The moment has arrived. At last!

A belated Happy New Year!

Love

MrsVonTrapp x

Chapter Thirty Five

Earnest and tender and true

Part Two

Tom was late meeting Pris the next day. It was a hellish thought, and his lungs burned as he ran across town, unable to hail a cab and having to tote his full satchel of sample wares and sketches – as well as his little gift – with him. He wasn't familiar with the streets and so had to orientate himself by taking the longer route, coming back first to Grafton Street and then retracing their previous steps from the tea room back past her hotel. He turned the corner and bolted for the end of the side street, almost sailing past the gates leading to the little park, bursting through them half past the hour and in complete dishevelment, sweating through his jacket and knowing he wasn't fit to be seen.

Well… Pris wouldn't see him now, at any rate. She may never want to again. He turned around wildly but the little park was empty, barring a couple strolling along the far corner. A lone bench, well-situated in the shade and her possible location for their rendezvous, became the place on which he collapsed, breathing heavily, flushed and despondent, with a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that might never budge.

Tom dropped his blonde head in his hands. He was too late and instead of taking his chance he had missed it completely. She would go away from his life back to Kingsport, thinking that he did not care. *

He internally berated himself, knowing he should have made his apologies over that additional last meeting with the brother of the fine furnishings store manager, but unable to extract himself and lacking the heart to do so. The gentlemen were hoping to extend their reach in Charlottetown to a second store in one of the finer cities in Nova Scotia, possibly Bolingbroke or even Kingsport, and looking for craftsmen whose wares would stock both. They were also hoping to investigate whether a mail order side business, which had made Eaton's so successful, was a viable offshoot to their own shopfront trading. Both men had been personable, enthusiastic and visionary, and most encouraged by what Tom had shown and discussed with them. He was to make a small range of household items – bowls, trays, tea chests, candlesticks, photo frames and the like – which they would sell in their own store with their own mark up, but the cut they had been willing to pay Tom was still enough to hike his eyebrows high in surprise, let alone their plans to extend his range if the experiment proved successful.

So it had been exciting and gratifying on every level, but the minutes had slid by him, and by the time he had been able to set off to Pris he was late and only going to get later.

A faint shadow now fell across him, and in the moment he was transported back almost a decade, to the warm, hazy afternoon on another bench, when he had sat awaiting Matthew Cuthbert, not knowing how his life was about to change.

And here, too…

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

His head shot up at that light, smiling voice, always with a hint of bemusement – the voice that had on many occasions taken him out of himself.

"Pris!"

"Mr Caruthers, I presume? Or else some sprinter training for the next Charlottetown athletics carnival?"

"I… I thought that…"

"I can see what you thought, Tom. I glimpsed you as I was just coming back through the far gates. I surmised you had been delayed and had decided to wander over there to make sure you weren't waiting at the other entrance."

"Oh…" he sounded as dumbfounded as he undoubtedly, regrettably looked. "I'm very sorry. I was very late – inexcusable – and I had thought that…"

"That I had given up on you?"

"I thought… you thought… I wasn't going to come," he grimaced shamefacedly.

She gave a lovely, exasperated smile.

"Did you think I didn't know who I was dealing with? I knew you would come, and if you couldn't, that there would be some very good and understandable excuse for not doing so. I hope I know you well enough for that, Tom."

He was humbled by her simple faith in him, fighting to compose himself, belatedly standing to allow her to sit, feeling all his old stammering awkwardness flood him.

"Tom, you know I have an overfondness for your good suits, but you look to be boiling in that! Please take off your jacket and be comfortable!"

"Pris, I couldn't possibly…"

"Yes you could, possibly! There's also a water fountain over there, and please be my guest and take a moment," the old schoolmarm in her might have made him smile, but he couldn't yet get over his mortification.

"Yes, Miss Grant," he complied without further demur, not daring to come up against her and too grateful for her instruction regardless. When he had taken the requisite steps and reseated himself he did feel marginally more composed, though still apologetic, and launched another round of sorry explanations.

"Tom!" she halted him mid-steam, a hand on his arm. "You're here, and what's more you ran all the way to meet me. I am not in any way unaware of your good intentions! And at any rate, you put up with my brother all yesterday afternoon, uncomplainingly, and generously footed the bill what's more. I should be apologizing to you!"

"The boy does eat like a horse…" he managed, slyly, after a moment. "He puts away as much as Davy does, and I didn't think that was possible!"

Their easy chuckles helped diffuse any remaining tension. Pris carried a little bag with her and magically produced several pastries wrapped in a napkin, apparently requisitioned from the hotel's breakfast buffet, and urged him to share them as she questioned him on his earlier meeting and was charmingly excited for the prospect of his creations being sold in one of the premier stores in Charlottetown.

"How wonderful, Tom, and so flattering!"

"Thank you," his tanned face flushed anew.

"Are your samples the reason why your satchel looks so heavy?"

He grinned, lifting it beside him and extracting a few pieces for her perusal.

"Well, no wonder they want to sell anything you create, when they're like these…" she caressed a pair of salt and pepper shakers as if touching velvet. "The workmanship is exquisite, Tom. I don't know how you find all these colors in the wood… all the different subtleties and variations…"

"You have the keenest eye I know, Pris. It is a real challenge to bring out the best in the wood…to tease out the beauty of the grain. It's as important as the shape and finish of the object. I'm learning, but it's slow going. I've a lot to catch up on, not having any training behind me."

"It seems you are doing rather well as it is," she answered loyally. "You'll have to remember your old friends when you become rich and famous!"

She had joked lightly, and he smiled, trying to match her mood, but felt too much the importance of their meeting and could not help his underlying earnestness.

"I could never forget you, Pris."

Her smile was sunshine, and they happily polished off the pastries. He began several times to begin a new conversation – their much needed conversation – but found himself unable to articulate the swirl of longings and emotions within him.

Pris saw his struggle. Why was he surprised? Like Anne, she saw everything.

"Tom – you wish to broach a topic with me?"

"I…" he floundered. Why could even Fred Wright manage this part and he couldn't?

Instead, he dived into his satchel. One of the more precious items in his toted cargo had been carefully wrapped in one of Rachel's pretty patchwork material offcuts and then wrapped again and secured with a satin ribbon Marilla had found for him. He had agonized over the design and the colors, toiling in his room with his best blade at sun up before his morning began so that he could catch the best, brightest light… the painting of it had taken almost as long, needing him to go all the way to White Sands for new paints and the finest brush… and he had been pleased with the results, but the proof of it was always in the giving…

"Tom! You shouldn't have!" Pris was glowing and delighted, long fingers excitedly untying the ribbon and unfolding the material, to pause at the sight before her.

Unusually for Priscilla Grant, she said not a word, as Tom waited anxiously for her reaction. When the awful silence seemed to choke her, he blundered into it, as one stumbled around in the fog.

"Ah… I know that it's not a substitute for real flowers… only I thought that… that… these might be blooms that stay with you, even when the real ones can't… that is, not that I mean you should not have real flowers… only that…"

"Tom!"

"Y-yes?"

"There are not many times I would ask you of all people to please be quiet, but this is one of them. It is so beautiful I don't have words for it at the moment. Just please, first, let me stare at it a little and take it in."

He closed his mouth, all the better to try to work the lump in his throat.

He watched Pris stroke long, fair fingers across the ornament he had made for her… a vase with a profusion of blooms – roses of differing pink hues, having attempted to paint them as if bathed in a subtle light, with their own vagaries and nuances in color. It was probably the most intricate and delicate work he had yet attempted, and personal too. He remembered how he had carried yellow roses for her when he saw her briefly in Spencervale, wholly celebrating, as their color suggested, the friendship, happiness and joy she had brought him, hardly daring to wish for anything more. But perhaps he had hidden behind the color, too. Her letter had caused something within him to shift, to alter… and the gift that might have sat, safeguarded in his drawer for eternity, was given a chance to breathe. The dark pink flowers were for gratitude, appreciation, affection… and all those feelings were wonderfully true… but the pure pink roses represented in his offering carried the undeniable meaning of affection and deep admiration… and love. He would take a chance on these blooms… and he would try… he would try… to take his chance with Pris.

If only he could manage to say a blasted thing!

Pris looked up to him, finally, bright blue eyes swimming with tears.

"Thank you, Tom. It's gorgeous and I adore it!"

Tom smiled in relief even as his heart stuttered at her tears. Now would be a time to embrace her… He looked from Pris to the park surrounding them, grown busier in the time they had sat there. Disconcertingly so. He longed to have a truly private moment with her and he would not be able to claim it here.

"Pris… would you, perhaps, be able to show me some of your old rambles, now?" he asked, almost in desperation.

She nodded emphatically, and clasping his gift in one hand, she took her bag and threaded her other arm resolutely through his.

Pris lead them through the park to the other gates she had mentioned, out the other side and down along a series of paths, well tended but too narrow for a proper promenade, skirting a brook and crossing over a tiny bridge to the other side, where the path was wilder and the willows wept low over their heads as if reaching for the water.

"It's beautiful here!" he finally felt able to breathe again, hoisting his satchel and jacket over one shoulder and still very conscious of her hand holding tightly to his arm.

"Yes. I love the town but sometimes you just long for some trees and a quiet spot by the water."

He grinned down at her. "You sound like Anne."

"Coming from you, I take that as the highest compliment!" she had recovered enough to gently tease, eyes sparkling.

He relaxed into his smile, and truly relaxed into being with her. They decided on the shade of a tree further down, settling gratefully under its canopy, far away from other casual walkers and curious eyes, audaciously alone.

"How did you discover this here? It is quite a ways from the teaching college."

Pris had been busily rewrapping her gift and safeguarding it in her bag, turning back to him with a pleased smile.

"Quite by accident. My family came up a few times to visit me when I was studying and liked the nearby hotel. I would come across from the college to see them and one day took a deliciously wrong turn… so tempting that I had to come back to fully explore it later!"

"There are parts to Avonlea like that. I probably haven't found half the secret spots you can discover there."

"Avonlea is such a darling place! You can still ramble your heart out! Back at Easter I went with Diana and Anne and Jane on the most wonderful walk, all the way to the old garden of Hester Grey. Do you know it?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"So there is a little secret in Avonlea that I know about," she conjectured with a smile.

"And now there's a little secret here in Charlottetown that I know about," Tom found himself grinning in return.

Their eyes met and held the other; Tom felt his pulse strumming, insistent, and if he didn't say something now…

"Pris?"

"Yes, Tom?"

He hesitated, all the old inadequacies coming back to flood him. As much as his internal determination to take his chance beat at his brainand even his own advice to Anne a mere fortnight ago about leaping in sounded loudly in his ears, he still questioned… still queried himself. Still toted up an unseen ledger and found himself short. And meanwhile, Priscilla Grant sat contemplating him, blue eyes trained on his face and lips curved in a hopeful half smile. How could he let her down? Was not her belief enough to help balance his uncertainty?

He took her hand.

"Pris… I find that I have been thinking about… your letter. How brave you were to be so honest about your feelings. I wish I could match it. But I'm no orator, as you know. I'm certainly no scholar. Half the time I let my creations do the talking for me and am happy for it to be so…" He stared down at their clasped hands, sighing helplessly to himself.

"Tom…" Pris offered after a moment. "You mistake me if you think I would have you be anything other than exactly yourself. And I wish you completely saw yourself as your friends and family see you…" she paused precipitously. "How I see you."

"I wonder that you see anything at all, but you always have. Even from the first. Even, I think, back to that first time in Carmody."

She smiled more widely and squeezed his hand.

"Yes, I did."

"The helpless fellow stuck up on the roof?" he gave a chagrined smile, darting a glance at her.

"The generous fellow who would come and fix the roof of a complete stranger, and not seek anything in return. Not even my gratitude."

"Well…" he thought back on that time, smiling softly, "there were other compensations. The view from my perch was very beautiful."

Pris looked up into his clear, pale-blue gaze and the slightly flushed tanned cheeks, noting sincerity where others might have only shown artifice.

"And you wonder why I prefer your company…" Pris felt her own cheeks pinkening. "I've never known anyone like you, Tom, someone so earnest and tender and true." **

He flushed instantly. "And I… I've never known anyone like you, Pris. You see the world, and people, so clearly. You're aware of the sadness and the pain of things, but you won't let it get you down. You see people with all their good qualities as well as their unfortunate quirks, and like them, I think, as much for both."

She gave a brilliant smile. "How well you know me."

Her smile stopped him in his tracks. He would say more, if he could even formulate the words, but his mind had gone to mush. There was no thought… only feeling…

Only his lips, with their own mind, bowing to find hers.

Tom had had his first kiss teased from him by Josie Pye. He had kissed Anne half in tenderness and half in torment. But there was no agony in kissing Pris Grant, and no ache. Just sweetness and rightness… They kissed longingly and lovingly for what felt an endless moment, with a gentle wonder, finally breaking apart with blushing, breathy laughter.

"Pris…" he finally murmured, a little dazed.

"Tom!" she giggled, her bright blue eyes dazzling.

"I meant… I meant to ask if you would do me the honour of courting with me…" he gulped. "Only, I'm sorry, I got the order all wrong… I should have asked first instead of…"

"No, Tom! The order of things was absolutely perfect! I would love to court with you! I.. that is …"

"I might be in love with you, Pris."

"Might?" she gave a delighted arch of her brow, smiling widely, taking both his large hands in hers and drawing him to her.

"Am," he corrected breathlessly, falling into her as her mouth again reached up for his.

"Tom, I'm so sorry to ask for things this way," Pris later determined as they ambled back, hand in hand, the late afternoon softening the summer sun to a gentle golden glow.

"You are happy for us to court, but not yet for your parents to know?" his fair brow furrowed. "But Pris, they are here in town. Virtually down the next street. I could ask their permission this instant."

"I know…" Pris chewed her bottom lip in her clear agitation. "I'm sorry, Tom, I wish it was that simple. My parents… well, then, my mother… she is very exacting. But she's also very unwell. She had taken a turn by the time we left you yesterday… she had a very bad night… and is not much better today. I know that she is just hanging on to see me off to Kingsport, and then will gladly go home. After a time she finds city life… wearisome."

"That is distressing to hear. I'm very sorry. Can I help? Fetch a doctor for her?"

"She has seen one already, thank you. Her pain is more manageable at certain times than at others. She…" Pris looked up at him through newly wet lashes, "she was in discomfort for quite a time, perhaps for years, and we did not know the cause. And then, around six months ago, the doctors identified a growth, in her stomach."

"Oh, Pris…"

"You're the first person I've actually told the specifics to…" she gasped, suddenly overcome. "I didn't know what a relief it would be to do so…" She swiped at her tears, Tom offering her his hankerchief and then, more boldly, his embrace.

"That's why my father took on Herb…" she cried into his shirtfront. "I didn't know that until later, of course. Just to have a second person for the business, in case Papa was called away…"

They had reached the far gates to the park, and Tom held her tightly, urging her, after a time, to come and sit down again on the bench he would forever now think of as theirs. He waited with his typical patience whilst she calmed herself.

"You are incredibly strong to carry that knowledge around with you," he offered in a voice sunk deep with pain. "Please allow me to help with the burden of it, now."

"Don't you make me cry again!" she laughed unsteadily. "I'm not about to collapse on you, Tom. But it is good to share it with someone who… shares such sympathy. You are so wonderful and good and I want my family to know it – I want my family to properly know you. But regrettably I also know that, despite everything you are and can offer… that my mother is not predisposed at the moment to entertain thoughts of any suitors."

He digested this quietly.

"Except if their name is Herb Spencer," he gave a wistful smile.

Pris let out an aggrieved breath. "She only likes him mostly for his name, Tom." She turned to him pleadingly, grasping both his hands again in hers. "And for his family's connections. But if I can throw him off and then begin to make a case for us, then come Christmas…"

"You leave that to me, Pris," he decided firmly, strong jaw tensing. "Of course I'll honour your wish. The last thing I want to do is cause any distress. But if old Herb is so indispensable to your family, I might begin to find all sorts of reasons to journey to Spencervale and make things interesting."

Pris looked to him wonderingly, unable to hide her admiration.

"Tom Caruthers! I'm seeing a whole other side to you!"

He gave a rare, full-bellied grin.

"I've got to prove myself worthy of you somehow, Miss Grant!"

"Tom! It's not a question of that at all!"

"I know." He met her look with his own softening gaze, the pads of his large fingers tentatively reaching out to gently trace her tearstained cheeks. "You're helping me to see that, Pris, every day."

Pris took up his hand again in hers and kissed it in full view of anyone strolling past them at the time.

"I meant it when I called you dearest, Tom. I hope you know how much I love you!"

It was its own wonder for him to hear those words, and to have every proof of the sentiments behind them. He gave the words back to her, received and gifted, to accompany his kiss, and no might or hesitation about it.

Tom risked missing his train the following day, drawn to the docks and to observe Pris and her family from afar as they prepared to see her off on the ferry to the mainland. His head was full of their parting the previous afternoon, having shared another series of kisses before she turned the corner and climbed the steps to her hotel. He had led such a quiet life these past years, almost monastic, and now his lips and mind pulsed with the memory of Priscilla Grant, even as he couldn't help but think of that other time he had first waited on a young lady, on the platform at Bright River for Anne, lingering in the long shadows, heart in his mouth to welcome her.

The same feelings were stirred now to see Pris but without any of the same trepidation. Instead, there was a sense of pride and awe; that the tall, beautiful young lady with the ready smile and readier wit not only liked him but loved him… had declared it as passionately as she had shown it… had been ready in an instant to align herself with him.

He wished with everything in him he could be standing beside them, but even from this distance he noted Pris's mother's struggle, hand tightly clutching her side, as the other waved determinedly to her daughter. He wasn't about to have his first act as Pris's beau contravene the only thing she had asked of him. He had won over Rachel Lynde from down the lane, all those years ago, without hardly knowing. He considered he at least could take the chance with Mrs Grant of Spencervale.

Pris waved and waved to her family from the boat deck, Tom stepping forward without realizing, as if he just needed to be incrementally closer to her. And with a sixth sense in that very instant she turned in his direction, staring out over the crowd, eyes searching until she paused, pressing her fingers to her lips and launching a last note to him on the air.

Back in the midnight hush of the big bedroom of Patty's Place, Anne sat up in bed with Pris as she recounted her tale, her own eyes brimming with tears of joy for her friends. She looked over Pris's little crafted bouquet with delight, before padding back silently to share her own gift, of her book on its stand, readily proclaiming her as author, as much a talisman as she still hoped Gilbert's framed picture of St Luke was.

"Pris, I can't tell you how happy this news makes me!"

Pris clutched her hand, grinning. "I know!"

Anne took a breath, divulging something she had been reluctant to admit, even to herself.

"There was a time, after my reunion with Tom, when our feelings were very confused…" she admitted with a burning face. "It was so hard for us to separate the bond of friendship – intense as it was - from deeper feelings. I know that regretfully – awfully – I hurt him. My dearest wish was to have him loved by someone who could give him the sort of love I couldn't… To have him find that person in you is just… it's just… too wonderful!"

"Oh, Anne!" Pris offered her embrace. "He loves you in a way that no one can touch, and you him, and it is a beautiful thing. Never underestimate your importance in his life. But his heart is luckily big enough to fit me in it, too."

"I've never doubted it!" Anne mopped her happy tears. "I just wish you could yawp it over the roofs of the world! *** And I am so desperately sorry about your mother."

"Thank you, Anne. Though… you won't mind keeping that private as well?"

"Oh, of course! I wouldn't dream of telling anyone." She paused, mouth downturned. "We are all rather too good at keeping secrets, aren't we?"

"Unfortunately so."

Anne nodded thoughtfully, and Pris noted her look.

"You think the secret is unfair to Tom," Pris surmised.

"Pris – I wouldn't think for a moment to interfere with the… understanding… you have with him."

"No. You're right. It isn't."

Anne opened her mouth to protest, closing it just as helplessly.

"It's just…" Anne offered carefully, "it's just that Tom might struggle in the long term with your arrangement."

"I know…" Pris agreed sadly. "I'm struggling with it myself already."

"Oh, Pris!" Anne squeezed her hand tightly. "I wish it was easier for you both!"

"Being able to share it with you – and the other girls once I'm brave enough – makes it so," Pris determined, and then that delightful, knowing gleam of mischief shone through, "and if I need a rescuing knight again, I can always fetch Gilbert!"

The girls christened their residency at Patty's Place by hosting a few of their friends over the next day, able to properly welcome Stella, who had arrived late that morning and immediately made herself merry and indispensable to all. Anne couldn't help but admire her new housemate's gorgeous dark eyes and hair any more than she could begrudge the former Queen's classmates – Stella and Pris joined by Gilbert, Charlie and new Redmond recruit Moody – their excitable and chatty reunion. Anne and Phil, arms around one another's waists, watched proceedings with a fond bemusement.

Late in the afternoon things quietened, as Charlie and Moody ambled back to their boarding house, Phil retired to write to her parents and Pris and Stella busied themselves in arranging their shared room. That left Anne and Gilbert, the latter drawing her towards the warmth of the fireplace, and drawing her close, the cold house likely to need a constant flame even at the start of September.

"I feel those dogs are standing guard on me," he grinned, looking askance over her shoulder to the white and green speckled new additions.

"Quite right, too," Anne smiled up at him.

"You seem especially happy with your new domestic arrangements, Anne-girl," his arms tightened around her. "It is truly wonderful to see your smile so often. It makes my heart glow."

That smile was given back to him with even more brilliance. "I do love it here, and I am so happy. But it's you who makes my heart glow, Gilbert!"

His hazel eyes widened, and his pleased flush was terribly endearing.

"I wish I knew what I had done, just so I could repeat it for you!"

"You helped settle a boy into his studies, and helped out a family who had more need of it than you could know. And…" Anne suddenly wavered, throat tightening, "you helped make one of my dearest wishes come true."

Gilbert looked down into her shining eyes.

"I am glad that Young Master Grant is well settled. And even gladder, though I can only guess at the details, that his sister and another of our acquaintance had a happy time in Charlottetown. I know… I know how important their happiness is to you. And so it is to me."

"Gilbert Blythe, I love you!"

His heart did glow at that, and perhaps somersaulted a little into the bargain.

"As I love you, Anne Shirley!" his earnest look became exultant, as one of his hands released her waist to cup her cheek. "What a year we will have here together!"

Their kiss, true and tender, soon gave way to their underlying passion, and it was just as well Gilbert needed to leave to make it back in time for supper.

Chapter Notes

*Anne of the Island Chapter 40 'A Book of Revelation.' I do so enjoy regifting these important lines to other characters!

**Chapter title and Pris's lovely words courtesy of Phil regarding Jo in Anne of the Island Chapter 24 'Enter Jonas'.

***Walt Whitman, of course, in Leaves of Grass (1892) from 'Song of Myself' in Book V 'Calamus

And also... ONE of these days I'll have a love scene that doesn't take place beneath a tree!

And some correspondence…

Guest #1 of Dec 31st (Ch 34): Thank you dear Guest for your lovely words and I am thrilled you are enjoying this and my other stories. Thank you for your best wishes and I send my own belatedly for this new year x I loved being able to make Anne's residence in the blue room a little more significant, and to give Phil a lovely moment of friendship and kindred spirit-ness. I'm so delighted that was a lovely takeaway for you from the chapter x

Guest #2 of Dec 31st (Ch 34): Hello Guest! I don't know if you consider this a long or a middling wait for this chapter, but I am pleased to get it out to you all! I am delighted you and others have become so invested in Tom and Pris. I have really worked to try to develop their relationship in a different way and to give their interactions a different tone. I hope you find this effort successful and worth the wait!

DrinkThemIn: Dearest, it is indeed quite the relief for me to be tracking along more closely with AotI now! I am finding it tremendous fun to give canon a few tweaks through the different prism of this universe. Anne and the blue room, here, is the perfect example, and it was a lovely little bonding moment with Anne and Phil I was pleased to be able to create. You are right about the canon Patty's Place characters, though. Phil is so vivid for everyone she virtually leaps off the page. Pris is very chummy with Anne especially in the first half of the novel and I borrowed from her humour and practicality in fleshing out her character – and so pleased you feel you know her better! Stella is still a puzzle though and I hope to be able to get to grips with her now that she has arrived on the scene! As for Tom and Pris – the moment is finally here! Thank you so much as ever for your thoughts - especially regarding Pris's letter – I treasure them x

Guest of Jan 8th (Ch 34): Thank you Guest for your Tom and Pris love! I really had to grin to myself in continuing to tease out their relationship, as they are SO close, but I thought it was important for them to find themselves on the same page even if they couldn't quite open their own 'book' yet! Really hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Guest of Jan 14th (Ch 8): Hello dear Guest – I am awed and thrilled you would go back to this story to reread and thank you so much for your thoughtful and insightful comments x When such comments landed for Chapter 8 I had to go back and reread myself so that I could properly answer you! I am hugely gratified that you paid such attention to this chapter, which is certainly the 'confession' part of proceedings after all the 'revelry' before it! These quieter chapters can be the hardest to write with all the necessary setting-up of future chapters and all the many internal monologues happening! I secretly really love the chapters in and around the Football Fundraising Dance and thank you for finding my marshalling of all those characters in any way successful! Meanwhile, poor Diana certainly got more than she bargained for regarding what should have been her lovely little anecdote regarding Fred's kiss. She is a valiant support regarding the passing on of Anne's letter to Tom (seems I have had characters do their fair share of that in this narrative!) but you are absolutely right in that whilst really liking Tom, she is indisputably Team Gilbert, even going so far as to warn him not to take too long regarding Anne in Chapter 10. The fact that you and other readers have had moments when you might have considered and even welcomed an Anne-Tom pairing is, for this card-carrying Gilbert girl, the most amazing praise!