Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one
Who staggers forth into the air and sun
From the dark chamber of a mortal fever,
Bewildered, and incapable, and ever
Fancying strange comments in her dizzy brain
Of usual shapes, till the familiar train
Of objects and of persons passed like things
Strange as a dreamer's mad imaginings.
Shelley – Ginevra.
Anne looked in dismay at the rooms in Temple Street. They were hideous, with worn and stained lace on the window coverings, and violently aniline rose wallpaper, and lumpy, shadowy furniture of eternal mahogany. This was no place to spend holidays, it was even worse than Hopewood had been, there were persistent grayness in her memories of that place. Anne remembered what Rebecca Drew had told that Katherine Brooke had said, a year or so ago, in her most sarcastic manner, "If there's anything I hate, it's the word Christmas! Even more than leftover turkeys, which are charity, for poor dowdy spinsters, so please no, Miss Drew.'" Katherine Brooke had been more challenging than usual lately, although she was doing first-class efforts in her teaching, as always. Anne could not fault her for that.
Anne had seen Sophy Sinclaire wiping her tears by the coat-racks, the sweetly modest Sophy who had appeared the year before so brilliantly as Mary Stuart in the Drama Club's Yule performance. With a trembling voice, Sophy had admitted that she had requested elocution lessons from Miss Brooke, and the lesson had been exhilarating, but extremely demanding, as they ever were. Sophy had raised her brilliant hazel eyes to Anne's face and said gravely, "Miss Brooke has said that I might have the substance if I could put on the work, to climb the thorny path of acting. Do you know, Principle Shirley, that Miss Brooke is also musical, she has a divine alto." And seeing Anne's disbelieving expression, Sophy had laughed a little, and said, "I wouldn't have believed it myself, if I hadn't once happened to be in the same service with her."
And because of Sophy's shining face, Anne had stubbornly decided to try again - despite the fact that all her previous friendly overtures over this autum term had been coldly, even violently rebuffed with cutting sarcasm.
Creaking footsteps of the landlady´s were heard from the worn stairs and that woman exclaimed in a confused voice, "I wouldn't have thought Principal Shirley that Miss Brooke would receive you. Namely, when she usually starts sulk, nothing stops her, and we had words earlier. She is so high and mighty in her airs, that it sets my teeth on edge. She asked for a dog. Regal as a queen she was, but with a such airs, so naturally I decalined her. I will not offer my rooms for a dog. Messy creatures they are, always. Although Miz Brooke had promised to arrange it. I have never had one antisocial tenant before. Almost no one ever visits her. I think you are the first, in these years when she has been living here. But maybe she is human after all, if she loves animals. Well, I don't usually go back on my words, but you can let her know she can get a dog if it stays off my grandma's furniture."
Anne smiled at with wide grey greenish shining eyes, and said sincerely, "Oh, thank you!"
Busy, second- or thrid-rate boardinghouse landlady shrugged her fat shoulders, and going into the kitchen, to stir her casserole of the week, - turips, and left-over meat - muttered to herself, "Strange, they both are queer´uns. What is this world going to if Summerside teachers are full of people like that, but there is something special about that red-haired principal, as she with one during the conversation turned my head. Dog, pfft!"
Anne carefully climbed the extremely dreary staircase. It was like a bottomless pit of hopelessness, and the linoleum had completely peeled away in places. The little back hall-bedroom where Anne presently found herself was even more cheerless than the parlor. It was lighted by one glaring unshaded gas jet. There was an iron bed with a valley in the middle of it and a narrow, sparsely draped window looking out on a backyard garden where a large crop of tin cans flourished. But beyond it was a marvelous sky and a row of lombardies standing out against long, purple, distant hills.
"Oh, Miss Brooke, look at that sunset," said Anne rapturously from the squeaky, cushionless rocker to which Katherine had ungraciously pointed her. "I've seen a good many sunsets," said the latter coldly, without moving. Katherine glanced wryly at the straight-backed, elegantly dressed woman sitting in the other chair, who was waxing lyrical about sunsets and their special quality. There was a faint scent of lily perfume in that dim room, and that scent brought tears to Katherine's eyes, which she covered, if barely, as she said, Don't be ridiculous, please."
Anne turned from her sunset and looked at Katherine. "I came to ask if you would spend the Christmas holidays with me at Green Gables." But there was silence for a moment. Then Katherine said slowly, "Why do you ask me? It isn't because you like me...even you couldn't pretend that." "It's because I can't bear to think of any human being spending Christmas in a place like this," said Anne candidly. The sarcasm came then. "Oh, I see. A seasonable outburst of charity. I'm hardly a candidate for that yet, Miss Shirley." Anne got up, with a flounce. She was out of patience with this strange, aloof creature. She walked across the room and looked Katherine squarely in the eye, as she declared in a modicum of flashing, fiery temper in her serene tone, "Katherine Brooke, whether you know it or not, what you want is a good spanking." They gazed at each other for a moment. Gray-green eyes met amber or pale sherry colored eyes that were slightly slanted at the corners.
The silence seemed to hum, and then, to Anne's surprise, a small smile appeared on Katherine's face, as she said, "Reactional punishment, huh? I know you don't hold into it. I might have tested your patience quite a bit, then, if you abandon your pricinples for me. " I didn't ask you to Green Gables out of charity. Nobody ought to spend Christmas here...the very idea is indecent, " In Anne´s voice there was compassioned tone. "What would you say if I accepted...to yourself, not to me?" Katherine remarked, in faint tone.
"I'd say you were showing the first faint glimmer of common sense I'd ever detected in you," retorted Anne with flashing eyes.
Katherine laughed, it was a laugh that was smootly dark. She walked across to the window, scowled at the fiery streak which was all that was left of the scorned sunset and then turned. " I'll go. Now you can go through the motions of telling me you're delighted, with your usual flair of fairy."
"I am delighted. But I don't know if you'll have a jolly time or not. That will depend a good deal on yourself, Miss Brooke."
"Oh, I'll behave myself decently. You won't find me a very exhilarating guest, I suppose, but I promise you I won't eat with my knife or insult people when they tell me it's a fine day, even if paths would be muddy. I tell you frankly that the only reason I'm going is because even I can't stick the thought of spending the holidays here alone. I'm a rotten cook, I´ll ruin even the best of puddings, truly. But will you give me your word of honor that you won't wish me a merry Christmas? I just don't want to be merry at Christmas."
"I won't. But I can't answer for the twins." Anne said in her impish way. Katherine by the window, glanced out as she said in reflective musing manner, that had thawed quit a bit. " I see that there's a very fine moon in place of your sunset. If you like, I'll walk home with you and help you to admire it if you like."
"I do like," said Anne.
And that brisk walk through the side streets of Summerside on a frosty night was the first of the walks they would come to take, together, though they didn't know it yet.
Anne glanced at Katherine's dark, slightly haggard figure from under her hat, and made plans for the upcoming two weeks. And Katherine, felt that for the first time there was light in the world, in her world, which for so long had been nothing but demands, duties, and nameless aversion to the courtesies of men.
Anne's bright laughter echoed down the alley of Spooks Lane, and the frost had raised the roses to her cheeks, and in the moonlit twilight Katherine looked in Anne's direction for a long, half-careful way.
Afterwards, in the solitude of her rented room, Katherine took out her account book and carefully checked the sums in it, and opened the worn wardrobe, and looking at the clothes hanging on the hangers, with one finger she touched the fabric of a dark green taffeta dress, - that dress was the only "society" dress she had , even though it was years out of fashion. In the desk drawer was a yellowed, worn novel, and two cards, a print of the Taj Mahal in the moonlight, the other a folded card, a dog, a reddish setter. The moon cast enchanting shadows on the snow, and the tops of the Lombards glittered as if in dipped silver.
In her own room, at Spooks Lane, Anne looked contentedly and happily at Gilbert's photograph, as she wrote about the evening's adventure to her beloved. Curcilued writing filled the cream-colored sheets, and the hot water bottles brought by Rebecca Drew sweetly warmed her toes. And suddenly, Anne's pen stopped in the middle of a sentence, because she suddenly had a brilliant idea, as she remembered what Davy´s latest letter had told her.
A merry fire crackled in the fireplace at Green Gables, as Marilla Cuthbert remarked to Rachel Lynde, "Anne brings a guest here for Christmas, a certain Miss Brooke. She is her vice principal, apparently, and an excellent teacher at the school, but her boarding house is really dreadful, so Anne wants to show her "The sparkling Magic of Christmas at Green Gables," or so she said in her voluble letter." Rachel Lynde was sewing her patchwork quilt, and looking up curiously she said, " Well, Anne if anyone can work wonders, she always has plenty to say. It's nice to have a little more life in the house at Christmas, although Davy still produces the greater part from the noise. Admittedly, lately he has gotten so efficent, those twins are turning into young adults, almost overnight, he wants to be a farmer. There are far fewer questions, but he is always so impish, he can pester Mr. Harrison with them, not us. Dora is blooming, but there is still no salt to her. One of the Andrews boys was lookng at your pew, did you notice Marilla? There will be wedding bells at Green Gables soon enough, I say! The question is wheather Dora will get married before Anne, or not. "
The weeks seemed to fly by, after the letter arrived, full of hustle and bustle, and waiting for Advent.
Perking her ears, Marilla heard from the yard, Davy's solid steps and the familiar, so dear, sonorous voice that seemed to speak in a lively silvery way.
Anne had arrived.
The kitchen door creaked open, and Anne's red, shiny head peeked out from under her elegant hat. And with trembling hands, while Rachel watched kindly, Marilla closed Anne in her arms.
Davy, helped the dark coat over the woman with long dark hair and dark eyes, a small twitch in the woman's mouth spoke to Marilla and over Anne's head she met Miss Brooke's challenging, but slightly broken look. And during that exchange of glances, Marilla felt her heart open to this stranger, and she said briefly but emphatically, "Miss Brooke, welcome to Green Gables."
Rachel's red lamp shone on the corner of the kitchen table as the girls ate their dinner willingly. Marilla saw how cautiously and almost wonderingly Katherine Brooke's dark sherry-colored eyes watched everything as Rachel and Davy shared the Avonlea news. Rachel's new patchwork was spread out to admire, and Katherine Brooke studied with interest a few scanty photographs, on the mantle. Matthew looked steadily from one of the frames, and seeing Katherine's gaze, Marilla said briefly, "My brother, he was extremely important to Anne."
Anne, with light fingers she touched the photo, and pressed a light kiss to it, as she gently remarked, "Blessed Matthew, he always knew how to say the right things, we were kindred spirits from the first moment, and for some it takes a little more time."
I've always found it hard to resist the lure of a Moonlight night," said Anne after supper. "How about a snow-shoe tramp, Miss Brooke? I think that I've heard that you snowshoe." "Yes...it's the only thing I can do...but I haven't done it for six years," said Katherine with a shrug. Anne rooted out her snow-shoes from the Garret and Davy shot over to Orchard Slope to borrow an old pair of Diana's.
They went through Lover's Lane, full of lovely tree shadows, and across fields where little fir trees fringed the fences and through woods which were full of secrets they seemed always on the point of whispering to you but never did...and through open glades that were like pools of silver. They didn't talk or want to talk. It was as if they were afraid to talk for fear of spoiling something beautiful.
Anne listened with trembling in her soul to Katherine's impassioned outburst, as she leaned against the snowy mossy rock fence. It was almost as if years of silent bitterness had taken verbal form, as Katherine described her inner feelings, her lonely, lothesome little life, her brooding, sarcastic airs, which revealed a somewhat crooked nature, which nonetheless had genuine substance.
Katherine breathlessly remarked, "I have often wondered what you must think of me, and yet I suppose I shall never know, for even if you did tell, and seemed sincere, I would still be suspicious. But it is well that I know your background, now, but you are still the favorite of fortune." and the fairies smiled in your cradle, because it's about your attitude, that delicious surprise you felt alive in. I'll even practice a sunny smile for that Gilbert of yours when he arrives tomorrow night. Of course I've forgotten how to talk to young men. ..if I ever knew. He'll just think me an old-maid gooseberry. I wonder if, when I go to bed tonight, I'll feel furious with myself for pulling off my mask and letting you see into my shivering soul like this." Anne, only laughed in her glimmering way, as she twined her arms with Katherine´s as she had done with Diana, years before.
In the living room at Green Gables, Anne noticed that the cold air, and sport had brought a bright, glowing color to Katherine's face, and with astonishment, Anne remarked to herself that with an little effort Katherine could be handsome, not pretty, goosey-golden as had been poor late vivacious Ruby. There was something spanish in Katherine´s looks. She was not as devastatingly lush as Diana, with her dark eyes, curls and crimson and roses colored cheeks, but Katherine was pleasing to look at.
In east Gable room, slowly Anne's soft arms wrapped around Katherine as she said cheerfully into her ear, "I think you would look divine in burgundy, or in crushed reddish velvet, as you are so stately."
That night, that first night, between the soft scented quilts, and pillows, waterbottles, listening to Anne's breathing, Katherine did not sleep, for something in her being was slowly breaking, and a little stream of happiness began to flow slowly, in her heart. And the next morning, with a brilliant crimson dawn looming in the sky, and Anne's sleepy greeting with a kiss throbbing on her cheek, Katherine found herself looking forward to a new day. A sharp thorn pierced her heart when, after a merry Christmas-tree hunt, Katherine saw Anne fly into the arms of a tall dark handsome man, her skirts fluttering. Katherine smiled Gilbert Blythe, only half-sarcastically.
Slowly, the secrets of Green Gables opened up, as Davy was an expert guide, and there was more than a hint of a rebel inside that fair young man, who had impish gleam in his brown eyes, questions, on all possible subjects, even religion. Katherine enjoyed and argued, in the shadowy cellar, as they sat on sacks and munched apples, as snow fell on the roof in gentle stream.
The time after Christmas was like sanctified by angels, only light, laughter and companionship, with exellent cooking. Katherine's puppy slept in his basket, and often he shuffled across the carpets of Green Gables with unsteady steps. Plum pudding and spices smelled, Dora baked under the guidance of Rachel Lynde. Anne and Katherine went for long rambling walks through Lover's Lane and the Haunted Wood, where the very silence seemed friendly, over hills where the light snow whirled in a winter dance of goblins, through old orchards full of violet shadows, through the glory of sunset woods, all crimson and golden honey-tinted slpendour. There were no birds to chirp or sing, no brooks to gurgle, no squirrels to gossip. Wind made occasional music that had in quality what it lacked in quantity, sweeping symphonies of trees and snow.
And then, in one bright golden moment, Anne and Katherine looked at Echo Lodge - the echoes were there, as always, hauntingly glimmering a promise of something to come. That little stone cottage was like a sweet secret, and before the cottage disappeared around a bend in the road, Katherine glanced at it once more, there were a slight wistfulness in her eyes and at that moment yearning was born in her heart.
Diana Wright looked over little Anne Cordelia's head to the doorway, where stood a dark-haired woman, who looked a little helplessly in Anne's direction, as Anne, as was her custom, sat on the window seat, and quoted Tennyson. And pulling her shawl over her shoulders, Diana recognized that same look that was in the dark woman's eyes, as Anne's voice caressed Tennyson's verses.
"I have led her home, my love, my only friend.
There is none like her, none.
And never yet so warmly ran my blood
And sweetly, on and on
Calm'd thro' the springs of belonging,
And holy and heavenly love. "
Little later, as Anne had pressed a soft kiss to Anne-Cordelia's forehead, and said softly, "Welcome to the world! Babies always have endless possibilities, don't they, Katherine?" With a graceful movement, Anne handed the baby to Katherine, and Diana's hands clenched into fists under the shawl, but Anne's gray-green eyes sparkled, full of confidence, and momentarily, Diana's fear faded. Katherine handled the baby as if it were falling apart, stiff and unaccustomed, but then Anne Cordelia smiled, and Diana noticed how Katherine's face softened a little.
About an hour later, when Fred's pipe smoke had been ventilated from the living room, and Diana looked around, Fred's ruddy, solid features, and her model-worthy living room, Diana thought for the thousandth time that she had made the right choice after all. Anne had climbed the ladder of knowledge, as high as ever, and she had got Gilbert, for he too was chasing his dreams, and would soon reach them. Doctor was an honorable position. Diana still had this, the miracle of motherhood, twice over, yet, but still something unspeakable in Katherine Brooke's gaze had pierced Diana's soul, and restless, Diana, looked from the windows of Orchad Slope towards Green Gables, but the window of Anne's room was dark.
Under the shining stars, Gilbert closed Anne in his arms as he whispered, "My queen, at last we are alone, in nature, as it should be. Miss Brooke seems interesting, but she is too severe, but I prefer to have you all to myself. Whenever she is in the same room with you , I sense she might be honing in on some sharp remark." Anne smothered her smile on Gilbert's collar, and with her fingers softly touched Gilbert's moustache, and said in a gayly rebuking way, "Can you shave them off before to-morrow, though they are the fashion?" At that remark, Gilbert kissed Anne with such fervor that Anne felt all her toes curl. And her arms wrapped around Gilbert's neck and shoulders tightly, fiercely. Finally with a ragged exhale, Gilbert muttered, "I'd take you right now, against that fence, and I would if I wasn't a Blythe, and we have plans, my love, we can wait, for a time still."
Katherine noticed that Anne's face was blushing more than usual as she entered the foyer of Green Gables. Venerable Miss Cuthbert, at once handed Anne a warm tea-cup, with rosebuds, gilt rims, as she said, somewhat mockingly, " Have you Anne already pestered Miss Brooke to appear at our concert, and you will certainly go to Abner Sloane's party too. Miss Brooke, Katherine, I must apologize in advance, because Sloanes will always be Sloanes, pay no mind to them."
Rachel Lynde, noted "Last year a cat had walked on the frosting on their Christmas cake, the same morning as the party, and yet that cake had been served." Katherine smiled openly at Marilla, and Anne nodded in satisfaction, for that smile completely transformed Katherine's sculpted stern features.
Anne remembered what Katherine had told her a couple of days earlier, when she had finally wrangled Katherine to attend, both events. "I think I might like parties, if only they were the right kind, and dancing too, with a right kind of partner. I can dance, even well, although hardly anyone would believe that, after all, my Uncle Henry took care of that."
And that evening, - the concert-evening, at Anne's dressing table, Anne glanced at Katherine with a flash of temper in her mien as she said coaxingly, " My Katherine, you really should never wear green, but red, but I'll add to your dress that new collar I made, that will look glamorous. Can I do your hair, in a more becoming way?"
Katherine shrugged, in a listless way, and answered. "Well, maybe I'm your doll tonight, but don't make a habit of it. It feels strange that someone cares." As Anne's slender fingers combed, braided, and coiled, Katherine's dark hair, a slight shiver went through Katherine, and twenty minutes later, as she looked in the mirror she was forced to say that Anne's words had been true, the clothes and the new hairstyle really made the difference.
And a little later, standing on the stage of the Avonlea hall, Katherine felt that the audience was strongly present in her performance, from the first moment, and Katherine performed darkly, triumphantly, fatally. And that party, never before had Katherine's dance cards been so full, and among the best-dressed locals, despite her free laughter, Katherine was always keenly aware that a slender dryad-like creature in a greenish-gray dress danced on the dance floor.
Laughter and singing, and sleigh bells in the snowy yard, a short dark-haired woman, who seemed somewhat displeased and tightly held the hand of a slender blond man in hers, remarked to Anne, "Anne, have you replaced Diana with that other dark-haired woman, I remember how in love you were with Stella Maynard, at our Queens years, you called her with some plant-like nickname, did you not. She too was darkhaired. Well, pride goes before a fall. You would have just stayed a teacher, there's no need for principals in Avonlea, but your hair is as red as before. You're still the way you are, with your Summerside airs, well luckily Gilbert can wait, he's so ambitious too, the Blythes are always so remarkable in their own way." There was a hint of coldness in Annes mien, as she replied, " Josie, you haven't changed at all."
Out of breath and laughing, sneaking up the steps of Green Gables, Katherine felt Anne slip her hand into hers and squeeze tightly.
And a little later, as the solid, stout, shadow of Rachel Lynde had disappeared from the threshold, and the blanket was folded at the foot of the bed, Anne glanced thoughtfully at Katherine, who was looking dreamily out of the window, her hair was soft, and dark.
Anne crept across the cold floor across, and wrapped her arms around Katherine's shoulders, just as she had done for Diana, before Queens. But unlike Diana, Katherine didn't melt into that embrace, and no small caresses rained down, instead, Katherine stiffened, and looked brightly into Anne's eyes, a slight challenge seemed to glow in the air, and with difficulty Anne lowered her gaze, as she suddenly remembered what she had a couple of weeks before in a fit of temper remarked to Katherine, in Summerside. The eco of those words and Katherine´s response seemed to hum in her mind, like a revolving door.
Those cuttingly sarcastic words that Anne expected with baited breath did not come. Katherine, looked at Anne long, lingeringly, appraisingly, and under that dark gaze Anne felt herself completely naked, and exposed.
A small smile lit up in Katherine's eyes, as she nodded to herself, and said briefly, a little bluntly, "Will you come?"
In the silence of a room, Marilla, on the border between sleep and wakefulness, heard Anne's bright suppressed laughter from upstairs.
And the next morning, Marilla was not at all surprised how bright-eyed and happy Anne was at the breakfast table, as she teased Davy and Katherine, at the same time, with Davy holding own against arguments of both older lasses.
Marilla could hear Katherine humming under her breath the old hymn, "It came upon the Midnight clear."
Rachel Lynde, glanced over the marmalade jar at Marilla, the look was fond and loving one, and quietly Marilla nodded back, while automatically answering Dora's question about the breakfast dishes.
A/N: Tennyson's quote is from Maude. I wish everyone the happiest of Christmas Season.