinner would be the official beginning of the two families uniting. In many ways, Gilbert viewed this dinner as the blessing he neither sought nor received from Marilla. Understandably, his latest encounter with Marilla did not invoke confidence. His only surety lay in Anne's admission that Marilla encouraged Anne's forgiveness and thereby a second chance at happiness. He reminded himself of that fact as his mother carried a glazed ham studded with cloves to the dining table and a knock sounded upon the front door.
Despite Gilbert's nerves, nothing untoward took place during dinner. Even Davy appeared to be on good behavior. Marilla was fairly quiet, gracious when spoken to, and reserved otherwise. Mrs Lynde spoke frequently and with much advisement. Uncle George had come, and the table was filled for the first time in years.
When Aunt Kitty carried a tray of strawberry tarts to the table, Davy surprised all by exclaiming, "The fairies brought the tarts to you instead?"
Regaining his equanimity, Gilbert nodded soberly. "It must have been an unfortunate mistake. I thought the least I could do, Davy, was serve them to you when you came for dinner."
Everyone exchanged confused glances, but Davy was mollified by this explanation and helped himself to several tarts.
As the dinner ended, Gilbert narrowly avoided heaving a sigh of relief. The Green Gables folks and the Fletchers bundled into their coats, and Gilbert found himself smiling and relaxed as he assisted Anne with her coat. He kissed Anne's upturned cheek at the doorway and was about to offer to walk them all home, when Marilla laid a hand on his arm.
"May I speak to you for a moment, Gilbert?"
Anne, Mrs. Lynde, the Fletchers, and the twins paused on the porch.
"Privately," Marilla said softly but firmly, and the Green Gables household and the Fletchers continued onward, darting curious glances back at Marilla and Gilbert remaining on the porch. Edie stood in the open doorway, negligently letting in the cold air, her eyes on the two of them. A strange battle of wills seemed to be taking place between Edie and Marilla, or so Gilbert thought worriedly. After a moment, Edie glanced at Gilbert, nodded, and then retreated inside. Gilbert had no doubt that she lingered at the door, straining to hear them.
As soon as his mother was gone, Marilla said, "I want to apologize to you, Gilbert, for what I said to you… last week."
Stunned, Gilbert managed to say, "It was no more than I deserved."
"No," said Marilla, shaking her head. "It was wrong of me."
"Thank you," Gilbert said, so quietly it was nearly a whisper to himself. More loudly he said, "There's nothing to forgive."
Marilla gave him a small smile. "You're a good lad, Gilbert." She turned away from him and began to descend the porch steps.
Gilbert called out after her. "Wait!" He hurried down the steps. "Miss Cuthbert, Anne said you were the reason she forgave me. May I ask why?"
"Did she?" said Marilla with some surprise. She pursed her lips in thought, before looking up at him. "I learned something about you," she said.
Gilbert looked at her curiously. "What did you learn?"
Marilla adjusted the knitted scarf around her neck. Turning to leave, she called over her shoulder, "Cooking."
Mystified, Gilbert watched her walk away from him. What could she mean? It was yet another mystery regarding Marilla that Gilbert sought to unravel. Curiosity burned within him, especially the heartbreak she spoke of at his father's hands. Ever since his tense encounter with Marilla the previous week, Gilbert had struggled to reconcile her accusation with the man he had known. His own actions with Anne's proposal were the only evidence he had to work with that his father may have done something similarly dreadful in a moment of cowardice and bitterness. Yet Gilbert could only speculate. He had been unexpectedly bold in asking Marilla what changed to have her encourage Anne's forgiveness. He was too intimidated to ask how his father had broken her heart long ago, and he was also hesitant to learn the answer.
Shivering, he glanced back at the house, where his mother would be eager to hear about his conversation with Marilla. Unwilling to disclose what he learned just yet, Gilbert rubbed his arms and headed around the house for the grain shed. He needed to unpack the strange conversation and put his thoughts in order, and he might as well work while he did so. The grain shed was chilly and musty with the smell of grain, and Gilbert fumbled around until he located the shed's lantern and lit it. The lantern illuminated the stacked bundles of oats around him and the little pot belly stove in a clear corner. Gilbert bent to light the stove as well, and then sat in the rickety chair beside it. He pulled a bundle of oats to him and, grasping a good handful of stalks, began to thresh the oats into a waiting barrel. Every night since the oats harvest, Gilbert had sat in the grain shed threshing oats from chaff. After shares of the crop had been provided to those who helped, there was not quite enough left to make a cash crop. It was a shame there would be no money, but the oats would be theirs, seed for future crops, feed for their cows, and food for themselves.
The tap-tap of the stalks being hit against the side of the barrel provided a soft background rhythm to the thoughts that whirled within Gilbert's mind. After some minutes in quiet contemplation, he looked up as the grain shed door opened.
"I thought I might find you here," Edie said as she came in.
"Yeah, sorry, Ma," said Gilbert, dusting off his hands. "Just needed to clear my thoughts. I'll come help wash up."
"No matter," she said, grabbing some oat stalks and starting to thresh the grain into the barrel. "I'll join you."
Gilbert offered her the chair, and then stood by the barrel, each of them taking turns to strike the stalks against the barrel and gather more.
"She apologized?" Edie asked.
"Heard that much, did you?" Gilbert asked with a wry smile.
Edie shrugged. "Whatever do you think she meant by cooking?"
"No idea." Gilbert sighed. "Perhaps she liked my apple cake?"
Edie burst into laughter. "So that's where that cake went! With my market basket, I assume?"
Gilbert laughed a bit awkwardly, but said nothing.
"Well, I'm more than happy to sacrifice my market basket," said Edie. "It's the least I can do for my son's happiness." She grinned at him, and Gilbert grinned back.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I wish it hadn't taken me so long to get this chapter posted, but oh well! Thanks for your patience!