Hello Anne-girls!

I am so sorry for my lack of activity this last month or so (seasonal one-shots excluded!) Real Life has an annoying habit of intruding, though I have been beavering away behind the scenes. Although I have had the next Betwixt chapter ready to go for a while (and it will be coming soon!) and haven't forgotten Down the Rabbit-Hole I have been wanting to get this chapter out, as it is a heartfelt and important one, for the many lovely readers who have become invested in Tom and Pris.

I promised myself I wouldn't write epically long chapters anymore, so forgive the almost-but-not-quite nature of this update! I hope, in the best Anne tradition, you find the suspense more thrilling than annoying! I almost cut the very last scene as it was originally going to go in the next chapter, but I thought you poor things had waited long enough as it was 😊

Thank you as ever to my faithful reviewers – those stalwarts there from the beginning, those who have discovered this along the way and old friends recently revisiting this story. Your engagement is such a thrill and your encouragement so valued.

Wishing everyone the very best New Year possible, and my thanks to all my fellow writers for helping to spark a little joy. This community means everything to me.

With love

MrsVonTrapp x

Chapter Thirty Four

Earnest and Tender and True

Part One

Patty's Place was the most charmingly wholesome house at the end of one of the grandest, most monied avenues in Kingsport. Converging on their new abode, Phil greeted them at the door, with all the proprietary airs and graces as befitting her great find on their behalf, and Anne and Gilbert, alongside Pris, whom they had met, fortuitously, back at Kingsport station, had a very merry reunion as they laughed and joked their way around a quick tour. Gilbert sadly lamented all the homely creature comforts here on offer that would soon make his old room at the boarding house positively dingy by comparison.

"Surely, Mr Blythe, you are not pretending for one moment you won't be here every day, virtually camping out on our doorstep?" Phil flashed her teasing, crooked smile.

"Well, I might have to throw myself at the mercy of your mathematics tutoring, Miss Gordon," he flashed in return, "which would necessitate several sessions here a week, I should think!" he chuckled to himself at the prospect, hazel eyes bright and twinkling, gathering a charmingly pink-cheeked Anne to his side, squeezing tightly.

"When's Stella arriving?" Pris enquired.

"Tomorrow, but her Aunt Jamesina not for several more weeks. Something about closing up her house and setting all her furniture to rights before she could possibly make the trip." There were several understanding nods. "Speaking of furniture…" Phil gazed around the collection of trunks cluttering the generous living room, "can we put you to work earning your keep before you go, Gilbert?"

Having hired a cart which was still waiting to transport him on a final stop back towards the college, Anne dashed out to placate the driver for ten further minutes with some of Diana's remaining biscuits whilst Gilbert put his lauded physical prowess to good use, valiantly hauling all three trunks upstairs, to the everlasting gratitude and admiration of the young womenfolk assembled.

"Might be useful having a man about the house, on occasion," Phil grinned to him as she offered Gilbert some water after all his efforts. "Anne, honey, I guess you'd better keep him!"

"I was hoping to, rather," Anne gave merry smile, collecting Gilbert's hat and doffed jacket for him as she took his hand to see him out.

"Oh wait a moment, Gilbert!" Pris now waylaid them, blue eyes full of Gilbert's own mischief. "I believe I owe you this!"

She reached up to give him a smiling, resounding kiss on the cheek. It took several beats whilst Gilbert translated a message as in secret code, turning a delighted grin back to her.

"I take it your engagements in Charlottetown ended… satisfactorily?"

Pris could not suppress her own lovely smile, like a beaming sunrise to enhance her fair loveliness.

"Most satisfactorily, thank you!"

"I'm very pleased to hear it." Gilbert took his leave of Pris and Phil, the latter raising expressive dark brows in speculation, and Gilbert could not avoid Anne's own wide questioning grey eyes as he gave her an enthusiastic kiss farewell on the front step.

"Dare I ask what that was about?"

"I'm sorry, Anne, but can I help it if the occasional young lady is brimming over in their appreciation of my humble personage?"

At her wry look, he gave a disarming grin. "I'm afraid you'll need to press Miss Grant for further details."

"Very well, then!" she shook her head in fond admonishment.

"You'll find, Miss Shirley, that I am the most trusted keeper of a great many secrets…" his large Blythe hand was warm at her narrow waist. "I can think of a few outings during a recent sojourn in Summerside that fall into that category."

He waited for her knowing blush and was duly rewarded, unsure how he would be able to appropriately thank his parents for the unexpected gift of a most spectacular end to the summer.

"How I will miss you in English class with me this year…" she cuddled close to him, sighing softly.

"Nah, I was just holding you back, anyway. But we'll always have the Bard, Anne-girl."

He replaced jacket and hat, if only to doff the latter to her.

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…" * she declared to him sweetly.

"Gosh I like the sound of that!" he grinned, bowing in courtly fashion before setting off to Redmond.

Anne came back inside to hear a flurry of activity upstairs, and followed the happy chatter, smiling. The arrangements had already been made as to bedrooms; Aunt Jamesina would have the downstairs bedroom off the delightfully large living room, Pris had volunteered to share the large one with old Queen's chum Stella, and Anne had put her hand up for the smaller single bedroom over the kitchen, for a nominally reduced rent. When she poked her head in there she was dismayed to find that Gilbert must have been directed to place Phil's oversized trunk there by mistake; when she called out to Phil, in the other bedroom laughing with Pris, that stylish young lady joined her in the smaller room and Anne explained the problem.

"If the trunks are too heavy for us to swap on our own, we could maybe empty them first…" Anne suggested, biting her lip.

"No need to, honey. The trunks are where they need to be."

"But Phil, I don't understand."

Those warm brown eyes surveyed her kindly.

"Anne, I saw those grey eyes of yours light up like the night sky when you saw the blue room. I really don't mind where I hang my many hats. As long as I can be merry alongside you girls. You must have the blue room, and there's an end to it."

"Oh Phil! That's lovely of you, but I couldn't possibly! And I've already calculated my savings based on the difference in – "

"Anne, darling, no change in the rents necessary. But I'm not budging on the blue room. You belong to it. I have an entire wing to myself back at Mount Holly – you've seen it when you stayed last Christmas. But have you ever had a room of your very own before? One that wasn't shared with a matron or whoever at your Summerside establishment, or about a dozen girls before you at the boarding house?"

Anne hadn't, and Phil knew it. Those grey eyes shone silver with unshed tears.

"Oh, Phil…"

"Let's not start blubbering yet, Miss Anne! Wait till you have to put up with my contributions to our cooking!"

Phil gave her an affectionate kiss and directed her to her own little den, and Anne took a rather long time thrilling to the blue papered walls and the frilly muslin curtains and the view to the pines from her seat under the diamond-paned window. If she shed a few private, happy tears in the process, there was no one but she to note them.

The girls had knick knacks and pictures aplenty and began to rehome them with cheerful abandon. Anne had few of the former and none of the latter, gratified instead she could contribute so much to their pantry, grinning as she stacked shelves with a generous assortment of preserves and foodstuffs courtesy of Green Gables, the Blythes and Orchard Slope. She hoped to be able to recreate other culinary delights learned from her brief but wonderful stay at Green Gables and carefully tucked away her little handwritten baking book of Diana's favourite French delicacies in a ready drawer in the kitchen. Phil recounted with great delight her meeting with the infamous Miss Patty and her almost equally ancient-seeming niece Miss Maria, producing the former's gift of a fearfully and wonderfully embroidered ** cushion and highlighting all the others dotted about and then, with a clap of hands, remembering what had been packed away for them in the room downstairs.

"Girls, you must come away from your rooms a moment to look at these!" Phil beckoned them both, preceding them back down the stairs. "I'm sure my admiration of them - and love of the name Patty's Place itself – helped seal the deal for us. But honestly I did but look on these arresting, whimsical creatures and think of you, Anne – especially with their glittering green embellishments!"

Phil verily unwrapped a pair of large china dogs, white with round green spots all over them, a green nose apiece and green ears. *** Pris gave a broad, bemused grin at the sight of them whilst Anne gasped in delight and astonishment.

"May I introduce Gog and Magog," Phil intoned theatrically. "All the way from London and over a hundred years old. Miss Patty's brother Aaron Spofford – the very one for whom this very avenue is named – brought them over and they've guarded the fireplace for fifty years. Gog looks to the right and Magog to the left. *** And we have to guard them with our lives as Miss Patty is uncommonly fond of them."

"And no wonder…" Anne agreed reverently.

The china dogs were thus installed in their rightful places, adding an air of eccentric elegance. The girls darted about downstairs and up into one another's rooms with all the excitement of children at the start of the summer, and not the wise, experienced Sophs **they would purport to be. Phil gave amusing account of her activities back in Bolingbroke and the dilemma of the still unsettled Alec-and-Alonzo ** question, though gratifyingly Mr Summerfield had written not once but twice over the break, as Anne herself had predicted. At any rate setting up house with the girls, according to Miss Gordon, was almost as good as getting married. You had the fun of homemaking without the bother of a husband. ** Anne and Pris were hard pressed, on this occasion, to disagree.

Anne shared her delight in her extended time in Avonlea and her residency at Green Gables, with both she and Pris chiming in on Jane's wedding and Diana and Fred's engagement party.

"And then there was the Carmody Fair," Anne added with enthusiasm.

"And what of this Carmody Fair?" Phil enquired. "Besides that oversized, very unfortunate-looking stuffed bear currently taking up an entire corner of your room?"

"Well Tom – Mr Caruthers – made such a fine showing there, Phil! He was cleaned out of all his delightful wares at his stall and took first place in his section of the competition."

"Oh… did he?" Phil looked carefully from a beaming Anne to a fast-blushing Pris.

"He did very well," Pris attempted to offer, with admirable blandness.

"Oh, Pris's mother did wonderfully as well!" Anne was quick to acknowledge.

"Yes, I remember you wrote about her second and third places," Phil smiled. "How delightful for her!"

"Yes, thanks, it was," Pris nodded happily, avoiding eye contact.

"And what is Mr Caruthers up to now after all his success?"

Anne looked to Pris expectantly, waiting on her answer, and when Pris murmured she was not exactly sure, Anne leapt in to rescue her. Phil was a loyal and loving friend in every respect, but she was not averse to a little teasing, and Pris's uncommonly evasive answers began to make Anne wonder, as she had indeed begun to back in Avonlea, that a little teasing now for Pris would hit a little too close to home.

"He is rushed off his feet with work and commissions now," Anne gushed. "Customers from all over the Island – even Charlottetown!"

"Gracious! Good for him!" Phil looked suitably impressed, but then began to grumble about the need for afternoon tea or even an early dinner, or she might faint dead away, and their impromptu gossip in Pris's bedroom was abandoned as Phil fled downstairs to put the kettle on and Anne wandered slowly back to her already beloved blue room.

Charlottetown. In response to her cheeky kiss of gratitude, Gil had enquired if Pris's engagements in Charlottetown had ended satisfactorily.

She was not sure of the timing, but Tom had mentioned before she had left that he would be heading himself to Charlottetown to meet about those aforementioned commissions.

Softly Anne padded back to the large bedroom, finding Pris sitting on the bed on her claimed side of the room, staring out the nearby window with a dreamy, distracted expression.

"How was Charlottetown, Pris?" Anne asked gently from the door.

Pris turned and gave both exasperated smile and aggrieved eyeroll.

"What has Gilbert told you?"

"Actually…" Anne gave a level look, completely sincere, "absolutely nothing. He would not be drawn and said I would have to go to you."

Pris's expression softened. "He didn't even mention… about my brother?"

"Your brother?"

Pris indicated for Anne to come and sit by her on her bed.

"My hopeless, hapless younger brother, who at the last minute found out he was going up to Queen's without any accommodation for him whilst he was there, due to the unexpected death of his landlady."

"Oh no!"

"Oh exactly. Cue all the tears and handwringing at our house, Anne, believe me. So we all had to set off for Charlottetown early and everything was in a state. I couldn't even say my own proper goodbyes to… certain people… I may have wanted to say goodbye to."

Anne did not need to be drawn a picture, and her look to her friend was full of feeling.

"Oh no…"

Pris gave a nod and clasped Anne's hand.

"So I see Gilbert in Carmody shortly before both our trains were to leave – virtually run at him with the whole sorry story. Now I know I sometimes chit Gil because he loves to cast himself as rescuing knight, Anne, but I can't fault him here. I needed him to be and he really was. He wrote a note of introduction to his own former landlady whilst at Queen's virtually as we were on the platform and thrust it at my undeserving sibling, which was so glowing that when that esteemed lady read it as we turned up at the door to her establishment she virtually rolled out the red carpet for Sam. We are all so mad with gratitude for him, Anne, you can't believe it. I think we'd all still be there roaming the streets if not for Gilbert."

Anne squeezed Pris's hand, her delighted smile breaking her face.

"He was rather pleased for himself when he turned up at the Home at Summerside."

Pris chortled. "I haven't even had a chance to ask you how the last week together went!"

"It was… lovely…" Anne's pretty pale face took on its own dreamy quality.

"I'm so glad."

"So…" Anne raised an auburn eyebrow. "Your time in Charlottetown… after you had hapless brothers settled..?"

Pris's cheeks resumed a rosy tinge.

"Yes, well…" she dropped Anne's hand to leap up and pace the floor alongside the windowsill, now starting to wring her own hands for good measure. "Gilbert may have helped me out with something else at that… a letter for Tom. If I'd posted it, it would have missed him and we would have both been in Charlottetown without him knowing…

"Oh no!" Anne echoed her earlier exclamations.

"And of course Gilbert was on the next train himself, so he had Mr Blythe deliver it to Green Gables."

Anne's grey eyes shone with the romance of this multi-party venture and pride at Gilbert's part in it.

"Oh, Pris! An eleventh-hour missive! That is very exciting!"

"Or very embarrassing!" she replied drolly.

"Well, did it all work?" Anne's own hands were clasped together.

Pris gave her a look of suddenly shy, quiet delight, about to answer when interrupted by an urgent summons from downstairs.

"Girls! I'm positively famished! If you both don't come down this instant I'm taking Pris's little fruit cake in the pantry all for myself!"

The two girls laughed despite themselves, breaking some of the tension that had built up as if on the air.

Pris shook her head in fond exasperation and moved to call out from the doorway.

"Miss Gordon, we will both be down presently! You have my permission to start on the cake!"

"Thank goodness!" floated up relieved reply.

Pris turned back to Anne, giving a helpless shrug of her shoulders.

"I'm not trying to keep things from Phil," she explained. "I'll tell her very soon. She's such a brick. But she's also such a tease! And I just need to make sense of all this quietly, for a few days… and to maybe make sense of it with someone who understands all this… who understands him."

Anne nodded emphatically.

Pris sighed, then, excessively. "Do you think something can be so wonderful and so heartbreaking at the same time?" she asked a little plaintively.

Anne readily thought back on her own relationship with Tom, and on to her many stops and starts with Gilbert.

"I know it can."

"Will you find me later, Anne?" those baby blue eyes implored. "When we've all gone to bed? I'm desperate to tell someone!"

"Try to keep me away!" Anne hugged her impulsively, before they tripped together down the stairs.

Days before, Tom had been furiously working on his preparations for Charlottetown, so focussed he had not even heard John Blythe with the buggy, let alone Marilla's thoughtful passage towards the barn till she had called up to him.

"Sorry, Marilla!" he poked his head through the gap at the top of the ladder. "Did I work through tea?"

"No love… not yet," she smiled fondly. "But I have a letter here for you."

Marilla waited until that young, tall, muscular body easily navigated the climb downstairs and was directed by her to sit on a hay bale.

"Love, there's a bit of a story to this. The letter is from Miss Grant. The Blythes met her in Carmody today and Mr Blythe has just dropped this off for you. Gilbert would have done so himself but he was off to Summerside to visit Anne."

Tom's eyes had widened to saucers, processing this range of information, and he took the little envelope tentatively.

"That was… very good of Mr Blythe." His fair brows drew together. "And, I should think… Gilbert."

Marilla nodded carefully.

"Apparently Miss Grant was quite concerned it should reach you."

Marilla hated to see the tiny twinge of trepidation on his handsome face, as if Priscilla Grant could only be writing to him now in order to let him go. Again, she thought errantly of his long day out in Bright River and the possibilities of a side trip to Spencervale.

"Would… you like to come in and read it at your leisure, love?"

Tom turned the envelope over in his large hands.

"I… I think I should be all right here, for now."

Marilla gave a tight little smile. "Just so then, Tom. Join us when you're ready."

"Thank you."

Marilla had to pause outside the barn to wipe her teary eye with the corner of her apron. It was wrong – and foolhardy – to conjecture when they did not yet know the contents. Rachel must be rubbing off on her. But she was desperate, in the moment, to save him from any pain, and in the moment might have wished she'd done something shocking, like farewell John Blythe, march back into the house and throw the letter in the stove.

Tom was in the barn an age, and every minute was another little agony. She was impatient with the twins when they came back up with Matthew from the orchard and nearly scalded herself on the kettle. Honestly, she would have to pull herself together. No one had died. Except, every disappointment was like a little death, for him, and though she would gladly do over her own past pain in this area in exchange for his, her worry went deeper, to the concern if Tom withdrew from life again, having been disappointed in it too many times.

When Tom came through the back door even Matthew looked up expectantly. That healthy, tanned face – once milk-pale and wretched - now broke on his shy grin, and coming to kiss the top of Marilla's head, asked her whether she might be able to press both his good suits for Charlottetown.

Tom reread Pris's letter so often on the way up to Charlottetown the next day he was almost at the point of memorizing it.

Dearest Tom

I hope I may not be too bold in saying 'dearest'. I always try to be truthful and so the truth of the matter is that you are so dear to me that to say 'dearest' seems natural and true. I've wanted to say it many times in my letters to you. When you walked away from the house yesterday I doubt very much you felt any dear feelings towards me at all. I would not blame you for that whatsoever… but please believe me when I say that there is no gentleman of my acquaintance I like or esteem more than yourself.

He had blushed to the roots of his fair hair to have first greedily perused those words, almost miscomprehending, thinking it would be just like Pris to complement him before letting him down gently.

There – I have said it. I do care for you sincerely, Tom, and I do not care for Herb Spencer in that way at all. I am so sorry you found me entertaining him at the house yesterday. It was not my choice. I did it to please my mother and as, I guess, a mark of respect for his role in supporting my father in his business and by extension our family, particularly with myself in Kingsport again this year and my brother going up to Queen's College. You cannot have missed that my mother favours him and would wish to encourage us in a courtship, I'm sure. To that end she also has me writing to him from Redmond. Again, not something I would have volunteered to do, and I can assure you my letters to him will be so deliberately dull and insipid he will not wish to receive many of them.

The plosive breath of relief to know that she did not care for Herb Spencer was only equalled by his knowing smile… that anything Pris did or said could be considered dull and insipid, but easily believing she could turn her sharp mind to a correspondence that would make someone believe so. He instead had found her letters lively and engaging, with a self-deprecating humour that called to his own modest nature.

And the words that quickened his usually steady pulse…

I was surprised and thrilled you called on me yesterday, and so very sorry we did not have the opportunity to receive you properly. I wish… oh, how I wish things had turned out differently! I very nearly chased after you down the walk, Tom, and would have done, brandishing my beautiful roses to gain your attention, calling you back and sitting you down in our parlour, after most definitely showing Mr Spencer the door.

Is YOUR door still open to me, I wonder?

He had to pause again at that. That Pris Grant – beautiful and intelligent, funny and forthright – would be asking him, a former orphan come from nothing, if he would still consider the idea of a relationship with her. He still, despite his own very decent prospects and recent good fortune regarding his woodworking, felt rather unequal to the reality of Priscilla Grant. This was a different thing to his love for Anne, both of them having pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps. They knew and understood one another in a way that went beyond all the fortunate trappings of their new lives. He felt on sure and equal footing with her. With Pris, however… he could not help but feel on quicksand, despite her steadfast kindness and friendship from the moment he had encountered her looking up to him on that schoolhouse roof in Carmody.

He felt foolish for taking off from her in Spencervale. He wished he had not been so lily-livered. He had hardly known what he was to do or say or even ask whilst calling on her, except he had felt compelled to see her, and then had been so thrown by Herb Spencer he had scarpered away like any common coward. He had stood his ground, years ago, against bully Billy Andrews… he had faced the evil of the Inspector head on and still had the scar above his brow to show for it. He sat higher in his seat on the train, trying as the man he was now to be in any way worthy of the courage and spirit he had shown as a boy.

To be worthy of Pris.

I do care for you sincerely, Tom, and I do not care for Herb Spencer in that way at all…

… please believe me when I say that there is no gentleman of my acquaintance I like or esteem more than yourself.

She had said it aloud, as it were… she had written down the words. It was so brave of her it left him breathless.

I had thought to take it upon myself to visit you and find out, but things have happened here today to put paid to any attempts to see you again before I leave. Unfortunately, our departure has been moved forward several days due to my brother Samuel suddenly finding himself without rooms when he begins at Queen's due to the death of his prospective landlady. So we must all hie to Charlottetown and knock on several doors in the hope of finding him new lodgings. From there I will need to go directly across to Kingsport, and will not return to the Island till Christmas.

I have been very spoilt in seeing you so often this summer and will miss doing so these long months to come. I hope I may still write to you and that you would welcome hearing from me. It goes without saying that any letters from you, should you be so good as to send any, would be cherished. I am glad you have my new address now – well, OUR address, mine and Anne's and Phil's and my friend Stella Maynard's. I hope it makes you smile to think of Anne and I together in our own house, and to know that we will all be looking out for each other. Please also know that I will save my fondest smile for when I think of you.

I wish you nothing but luck and happiness and good fortune, Tom, and great success in your woodcarving work and new commissions. I hope they take you beyond Charlottetown to perhaps even Kingsport, once day. No one deserves success and recognition more that yourself.

With warmest regards

Pris

Her letter alone would have been enough – so much more than enough! – to fortify him the long months of her absence. But there has been a hastily scrawled addendum that had blown his pale blue eyes wide.

P.S. Tom – I am sorry for this breathless postscript. I have just met Gilbert in Carmody before we both board our trains. Tom, he said you and I will both be in Charlottetown at the same time! It would be tremendous to be able to meet you, even for a moment. I will wait at 3 o'clock at the tea room on the corner of Grafton Street – the small one with the burgundy awning – on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons, before I leave for Kingsport on the Friday. You are under no obligation, and there will be no hard feelings if I don't see you. Mr Blythe is now delivering this on my behalf – the torn envelope I'm afraid was me!

Tom glanced out the window as the train pulled into the Island capital. He didn't visit frequently and was always amazed at the lively city's hustle and bustle. Somewhere out there, Priscilla Grant was bestowing her generous smile on any number of landladies on behalf of the tall, lanky younger brother he had first met briefly at the Carmody Fair.

And, amazingly, he would meet her tomorrow at 3 o'clock.

He took his bag firmly in his large, workworn hand, and made long, sure strides down the platform.

He was right on time, usually a point of pride but today simply a blessed relief, fearing his succession of meetings with prospective buyers would overrun and he would miss the chance that had beat in his brain and drummed in his heart ever since he had first read Pris's letter.

Tom glanced at his reflection in the window, made a quick, nervous adjustment to his tie and gulped once before entering.

He did not take long to find her, sitting tall and lovely in her seat facing the door, as if she dared not miss a single person across the threshold. Alas… she wasn't alone.

He almost stopped up short at this. He'd thought that… that this would be a private meeting, just the two of them and the afternoon end-of-summer crowd, where they could maybe make some sense of all the unspoken thoughts and silent longings between them. Had he horribly miscalculated?

And then, the terrible tremor. It wasn't Herb Spencer with her, was it?

No. No of course it wasn't. Though his back was to him, her companion was younger, slimmer, and shared her own fair coloring.

Her brother.

Tom's breath of relief was almost audible, and at the same moment Pris caught his eye with a hopeful, apologetic expression and the delicate raising of her shoulders in exasperation. He approached tentatively, not quite knowing how to greet her.

"Mr Caruthers! What a happy coincidence! I wondered whether you might chance this tearoom I recommended whilst you were in Charlottetown."

Tom was not often given to subterfuge, but Pris's clear blue eyes pleaded with him to go along with her ruse. He trusted she would lead him through the last-minute changes to the script of their new little play.

"Miss Grant," he smiled softly, doffing his hat. "This is indeed an unexpected… surprise."

"Yes, I'm sure…" she colored fiercely, acknowledging their double-speak with a roll of her eyes. "You'll recall my brother Samuel. Sam, Mr Tom Caruthers."

"Yes," Samuel Grant nodded affably, extending a hand almost as large as Tom's own. "I remember you, Mr Caruthers. You're the woodcarver from the Fair, and you visited us last week when Herb was there."

"That's Mr Spencer to you," Pris admonished.

"Pleased to see you again, Mr Grant," Tom answered, aware of the obvious irony of the expected pleasantry.

"Won't you please join us, Mr Caruthers?" Pris urged.

"Well, thank you, sincerely, Miss Grant."

The formality of the greetings they had abandoned long ago and the sudden absurdity of the situation made his lips quirk as he seated himself between brother and sister, and Pris, catching some of his expression, appeared to be working hard to keep her own face neutral. Fifteen year old Sam Grant appeared blissfully oblivious to any undercurrents, perusing the menu with enthusiasm and wondering aloud why they had walked past a bigger, more popular tearoom much nearer the college if his sister had apparently been showing him some of the conveniences right on his doorstep.

"Well, I've always liked it here better, but feel free to visit the other one now and I'll catch you up later," Pris suggested hopefully, but ultimately fruitlessly.

"No, I'm fine."

Pris gave such an aggrieved sigh that Tom had to hide his broad smile behind his menu card. Truth be told he was so giddy to be in Pris's presence again that he was almost grateful for this sibling interplay, for at least it gave him the opportunity to compose his thoughts, which had been well and truly scrambled by the sight of a fading yellow rose adorning Pris's lapel. Meanwhile they ordered and Samuel excused himself for the restroom.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so delighted to see you and so sorry!" Pris began when her brother was barely out of earshot. "What a Comedy of Errors this all is! My mother was unwell after lunch and Papa stayed with her at the hotel but Sam insisted on coming with me when I tried to duck out to meet you! I couldn't say no without causing undue suspicion."

"Pris, it's quite alright. I'm pleased to understand the demands of siblings, having gained some honorary ones of my own."

Pris's smile lit her face. "I can't believe you came!"

"I can't believe you invited me," his look grew sheepish. "I appreciated your efforts to get your letter to me."

"Well, I have to say it, Gilbert to the rescue! Or at least, his father!"

"Yes, Marilla mentioned that. I'm very grateful to them both."

Pris's visage softened. "You left everyone well?"

"Yes, thank you kindly. I am very sorry about your mother."

"Oh, it's more just the hectic pace of our last few days," she waved a dismissive hand. "And being back in the city. Thank goodness we were able to settle things here without any fuss."

"You found new lodgings for your brother?"

"Gilbert found new lodgings for my brother! He recommended Sam to his former landlady here."

"He was busy!"

Pris giggled and nodded.

"And what of yourself, Tom? How have your meetings gone?"

Tom, inherently modest, still could not hide his shy satisfaction for the enthusiasm that had greeted his sample wares and design sketches. He now had firm orders from two well-to-do Charlottetown families he had met for an extensive range of bespoke toys for Christmas, including the detailed soldier sets and dolls house he had only dreamt of creating in the months since he had mastered his treadle lathe. As Samuel returned he was explaining the meeting he would have tomorrow with the manager of a fine furnishings store who had been a former Carmody resident visiting the Fair, in fortuitous timing for Tom.

"So you are definitely in Charlottetown another day?" Pris ascertained with some relief.

"Yes… definitely…" Tom met Pris's heated gaze with his own warming cheeks.

The afternoon tea passed for him in a blur of innocuous conversation and loaded looks. Pris's brother had a frustratingly large appetite. With every fresh round of tea he begged of his sister, he almost heard Pris's internal groan, mirroring his own. When finally the young man's growing body was satiated, Tom was quick to offer to accompany them back to their hotel, though Samuel's puzzled look clearly suggested this was patently unnecessary.

Luckily, Samuel Grant shared some of his sister's enthusiasms for his new surroundings and was happy to walk ahead, staring into every second shop window, as Tom and Pris lingered several slow paces behind.

"I'm thinking if I strangle him, under the circumstances it would be considered a justifiable murder," Pris muttered darkly, giving her brother a daggered, unseen glance.

Tom's chuckle was warm. "I will gladly put up your bail money."

"Charlottetown was such a happy place for me," she sighed. "I wish I could explore some of my old haunts with you. I love the rambles you can still find here."

"I would greatly enjoy seeing them."

They walked on, side by side but not touching, for all the world seemingly having the most casual conversation possible.

"Pris…" Tom struggled, after a time, when they had lapsed again into silence. "Your letter…"

"I was afraid it might scare you off!" she gave her downturned smile, darting a look to him.

"No… no… it was wonderful…" he spluttered. "And… I'm not easily scared off."

"Except for Herb Spencer," she gave a knowing arch of blonde brow, though her tone was kind.

Tom flushed scarlet at this, rolling his eyes.

"I can see…" he swallowed painfully, "I can see how your mother might think… he is a very good match… for you…"

The warm late afternoon air pressed against him oppressively, and his temple thrummed.

"But what if… he's not the match I want?"

Tom's agonized look met Pris's resolute one.

"We're here!" Samuel chirped, and distractedly they tore their gazes away to see the edifice of Pris's small hotel opposite.

"Tomorrow?" Pris breathed.

"Yes! Of course!"

"Not the tea room," Pris shook her head. "Round the corner of the hotel down the end of the street is a little park. I might want a walk to clear my head tomorrow afternoon."

He was eagerly nodding his own.

"Tomorrow," low-voiced and earnest, it felt like a vow.

"Tomorrow…" Pris gave a shining, wistful smile.

Tom cleared his throat resolutely.

"A pleasure to meet you again Miss Grant, Mr Grant…" he gave a bow that made Pris blush becomingly.

"Good to see you, Mr Caruthers. Many thanks for the afternoon tea," Samuel farewelled blithely, already bounding up the hotel steps.

"Goodbye, Mr Caruthers," the suggestive smile in her voice reddened the tips of his ears all the way back to his little guest house.

Chapter Notes

The chapter title is from Anne of the Island Chapter 24 'Enter Jonas'

'He was so earnest and tender and true. He was everything a minister ought to be.'

*from William Shakespeare Macbeth (Act 5 Sc 5)

**Anne of the Island Chapter 16 'Adjusted Relationships'

***Anne of the Island Chapter 10 'Patty's Place'

And some correspondence…

Guest #1 of Nov 13th (Ch 33): Thank you so much for your kind words and encouragement! One of these days I will get to other characters aside from Anne and Gilbert but I am always irresistibly drawn to these two! Hope you continue to enjoy them in this!

Guest #2 of Nov 13th (Ch 33): Oh Guest, what beautiful words from you to treasure – thank you so much! I really loved giving Gilbert the chance to shine in this sequence and delight us all with his wonderful Gilbert-ness, this time in support of other friends and not necessarily Anne directly. Hopefully it is also an extension of this Gilbert's desire to be a better version of himself, something that's been on his mind since his early dealings with Anne. And yes – JC is always in my mind when writing Gil, and obviously in your reading of him xx My love of the Blythes is well known and as you will have seen across my stories (thank you for all your reading!) I love writing them and was smiling that the little scene with Gilbert and his parents at the table resonated. Meanwhile I am so thrilled that anything I write sparks a little bit of joy, and rereading your words here are indeed the gift right back to me xx

DrinkThemIn: You know how hard it is for me to drag myself away from Anne and Gilbert, but I am having huge fun with all the sweet and the awkward that is currently Tom and Pris! I hope that continues for you in this new chapter, love! Ahh… old Herb, causing problems. I should just let non-consumptive Ruby (the joys of an AU!) take him off and leave the rest of them in peace. I should do that…. 😊 And yes, I had to give John Blythe a bit of a hero moment there, bless him!