Chapter 17

Charlottetown is smaller than she remembered it to be.

It's not that the town itself shrunk, of course, but even a year ago, she could only vaguely imagine a place bigger than Charlottetown, which is, after all, their island's capital and home to about 10.000 people. Compared to Glen, Charlottetown is indeed of considerable size, but having seen Toronto and Montreal, if mostly through a train window, Rilla now recognises that Charlottetown really isn't so big at all.

Still, she only saw Toronto and Montreal in passing, so Charlottetown is still the largest place she's ever lived in, so as they walk from the train station to their boarding house, she stays close to Shirley. He's carrying a suitcase in each hand, leaving Rilla with only a small bag and a hat box herself.

"Over there." Shirley points at a brick building on the other side of the road. There's some light traffic consisting of carriages and automobiles that they have to weave through to cross the road, with Shirley looking over his shoulder to check on his sister.

Having reached the brick building, he uses the knocker to alert their landlady to their arrival.

It takes only a moment before the door is opened wide, revealing a tall and slim woman with grey-speckled dark hair and gold-wired glasses.

"Young Mr Blythe," she greets Shirley, not exuberantly so but also not without affection. This is his third year of boarding with her, after all.

Her eyes move from Shirley to take in Rilla, standing half a step behind her brother. "And you must be my new boarder."

"Hello Mrs Procter," Shirley returns the greeting politely. "May I introduce my sister, Rilla Blythe?"

"Miss Blythe." Mrs Proctor holds out a hand that Rilla hurries to shake, setting her hat box down to do so.

"Good day, Mrs Procter. Thank you for having me," she states politely.

Mrs Procter takes a step back and invites them inside with a wave of her hand. "I don't normally take women as boarders," she remarks as she leads them through the hall to a small salon. "Seeing as you're siblings, however, I decided to make an exception when your brother wrote to ask me."

"That's very kind of you," Rilla replies, as she sits down on the sofa that Mrs Procter indicated, with Shirley taking an armchair to her left.

"I didn't have the room rented out," Mrs Procter points out practically. "There aren't as many young men looking for a room anymore. My previous boarder didn't return after the last school year."

"He joined up," Shirley offers, though as the same is true for most young men over the age of eighteen, Rilla thinks that both she and Mrs Procter probably guessed as much.

Curiously, Shirley himself is an exception to the rule. Having turned eighteen himself in April, he not only didn't join up, but went back to Queen's for another year instead of moving on to Redmond. Rilla doesn't know why he chose to do so and never quite dared to ask, but she's grateful, seeing as it's only because of Shirley that she herself is here now.

Having never been academically inclined, it's not the lessons offered by Queen's that enticed her to come, but when Shirley suggested it, he made a compelling point. The idea of remaining at home after her siblings left, bereft of the diversion provided by their presence, wasn't something she looked forward to. Only last year, it never would have occurred to her to mind living with Susan and her parents, but too much has happened since and too much trust has been destroyed for her to be comfortable with that living situation again.

Thus, after a day or two of mulling over his idea, Rilla made a decision – and here she is, just weeks later, in Charlottetown, about to become a student at Queen's Academy.

"You can have the back bedroom overlooking the garden. Your brother will show it to you," Mrs Procter continues, returning to the practicalities of boarding. "Breakfast is at half past seven and dinner at six. I will collect your laundry every Wednesday. Visitors are allowed Tuesdays and Fridays between seven and nine downstairs in the salon."

Shirley turns his head, looking surprised. "I always met with my study group in my room."

"That was before we had a young woman living here," Mrs Procter informs him, her voice permitting no argument. "I will not have anyone say that I'm not looking out for my boarders and as her brother, you should have a particular interest in her reputation being above reproach."

There it is again.

It's not that Rilla doesn't understand what Mrs Procter is saying, because the question of her virtue is one she's had to deal with too often in recent months, but she can't help feeling a certain unfairness at the matter. Why is it that the need to protect her reputation is so much greater than it is for Shirley, just because he's a man?

Is it because the consequences remain with the woman, while the man can just walk away if he chooses to? Or is it because women are simply held to higher moral standards altogether, for reasons she can't see? After all, there were two of them involved on that fateful evening last year and, wherever he is, her son has a father, though she has only a vague idea where he is either.

Rilla shakes her head, shaking away the thought of her son, because whenever she allows her mind to stray to the memory of him, she feels her heart clench and her throat constrict. She tries to think of him as little as possible for that reason, though she never quite succeeds.

"Alright," Shirley acquiesces, thankfully giving Rilla something else to focus on. "We'll meet in the salon from now on."

Mrs Procter nods, as if she didn't expect anything else. "Any further questions?"

Realising that the question is addressed to her, Rilla shakes her head, "If anything comes up, I'll just ask Shirley."

"Very good." Mrs Procter nods, satisfied. "Shall I show you up to your room?"

"That would be kind," agrees Rilla.

Picking up her bag and hat box, she follows Mrs Procter up the stairs, leaving Shirley to wrangle their suitcases. On the upper level, her brother turns for a room at the front of the house without needing direction, while Mrs Procter leads Rilla to a door on the opposite side. Opening it, she reveals a bedroom with a window overlooking a small garden.

"This will be your room," Mrs Procter explains. "The bathroom is two doors to the left, but there's also a washstand in the corner over there."

"Thank you, it's very nice," Rilla states, quite truthfully. The room is comfortably furnished with a floral quilt on the bed and striped curtains framing the window. It's bigger than her attic bedroom at home, though not as fancy as the guest room she occupied in Aunt Dora's house. Relatively speaking, she very much prefers being here than in either of the other places, alas.

There's a soft knock on the half-open door, closely followed by Shirley entering with her suitcase in one hand.

"I'll leave you to unpack," announces Mrs Procter. "If you need anything, I'm downstairs.

"Thank you," Rilla repeats and Shirley murmurs something in agreement. He places the suitcase by the dresser, while Rilla watches her landlady exit the room and walk back down the stairs.

As Shirley moves to follow and leave the room, she lightly places a hand on his arm, thus stopping him. He looks at her questioningly and Rilla pulls her hand back.

"I just wanted to thank you," she states, repeating the words for the third time in less than a minute, and meaning them more than ever.

"Whatever for?" Shirley looks confused.

"For suggesting I come with you," Rilla tells him. "For helping me."

He shrugs. "I just had the idea."

"You asked Mrs Procter to take me in," Rilla reminds him.

"It was just a letter," he replies. "You did the hard part yourself."

What he alludes to, of course, is convincing her parents to let her go.

"I took your suggestion on the matter," Rilla remarks, thinking back on how he pointed out to her that if her parents wanted to keep her home, they had to offer a reason that they felt comfortable sharing with the public. She didn't think much of it when he first said it, but the thought took hold in her mind over the following days and while it would be too much to say that she made a plan, it at least gave her an idea on how to proceed.

The opportunity presented itself in early August, when her parents had organised an informal dinner, inviting the remaining Merediths, Ellen and Norman Douglas as well as Marshall and Cornelia Elliot who were, to Rilla's chagrin, accompanied by Mary Vance. She wouldn't have chosen Mary to be present, but she also recognised that she was unlikely to get a better chance in the short timeframe left.

Even as she prepared to speak, she recognised that it was unlike her, what she was about to do, but it was the same instinct propelling her forward that had forced Aunt Dora's hand when it came to allowing her to return home. She followed that instinct as she did before, because if her situation had taught her one thing, it was that the power of societal expectations should never be underestimated. Societal expectations were what drove her to the other side of the country and what made them take her son from her arms when she had barely gotten to know him. Wouldn't it then be fair, she reasoned, if societal expectations worked in her favour for once?

Thus, as the dinner plates were cleared away, she took a deep breath, turned to Shirley sitting opposite her at the table and asked brightly, "Did you already hear back from your landlady in Charlottetown about whether I can board with her when attending Queen's in autumn?"

Intentionally keeping her voice light and innocent, she nevertheless gave her brother a meaningful look, hoping that he'd catch on and play along, despite not being informed of her plan. Happily, Shirley, being both clever and quick-thinking, looked confused only for a second or two, before understanding showed on his face.

"I wrote to her, but haven't heard back yet," he lied calmly. "I expect she'll answer soon."

At this point, Rilla wasn't sure whether her parents had heard them, but Di, sitting next to her, certainly did.

"I didn't know you're going to Queen's!" she exclaimed, loud enough that the other people gathered around the table were unable to miss it. One by one, they turned their heads towards the Blythe siblings, the previous conversation about the combined German-Ottoman attack in Egypt remaining unresolved.

Opposite her twin, Nan leaned forward slightly. "You'll see, it'll be fun," she assured with a smile. "Granted, some subjects can be rather a bore, but on the whole, it's really interesting. There's so much to learn that the Glen school doesn't even begin to cover!"

Rilla smiled back, not having the heart to tell her sister that academic interest played no role at all in her decision to attend Queen's Academy.

"You're leaving again already, Rilla?" enquired Mary Vance, her odd white eye shining with curiosity. "You've only just returned from your western adventures!"

"They were hardly adventures, Mary," Rilla replied primly, crossing her fingers under the table against the lie. "I merely assisted my aunt with her household and children after her husband volunteered."

Mary inclined her head, her eyes still focused firmly on Rilla, as usual giving her the impression that she was seeing more than there was for the eye to see. "A noble cause," she acknowledged. "Yet, don't you want to support your mother now that you're back home? I know I always try my best to help Cornelia and Marshall who were so good to take me in."

Unconsciously uncrossing her fingers, Rilla balled them into fists instead. There was just something about Mary that never failed to get her riled up.

"Why is it Rilla who needs to stay though?" interjected Shirley, perfectly calm, before she had a chance to reply.

He didn't go so far as to suggest that one of the twins stayed instead, but of course the meaning wasn't lost on his older sisters. "What are you trying to say, Shirley?" asked Nan archly, just as Di shot back, "Are you volunteering?"

"No-one is interrupting their studies at this point." That was their father and as Rilla looked at him briefly, she could see the grim expression on his face. "However, I do believe it would only be right and proper for you to stay and support your mother, Rilla, especially after you were gone for so long. Surely, you won't mind postponing further studies for a year in light of these exceptional circumstances?"

There was a sharp tone to his voice, and while Rilla was sure that no-one else missed it either, only she and her mother knew what her father was really trying to say. She had already caused them enough trouble, was his unspoken reasoning, and she couldn't be trusted to leave the parental home to stay in Charlottetown on her own, lest she get herself in trouble again.

She expected his opposition, of course, though what she didn't foresee was him coming up with a good reason for her not to go so quickly. Her plan relied on her parents having to agree to her leaving to safe face, but with Mary's support, he'd found a way to scupper it too easily.

Feeling disappointment coil in her stomach, she grappled for something to say, but came up with nothing. On the other side of the table, she could see Shirley thinking as well, trying to come up with a way to help her, and felt a brief burst of gratitude for this brother she'd never been as close to as she ought to have been.

Help, alas, came from a completely unexpected direction. It was Norman Douglas's booming voice that declared, "Ah, let the poor lass go, doctor! It's always the youngest ones being kept back, and she deserves to get to know the world like her siblings did. Pretty girl like her, she'll have it at her fingertips, I'm sure."

He winked at Rilla, who, too surprised by his unexpected support, only smiled back wanly.

She didn't dare look at her father, because she had a feeling that having her prettiness pointed out to him didn't make him more inclined to leave her out from under his own watchful eye. Instead, she let her eyes roam, from a quietly encouraging Shirley to a curious Mary Vance, from the politely interested Merediths to Ellen Douglas silently chiding her husband not to interfere with nothing more but a disapproving look. In turn, he just grinned at her, completely unabashed.

"Remember that we're all here to support each other, Anne dearie," remarked Miss Cornelia in that moment, clearly not to be outdone by Norman Douglas. "We'll stick together to weather this storm here at home, and I'm sure young Shirley will look out for his sister in Charlottetown."

Shirley, quick on the uptake as usual, tipped his head in direction of the older woman. "Certainly, Mrs Elliot. I'll stick so close to her that Rilla will be right sick of me when the school year is over."

He wasn't speaking to Cornelia Elliot, of course, but to their parents, and once again, Rilla had the feeling he knew rather more than he was letting on.

With Norman Douglas and Miss Cornelia having thrown their support behind her, she realised that her position had unexpectedly been strengthened, though when she dared a look at her father, he looked no more pleased with the idea than he did before.

"I'll study very hard," she promised, hardly daring to breathe. "With the war, I'm sure that there's not much else to do in Charlottetown anyway."

What she was really doing, naturally, was pointing out that because of the war, there were hardly any young men left to show an interest in her, lowering the risk of her getting in trouble again. Not that she felt any inclination of letting any men get closer to her than three feet ever again, but she couldn't well say that out loud.

She met her father's eye, both of them seizing each other up, as the unspoken arguments passed between them. He didn't trust her, she knew, but really, couldn't he see that now she had experienced the consequences of being bad, no-one was less likely to misbehave?

Still, they were appraising each other, when once more, an unexpected voice entered the conversation and made an even more unexpected point. "The past year was trying for all of us," her mother stated carefully. "Maybe a change of scenery isn't such a bad idea."

Taken aback by her mother arguing in her favour, Rilla could but stare at her, aghast. Ironically, she had a feeling her father felt exactly the same way, thus aligning their emotions briefly for the first time in months.

"Are you quite certain, Anne?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

There was a brief pause as her mother clearly considered what to say. Finally, she settled on, "As Cornelia said, here in Glen, we can all support each other, and after her stay with Dora, I imagine Rilla will enjoy living in Charlottetown and focusing on her studies."

Still surprised by her mother's support, but not about to let the opportunity slip through her fingers, Rilla nodded quickly. "I'll study a lot and be on my best behaviour otherwise."

If their guest thought it an odd promise to make, no-one commented on it. Mary Vance did raise her eyebrows meaningfully in Rilla's direction, but the latter made sure to ignore her pointedly, instead daring a tentative smile of thanks at her mother. The matter thus settled, the conversation moved on again, circling back to discuss the attack in Egypt and its chance of success, as if something monumental hadn't suddenly taken place.

For her part, Rilla didn't know what had caused her mother to throw her support behind her plan and she never asked. She suspected that it was also her mother who further argued her case behind closed doors and thus convinced her father to give his assent, but out in the open, the matter wasn't raised again. Instead, everyone treated her attending Queen's as a done deal, especially after Shirley reported that his landlady had agreed to have Rilla board with her, and even more so once her official acceptance letter to Queen's Academy had arrived.

The rest of August was thus taken up by planning and preparation and if there was a part of Rilla that expected her parents to withhold their consent at the last moment, it never happened.

In fact, neither spoke to her about it much at all until right before Shirley and she left for Charlottetown, as they stood on the platform and waited for the train to arrive. While Shirley took his leave from Monday and her mother fussed with Rilla's hatbox, a small moment presented itself when she found herself standing alone with her father.

Instinctively, she tried to move away, but wasn't quick enough before he addressed her, quietly but plainly, "I expect you not to cause anymore trouble while you're away."

The polite response would have been to lower her eyes and promise to be good, and at first, Rilla prepared to do just that. She knew it was what her father expected her to do, yet as she prepared to conform to what she ought to have done, she felt a sudden, blazing resistance burst in her chest, spreading through her, filling her.

Instead of lowering her head, she raised it, looking straight into her father's eyes. "I made a mistake," she heard herself tell him, "but I paid the price for it."

"What…" he began, frowning, but the hot, bright feeling still filled the place in Rilla's chest where she suspected her heart to be, and it made her go on, better sense long forgotten.

"I was alone, for a whole day and night, and it hurt like nothing hurt ever before," she told him, her voice low, yet intent. "When they doctor came, they held me down as he cut me open and pulled my child out with forceps, because it was stuck and I couldn't get it out on my own. I still have nightmares just thinking about it."

There was a beat as he saw her father's eyes widen, but the feeling still blazed within her. "I made a mistake, but I paid the price for it," she repeated, almost choking on her own words. "Maybe I deserved it, I don't know, but you can be assured that it's not a price I'm prepared to ever pay again."


To Joanna:
I'm truly glad that you enjoyed the previous chapter and the story as a whole. It has certainly found its detractors, which is fine (to each their own, right?), but I can't deny that it's always heartening to get lovely reviews like yours. Thank you for taking the time to write them! It really means a lot.
We know from RoI that Rilla is neither ambitious nor academically inclined, because both Rilla and Anne tell us so. For my part, I've been wondering why that is so. She's the child of two fiercely ambitious people and from what we know, her older siblings all have ambitions in their chosen fields as well. Is Rilla just the odd one out, who is just naturally different from her family? Or did her early experiences shape her to forgo academic ambition because she felt there was no sense in pursuing them? As the youngest, she always lagged behind the others and with six children at home, I think it's easy for something like this to be overlooked a little. I wrote the scene about the dog picture to illustrate how she could have come to believe that her own achievements would always pale next to her older, seemingly cleverer siblings. I don't think there's a great scholar slumbering within her or that she will suddenly start exhibiting academic brilliance, but I think there's more potential within her that she herself believes - and I think that Shirley, great observer that he is, sense some of that potential.
Shirley is one of my favourites to write. He's a bit of a gift, of course, because we know so little about him that he can be shaped in different ways, but I also feel that his relationship with Rilla is something that has the potential to be something beautiful. I didn't connect to him initially, but some years ago, I wrote a story called 'A part of you belongs to me' (which I
still haven't gotten around to translating) that really explores the connection that he and Rilla can potentially have. Canon never gave it to them, so it's one of these things that I feel fanfic is equipped to do instead, and I've always felt it was very interesting to explore. They're not alike, but I feel they can bring out the best in each other precisely because of their differences, and when my plot allows it, it's something I really enjoy writing about.
I feel you really hit the nail on the head with regards to Anne and Rilla in chapter 16. Anne is trying to connect to Rilla, though she's not entirely sure how to proceed, whereas some part of Rilla wants to respond to that, but another part is hurt and uncertain and doesn't dare to trust anymore. They want to bridge the distance, but there's a lot of pain that can't be erased just like that, and for now, it's standing between them. There's another conversation between Anne and Rilla coming up in a few chapters though, and it'll help foster some more understanding, I think.

To Guest:
Yes, Rilla did indeed decide to follow Shirley's suggestion and attend Queen's! At this point, she isn't much interested in the academic aspect or in getting a teacher's license, but instead is just trying to leave the awkward atmosphere at home, but within time, she will see the other benefits that Queen's has to offer, too. It'll end up quite a very important step in her life's path, even if she doesn't yet know it.

To DogMonday:
Spending so much of his childhood under Susan's tutelage, I figured there was no way Shirley
wasn't at least decently competent at most types of housework! There's a good chance he's better than Rilla at most of it, since she never showed much interested in learning prior to the war, whereas I imagine Shirley considered it useful stuff to know. Much easier and quicker to darn your own socks or throw together a quick meal than having to rely on others to do it! Of course, in addition to being handy with needle and thread, he also shows a lot of insight into Rilla's situation here. I imagine that because Shirley was a quiet child and spent so much time with Susan, Rilla didn't consider him as someone who could be a confidant or a support, but being a good observer, Shirley himself learned a lot more about his family members than they gave him credit for. I don't think he's someone who feels comfortable muscling in with unasked for advice, but I do think he's seeing Rilla's discomfort (and does, probably, understand more than he's saying) and realised until he suggested to her that there are different paths she can take except for the obvious one, no-one would. Going to Queen's isn't really an out-of-the-box option either (even Shirley can't be super creative on top of everything else!), but it offers her different opportunities she wouldn't have if she just stayed at home. In a way, just leaving Ingleside and moving to Charlottetown is a first step to broaden Rilla's world and from there on, who knows where her path will take her?
Yes, you have the timeline right. Rilla was well into her second trimester when her pregnancy was discovered, and she returned home fairly quickly after the end of her confinement, so overall, she spent less than half a year with Dora. The previous chapter took place in July 1916, whereas this chapter covers August and bridged the gap to the beginning of September.
As promised, we have now seen the first one-on-one exchange between Rilla and Gilbert. It's not, I'm afraid, a gentle and understanding scene, but it is perhaps the most honest Rilla has been to another person (and herself) since this story began. Sometimes, anger helps us say things we couldn't otherwise express, and I felt that was very true in this particular moment. I'm certainly looking forward to hearing your thoughts on it though, as I always am! =)