LM Montgomery still owns Anne of Green Gables
The children had been put to bed, but Marybeth's restless mood was still with her. With a word to Lanie, she slipped out the back door and wandered restlessly in the back garden. In the last couple years, she had been subject to these restless moods, but thankfully, they were infrequent and never lasted long. She paced a little, then fled down the garden path and found her way to Rainbow Valley. She stopped at the little stone dyke and perched herself on it, looking up at the black, starry sky. Then suddenly, she stood up, took a few steps forward where the ground was level and started to croon a little song to herself, quietly. She started to sway, waving her arms in rhythmic fashion, and started to dance slowly. As she danced, she felt some of the tension draining from her body, and the movement did her good. She swayed, tried intricate steps, and twirled.
All of a sudden, she sensed she was not alone. Without breaking her dance, she turned slowly to look at a man who had stepped into the clearing and was now looking at her as if unsure to be amused or alarmed.
Even in her strange mood, Marybeth was abashed at being caught in such a ridiculous position, but she had seen this man before and knew his reputation. If she were to show embarrassment, he was the type of man who would never let her forget it. Not the sort to tell tales out of school, but the impudent sort who would grin at her everytime he saw her and enjoy her blushes. Also, their properties shared a common boundary, and avoiding him all summer was out of the question. Marybeth would brazen it out.
"Good evening, Mr. Douglass," she said, dropping a graceful curtsey before resuming her dancing. This little corner of the meadow is for dancing. Not for spectating. I'll thank you to respect that."
The man looked at her a little helplessly. Here was this little woman ordering him around as if she owned the place! Yet, he couldn't help but admire her style. Marybeth turned and he was still standing there, but she was gratified that he seemed a little unsure of himself. She sighed and advanced towards him, her hand extended. When he took her hand, she curtsied again.
"I'm Mrs. Hamilton, how do you do?"
He bowed slightly. "Very well, madame. Somehow, you already know my name."
She smiled and walked backward a few paces, drawing him along. She started crooning again, and swaying. She had a sweet little voice, if a little shaky, and they danced with their one pair of hands clasped, the other hands free. He followed her lead, trying to follow her footsteps as she twirled and turned. He was nowhere near as graceful as she was. She stopped singing and spoke to him.
"Never mind my feet. Honestly. If you dance with a woman, you have to look into her eyes. Don't look at her feet. Look at me!" She commanded.
He didn't dare disobey. She was right. When he looked into her eyes, he could follow the movements of her feet easily. As strange as all this was, he was starting to enjoy himself. He took her other hand to twirl her and deftly placed his right arm firmly around her waist and waltzed her around the hollow. Marybeth's only reaction was to croon a waltz for them to keep time to.
When her tune was finished, she stepped back and curtsied again. She let go his hand, turned and went to perch herself on the stone dyke. He followed and sat a little ways down from her.
"What brings you out here on a night like tonight?" She asked him.
Mr. Douglass was unsure whether to feel amused or annoyed at her take charge attitude. After all, he'd been living here his whole life. She only moved here a few weeks ago.
"I should ask you that."
"Too bad. I asked first."
Mr. Douglass wanted to laugh. She was so impertinent, but, when he looked into her eyes, there was no hostility there, only merriment. She leaned back on her hands and tipped her face to look at the sky.
"Well?"
"If you must know, Mrs. Hamilton, I occasionally like to walk down this way when it's quiet and dark. Very peaceful. But, I must say, it was neither quiet nor peaceful tonight." He tried to make it sound like a reproach, but she only laughed.
"I understand. I came down here to find some peace myself. Then, with the warm breeze blowing, I just simply had to dance. I guess we all look for something different." That last part was said quietly.
Mr. Douglass looked at her, startled. He had expected another impertinent answer. She was starting to make him dizzy. He asked the question he had wondered about since she had started dancing with him.
"How did you know who I am?"
Mrs. Hamilton laughed a little. "I happen to be personal friends with Anne Blythe and Miss Cornelia. They told me who lived on your farm. Then, I've seen you out in your fields when I've gone down to do my marketing."
Mr. Douglass laughed a lot. "Did Miss Cornelia tell you what an old reprobate I am?" He laughed harder when Mrs. Hamilton only grinned.
"Mrs. Blythe likes you."
"I'll give you a month, then you can tell me your own opinion."
"Well, Mr. Douglass, maybe I won't want to hear your opinion of me." She slid off off the dyke and started heading up the hill towards her home. Over her shoulder she called, "Farewell!"
He watched her leave before heading back to his own house.