Chapter 2. Rootlets of Affection
Leslie was to stay with the Blythe's until Owen came to take her away to her new life in December. She had wanted to pay board but Anne had been indignant.
"Indeed not, dearest! You are our guest and our friend! I wouldn't dream of having you here as a lodger! No, you just come and live at the Morgan house until you leave Four Winds for your new life and you will be doing me as much of a favour as you suppose I am doing for you."
If Leslie ever felt as though she should rightfully be paying her way – and it would be fair to say she sometimes felt her strong West pride pinch her a little – she could take comfort in the fact that there was much to do in the new house and that she willingly worked like a Trojan to help make the Blythe transition as smooth and worry free as possible. It was the very least she felt she could do for her beloved Anne.
In fact, everyone worked with a will and over the course of the following weeks they swiftly turned the house into a home. Every unpacked box brought another feel of 'belonging' to the house. Marilla's braided rugs warmed the floors and Rachel Lynde's tobacco striped and apple leafed quilts lay smartly and cosily on beds. Gog and Magog took up residence on the hearth and other Blythe nicknacks, collected everywhere from Avonlea to Four Winds, gradually settled into place.
Throughout the big mellow house other work was being carried out to a similarly pleasing effect. Gilbert righted his office and Susan Baker reigned supreme in the kitchen areas, satisfied completely with her new empire. Such room to bake and set out! Such pantries to store her food in! And the oven was double the size of the last one! Susan sighed happily and returned to scrubbing the cupboards to the Baker standard.
During the day the womenfolk scrubbed and scoured and Glen handymen came up to paint and prune. The evenings were given over to sewing curtains and basting sheets by the fire, and everyone worked swiftly and uncomplainingly. The house was becoming something to really admire and Anne found her heart stirring as its charm grew room by room. She could start to see hers and Gilbert's family home emerging and was hesitatingly beginning to form plans for the garden in the Spring. Glen inhabitants were making a point of calling in as word got round of the wonders the Blythes were working on the Morgan House.
A short time passed and Anne's home settled back comfortably into place; kinks and corners became familiar to her, views from windows started to call to her as she passed by them and rooms and hallways lost their taint of strangeness. The Blythe family stamp had made itself felt - with several new additions to their 'worldly goods' making an appearance. Mrs. Lynde was a prominent and noticeable benefactress in this regard. She had kept a lot of her old furniture in storage since she moved to Green Gables and had said that what they liked of it could be theirs - it was just gathering dust in Mr. Harrison's barn and none of her offspring had any use for it, being older and having already furnished their homes. Gilbert and Anne thanked her readily, for it was all good, well made stuff; a little old-fashioned, but that appealed to Anne, who was well-known to be a lover of old flavours and tradition, and mostly matched the items they had bought from Miss. Russell's estate in taste and style. It was much needed too, for Ingleside was three times the size of the little House of Dreams and some of the rooms would have remained bare for longer without it. And so, it was sent over from Avonlea and Anne and Leslie spent happy hours finding new homes for the old chairs, beds and dressers.
Marilla, too, had sent up some extra pieces, no longer needed at Green Gables, and as each one was unloaded from the Flagg wagon and set down in her new home Anne felt an almost unbearable sweetness of recall as Green Gables memories flooded over her. To have such lovely reminders of her childhood home here in Four Winds did much to reconcile her more quickly to her new situation, as if ribbons of yesterday were threading prettily round her new life to protect and reassure her.
The Blythe clan had also given the young couple some treasures. Gilbert's late Grandmother's Bristol glass candlesticks, that had had pride of place on her White Sands mantelpiece, now stood proudly on the Ingleside dining room table. Just as handsomely, Gilbert's Grandfather's grand old leather chair now graced one corner of his office, the perfect resting spot for a practicing young Doctor's weary bones after a hard day at work. An alluring porcelain figurine of a ballet dancer that used to stand on a table in the Blythe hallway now prettily pirouetted in the alcove of the living room. Mrs. Blythe knew Anne had always had an especial fancy for her, and Anne was as touched and delighted with the gift as she had been when Miss Patty had given her the old china dogs.
Four Winds was a simple living settlement, thus Gog and Magog were now somewhat famous throughout the village after Captain Jim had made so much of them to the glen folk following their first appearance in the House of Dreams. More than one visit to the old shore cottage had been prompted by a curiosity that couldn't be quelled by second hand description, albeit one disguised under some other pretext. Children out and out fully expected them to be living creatures, spellbound to the fire place, and even the adults saw them as being a pair of the most unusual things they'd ever set eyes on. Anne was laughingly delighted in their widespread appeal.
Using some of the money that Miss. Josephine Barry had left her, Anne also added "bits" here and there so that no corner felt too unloved and she could walk round the house feeling that it was starting to feel more "her and Gilbert-ish". It was delightful to have remembrances of loved ones all over your house
They had been installed in their new abode for a couple of weeks when Ingleside was laurelled with its name. Leslie was down at Miss Cornelia's, not to return until morning, so it was just a pleasant evening for two. Sitting in the old comfortable armchairs of Mrs. Lynde's by the fire, Anne and Gilbert both were reading; Gilbert immersed in a new medical journal that had just arrived from Nova Scotia and Anne was allowing her mind to wander deliciously through a book of charming yarns about fairy folk. It was the kind of book that Susan viewed dubiously askance, thinking it not quite appropriate fare for a Doctor's wife, but she knew, also, that Mrs. Doctor was not like any other doctor's wives.
Susan's adoration of Anne was total and unwavering, with her admiration for the Doctor and his methods running a close second. A more faithful handmaiden never walked the earth, nor a prouder one. Susan was nothing loathe to let people know, when she was shopping in Carter Flagg's store, or down at the harbour buying fresh fish, that her purchases were for "the good Doctor Blythe's table" or "a treat for dear Mrs. Doctor Blythe". It was no common thing to work in such splendid conditions as the Morgan Place, and Susan was happy to broadcast the fact that she was an entrenched member of that very household. There was nothing she would not do for either the Doctor or his wife, as she would airily avow to friends on the porch after prayer meetings. Even as they sat, Susan was busying herself in the kitchen concocting some creamy, hot drinks for her beloved master and mistress, to "stave off the 'pisen mean conditions", as she put it.
Anne let her book slip from her hands as, warmly curled up, she looked out of the window into the gloom. Night had drawn in and the first cold stars bravely stared out, high and stark in the inky sky. A white full moon hung like an opal, throwing a ghoulishly blue, chilled light over the village. The wind ran icy fingers through tree boughs, determined to strip them of their last ruddy garments. It raced round the Blythe house, throwing leaves against the window panes and sending creaks through the eaves. Down at the shore, a fog bank was rolling in, silent and menacing and there was not a soul out; all of the Glen folk seemed to be hiding in their homes, doors safely barred against the witchery of the night. The thought made Anne shiver.
"Cold, Anne-girl?" Gilbert enquired, getting up to attend to the fire, which was merrily crackling away, but that would be all the jollier for another apple log thrown on.
"No, not here, in this cosy home of ours, Gilbert. It's just looking out at nights like this seems to force shivers from me, delicious shivers as I picture the uncanny things that must go on outside little havens on nights like this. Trolls and spooks and hooded little elven folk, meeting up in the woods for some dark magic gathering; witches flying "all 'cross moons" on their spindly broomsticks, even common garden beasties might be given the gift of speech for the night - why, Gilbert, I'm willing to believe there are toads invoking spells at the foot of our garden right this minute!"
"Are you sure you're quite well, Mrs. Doctor dear?" Enquired Susan concernedly, as she entered bearing two deliciously scented mugs on a tray. "Should the doctor not maybe look you over and check for fever?" Gilbert smiled indulgently.
"Oh, I'm well enough, thank you!" Laughed Anne merrily, "Just please don't expect me to be compleeet-ly normal on nights like this, Susan dear, it's impossible for me to be a rational human being when the fairy underworld is "a-live and a-dancing" right under my nose as it is tonight!"
"I'm sure I have no idea about any fairy underworld Mrs. Dr. dear", sniffed Susan. "But if it produces talking toads I'm sure I don't want to know anything about it neither. But my, our fire is looking very cheerful tonight! I do love a nice fire Mrs. Doctor dear. Something that you'll never find at Emmy Drew's place, and that you may tie to. I was round there the other night, and it was just as cold as this, yet she had but three matchsticks spluttering in the grate in place of a fire. That line of Drew's have always been noted for meanness though." She added matter-of-factly, going back to her kitchen.
Anne had to agree – their fire was a welcome thing indeed. Book now totally forgotten, she stared into the crackling fire and let the hypnotic faery flames of yellow and gold, tipped with blues and greens, transport her to a goblin kingdom far beyond the recesses of the hearth. The inglenook shadowed and flickered, then leapt into relief as the fire danced with its living spirits and sparks.
Gilbert shifted, catching Anne's attention. She watched as he made a note of some medical fact he was reading and then fell back to the pages again. What a good Doctor he was! Anne was quietly very impressed with the way Gilbert had built his practice up since their arrival at Four Winds. Even Miss Cornelia admitted he was as fine a man as you could hope for in a community medic. Everyone seemed to want the young Doctor Blythe's services – even the over harbour folk, and the Methodists, as Miss Cornelia was quick to point out. "There is a Methodist Doctor not too far from these parts, but even the slowest among their shower were quick to realize that he's no patch on that man of yours, Anne dearie." It was lovely to be able to feel so proud of your own husband.
He caught her looking at him, and smiled, his eyes full of the love that was never very far away when Anne occupied his thoughts.
"Penny for them?" He offered, as he closed the book and stretched his long legs out before the fireplace, taking care not to disturb the silky black and white kitten blissfully dreaming on the hearth rug.
"Oh, it's just a happy wife and mother you see before you!" stated Anne. "I was just thinking how lovely everything is starting to feel; and I do love this big old fireplace with its inglenooks, it throws such a homey light out."
"Well, we've always said we need a name for our house Anne," pondered Gilbert. "We can't keep going about calling it the Morgan Place ad finitum! How about Inglenook House?"
Anne mused, her mind darting round and over the possibilities. She thought for a short time, giving full vent to her excellent imagination and then her face lit up.
"Oh, Gilbert! How about Ingleside? It sounds a little more homey - part inglenook, part fireside… Ingleside! The name was made for this house… oh it gives me one of my old "queer aches" so I know it's right!"
"Ingleside it is then, Anne-o-mine" Laughed Gilbert, getting up again to stoke the flames.
The kitten had woken, and stretched in that expression of absolute contentment that only the cat, of all God's creatures, had managed to perfect and convey. She padded over to Anne and stretched little paws appealingly up the chair, wanting a friendly lap. Anne responded accordingly and picked her up, cuddling her adoringly. Gilbert had found her at the Glen, cold and thin, mewing piteously outside the door of an old lady he had looked after till the last.
"Only thing the poor old dear had" said the fat next door neighbor who was out scrubbing her front step. "She found it cryin' at her back porch jes' a few weeks afore she died. Din't have it long but Lord, she loved the critcher somethin' turrible. My lad will likely drown it tonight as who will keer to look after it now?"
Gilbert, who thought that the needless taking of a healthy animals life immoral, had resolutely scooped the little skinny scrap up and taken her home. Here, she was adored by Mother, Father and small son, tolerated admirably by The First Mate, the cat of much-missed Captain Jim, who was too senior to need worry about pretenders to his throne, and even Susan, no lover of the cat tribe, admitted the little thing had appeal. Leslie especially loved her, petting and nurturing the tiny animal back to rude health. Anne's heart melted as she saw Leslie's natural need to mother blossoming to the fore, and once again silently blessed Gilbert, as she had done on many an occasion, for uncovering the secret key to Leslie's freedom, and thereby opening up the promises of the future for her beautiful friend. She felt sure that Leslie would soon join her at the sweet alter of motherhood. Oh life was good!
Anne looked around her, marvelously happy. Yes, the house could definitely be considered a home now, with all their "bits" about them, with things freshly painted and washed. It was a very nice feeling, after all, to be able to put your own 'stamp' on a new place. With the delectable smells of that days baking still wafting from the kitchen, and the knowledge that Little Jem was safely tucked up in bed dreaming sweet little infant dreams, and having her husband right by her side, a true kindred spirit, of life more could not be asked. The mistress of Ingleside gave a contented, satisfied, smiling sigh as she picked up her book once more, and drifted back into the lost, misted lands of fancy and faery folk.