"And another thing." Rachel propped herself up on one elbow and jabbed Thomas in the side to press her point home. "They're always making jokes at my expense. I am her mother, Thomas. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Wincing, Thomas redirected his wife's digit, but he only said a noncommittal, "mm."

"Mm? Is that all you have to say? Mm! Marilla has stolen our baby, that's what!"

"Hardly stolen, my dear," Thomas said soothingly. "She was returned, safe and sound."

"But not in the same state, Thomas. She's changed."

"She's grown, I'll give you that. I suppose travel does change a body. She's experienced things we can hardly imagine."

"Hmph," Rachel flopped back onto the mattress. "I don't like it. I'll say it once and say it again. I don't like it. I want my little girl back. She's too sassy."

"Now, now, she's getting more mature is all. Mari…"

"And there's another thing, Mari. What's wrong with Marilla as a name. Mari," Rachel said sneering. "What sort of a name is Mari?"

"Actually, I quite like it," said Thomas ever the appeaser.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Yours my darling always yours. Now roll over," Thomas gently pushed her over the better to spoon her back. Later basking in her warmth he added, "don't worry about it so much. She'll soon settle down."

Though Rachel received little validation from Thomas her resentment towards Marilla grew. She had given little thought to the ramifications of letting young Marilla head off to sea that blowy morning. It had dawned upon her when she watched the boat row away and it grew over the next months as the gap she left behind was far from filled by Anne.

Not only did Matthew insist upon sending her to school but Anne was an idler, inclined to burn the stew or leave the pie too long in the oven as she got lost in her dreams. Really, Rachel thought, at her age she should be reliable enough but time and again Rachel was disappointed. She didn't even want to think about the dratted monkey. Tiny it might have been, but it caused enough mischief for a boy four times his size. Why just the other day he'd been caught cavorting on the schoolhouse roof giving the children a scandalous anatomy lesson. Varied and embarrassing had been the questions over the dinner table that evening.

Time and again now, Mari and Marilla shared stories and smirked over coarse asides making Rachel feel left out and unworldly. There had been a scandalous incident in Melbourne apparently. Rachel thanked her lucky stars there was no one she knew in that part of the world, for surely that was not how ladies should comport themselves. Naked indeed, she shuddered to think about it. There was only one person who had seen Rachel unclothed in the last fifty years, barring her babies she supposed though they hardly counted. And that Marilla had taken Mari to such a den of iniquity said much about her character and none of it good. Something had happened in North Africa, but they would only allude to it with shudders and Rachel hardly dared imagine what it might have been. Similarly, they had encountered wild animals in South Africa on what sounded like a foolhardy expedition; surely horses were poor defence against wild lions.

Then there were the intricacies of shipboard life which sounded far from civilised. Really, thought Rachel settling down with a cup of tea in a rare quiet moment, it was a wonder her girl came back to her in any form. Still, it was aggravating, that's what. At no point did she think she'd given Marilla leave to alter her daughter thusly.

One day Mari mentioned a wedding they'd been invited to in Ceylon of all places which involved elephants and dancing in unnatural garments. Rachel had to sit down and gather her breath when that story came out. She felt no better when Mari told the whole family about the tiger that invaded the Singaporean hotel. Obviously, she hadn't seen it herself, or at least not alive, but the thought that her girl was in these dangerous parts where such things were possible was bad enough. "I am never letting you out of my sight again, darling," Rachel said firmly and scowled at Mari when she rolled her eyes.

For his part Thomas rather admired his girl. She had grown, was more assertive and interesting. He'd never say it out loud and in fact had never really stopped to think on it, but she wasn't the most fascinating girl before she left but he thrilled to hear her stories now. That she had survived all these adventures and met so many different people along the way, experiences Avonlea could never have supplied. Well there was no two ways about it, Thomas was proud of his girl. Still, he knew he had to go gently when it came to expressing his thoughts to Rachel. He was sure she'd settle down before long, but their relationship was a little fraught at present.

A chill wind blew as arm in arm Anne and Mari exited the church, just happy to be together. Church was more of a social occasion for the two girls at this stage of their life. They went because Marilla and Rachel made them go but it was more about having an opportunity to catch up than religious instruction. Wrapping their shawls tightly around their shoulders the two set forth into the gloom. The minister had first preached in Carmody and had come to Avonlea later in the day, so everyone was rushing home to their warm houses to get the dinner on.

Heads bowed against the wind they nearly didn't see her, but out of the corner of her eye Anne noticed a mound of clothing by the side of the path. At first, she paid it no mind but on second glance she realised it had form. Tugging Mari's arm, she steered them towards it and when they both peered down, they realised with a shock that was an old woman. She was dressed most outlandishly with bare legs poking out from a frayed skirt. Dark brown wrinkled skin lined her cheeks, and her hair was almost completely white. Anne knelt down next to her and took her cold hand in her own. "I think she's still alive," Anne gasped. "But she won't be for long if we leave her here."

"Gilbert," Mari called towards the boy's disappearing back. "Gilbert come here." But the wind was against her and he didn't hear. "Stay here," she said and ran off after him.

"Where shall we take her?" Gilbert asked looking down at the wizened woman.

"Better bring her to our place, it's closer," suggested Mari. "We need to get her into a warm bed."

She may have been tiny, but they soon realised it was hard to pick up a completely unconscious person. In the end, they found they had to carry her together with Gilbert at her head and the girls with a leg apiece. Together they made their way as quickly as possible through the rising weather to Lynde Hollow. Rachel and Thomas had arrived before them and Rachel was chivvying the younger children into helping out with the dinner and inwardly wondering where Mari had gotten to. "Finally," she said but the rest of her sentence died on her lips when she took in the group before her. "What is that?" she asked pointing.

"We found her on the side of the track, Ma," Mari explained. "We had to bring her here. She's still alive, but I don't think she'll survive much longer if we leave her out there. Come on, we'll put her…"

"Stop!" commanded Rachel. "Stop right there. That savage is not coming into this house."

Gilbert stopped mid-step and hitched the woman up before she fell out of his arms. It was not that she was heavy, but she was awkward.

"Savage, Ma?" said Mari. "She's an old woman and she's unwell, far from savage."

"I won't have heathens in this house," replied Rachel adamantly.

"Ma," said Mari. "Please let us in. It's freezing out here."

Grumbling Rachel stood aside and watched while they carried the unconscious woman through to the guest bedroom. The same room, Rachel thought absentmindedly that Marilla stayed in when she was unwell. It was made up as it always was, but Rachel thought uncharitably that she would probably need to burn the sheets when the old lady was well enough to go home. Mari interrupted her thoughts when she asked, "Ma can you pull back the blankets?" They laid the old woman gently in the bed and straightened her limbs before they covered her skin dark against the alabaster white of the sheets. Mari glanced at Gilbert and thanked him. Anne asked him to tell Marilla that she'd be staying with Mari. Gilbert muttered that it was his pleasure and left them to it, he had chores at home.

"Ma do you think you could bring me some warm water. I think we should at least try to give her a bath," Mari said.

Anne added, "and get her into a warm nightgown, don't you think?" The girls bustled around with warm water and clothes while Rachel looked on disapprovingly but did little more, so the girls had to continually walk around her while she stood still with crossed arms. Finally, Mari fetched a chair and pushed her mother to sit down if only to get her out of the way. Rachel got to her feet to shoo the younger children out of the doorway when they curiously crowded in, "no you don't. It's not safe. Off, you go." Grumbling they obeyed.

The old woman was very thin. Looking at her cut and bruised feet that she had not worn shoes for some time. Once they washed her it became apparent that she was not as dark as they first thought. Rachel tutted when the water in the bowl turned black but went and replaced it anyway. Anne spent some time trying to brush the twigs and leaves out of the lady's hair. They were grateful that she slumbered through the process. When they were finished, she lay in the bed her chest barely rising.

"At least she's warm now," Anne whispered to Mari. "I wonder what happened to her?" She had been so caught up in the rescue she had barely had time to think. "She'll be Mi'maq I'm sure but why was she alone?" She looked curiously at Rachel who snorted when she said Mi'maq. "Did I say something wrong Mrs Lynde?"

"She's just a dirty Indian that's all. She can stay until she wakes then she must leave. I won't have a savage heathen in my house."

"She's hardly dirty, we just took care of that Ma," replied Mari.

"Humph," Rachel recrossed her arms. "Regardless, once she's awake she must go."

"Go where? The weather's deteriorating, we can't let her leave on her own again. I think we had better send someone to find her people," Mari said.

"They probably deserted her," Rachel said. "Dirty savages, they don't care for their weak, or so I heard. They probably left her to die."

"We don't know that." replied Mari indignantly.

"Perhaps we should send Matthew," said Anne responding to Mari's suggestion. "I could draw a picture of her, so they know what he's there for. I doubt anyone will speak English."

"That's not a bad idea, we don't want him to appear threatening," Mari said. Anne smiled, Matthew was the least threatening person she knew.

The girls took turns watching the old lady accompanied always by Rachel who stayed out of a sense of mistrust rather than charity. During the night, after Anne had fallen asleep slumped in her chair, Mari glanced across to see her mother still staring towards the bed her eyes just visible in the candlelight and started speaking softly, "the kindest man I ever met was our cook Isaiah."

"Isaiah? That's a sturdy name, biblical," said Rachel.

"Yes, he's West Indian."

Rachel started, jolted out her comfort zone, "West Indian?" she said with a shudder.

"Yes Ma, I was so scared of him at first, I regret to say I was quite rude, but he showed me such tenderness. He had an effective seasickness remedy which was very helpful."

"Well, that's good I guess," said mother reluctantly.

"We became good friends, Ma. After we left Cape Town, I was pleased to be able to help him. He'd met a nice woman and was ashamed that he was illiterate and couldn't write her as he'd promised. Instead, I told him to try his hand at painting and after that we found him sketching most afternoons. I can only imagine what a magnificent parcel this woman received. Anyway, he was very interesting and courteous. He was a real friend to me despite my initial misgivings."

"Why are you telling me now?" her mother asked.

Mari looked towards the bed at the slumbering woman, "sometimes friendship can be found in the least likely of places."

When sunlight suffused the room in the morning the Mi'maq woman roused. Anne watched curiously as her eyes opened a couple of times and took in her surroundings. She jerked fully awake and looked at Anne fearfully. "'Sh, sh," murmured Anne soothingly she hoped. "Stay here," she added putting her hand out palm forward.

"She's awake," Anne announced as she walked into the kitchen. "May I have a bowl of broth?"

Rachel followed Anne back into the room and sat down on her chair to keep watch. Anne offered her a spoonful of the soup and then another when the woman swallowed the first; and smiled back at her when she smiled in appreciation. When she had eaten her fill Anne offered her a mouthful of water then patting her chest Anne said, "Anne. You?" but the woman was silent.

Matthew, Thomas and Gilbert were despatched to find the woman's family. They were not too far away as it happened, a fact the men decided not to divulge to the women. Still it took a while to locate them so well hidden were they. Riding into camp was a moment Gilbert never forgot, small groups of people hunched over a selection of fires. The atmosphere was not aggressive yet all activity ceased upon their appearance. He could feel all eyes upon them as they rode through the silent crowd to their leader. A strong man in his prime wearing a warm bear skin coat looked up at Matthew but did not hold out his hand when Matthew tried to hand him a slip of paper. Eventually his eyes flickered down to it and immediately the atmosphere changed as he saw the picture of the old woman lying in the bed. "You come with us," Matthew said slowly with hand gestures. The man followed them home accompanied by several of his relatives.

The distinctive sound of stomping bare feet on the doorstep informed them that her people had arrived. More savages than Rachel could bear streamed into her hallway and crowded into the bedroom. Long dark hair cascaded down their naked chests. The woman's face lit up. It was all over in a flash the men picked the old lady up and carried her out, disappearing into the forest at the edge of the property as if they were ghosts.

"I hear you had a visitor," said Marilla the next week when she came by for tea. She placed an unfamiliar basket on the table, "found this on the doorstep."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "yes," she said with pursed lips. "Didn't have much of a choice in it, though I'd hardly call her a visitor." She examined the basket closely.

"Well, you tended to her at least."

"It was Mari mostly, I kept well out of it," she took a sip of tea and set her cup down with a distinctive rattle.

"What's the matter? You took me in without question. Why was this poor old woman such a struggle for you?"

"That was different," Rachel said.

"How so? I expect I was even more demanding. I mean I nearly died in your guest bedroom and you had all the children not least Susanna to care for." Marilla glanced over to where the two little girls were banging blocks together. Rachel's Lexie was slightly older, but they got on pretty well.

"Well, that was you, this is another situation altogether. She was a heathen."

Marilla frowned at her, "so you're saying that you can only show charity to Christians, not savages?" Rachel sniffed as she looked steadily at Marilla, but she did not reply. "What does the Bible say? Love thy neighbour. Does it say the neighbour must be Christian or white?"

Rachel was silent but listening. Then thinking of another argument she started up again, "you hear such awful things about them. Just last week I heard about a massacre in the States. The whole family were murdered in their beds Marilla and scalped. Scalped as they lay sleeping," she shuddered. "Just awful."

"From the look of that," Marilla replied pointing at the intricately woven basket. "I'd say you'll be safer than most of us. Seems like you've made yourself some Mi'maq friends whether you like it or not."

A/N I know Rachel's attitude is terrible, but the Europeans really were fearful of indigenous people and the newspapers would have been full of lurid tales of red Indians scalping settlers on the American frontier.