Hello there! Belated Happy New Year!
Oh, goodness! Remember when this was a Christmas story, perhaps only edging the new year? That will still be the case, but unfortunately not posted in real time anymore. I hope you are still willing to follow on regardless, and apologies for my delay in updating. I am trusting everyone is still in those hazy times of wondering what day it is and therefore will forgive my seasonal slip-up!
Thank you to those who responded so kindly to the first chapter. I am always delighted to hear from you (and will be especially delighted if the guest whose request prompted this story can wave me hello!)
With very best wishes for 2024
MrsVonTrapp x
Chapter Two
Signs and Wonders
'All good things are difficult to achieve, and bad things are very easy to get.'
- Confucius
Beth Blythe hadn't meant to discover the small, sweet little token amongst Gilbert's things, almost winking at her in its festive finery, bedecked in Christmas green and red. She had spent the three days since her beloved son's return laundering the entire contents of his trunk, with special attention given to his winter woolens, placing them all about the fire so that the steam rising as they dried was clearly visible, a musky mist clouding their air, and the men had needed to duck in certain sections of the room lest they be caught in the crisscrossing lines of string, like a loving, slightly dangerous spider's web. At last having completed her labours she had felt able to relax and enjoy Gilbert's visit, after his lamented absence again for most of the summer, excepting a brief sojourn around the time of Fred and Diana Wright's wedding.
But there it was, as she placed his clean vests and his spare set of pajamas in the chest of drawers, usually crammed full with all matter of memorabilia, for Gilbert had a soft underbelly of sentimentality that always made her smile. It couldn't be for her, much as she was charmed by the thought, as she had already noted his gifts under the tree for herself, his father and the Fletchers, with their tags attached in his own strong, determined hand. There was surely, then, only one other explanation.
"John, I think Gilbert has a sweetheart," she conjectured with her son's own hazel eyes, currently lit with the excitement of such a prospect.
Poor John's tea went down completely the wrong way in his clear surprise, causing him to cough into his napkin most immoderately.
"Bethy, Lord, don't make such pronouncements to a man mid-gulp!"
"Sorry, darling," she came around to pat his broad back in sympathy.
"And what's brought this idea on? The lad's only been home five minutes."
Beth cut a generous slice of apple tea cake for her husband and reseated herself with a knowing look.
"Gilbert has a little wrapped box upstairs in his drawer. Jewellery, John!"
"And what would his loving mother know about little wrapped boxes of jewellery hidden in his drawer?"
"Well of course I wasn't deliberately looking. My name's Blythe, not Sloane, I'll have you remember."
"And thank the Almighty for that!" John grinned.
"All I know is that I tidied his drawers before he arrived, and there was no sight of it then. So he's brought it home – to give to a local girl, of all things! Perhaps he's over to Lone Willow discussing it with Fred and Diana as we speak!"
"Love… let's not go speculating. Mind what… well, what happened the last time…"
Beth sat back in her chair and crossed her arms defensively, not wanting in any way to be reminded of the last time affairs of the heart had gone so devastatingly awry for Gilbert. She and John knew something had to have happened with he and Anne Shirley to account for their shocking, sudden estrangement, and it hadn't taken an Arts degree of their own to figure that only the most comprehensive and resounding rejection could have forced Gilbert away from her. When Marilla began acting in a too-friendly, over-compensatory manner whenever their paths crossed, Beth's suspicions grew, and were confirmed when she had met Anne in the village one time, overhearing her discussing some new, rich and undoubtedly insufferable Kingsport beau. In a fury she had met Anne's greeting with cold distain and frosty bow, virtually snubbing her in the street and in front of young Dora too, and when Anne's bottom lip trembled and she blushed as red as her hair Beth's heart sank, and she knew for sure and certain what must have transpired between Anne and her son. *
But here, now, was a new hope to cling to, and Beth Blythe was not one to relinquish such a sign so easily.
"Do you think he's met a girl from the Island in his course?" Beth mused.
"Beth, now…"
"Or maybe it's for that pretty blonde girl, the one he met at Queen's who taught that time over in Carmody…?"
"Beth…"
"Or one of the White Sands set he's reconnected with…"
"Beth!"
"What, John?"
"Don't do this to yourself, love!"
"John, don't you want to know?"
"Give the boy a break, Bethy. If he wants to tell us anything, he'll tell us."
"Oh, like the last time?"
John groaned. "For all you know, the gift might even be for him. Or it might just be an empty box."
"Why on earth would Gilbert keep an empty box?"
John Blythe ran a large, suddenly tired hand down his face.
"Why indeed. You know, the lad could have shown his love for his old man by at least erecting a little sign, explaining all, as soon as we entered his room, to save this travelling in circles."
"Oh, John, really!"
"Or an advertisement in the paper, stating his intentions, if any, towards the local females. That'd help them out too, to be sure. Considering what a handsome devil he turned out to be."
Distracted, Beth laughed, taking a pleased sip of tea.
"He has grown so handsome, John! And those shoulders! His new jumper for Christmas will hardly fit him."
John chortled, nodding agreement, before both Blythes grew quiet.
"I only want him happy," Beth sighed.
He reached across the table and grasped her hand.
"I know, love. I know."
Beth contemplated her own slice of tea cake for several moments.
"Perhaps she'll be at church on Christmas Eve?" the sudden thought cheered her.
John remembered those dark days last year, of Gilbert's uncharacteristic sullenness and silence, and the worry they had both had over their boy. He could give her this, at least.
"Yes, Bethy, love," he conceded with a loving look. "That would indeed be a wonder."
Gilbert had indeed made the trek to Lone Willow Farm, but the contents of a certain little wrapped box were absolutely not on the agenda for discussion, now or perhaps forever. He sat at the table whilst Fred awkwardly served afternoon tea with all the grace of a bull in a proverbial china shop, both of them studiously avoiding the thought of the currently incapacitated Diana and her nurse upstairs.
"So sorry to just blunder in, Fred…" Gilbert frowned into his murky brew, and frowned a little again when tasting it tentatively. "I wouldn't have come at all if I'd known Di was unwell. You should have turned me away at the door."
"It's not a problem, Gil," Fred gave a rueful smile seemingly at odds with the circumstances. "We are mighty happy to see you. Haven't had a chance to host you yet in our own home and look at the hash I'm making of it! Diana would fly at me if she knew."
"I hope she'll recover in time for Christmas. It'd be terrible for her to still be unwell for the festivities."
"Mmm…" Fred looked at his friend curiously through drawn brows, his mouth upturning slightly. "But you know, Gil, it's likely, er, that Diana will be poorly for quite some time."
"That's not good at all! What has the doctor said about it?"
"Bit too early for the doc yet…" Fred murmured evasively, grinning into his cup.
Gilbert was normally a very quick study, but distracted as he was by the thought of Anne already in the house, having arrived before him and gone straight up to Diana, had his usually sharp mind in a muddle. He stared at Fred for several beats, before a slow, Blythe-strength smile lit his lean face.
"God Almighty, I'm thick! Fred, are you really? You and Diana…?"
Fred's perfectly plain face broke on his own smile, proud and pleased and bursting with the secret he had been hugging to himself.
Mr Wright was soon enveloped in a bear hug, Gilbert's delight completely endearing and a welcome relief after the many months of not seeing him, and that regrettable business last year over Anne, guessed at and only very vaguely confirmed, which luckily they had both seemed to move past, if their congeniality at the wedding had been any indication.
"Well, do keep it to yourself would you, Gil? It's very early days – Diana's not even two months gone."
"Of course! Naturally, I will." Gilbert stepped back to survey his friend. "Gosh, you must both be delighted!"
"We are," came a soft voice from the stairs.
"Diana darling, do try to take a sip of your peppermint tea!" Anne urged earlier, having made a beeline for her bosom friend virtually the moment she came through the door of the Wrights' cheerful, homely abode. "It's meant to be very good for upset stomachs."
"Maybe… in a minute…" Diana, worryingly pale and drawn, answered hesitatingly, as if having to breathe through the words.
"Are you sure I can't fetch the doctor again for you?" Anne all but pleaded. "From the sounds of things you haven't been able to keep anything down for days!"
"It's fine, Anne. It's mostly… just the mornings. It will pass..."
"Diana Wright, it's gone two in the afternoon!"
Diana exhaled slowly and noisily, as if attempting to blow out a candle from a great distance. Anne stared in helpless confusion, becoming more frustrated by the moment.
"Darling, what has Fred had to say in all of this? What right has he to relax downstairs whilst you are up here in agonies? Some husband he's turning out to be!"
"Yes, I do think it's his fault, rather…" Diana gave a small, cryptic and utterly perplexing smile, turning to Anne with a strange light in her dark eyes and a tiny, telling pinkening to her wan cheeks. Those dark eyes held grey ones, as if trying to transmute a secret code, like their long-ago schoolgirl communications across the fields separating their homes.
Anne's auburn brows lowered over those otherworldly grey eyes, and then a fizzing spark of green illuminated them in every sense.
"Di, darling… you don't mean that.. that you're…?"
"I very much mean that!"
"Oh, darling! Congratulations!" Anne embraced her friend as carefully as she could manage, holding her close and blushing through her own embarrassment over having missed the obvious. "What a goose I've been! Oh, I didn't mean any of that about Fred, really. You wouldn't tell him I said anything?"
"Of course not, Anne!" that still-soft, plump hand found hers and squeezed tightly. "I know you only said it out of love. And I know you like Fred perfectly well, now."
Anne gave a chagrined smile.
"I only wish…" Diana sighed, "that I had been well enough to receive you properly, today, it being your first visit here and all…"
"Hush, now, darling! It doesn't matter a bit. And anyway, you have the most perfect excuse in all the world."
"Still, I…" Diana frowned. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"Those voices. Downstairs…"
"Darling, I don't think that was anyone except Fred maybe talking to himself."
Two voices, one clearly Fred's and the other of a deeper timbre, warm and resonant, could clearly be heard through the bedroom door.
"Anne, who is it?"
"I hardly know, Diana," Anne, having frozen on the spot, now dismissed with a guilty flush.
"That sounds like Gilbert! Open the door a fraction, won't you, Anne?"
"Darling I hardly think that – "
"Anne Shirley!" Diana hissed, exasperated.
As Diana sat up tentatively, testing her wayward stomach, Anne creaked open the door a fraction, to hear the unmistakable exchange of another set of old friends. Confirming all, she closed the door just as quickly.
"I don't feel you are well enough to be out of bed, Diana," Anne offered, with a touch of desperation.
"I am not going to miss Gilbert here as well!" Diana mustered her strength. "I'll be fine as long as you're here if I need to lean on you."
"You can lean on me all you need, but you don't mean to say you're going down there?"
Diana took a sip of tea, then a sip of water, breathing more calmly. She patted her hair before the glass and took a pretty shawl to wrap around her shoulders.
"Of course I am going to tend to my guest. Fred can't even make tea properly – do you think I'm going to stand for that?"
"You couldn't stand for anything a few moments ago!" Anne gave mulish response.
"You are not going to use my morning sickness to avoid Gilbert Blythe!" Diana asserted, almost sternly.
Shamefaced, Anne huffed grievously, taking Diana's arm and opening the door, whereupon they made slow and stately progress down the stairs, Diana pausing to respond to Gilbert's overheard exclamation most resolutely.
Gilbert froze mid-grin, observing the mistress of the house and her erstwhile handmaiden staring down at him from the stairs. Galvanized into action, Fred leapt to his wife's side, assisting her the rest of the way down with a courtly concern that would have won Anne over completely, had he known how his good character had been in dispute, even momentarily.
Anne, as rosy-cheeked as Diana was pale, as if their complexions had made some puzzling exchange, watched Gilbert greet Diana with all the charm and delight he used to reserve for her. Turning, he gave that careful, assessing smile he now wore around her, the one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Hello, Anne."
"H-hello, Gilbert."
Diana maneuvered carefully into her seat, whilst Anne caught Fred by his sleeve, murmuring her congratulations with a shining look to him that quickened Gilbert's pulse. Whilst the men reseated themselves Diana stared at the tea before her in mild horror, an unspoken plea in her darting glance to Anne, who asked if she might brew a new pot as their previous beverages would have undoubtedly cooled.
Diana smiled in silent gratitude.
Anne had also brought with her a round of mince pies and fresh clotted cream, and although the thought of cream made poor Diana blanche anew, the men were typically delighted, and she managed Anne's brew perfectly well, playing valiant part in the congenial conversation which followed.
Gilbert watched Anne with a quiet wonder, thrilling to be this close to her and able to again study, unencumbered, those seven alluring freckles proud against the pale perfection of her face, of noting the green in her grey eyes fluctuating with her mood, like the moon commanding the tides, and watching the way her small, slim hands helped conduct her animated thoughts.
Anne studied Gilbert surreptitiously, looking for any sign in him that he had received the news of Christine's engagement with disappointment or sadness, or even that he knew of it at all, and finding only that she was reminded of the way his dimple played hide and seek when he smiled, and that his hazel eyes seemed to light with an inner glow when his emotions were engaged, and the deep, pleasant tone to his voice, and the generous, effortless way he steered the conversation so that everyone had an equal share and stake in it.
She had forgotten what good company he was, even if he didn't seem to joke as often as he used to.
But then again, Anne reflected with a strange pang, neither did she. Roy was not one for the in-jokes and chummy laughter that she and Gilbert had so often engaged in, once. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it.
With Diana clearly flagging, Anne and Gilbert made wise decision to take their leave, sworn to secrecy regarding recent developments in the Wright household before it was safe for the truth to be more widely known. Pausing outside the door, Gilbert offered to walk her back to Green Gables, though the Blythe's farm was slightly closer, and they set off quietly, both lost in thought, alternately marvelling at Diana and Fred's precious secret and occasionally making unnecessary observations regarding the weather and the depth of the snow drifts.
"How will you spend Christmas Day, Anne?" Gilbert finally asked.
"Well, the twins ensure we are all awake before the rooster! I struggle downstairs with them to supervise. They are allowed tea and can look in their stocking and are permitted to open one gift under the tree before Marilla and Rachel come down. You can imagine I feel half the time I am guarding the gifts against a pack of marauders!"
"I can imagine!" Gilbert gave a slow smile of understanding. "My mother wondered as a boy how I could possibly tear through all that wrapping so fast!"
"Then you can understand the challenge!" Anne found herself smiling in return, before auburn brows lowered as she contemplated her dread question. "Did.. that is did you receive… a nice gift from Christine this year?"
Gilbert darted a glance at her in an expression caught between puzzlement and bemusement.
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason. I didn't mean to pry."
Gilbert thrust his hands into his pockets, his own black brows hunkered over his hazel eyes, pausing to expel a long breath that clouded the crisp air.
"You're not prying, Anne," he offered after a moment, noting her reddening cheeks. "It's just that Christine… and myself… it's… that is…"
"She's engaged!" Anne blurted, as if a pot boiled over, unable to contain the news within her slim person any longer.
Chapter Notes
*Alluding to a passage in Anne of the Island Ch 28 'A June Evening"…
"Mrs. Blythe no longer asked Anne, in public or private, if she had heard lately from Gilbert, but passed her by with a frosty bow. Anne, who had always liked Gilbert's merry, young-hearted mother, was grieved in secret over this."
And some correspondence…
DrinkThemIn: Gorgeous thing, I would write forever knowing I have you to read these humble offerings! Thank you as ever for your open-hearted, generous response x
Guest of Dec 31st: Thank you dear Guest for your lovely encouragement! I always thought it defied the laws of credibility (let alone college gossip) to not have a soul except Gilbert be aware that Christine was already engaged. So I tried to create a scenario whereby this situation was a little more plausible. Thank you for following this little story!