A wink to MrsVonTrapp: this one's for you, lady! If anyone else catches the (19)80s references in this chapter, good for you! ;)
March 19, 1896
The White Sands Hotel ballroom was fit for royalty: from the floor-length red velvet curtains, drawn back with ropes of gold to show off the starry evening, to the sparkling crystal chandelier casting its effervescent shimmer over the lavish room. The floor had been polished so that it gleamed like a mirror, and the windows were so clean, the glass was nearly invisible.
"A shameless display," sniffed Rachel as her daughter removed her coat. "Most immodest."
"Now, Mother, there's nothing wrong with a nice reception," chided Hannah Lynde.
"It's vulgar, is what it is! As if having the ceremony in a hotel foyer wasn't bad enough. Come, Anne, let us find our seats. We might as well take our places in this ridiculousness."
As beautiful as their surroundings were, Anne had to agree with Rachel - it was a bit over the top for such a modest young couple: the extravagance could therefore be read as a blatant flaunting of the Hodgson family's wealth. But unlike Rachel, Anne wasn't offended - she chose instead to be glad that the union of Davy and Millie had been deemed worthy of such opulence. Tomorrow, they would begin their real farmers' life - let them have tonight.
"There you two are! Oh, wasn't that a lovely ceremony?" beamed Mrs Hodgson, her face split into a toothy smile. Heavily decked out in furs and jewellery, she was impossible to reconcile with the woman in simple dress who'd sat unassumingly beside Millie the day before.
So dazzled by the large rubies adorning her ears had Anne been, that she had missed out on the exchange that left both women staring at her expectantly. "You don't mind, Anne dear, do you?" nudged Mrs Hodgson, still baring her teeth in her horselike smile.
Anne turned to Rachel, searching for a hint on her face, but the flash of danger in her flinty eyes wouldn't clue her on the issue at hand.
"I...er, excuse me?" stammered Anne in a rare moment of inarticulateness.
"She most certainly does mind!" snapped Rachel, banging her walking cane on the floor, rather like a troll guarding a bridge. "She and I have raised Davy since he was a little boy! We are his closest living relatives, after Dora!"
"And today, he's gained new family." Mr Hodgson inserted himself smoothly into their circle, twirling the waxed tip of his moustache with a debonair smirk. "Isn't this what today is about, ladies? Leaving behind the old life, to embrace the new?"
"Of course!" said Anne quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. The last thing Davy needed on their special day was a scene.
"We wanted you at the table with us, we really did," apologized Mrs Hodgson in a way that seemed sincere enough. "But seeing as Horace's grandparents paid for the hall, they would be simply mortified if they weren't sitting with the bride and groom."
"It's all down to blood relations, you see," Mr Hodgson's voice boomed from his inflated chest. "That's why we've seated Dora next to Davy. Everyone at the table is a blood relation. Well, and our son Clarence's wife, of course. We couldn't very well have them separated."
"But your table isn't all that far. I'm sure you'll find it most charming! I'll see you there myself," announced his wife, as grandly as if she'd offered to carry them across the country.
Sensing that Rachel was about one barb away from exploding, Anne took the delicate arm in her own. "That would be lovely, thank you," she consented as gracefully as she could, as eager to avoid confrontation as she was to escape Mr Hodgson's oily presence.
"See now, isn't it lovely?" boasted the mother of the bride once they'd crossed the hall. "Mrs Lynde, your seat is here, so you'll have a wonderful view of the bride and groom! Anne, you'll be right over there. Oh dear, please excuse me - the Jensens have just arrived. Do make yourselves comfortable!"
Anne watched the woman wander off, fighting the desire to hurry after her. Rachel was already complaining of being susceptible to drafts, being seated so close to the doors. Anne was starting to feel the negativity rubbing off on her - being relegated to the far corner was hardly a place of honor, after all. But when Davy turned his head, scanning the room and finally spotting them across the room, Anne merely smiled and waved. This was his day, and she wouldn't let a bit of insignificant pettiness spoil it.
As the remaining guests started to take their seats, though, Anne found her resolve melting. She stood stiffly behind the place labeled Miss Anne Shirley in overly ornate penmanship, looking over the sea of shiny suits and dresses, feeling inadequately robed. Her favorite lilac gown had seemed lovely in the looking glass at home - in this well-dressed crowd, however, she felt quaint and astonishingly out of fashion. She should have consulted Millie before choosing her outfit - not that Rachel would have let her leave the house with a neckline as low as most ladies present wore.
"You look like you're having a good time," spoke a voice from behind her. On any other day, his tone would have irked her, but at the moment, she couldn't have been more grateful to see a familiar face.
"Doug!" she exclaimed, surprised at how relieved she felt. "Oh, thank goodness you're here."
"Took me a while to find you: my table's over there."
Anne frowned in the direction he pointed. "They sat you closer than us?"
"What can I say, they adore me." He grinned at her incredulous look. "Actually, my name wasn't on the guest list, so they offered me a seat with Millie's cousins."
"Figures," she muttered, swallowing hard to repress the hurt. The watery sheen in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by Doug.
"Hey, what's the matter? I was just teasing. Do you want to move up to my table?"
She shook her head. "My seat is here. Mrs Hodgson insisted."
"Then I'll move back here," he shrugged easily.
"But Doug, you can't! The seats are labeled."
"Who cares? Let me take care of it."
Anne watched in amazement as he bent over to address the gentleman occupying the seat next to Rachel. The man's brow furrowed as he eyed the vacant seat to which Doug was pointing, and Anne held her breath in anticipation of Doug being told off. She was duly shocked when the man stood instead, and relinquished his seat with a polite nod and a handshake.
"See? Easy." Doug sat in the newly vacated chair triumphantly.
Anne hated to admit that his arrogant ways had paid off, but Doug had in fact partially redeemed the evening. His easy banter had put her and everyone else at their table at ease - he'd even endured Rachel's picking and prying to the point where her scorn had entirely disappeared in favor of unadulterated curiosity.
There was much chatter around the fancy dinner being served, and Anne found herself relaxing into easy conversation with Barbara Shaw, her former student and a friend of Millie's, currently sitting at her left. Also at the table was Ralph Andrews, openly scowling over his chilled soup to where the infamous Liam Kelly sat next to Hannah Lynde, listening to Henry Bell's nervous chatter with cool detachment.
After dessert, most of the ladies sought refuge in the powder room, while an elite circle of men were being handpicked to adjourn to the smoking room. Doug himself received an invitation, but declined it.
"I'm sorry to pass on the opportunity, Mr Hodgson, but I'm afraid I promised Miss Shirley some fresh air," he prevaricated, offering Anne his arm. "Shall we?"
They made their way outside, bypassing the guests lingering on the marbled terrace in favor of the darkened gardens.
"How in the world did you weasel your way into the their good graces?" demanded Anne once they were safely out of earshot from the others. "I've been trying for months, to no avail!"
"It's the ol' charm: never fails."
Oh, how she wanted to wipe the smug grin from his face. "I suppose being a doctor has its advantages," she remarked bitterly.
"That never even came into play," laughed Doug. "All I had to do was say I live in Prince Albert, the rest took care of itself."
"No wonder I never stood a chance," she replied wryly.
His amusement dwindled when her sour mood refused to lift. "Alright. You want to know the key to being accepted by these people?"
"If you say 'confidence', I will slug you," she warned.
He shook his head. "It's contempt."
She let go and stopped in her tracks, gaping at him.
Doug crossed his arms. "Surprised? Well, that's the big secret. Don't be impressed by anything they say: just look down on them, from a slightly higher angle. A little disdain goes a long way."
His revelation had her thrown for a loop - for two seconds.
"You're wrong," she shook her head. "How can you like someone who has disdain for you?"
"It's not about liking," he explained. "It's about admiring."
"But it's so negative. I can't do it - I won't. And for your information..." she paused, unsure of whether or not she could say it. "...for your information, Gilbert didn't have contempt for anyone, and the higher ups at Redmond adored him."
Doug heaved out a resigned sigh. "Yes, well. There's a different set of rules for the handsome and beautiful."
An odd mix of emotions whirled around in her chest. Bringing up Gilbert had been hard enough - hearing anything resembling disappointment in relation to his name made it slightly worse. Yet, in the same breath, Doug had paid him a compliment.
Having reached the edge of the gardens, they made to turn back - and slowed their steps as voices drifted from the hedges bordering the stone path.
"...don't think that's a good idea," spoke a young lad whose voice groaned and squeaked under the strains of adolescence.
"Come on, don't be a coward," said another: this one older, and far more authoritative.
"My ma'll be able to tell, she'll be awful cross."
"Do you want to be a man, or don't you? We allowed you to tag along: now, drink, or be gone!"
"Go on, have a swig!" intoned a third male voice, nasal and derisive. "It'll put some hair on your chest. Give us the flask, Kelly: I'll show him how it's done."
By this time, Doug and Anne had come to a full stop. She turned to face him, mouthing Liam? in silent disbelief. His somber nod confirmed the identity of the more confident speaker as Dora's escort for the night.
"See? It's all good. Your turn, and don't you dare spit it out - this stuff's expensive."
Sounds of choking and coughing indicated that the boy had caved in to peer pressure. "What is that?" the poor child sputtered.
"Don't be a ninny! Never show surprise, never lose your cool: swallow like a man. Here, try it again."
The pitiful gagging and sputtering that ensued made Anne want to intervene, but Doug shook his head: the fat finger held in front of his lips made her stay quiet.
"Pathetic! Here, gimme," instructed the nasally weasel. "Say, Kelly, that's a fine broad you got in there."
"Eh, she's alright, I guess, in a bland sort of way."
"Come on, you can't possibly be bored already! She's the sister of the groom, you can't possibly see something better in there."
"Anything else is always something better. Anyway, haven't you heard? The groom is a penniless farmer: his sister inherited something from an old aunt, or grandmother or whatever, but it's nothing compared to what's running around in that hall. The Hodgsons are from serious money - it's why I insisted Dora score me an invitation."
By then, Doug was restraining Anne, his beefy arms preventing her from barging around the bush.
"Of course, she has no idea - she honestly believes I'm besotted with her."
"Yeah? You wouldn't have said or done anything to perpetuate that notion?"
"You know better than to ask, Monty! Never tell tales about a woman: no matter how far she is, she'll hear you. But... " the dramatic pause made Anne sick to her stomach. "...well, let's just say there's a lot more to her than meets the eye."
Doug slapped his large hand over Anne's mouth just in time to muffle a warrior's cry: had he not outweighed her by eighty or so pounds, she would have charged ahead with the intent to kill. Instead, he dragged her down the path and stopped short of the terrace, where he allowed her to shrug out of his grasp.
"That slimy piece of-"
"Don't even go there," Doug held his hands up. "Don't give him a second thought. Kids like that are all talk: I'd bet my right hand he's never even gone beyond holding hands."
"But - what he said! Dora..."
"You know her, Anne. Would she fall for empty promises so easily? Would she compromise herself in that way?"
"She's not experienced," moaned Anne. "We've sheltered her... she's so innocent!"
Doug smiled gently. "I'd give her a little more credit than that. Anyway, by the lingering stares she's been sending our friend Mr. Andrews, I'd say we have little to worry about regarding her heart."
Anne blew out a breath. "You're probably right."
"I usually am," he answered, his cocky grin back in place. "Don't waste another thought on him. Just - don't let him drive Dora anywhere tonight."
"He most certainly won't! Dora is coming back to Green Gables."
"Alright, mother bear. Are you ready to return to the high society in there?"
Anne exhaled heavily through flared nostrils. "I am," she grit out. "But I'm keeping an eye on that scoundrel. If he so much as touches a hair on her head-"
"I'll help you bury the body. Come, now, the orchestra's already started."
They made it back just in time to see Millie float by in a cloud of white, Davy spinning her around with a radiant smile. Never had he looked so tall, so handsome, so happy, reflected Anne as she grinned through her tears. Little Davy was a grown man now: the boy who used to come home covered in mud up to his ears and sneak biscuits from the cupboard was now a husband. Soon, he would be the one kissing scraped knees and soothing frightened wails.
"Psst! Which planet are you on?" Doug's unwelcome pinch jolted Anne from her cloud of nostalgia. "I'm pretty sure this is your cue."
She blinked and shifted her attention to the floor, where Millie was now partnered with her father. Davy stood at the edge of the circle cleared by the guests, in a discussion with Mrs Hodgson which appeared mostly one-sided.
"...would be delighted to do the honors, Davy, I truly don't mind stepping in..."
She heard as Doug pulled her through the crowd.
"But-"
Poor Davy was too polite to continue as she rattled on: "Or if you'd prefer someone who's lighter on their toes, I completely understand. Pauline wouldn't mind, she and Millie had the same dance instructor last year, I insisted, of course..."
"-I don't-"
"You don't mind, do you Pauline? Or Grandma Henley! Don't let her age fool you, she loves to dance!"
"Doug!" he exclaimed, a tad relieved. "Have you seen Anne anywhere?"
"She's right here." Doug stepped aside, his big frame having concealed the very person Davy was looking for.
"There you are!" he beamed down at her. "Let's have a dance, shall we? Excuse us," he nodded to his mother-in-law and whisked Anne into the slow waltz. Too moved for words, Anne gripped his shoulder a mite too tightly: she understood that this was a statement on his part. This dance was for family, for parents. Millie dancing with her father symbolized her being his little girl, despite of marriage and starting a family of her own. This was Marilla's rightful place: knowing Davy, he'd probably asked Rachel if she didn't mind that Anne would fill in.
"I'm sorry about the seating arrangements," said Davy earnestly. "It was sprung on us at the last minute - you know Millie never would've agreed to it."
"We're fine," smiled Anne. "All we care about is your happiness. Are you happy, Davy-boy?"
"You better stop calling me that. I'm a married man, now. And, yeah." A goofy grin took over his face. "I'm real happy."
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Then I'm happy, too."
"May I cut in?"
Anne grit her teeth. The man appeared with the magical sneakiness of a jinn.
"Sure." Davy handed her over, and was immediately accosted by Millie's sister.
"You know, your lack of enthusiasm is liable to hurt my feelings," declared Doug with his usual humorous demeanor.
"I very much doubt so."
"Don't be a poor sport, Shirley! You ought to be thanking me: I just saved you from total humiliation."
Anne tilted her chin up defiantly. "Is that so?"
"About three different vultures were circling the groom as you danced. One of them would have cut in sooner or later, and you would have been left all on your own. This way, at least you come out of it appearing more desirable."
"It is nice of you, I suppose," she grumbled reluctantly. "I'm sorry to seem ungrateful, I'm just not sure I'm up to it. I'll never fit in with this crowd, and they all already know...what's the use in pretending?"
"For starters, it's fun. Also, it's bad form to run off after one dance. Furthermore, it'll keep Davy from worrying about you."
His winning smile showed that he knew he'd won the argument. "Come on, Shirley, let's have some fun. What do you say?"
Anne rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright."
He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially: "Don't worry, I'll make you look good." Taking advantage of her discomfiture, Doug pulled her into form. The fact that she couldn't reach his shoulder without her body brushing up against his stomach made it slightly awkward.
"It's alright," he said as Anne tried to maintain some distance between them. "You'll find that fat people make excellent dance partners. It's just a bit of padding, for when you trip."
Before she could repost, he'd launched her forward, and Anne had no choice but to follow his lead. The band had switched to a polka, and a lively one at that. She closed her eyes and prayed that he wouldn't drag her down as he tumbled.
Her concerns soon proved to be unfounded: the man might have been twice her size and weight, but he was lighter on his feet than Anne was herself. He moved with calm assurance, his steps precise, leading with the perfect balance between firm and supple. Worse yet, he didn't even appear out of breath - though she did spy beads of perspiration glistening below his orange hairline.
He glanced down at her for a second, then quickly turned his attention back to navigating the sea of couples. "Surprised that a fat man can dance this well?"
Her glare could have melted glaciers. "Not in the slightest," she lifted her nose up in the air, though she'd been thinking exactly that.
The only other person of notable size she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing as a dance partner was Joe Courvette. She'd felt so sorry for the underclassman from her french literature class, standing all alone by the punchbowl at Redmond's annual winter formal. His utter disbelief at her invitation should have clued her in: but there was no polite way to retract it, and he did smile so enthusiastically... Somehow, he managed to trod - heavily - on her foot on the very first step, and was panting and sweating profusely ten steps into the dance. Anne found herself apologizing for him quite a bit, her mouth fixed in a forced smile as she attempted to drag his bulk this way and that. Lavinia would have made a better lead than poor Mr Courvette, who'd left Anne feeling quite averse to ample-stomached dance partners.
Yet, here she was spinning and kicking about with Doug - the humble reminder that the judgement of character and abilities by one's weight was just as undeserved as prejudice against one's color of hair.
Anne shared two more numbers with Doug before Henry Bell shyly asked his favorite schoolmarm if she'd spare him a dance. She granted him two, and even agreed to take a spin around the hall with a distracted Ralph, whom she had to lead (as the boy was too busy shooting daggers through his eyes towards Dora's current partner to take notice of anyone else).
After thanking Ralph for the dance, Anne spied Rachel and Hannah Lynde by the entrance, and quickly hurried to their side.
"We're leaving," explained Hannah with a smile. "Mother's feeling a bit tired - I'm a bit knackered myself, if I'm to be honest."
"I want to leave before the guests start swarming out. All the traffic at night time..." Rachel shuddered.
"Would you like me to drive you home?" offered Anne.
"Thank you, dear, but it's not far. We'll be fine."
"Mind you, don't stay up too late," warned Rachel. "And don't forget to wrap your shawl over twice before heading out: the night's still chilly. The way you girls dress these days..."
Anne smiled, her throat oddly tight. "I'm so glad you came to visit."
"Well, so am I - at least Davy got one decent wedding out of it. Why we couldn't have simply had the ceremony at Green Gables-"
The older woman suddenly found herself engulfed in the slender redhead's arms. Recovering from her surprise quickly, she returned the embrace. "There, now, child. There, now," she said comfortingly, soothing her back.
Anne squeezed as tightly as she dared, minding the frail bones. An ache was building inside of her, as if she was already missing the woman holding her.
"Let us not make a scene," said Rachel, stepping away from the hug. "I'll expect you to come visit soon. Bring that doctor along," she ordered, and turned briskly, leaving Hannah to say a rushed goodbye and follow.
Anne sniffed back her tears and wiped at her cheek with her fingers, when a handkerchief materialized over her shoulder. She muttered a watery 'thanks' and accepted it without turning to face her benefactor. "Must you follow me everywhere?"
"Sorry. I'll leave you be."
"Wait!" she hastily dried her eyes and turned around. "I'm sorry, Doug. I've been rude to you all evening - I don't know why, I really don't mean to."
"Are you alright?" he asked, gallantly accepting her apology without a fuss.
She nodded. "I will be."
"Is there anything I can do? Perhaps you'd like to freshen up in the powder room?"
"Actually - would you mind asking Dora whether she's ready to go home?"
"Sure. Would you like me to convey your congratulations to the happy couple while you fetch your coat?"
Anne looked at the crowd formed around the young groom and bride: their party had just started. "Please." She would see them soon enough.
In the time it had taken to locate her belongings, Doug had returned without Dora, but with his own coat and hat. "She's accepted a ride from Mr Andrews," he explained.
She blinked in astonishment. "As easily as that?"
"Let me rephrase that," Doug grinned, slipping his arm through the gargantuan sleeves. "Mr Andrews agreed to drive her home."
"I see." Anne was surprised to be smirking so soon. "And is she aware of said arrangement?"
"She's bound to find out soon enough."
"Doug..." she paused as he opened the door for her. "As much as it kills me to admit it, your being here was extremely helpful. I don't think I could have gotten through tonight on my own."
"Don't thank me," he smiled. "You're driving: I'm sleeping the whole ride back."