Gilbert walked briskly down Charlottetown's main avenue whistling a cheery tune and trying not to think of finances. His visit to Margrave Jewelers just prior had resulted in the arrangement of two rings, one for himself and one with an amethyst for Anne. The silver spoon had been deemed suitable, and Gilbert found himself missing its comforting weight as his hands filled empty pockets. The cost of the amethyst was a bit more than he could afford, but Gilbert impulsively drew a line of credit at the jeweler's and contemplated where he might cut expenses. He glanced down at his once-best shoes. The pair had not fully escaped their plunge into the lake, but were serviceable. New shoes could wait, Gilbert decided, along with various other wants and needs at the Blythe home. If necessary, he would sell a yearling calf or two. His Anne must have her amethyst.
The bustle of the town masked most of his concerns, with the rumble of wagons and shouts from seafarers at the docks. A brisk and biting wind had everyone bundled in the season's first wearing of winter coats on the Island. What had been a sunny morning was rapidly becoming gray and overcast as dark clouds blew in from across the sea. Gilbert suppressed a shiver and picked up his pace. The skies grew gloomier as he walked home, and he eyed them for any sign of sleet, but all remained dry as he reached Avonlea. Green Gables came into view, and Gilbert could not resist stopping to pay his bride a visit.
Dora answered the door and shyly bade him to enter. The house was quiet, yet a strange tension filled the air. Apprehensive, Gilbert looked about for Anne, but only saw Marilla sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing her temples, her eyes clenched with pain.
"Gilbert," she said, without looking up or, indeed, opening her eyes. "I'm afraid Anne has wandered off. Could you go and find her before this storm blows in?"
"Of course," said Gilbert. "Do you know where she might have gone?"
"No," said Marilla shortly. "But I'd be much obliged if you'd find her."
"Yes, Miss Cuthbert," said Gilbert, subdued. He hastened out again.
Outside the Green Gables gate, he paused, thinking of where Anne had gone. The clouds grew thicker overhead as he chose his path and hurried along it. As he jogged, he worried. Had something happened?
Breathing hard, Gilbert slowed as Hester Gray's garden came into view, now a jumble of twisted branches and colorless leaves. He pressed through the clinging vines, coming to the fateful spot where only weeks ago two hearts had broken. Why had he come here? Did he really think that Anne would return here? But there she was, bundled in an overcoat with a scarf wrapped high around her ears. She sat upon the garden's stone bench, teary-eyed and forlorn.
"Anne, whatever is the matter?" asked Gilbert, catching his breath. His heart quailed within him, fearing her desire to leave him.
She looked up at him, surprised by his sudden arrival. Then she sighed and gestured for him to join her. He sat beside her on the cold stone bench and grasped her hand. He watched as she gazed out on the gloomy landscape.
"Matthew always talked about his life insurance," said Anne slowly. Her voice broke, and more tears trickled down her cheeks. "He kept telling us that we would be better taken care of when he was dead than alive."
"Oh, Anne," said Gilbert, squeezing her hand.
"We would tell him it didn't matter, that nothing mattered more than him, living and breathing, and being," said Anne, nearly choking with her crying. She roughly swiped at her tears. "It was true, we meant every word, still do, but…" She swallowed, gaining her composure. Abruptly, she turned to face Gilbert, her eyes imploring. "But we did feel assurance at the thought of the money. Green Gables is not what it was, and the livelihood it brings is less and less each year."
She sighed again and gave his hand a squeeze. Her eyes drifted away from his, and he watched as her shoulders slumped. Gilbert knew the pain of a failing farm better than most, and he tugged her closer to him to wrap his arms around her.
Nestled against him, she said, "There won't be any money. The insurer can't pay the policy."
"What do you mean?" asked Gilbert, shocked.
Anne sat up within his arms to bring forth a crinkled letter. She gingerly and dejectedly offered it to him, and Gilbert took it into his hands as though it were dangerous. With some trepidation, he read of the failure of Morgan Insurance.
"All of it, everything, just gone," Anne said, sniffling. "I hadn't realized how much we were expecting the money, until it ceased to exist."
A leaden feeling filled his core, and Gilbert removed his hat to twist it anxiously in his hands. Anne took the letter back again, gazing at it with a melancholy that pierced his heart. Until this moment, he had not known nor cared about a Cuthbert life insurance policy. A distressing thought entered his mind that if Roy Gardner were Anne's fiancé, none of this would matter. Roy could fulfill more financial security than any life insurance policy and more. But because she was engaged to Gilbert, the loss of the money was devastating. Gilbert couldn't fix this, but he found himself asking anway.
"Can anything be done? Is there anything I can do?"
Anne brushed away her tears with trembling hands. "We might have to let Jean-Michel go… and rent out the land. Sell some livestock. Marilla is planning to take in boarders." She hesitated, her eyes downcast. "As much as a springtime wedding appeals to me, would a winter wedding be objectionable?"
Gilbert turned to her in surprise. His heart beat fast within him. "Winter?" The season was nigh upon them.
Anne's cheeks reddened, but she nodded. "Think of it, darling. Of course, it could not be outside, but a cozy parlor wedding at Green Gables? It would just add to the festivities of Christmas and New Year. Then we could begin our lives that much sooner."
He drew her into his arms as he thrilled to her words. "I long for nothing more," he murmured. He straightened and looked earnestly into her eyes. "You truly wish to marry so soon? People will talk."
"People will always talk," Anne replied with a smile. Then she sobered. "I just can't stop thinking how Matthew won't be there. It matters little to me what others think. Anymore, at least."
"And this will help Green Gables?" asked Gilbert.
Anne sighed and nodded. "If we marry sooner, it will provide another room at Green Gables for boarders." She smiled ruefully. "And there would be one less mouth to feed."
"Anne, you can't think like that," Gilbert admonished. "You're not a burden - to Green Gables or to me. But if you think marrying earlier would help, it makes my dreams for us come to fruition that much sooner." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She relaxed into his touch.
They remained there quietly for a few moments, holding one another. The request for a winter wedding had startled Gilbert from his thoughts about Roy and his wealth, but in the silence of their embrace, the thoughts crept back into his mind. He could just imagine a jovial Roy assuring his wife that no life insurance policy was needed, that he would care for and protect them all. Then Gilbert envisioned a Roy with flashing eyes hunting down Morgan Insurance executives and demanding justice with a battalion of lawyers. Of course, neither option existed for Gilbert, however much he longed to cocoon Anne and her loved ones in luxury and demand retribution from the insurance company. A bitter wind whistled through the tangled vines, kicking up a whirlwind of dead leaves. Anne shivered.
"Let's get you home and warm," said Gilbert, emerging from his thoughts. He gently rose and offered her his hand. Together, they left the garden to its winter slumber, heading for Green Gables.
They walked slowly through shorn fields and barren hollows. "I hope that snow will come soon," said Anne with another shiver.
"Not too soon," said Gilbert, glancing at the darkening clouds.
"I would hate if our wedding occurred on a day like this," Anne said, gesturing at the barren landscape. "A grim wasteland. There MUST be snow on a day as cherished and romantic as our wedding."
"Do you think your college friends will be able to come with a sooner wedding date?"
With some awkwardness, Anne said, "I don't know. My friend, Alice Henderson, would probably try to come." She shook her head, hesitating. "But Clarissa and Pauline… they were quite upset with me about refusing Roy." She shook her head again. "I don't think our friendship will repair." Despite thinking of Dorothy Gardner, Anne remained silent.
Gilbert's heart shrank within his chest. He recognized the names from their correspondence during Anne's Redmond years, but he had not been aware of the falling out that had occurred due to Roy. He was beginning to realize how little he knew Anne during their time apart, no matter how many letters they sent to one another. Why had they not discussed this? But Gilbert knew why. The last time Roy was mentioned Gilbert had very nearly driven Anne away forever. He feared to speak of Roy again. So instead, he spoke of other things.
"What date shall we choose?" he asked.
Anne contemplated her answer. "Before Christmas?" she posed.
Gilbert's heart began a rapid tempo. So soon! "My Uncle Dave and Aunt Katherine had planned to come visit for New Year, but we'll persuade them to come earlier."
Anne laughed. "I would dislike having to share a honeymoon with them!
Gilbert grinned. "Never." The thought of honeymooning with Anne sent his heart racing further.
"Oh, darling," said Anne, sighing. "A snowy and cozy winter wedding!" She glanced coyly at him. "And a honeymoon hibernation to follow."
Gilbert gulped audibly. Life suddenly seemed surreal. Could this truly be happening to him? Conversation dwindled, and Gilbert found himself stumbling frequently as they walked, lost in his thoughts, yet thinking no thoughts at all. He dazedly realized that they had arrived at Green Gables, and he came back to himself as Anne pressed her lips to his.
"You've cheered me so, my love," she said to him. "The loss of the life insurance doesn't cut quite so deep."
Gilbert nodded and found his voice. "Anything for you, Anne-girl."
They agreed to reunite the next day to finalize a wedding date, and then Gilbert walked home alone, thoughts and plans tumbling about in his mind. Could the house be repainted in time? Gilbert had also planned on repainting the barn, but that would be impossible in winter weather and the short timeframe. He suddenly recalled his errand earlier that day, and he stopped abruptly at the thought of whether or not the rings could be made in time for the wedding. No, the rings had to be finished by then, Gilbert assured himself, continuing to walk on. They had to be. His concerns regarding finances surged to the front of his mind, and he looked down at his once-best shoes as he walked along. There could be no delay in wants or needs at the Blythe homestead now. The yearlings must be sold. All must be in readiness for his bride.
Arriving home, Gilbert led the cows from the pasture into the barn. Made comfortable with straw and grain, the cows settled for the night. Gilbert paused by one of the yearlings and patted its head, stroking between its ears and budding horns. The yearling butted against Gilbert's shoulder, enjoying the affection, and Gilbert felt a pang of loss at the thought of selling the animal. Another yearling pushed forward for attention as well, and Gilbert recalled the sweet, shy calves they had once been.
Feeling rather morose about the yearlings, Gilbert did the milking and headed to the house through the squalling storm that had arrived while he had been in the barn. He did his best to keep the cloth covering the milk in place as he dashed through a barrage of hail. At last safe under the cover of the back porch, Gilbert shook off the hail and stomped his feet on the door mat. Inside was mercifully warm and cozy, and a piping hot apple pie sat cooling on the kitchen table.
"Oh, there you are," said Edie coming up from the cellar with a wheel of cheese. "Did the storm get you?"
Gilbert shook his head, setting down the milk pail. "The arrangements have been made for the rings."
"Wonderful!" Edie exclaimed. She held the cheese aloft. "I thought we'd celebrate a little."
"Mother," said Gilbert, as she set down the cheese and searched for a knife. "Anne and I would like to marry sooner. Before Christmas."
Edie froze, looking up in surprise. "Why?"
Gilbert sighed, sitting down at the table, where Edie joined him. Her hazel eyes grew limpid and tearful as Gilbert spoke of the life insurance.
"Oh, the poor dears," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a corner of her apron. "And that damned company," she added, seething.
Gilbert's eyebrows rose, but he agreed unequivocally.
Edie sighed, subdued once more. Her hand found her son's. "It makes me think of us, a bit," she said. "Of course we couldn't afford such insurance, and poor John would never have been approved with his health. But we're not the only ones with hardships."
Gilbert nodded, his throat tight.
The two discussed preparations and possible wedding dates as they dined on sharp cheddar cheese and apple pie. The wind howled outside, and a mad tapping of hail ricocheted off the windows.
"Well, I'm glad you're finally come to the conclusion that you need a new, fine pair of shoes," said Edie. "It's high time you did."
"Well, at least I've already got a fine suit to wear," said Gilbert with a smile, thinking of the suit his mother had made for a different dream years ago.
Tears welled up in Edie's eyes. "To think of you wearing that suit for your wedding!" She laughed. "You thought you would! Although I thought you'd wear it for a courtship. You and Anne have always done everything your own way."
Gilbert laughed, although it felt a bit painful, thinking of Anne proposing to him in her mourning blacks while he wore work clothes and farm boots. The memory of the disastrous proposal was a little too recent to think of with any fondness.
The next morning, both mother and son walked to church. The storm had blown over, and sunshine had returned. The service was uneventful, as many of the young ladies displeased over the engagement had ceased directing glares toward the Blythe pew. Anne had joined Gilbert and Edie in their pew the past two weeks to the temporary ire of some. However, resentment had mostly cooled, and greetings were given with more sincerity.
Following the service, the Blythes joined the Green Gables folks on their walk home. Over a Sunday dinner of roast chicken, the families settled on a wedding day a week prior to Christmas. All was joyful over the dinner table, even more so when a cake was placed before Gilbert at the meal's end for his birthday later that week. A chorus of "he's a jolly good fellow" filled Gilbert's ears and then his heart as he watched Marilla contribute with enthusiasm.
The high spirits lasted throughout the following week. Gilbert's birthday came and went with more happiness than he had felt regarding the occasion in years. Wedding plans commenced, and Gilbert and Anne met with the Allens to request a marriage service. Reverend Allen easily agreed, and both the Reverend and Mrs. joyously congratulated the couple. Invitations (and a couple of telegrams) were sent soon thereafter to a small group of extended family and friends. It was a full week to say the least, with a birthday celebration and a plethora of wedding plans. By the end of the week, the couple's hands were cramped and ink-splattered from writing invitations. As the urgent wedding preparations were finalized, Gilbert turned his attention to readying the Blythe home.
Little more than month lay between now and the wedding. Gilbert and Edie hatched an ambitious plan to tackle updates for the old farmhouse. As much as they both wanted to renovate the entire Blythe property, only updates to the house would be feasible, and even limited restorations at that. They scrubbed and dusted and decluttered. Big buckets of whitewash were mixed and applied to the dingy walls throughout the house, freshening and brightening them until the house seemed almost new. Old furniture was polished with beeswax until it shined. They blacked the kitchen stove and bleached the curtains. Neither Gilbert nor Edie had realized how neglected and dreary the house had become during the years of illness and grief. With their attentions, the old farmhouse interior was nearly unrecognizable, it felt so clean and fresh and new.
On a wintery evening in early December, Gilbert led the yearlings to the Sloane homestead. The substantial and newly-built Victorian house loomed in the darkness as Gilbert approached, the yearlings following him trustingly. The driveway was full of buggies, and Gilbert wondered why Hiram Sloane would arrange a meeting while hosting dinner guests. He tied the yearlings alongside a blanketed pair of chestnut horses that Gilbert recognized as belonging to Harmon Andrews. Steeling himself to face the Sloanes and guests within, Gilbert walked up the porch steps and knocked on the front door.
A wizened, elderly man answered his knock, muttering unintelligibly. (Old Archibald Sloane, Charlie's great grandfather, had not said a word understood by anyone for the past decade, except for "no" and "fruitcake"). Gilbert walked into the foyer, politely removing his cap, as the sound of conversation and laughter came from the formal dining room adjacent. Gilbert followed Old Archie as he trotted to the dining room where the senior members of the Sloane, Andrews, and Barry families were enjoying an elaborate meal.
"Our intrepid school master," said Hiram Sloane, rising to his feet at the head of the table. "Have you come with the steers then, Gilbert?"
"Yes," said Gilbert. He was painfully aware of his rough work clothes and patched coat compared to the evening finery of the Sloanes and their dinner guests. Perhaps Hiram felt vengeful regarding the Sloanes' embarrassment from the apple picking party. A quick glance revealed that Charlie was nowhere to be seen. No Diana either.
All business, Hiram promptly (and rudely) abandoned the dinner table to inspect the yearlings. In the frigid driveway, he silently examined the yearlings' teeth and hooves. When satisfied, he handed over the agreed-upon sum to Gilbert, and then just as abruptly as he had abandoned his dinner guests, he left Gilbert outside, standing beside the yearlings. Despite his lifelong familiarity with Sloanishness, Gilbert blinked in surprise as the front door snapped shut.
Unsure what to do, but certain that he did not want the yearlings to be left tied outside all night, Gilbert led the young steers to the barn beyond the house. The barn was warm and comforting, and he settled the yearlings with straw and feed. Once finished, he found himself lingering in the barn, loathe to leave, stroking the animals' velvety ears. Their gentle eyes watched him, and his throat grew tight. After some minutes, he gave one final pat each to the yearlings.
"Thank you," he said simply, and began the walk home.
He wrapped his scarf higher around his ears as he walked. The money felt strange in his pocket, but it would pay for the rings, new shoes, and much more.
"Neither a borrower nor a lender be," he quoted softly to himself, then added knowingly, "If you can help it."
A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and private messages! I appreciate your patience in how long it's been taking me to post chapters. It's been hard to find the time to write. I'm committed to this story, though, and I can't wait for the next few chapters! 3