Trigger warning for miscarriage. Also you might want to have your tissues handy for the next couple of chapters.

Matthew found her there about an hour later having wondered where his tea was but concerned because the house was dark, and the stove had gone out. Marilla was beyond speech, intent upon surviving the pain.

"Are you hurt? Marilla, speak to me. Marilla?" She panted but was otherwise silent. Matthew scratched his head unable to work out what was wrong but understanding on a instinctual level that she was very unwell.

Once he'd gotten her into bed, he hovered nearby. "Should I call for the doctor?"

"Don't say anything to Rachel," Marilla gasped. Matthew nodded, not understanding the reason but acknowledging the necessity even so.

"I've performed a new procedure called dilation and curette," the doctor explained. When Matthew looked at him perplexed, the doctor briefly described what that entailed and the reason. Matthew merely blinked in response, completely stunned.

Matthew saw the doctor to the door, "she'll be fine from here, I'll be back tomorrow to check," he said. "Just keep her rested and warm. She might be rather emotional." Matthew stared at the closed door for a spell trying to gather his thoughts.

Marilla was laying in her bed, a heap of soiled rags by the door, Matthew winced when he saw them. He said softly, "can I get you anything, a drink of water?" Marilla was silent. He sat there a while but when he turned to go, she whispered, "don't say a word to Rachel. Tell her I have a migraine when she asks."

Gideon was on the outskirts of Charlottetown when word finally reached him. He opened the note wondering at the hand. His blood running cold when he read the words 'Come to Green Gables. Make haste'.

Marilla felt conflicted. On one level she was relieved, terrible as it was to admit. A baby was going to be very difficult to manage, even with Gideon by her side. The Avonlea community would have cast her out for the adultress she was and the child would have been a bastard and would have had to bear that for its entire life. Even if they had been able to get quickly married, Gideon's faith would be a hindrance and the child would have struggled to be accepted.

But, and this nearly brought Marilla to tears, she had despite such impediments already fallen in love with it. To have a wee one deep in her womb was something she had ceased expecting years ago. When she had been young she had expected that she'd have a child one day but the hope had faded with the years. Gideon's love and his affection had wakened that desire deep within her so that despite the complications she had yearned for the baby, believing that together they could overcome any problems it might encounter. And now, and now all these worries and desires had come to nought. The baby was lost for whatever reason and she had been left as barren and unloved as ever before.

She felt if she succumbed to tears that she might never pull herself out of that abyss, and as a result she bit down the tears, though it took every ounce of resolve to do so. Deep within her melancholia Marilla heard steps on the stairs and her door opening. Was it? Yes, it was Gideon, but she did not acknowledge him. She felt the bed dip under his weight and desperately wanted to turn over but did not. She felt somehow as though this terrible feeling of guilt and sorrow was her penance.

"Ketzele."

The very name pained her more than she could say. It spoke of the love that she felt so undeserving of. They had sinned and this was the price they had to pay. She curled up tighter than ever and kept her back towards him. Unwilling or unable to respond to him.

"Ketzele, I'm here. I'm here for you. Matthew told me. My kitten, I am so terribly sorry." Marilla curled up tight unwilling to acknowledge him.

The men took turns keeping an eye on her. When it was Matthew's turn she spoke, her voice flat and without emotion.

"You summoned him?"

"I did."

"Shouldn't have," her voice cracked slightly. Matthew raised his eyebrows and retreated. "I mean it, Matthew," she said without preamble when he returned with a tray. "I don't need him; I can manage just fine on my own."

"Well, he's here now. I can't nurse you and tend to the farm. I'm prepared to admit I need help even if you ain't."

Marilla could not argue with that. The thought of getting up, even to the 'pot was exhausting enough. She knew that Matthew was right though she hated it.

She had risen to sitting when Gideon next sat by her. "Ketzele..."

"Don't use that name," she snapped.

"Marilla then," Gideon said with his beautiful intonation, she had always liked the way he said it, his accent more pronounced at that particular combination of letters.

"I don't think. I can't. I don't..."

"Shh, shh."

Marilla sighed, saying, "I suppose we should be relieved." Gideon looked at her questioningly. "Now there's no need to go through the rigmarole of marriage."

"Ach ket - Marilla, I didn't say I'd marry you because of the baby. I want to marry because I love you." Marilla turned into his shoulder shaking with silent sobs as he hugged her close. Lifting her tear-stained cheeks to him she whispered, "really?"

"Really." He kissed her tenderly adding, "May I join you?"

"We can't. We mustn't. I don't know how it is for your faith, but I can't do that anymore."

"Ach, well strictly speaking I'm not supposed to either, but I guess I got caught up in the passion. Did you enjoy it?"

Marilla nodded despite herself, "very much."

"We can do it in other ways if you like."

She shook her head, "no, we might get carried away, I can't risk it. We had better not sleep together anymore," she added sadly, pointing towards the spare room.

"Alright, if you insist." Biting her bottom lip; Marilla nodded and watched him go.

Gideon turned in the doorway "I'll just be over here if you need me," he said gesturing.

Marilla smiled but did not relent.

Gideon stayed for a few days tending to Marilla, for her dressing needed changing daily; a chore which neither Marilla nor Matthew wanted Matthew to do. This gave them plenty of opportunity to talk. "Did you really mean what you said the other day?" Marilla asked him.

"What?"

"About marriage. It won't be easy."

"The best things never are." Marilla nodded. "But now that," he faltered thinking of a better way to express himself, "anyway we can take our time now."

"It occurs to me," Marilla said thoughtfully. "That you never properly proposed."

"I suppose I didn't. Well then," clumsily Gideon got on one knee then stood up again and raced out of the room. Marilla watched him go, knowing by now that he'd have something out in his wagon to complement the next bit.

Gideon rummaged around his cabinets searching and when it was located took it out to admire once again, "mm," he murmured to himself. "Perfect."

Pausing outside her door momentarily Gideon combed his hair with his fingers and straightened his moustache with a lick of spit. Then taking a deep breath he entered with a flourish. "Miss Marilla Cuthbert," he said, dropping to one knee. "Would you do me the honour of becoming Mrs Gideon Hoffer?" and he offered her a diamond ring.

"My goodness, Gideon," Marilla whispered when she got her breath back. "Gracious me."

"It was Mother's."

"It's beautiful." He placed it on her ring finger, and they watched as its facets caught the light. Previously the only jewellery Marilla had possessed was an amethyst brooch her mother had bequeathed her, but it paled into insignificance next to this single diamond solitaire on a bright yellow gold band. "It's too much for the likes of me."

"Not at all, Mother would be delighted."

"That it went to a gentile?"

"Well, maybe not that part, but I know she'd grow to love you. If she had the chance," he added softly. Marilla patted his hand. "Ach don't mind me. Think if I had stayed in Holland, I wouldn't have met the love of my life. I wouldn't have met you, ketzele." That last word said cautiously for he hadn't called her that since he'd returned. He relaxed when Marilla acknowledged the word and allowed it.

"Did I hurt you when I refused?"

Gideon knew she meant the name, "ach no. You were in a dark place. I can't say I understand as such, but I accepted it."

Marilla cried then, Gideon's utmost acceptance of her despite her failings broke down the barrier she had striven so hard to erect. He held her close whispering words of support which at first she did not even hear but which did get through to her eventually. She struggled to accept them on their own value, feeling guilt on so many levels but believing that she still commanded his love regardless was its own strength. Not allowing him to undress her when she had settled down was perhaps the hardest thing she'd ever done and something she bitterly regretted in the years to come.

"May we go downstairs?" Gideon suggested later. "I think we need to share our good news." Marilla blew her nose and washed her face then took his hand in hers. Matthew looked up at their approach. "We have some news for you," Gideon said softly as Marilla held her hand out for him to see.

"Ah," Matthew's face broke out into a wide smile. "Congratulations!" He embraced his sister and shyly shook Gideon's hand before being pulled in for a hug. Embarrassed by the display of affection he pulled apart but hugged Marilla again. "Might need a wee libation to celebrate," he suggested. "No, I'll fetch it," he said when Marilla turned to leave.

The glasses were set out when he returned and the three of them toasted. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer couple," Matthew said.

"It's a bit complicated," Marilla explained. "Have to find someone who'll agree to the nuptials."

Matthew nodded, now that he thought about it, it might prove a little difficult. "You'll manage."

"Initially," Marilla looked at her fiancé, marvelling at the word, "we were in a hurry because," she glanced at her stomach, "but, um, that's um taken care of," she heaved a shaky breath and Gideon squeezed her hand.

"But you must have known the risk?" Matthew said to her over dinner once Gideon had departed. They had not had a chance for a good talk yet. First it was too raw and then Gideon had been there.

Abruptly Marilla pushed her chair back with a loud squeak and ran from the room. Her pounding feet chased up the stairs and Matthew heard her door slam shut. He waited a moment to gather his thoughts then more methodically followed. "Marilla," he called softly at her door. "Let me in." Taking a breath, he entered finding her laying on her bed her back towards him she muttered, "go away."

He sat down on the chair saying, "pretty lonely up here just the two of us. You put a face to the world that you're stoic, but it ain't easy. You're a woman same as anyone else. First time a man shows you a scrap of affection. "Well, all I can say is I don't blame you."

Her voice watery with repressed emotion, she said, "but I've sinned."

Matthew regarded her for a long moment, "as we all do Marilla. Let he has not sinned cast the first stone."

"It's unforgivable, though. Don't say you can forgive me Matthew. I won't believe you."

"More to the point, can you forgive yourself?" At his simple, but direct words Marilla burst into the tears she'd striven to hold in. "Will you join me downstairs. Could do with the company." She shook her head too guilt-filled to move. "You are my beautiful sister. I'd do anything to make you happy."

"B-beautiful?"

"T'werent your fault you missed out as a girl, always thought someone as pretty as you deserved more."

"When I um, found out I was petrified. I'd brought shame upon myself and worse upon you and Mama and Papa. I was living in fear. But now that I've lost it."

She took a shuddering breath and Matthew understood if only as a bystander.

"Wouldn't have minded a wee baby around the place."

Marilla burst into tears, both from grief and relief. "You would have been within your rights to cast me out."

"No."

"I don't know that I'd be so forgiving if the roles were reversed."

Matthew laughed sardonically, "not much chance of that." Marilla frowned. "Well alright, I take your point, but I don't agree. We've been close, all these years. I can't believe you'd ever turn me out, no matter what."

"I'm sorry Matthew."

"Don't got nothing to be sorry about. Just sorry you lost it really, not that," he hastened to add, "I blame you. Just a terrible accident is all."

Marilla was torn, despite his words. The baby had been an inconvenience, that much was true. How could she have held her head up in Avonlea when they all knew her sin. She had always been so proud of her reputation as an upright member of the community. Judging others for their mistakes which she now realised came from a lack of empathy as much as anything. Matthew had it right, wasn't it interesting, she thought; Matthew, who never seemed so devout often had just the right piece of scripture to hand to remind her of man's foibles and God's love.