Joanna-I am not sure that you will see this. But you said you have enjoyed my other Rilla stories, so i am taking the chance to be able to say Thank you for the comment on my Emily story!
It made my night, as I have seen your other reviews floating about and it made me extremely happy that you enjoy my stories as well. They aren't perfect by any means, but I work hard at creating multi-faceted and emotional stories with a journey of self-discovery and of course love and romance because a story without romance is just my cup of tea for reading or writing. If you ever feel up to up, I will always enjoy and appreciate any feedback you wish to write. I have no direct plans for more Emily at the moment, but you never know what will pop into my mind and I do love Emily, even if I have a hard time making Teddy and her happy for some reason. But never stop looking, or if you ever wish to keep up with my non-Anne universe writing In Emily or Blue Castle if you like it as well you can always sign up and follow for emails and whatnot.
But thank you again and I hope to hear from you again!
Tina.
Rilla doesn't know quite how it all worked out, but she finds herself being accompanied by Walter on a train to Toronto. Aunt Leslie, is she still Aunt Leslie? Is she Mother Leslie now? She was the one who petitioned her parents for her to Visit Toronto, to see Ken during school holidays, but also just for them to see her as well. Something they had yet to do since everything changed with Kenneth's sacrifice. Her father at first outright laughed out loud at the idea of being foolish, she had only just gotten passed the ordeal. While Mother was worried about how she might react to being in a larger city with so many strangers, and of course on the train, though saw the promise in a trip, getting away might be helpful and Leslie West was a kindred soul and would always treat her daughter the way she would treat her own.
So tickets were bought, and Rilla packed her trunk and valise and hugged her parents and siblings goodbye.
Her mother had been right over all the amount of people on the train after the ferry to New Brunswick made her uneasy, though the Fords had split the cost of the ticket opting for a first-class cabin that allowed her as much privacy as possible. Her clothes fit her again, the roundness of her stomach had gone down and besides her bandaged-not-plastered arm, she looked completely normal. Normal as a fifteen-year-old might look on a train going to visit her husband for the first time in Toronto. Mother had braided her hair and pinned it up in a fashionable way that would be easy to take out herself, but the maid at the hotel could fix it up in the morning, as well as help her dress, all she had to do was ask. There is always someone around to help.
Dressed in a lilac travelling suit they bought in Charlottetown, the colour becoming on her, in its own way signifying she was in half mourning for something or another. Letting other women know that she might not be up for a lot of conversation her mother explained.
Mourning for what? Her innocence of the world? The child she did not care to have? Her life?
Walter was mostly quiet on the train, watching out the window as the scenery rolled by and watching her of course. A book of poetry in his hands, every so often reading aloud to her.
Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.
I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep
The Garden of Prosperine-By Alergnon Charles Swinburne
The hotel was beautiful, but walking it seemed wrong, Walter was snoring on his back in his bed. The clerk looked at them oddly, not sure if he knew they were siblings but gave them a room with two twin beds, but nodded when Rilla asked about help dressing motioning to her bandaged arm. Still, they were up early, rushing slightly as the maid pinned up Rilla's curls in a much more fanciful way than her mother did, and helped Rilla pin her hat into it.
Walter tipped her and off they went. On another train, they had breakfast and tea in the dining car and later sat in the lounge on the first-class train. When it pulls into Toronto a few hours later Rilla doesn't feel ready, but Walter guides her towards the exit until they reach the halls of Union Station. The Fords are there waiting for them at the station and she knows she looks pale and tired from not sleeping. Leslie for a moment debates pulling her into a hug, until she does gingerly.
"Welcome to the Toronto," She says quietly.
"Thank you," Rilla says quietly turning to Owen Ford who nods his head to her. "Uncle Owen?" She says realizing that maybe it was not proper to call him that anymore.
"Whatever you are comfortable with," he says trying to reassure her as Ken steps closer to her.
She didn't know what made her nervous but she felt her stomach flip flop.
"Rilla," he says with a smile. She was in her dark blue winter coat and curled and pinned back into a pretty style. "Welcome to Toronto," he says after a moment.
The city was in a foot of snow, and the drive was something else with all the automobiles that were on the road. She had never been in an auto before, but someone gave her a window to look out of. The house is in a pretty neighbourhood with similar houses, large brick and stone ones that Rilla has only ever seen in Charlottetown or the time in Kingsport. Persis is waiting by the door when they pull up. Leslie guides Rilla into the house as the men get the luggage from the trunk of the car.
Taking off her woollen coat she looks around until Leslie takes it gently and lays it over a chair. "We'll hang them up later," she says simply.
Rilla simply nodded her head, looking down at her wet boots, bending quickly to unbutton her boots and taking the pair of offered slippers that she was passed.
"I hope the train wasn't too dull?" Persis asks Rilla as she straightens up.
"It was fine thank you," Rilla says meekly as she feels the older girl look her over.
"Come in, come in," Leslie tells her leading her through the entryway. "Powder room and living room and dining room and the kitchen it through the back," Leslie explains. "Owen's office is through that door," she points to different rooms and doors. The upstairs is filled with bedrooms, the master suite of course to the back of the house, while Ken and Persis have rooms, along with a guest bedroom and more stairs to the attic.
"Walter forgive me but I put you up in the attic room for the stay it has a fireplace and should be plenty warm enough," Leslie tells him, "Rilla you are through this door, I am sure you're tired from the journey. Rest if you need to for the evening," Leslie says quietly.
Rilla nods her head.
"I'll bring you up something light for lunch" Leslie continues lifting her hand meaning to comfort the girl who sees it coming and shirks back from it. "Of course my apologies." She says with a small smile.
Rilla remains quiet and sits by the window watching snow fall in the sky. No one presses her to do anything, though Persis tries to engage her in some sort of conversation now and then only to find out that she has no answers. If she considered Ingleside homey and large, the Ford's home was ornate but the family room was cozy.
"Give some time Persis," she hears Leslie tell her daughter quietly. She pouts almost but goes and does her own thing until dinner was called, there had been a lay out with Tea, given the time difference not wanting her guests to be hungry waiting for dinner. Still she picks mostly at her plate, feeling out of a place and confused mostly. No one says anything to her thankfully though.
Ken manages to pull her into games of checkers and shows her where to find the books afterwards, trying to communicate with her quietness. While Walter spends his night talking about writing and whatnot with Mr. Ford. When she finally retires for the evening she washes down her body with a rag and hot water from the sink in the bathroom.
She unrolls the bandages on her hands, flexing her hand and fingers, it limp looking and pale. She misses the pressure of the bandages as she carefully washes the skin. She wraps it up, with the piece of splint to keep it from getting hurt again. She struggles to tie it off as her father or mother usually does it for her, ready to cry she she pokes her head out of the bathroom, the boys are somewhere.
"Do you need something?" Persis asks as if she had been waiting for the bathroom.
"Can you?" She holds out her arm to her sister-in-law.
"Of course," Persis says nodding her head and quickly tying off the end of the bandages together and tucking it away. "Does it still hurt?"
"Not really," Rilla shakes her head. "It did at first, but mostly it just aches occasionally?"
"Make sense," Persis tells her. "Bathroom free?"
"Yes, of course, sorry," Rilla says quickly. "Have a good night?" She goes to her given room and sinks into the bed. She's tired but also on edge, a new place, strange sounds in a strange city. That when the clock in the room strikes ten-thirty she finally gets up. She's like a white ghost, wandering the hallways, shoulders and ankles bare, half of her calves bare.
"Rilla?" Someone calls out to her, her brother and husband are sitting at a table, a chess game set up and begun on a small table.
"What is wrong Rilla-my-Rilla?" She still doesn't answer them."Is she asleep?"
"Mother and Father haven't said anything about sleepwalking?" Walter replies shaking his head.
"It's cold," she whispers.
"Well, of course, you aren't even wearing stockings, slippers or a robe," Ken says grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around her, for a moment she is brought back to the beach, soaking wet. Back when she never imagined he would take a fancy to her whatsoever, let alone willing to marry her. She flinches at his touch but lets him wrap it around her and sit her down in the middle of the couch.
"She shouldn't be out like this, it's not appropriate." Her brother objects.
"Really? You're her brother, and in all technicalities of the situation, I am her husband. If out of anyone in the world can see her in such a state?" Ken says. "Without embarrassment?"
Walter sulks for a moment, not wanting his sister to be in a state of such undress, but being covered in the blankets was better than nothing when wearing thin cotton and lace nightgowns with broad necklines and skimpy straps. Mother always loved pretty things and while the length of skirts has always been debated, embroidered stockings though— were always allowed.
"Can you not sleep?" The question is posed to her.
"I rarely sleep," she reminds him.
She does sleep—lightly though. With her head on her husband's lap, her feet on her brothers curled up between them. Lulled to sleep finally after the clear soothing voice that spoke clear concise words of Keats and Tennyson.
Someone was stroking her long hair which was like a tangled halo of curls, burnished and flickering in the firelight.
Winter, when everything is asleep, flowers, trees, and animals alike. Winter, war—Hades, her own personal hell.
"I do not like this Kenneth," She hears her brother say, but she doesn't open her eyes.
"What was I supposed to do Walter? " The smooth voice of the boy who married her, says fingers tangled into her hair. "It was partly my fault, I couldn't let her lose everything because I got caught in all the talk?"
"But Glen, they would have understood, they wouldn't have…" Walter says frowning.
"They were already talking Walter, I saw it, I heard it. I couldn't…I couldn't let her fall victim to all the gossip, not when it became apparent—," he says. "It may have not….I just kept thinking if Persis ever found herself in that sort of situation, I would hope someone would do the same?"
"When you're allowed to enlist?"
"Then she'll be taken care of," Kenneth says after a moment. "Whether I survive or not," he adds on in a whisper. It was beginning to be clear enough that this war was not going to end soon and lives would be lost.
Someone puts her bed, tucking her in and brushing back her hair. She doesn't know who and while she sleeps for another she is awakened by tears and haunting of her struggles. She doesn't think before tip-toeing across the hall. Tears still stain her face and her nose is still sniffly, head spinning as she slips through the door.
"Ken?" She whispers and in a moment a lamp is on.
He lifts the blanket and lets hers crawl in. He grabs the book from his table, The Count of Monte Cristo.
Happiness is like one of those palaces on an enchanted island, its gates guarded by dragons. One must fight to gain it.
His voice is quiet and velvet which lulls her into a dream state that is no longer frightening. It rumbles slightly in his chest, drawing her closer. For warmth as well as the December chill seeping around them. She's mostly lulled into a trance by the waves of Ken's voice until her eyes shut and her consciousness allows her to sleep.
He wakes up before her, limbs tangled together with her hair on his shoulder. He doesn't know whether he should get up or stay until she wakes up. In the end, he pretends to sleep as he feels her wake up and he feels her creep away from him and tiptoe back to her room.
She can sneak all she wants if it means the dark circles under her eyes are less prominent when she arrives at the breakfast table.
If his parents noticed in the morning no one says a word to them. She smiles over tea as she eats her toast, he notices but it doesn't reach her eyes, one day he hopes it might once again. Ken offers another day for her to settle into, but she shakes her head. Whatever he had planned she was up for, Walter though wanted to stay in do some winter break reading.
"That's fine, I'll give Rilla the tour myself," Ken says simply. Not letting Walter's reluctance detour him. "If Rilla is fine with it just being just me and her?"
Rilla looks to her brother, and then to her husband and her wedding rings. It takes her a moment before she nods her head. This was the point of this trip was it not? It was cold and snowy but Ken made her bundle up and made sure she was safe from the cold. He takes her downtown, towards a park and to the shops where he bought her ribbons and laces that she fancied.
"What is that place," she pointed to the large building that was on the corner across from the park.
"Royal Ontario Museum," Ken says, "It opened this year, we can go if you want. It's affiliated with the University they have a bunch of interesting things. They even have a mummy?"
Rilla looks again before nodding her head.
"Am I dressed appropriately?" She asks worried that her day dress wasn't formal enough for such a grand place.
"You're dressed perfectly, very pretty as always," Ken tells her with a crooked smile, that he wanted to tell her how pretty she looked all day. "Come," he adds on, taking her hand as they cross the street. He opens the door for her, and inside she is greeted in a grand hall that enthralled her that she didn't know where to look until Ken pointed upwards and she took in the tiled ceiling and rotundas that seemed as grand as what the pyramids in Egypt, or Peterhof Palace are in her mind.
Ken paid the admission, checking there coats at the same time. Before guiding her through the exhibits, old tea sets, and artifacts from various places that the University anthropology and archeology departments had visited over the years. Mummy's from Egypt, silk dresses that were made over a hundred years ago, it all whirled in her mind as she held onto his arm, her other still hanging down her side.
"Kenneth!" He hears his name and turns slightly seeing a classmate, he looks at Rilla who only nods her head quietly.
"Peter, what are you doing here?" He asks.
"Checking out the palaeontology exhibit," he says with a shrug. "So this is the Mrs?"
"Uhh, yes," Ken says nodding his head. "Rilla this is Peter Jackson, Peter this is my wife Rilla," he says for what feels like the first time in her presence.
"Lovely to meet you, you are prettier than your portraits Ken waves about when talking about you," Peter replies charmingly.
"Oh, thank you?" Rilla blushes, remembering back to the letters remembering what Kenneth wrote about someone named Jackson.
"Back is wonky," he says explaining. "No good for fighting either, but I am great at the telegraph machine," he says with a grin.
"Nice to meet you," Rilla says quietly. "My brother Jem is at the front, he writes that it's muddy so I don't think you are missing much, plus you are doing things here?"
"Well, one can hope all think like you do," He says. "Are you going to show her the university as well?"
"I hadn't planned on it?" Ken says looking at her.
"It's of no consequence to me, my brother showed me Queens back home and honestly I was more bored than I let on to be to him," Rilla says to him.
"What happened to your arm?" Peters asks noticing the wrapping and edge of the splint.
The hair on the back of her neck felt like static against her skin. How does one explain? She can't, she can barely think as the sounds of laughter ring out around her. Racing footsteps from children that almost run into her. Ken pulls her closer to him. The feeling of falling, driving her further back…her eyes go dead.
"It broke from an accident but it's almost healed, and I promised Mother to be back for tea, so we should probably get going?" Ken looks at her. "I'll give you a ring before class starts up again Jackson."
"Of course, wonderful to meet you," he says to Rilla who is still in her daze.
"It's okay just breathe," Ken whispers leading her away, back to the automobile...back to some form safe haven of a potential new home.
Hope everyone is having a good festive season so far! As usual any comments and questions are appreciated and welcomed!
Tina.