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Chapter Text

‘Anne, there’s something I need to talk to you about. But you have to promise you won’t get angry with me.’

Anne Shirley raised her head from where it was resting on the blanket she had brought with her in the hopes of taking an afternoon nap out in the open. Mrs. Lynde had invaded Green Gables, positively heaving with some fresh gossip, and Anne (who, at the age of seventeen, had finally acquired that dislike of hearing her neighbours talked about which Miss Stacy had always done her best to foster) thought it advisable to flee before that redoubtable lady started haranguing about ‘the deplorable ways you young folk are carrying on nowadays’.

The fact that Gilbert Blythe joined her before so much as half an hour of solitude had elapsed came to Anne neither as a surprise nor as a cause for annoyance. Somehow, Gilbert’s presence was never oppressive; they could be silent together for hours without it being in the least bit awkward.

That is, they usually could; today, however, Gilbert was so restless and at the same time uncommunicative that Anne finally decided she would just ignore his weird behaviour and go back to napping. However, before she had had time to find a comfortable position on the somewhat bumpy ground, Gilbert had spoken those rather disturbing words.

Anne sat up and looked towards where he was standing with his back against a nearby tree.

‘Why must you always talk as though I was carrying a slate on me at all times, ready to smash your head with it upon the slightest provocation, Gilbert? I don’t get angry with you so easily these days, do I?’ she asked, frowning up at him impatiently.

‘You’re getting angry already,’ he remarked, a slight smile breaking for a moment the anxious expression of his face.

Anne snorted. ‘That’s not angry. That’s annoyed, Gil. You, of all people, should know the difference between these two moods when it comes to me. I was only angry with you once, and I hope never to be again. And I get annoyed with you all the time.’

He was smiling for real now. ‘Yeah, I suppose that’s right.’

‘Well?’ she asked, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirts over her knees. ‘Get it over with, Gil, so that you can stop being so insufferably fidgety. If I wanted to be around people who won’t let me rest, I’d have stayed home and kept Mrs. Lynde’s company.’

‘Yeah, Anne, about that,’ Gilbert said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

‘About what? Mrs. Lynde?’ Anne raised her eyebrows in surprise.

‘Yes. I—actually, I came looking for you at Green Gables before I found you here. And Mrs. Lynde was there, talking to Marilla—‘

‘I am aware of that, Gil. That’s why I’m here rather than there.’

‘Yes. Well, they didn’t hear me knock, but I heard them talking. And they were talking about you—‘

‘Oh,’ laughed Anne, scrunching up her nose. ‘And is that what you’re so restless about? Don’t worry, Gil, I am used to hearing myself berated by Mrs. Lynde. She doesn’t mean any harm, though. It’s not her fault that in her days it was completely unthinkable for a girl to be educated at a university, and that she still can’t get her mind around the idea.’

‘No, it wasn’t that. It was something – something more personal.’ He swallowed. ‘It was about the things people have apparently been saying about – about you and me.’

A very unpleasant feeling settled in the depths of Anne’s stomach. Wide-eyed, she stared at Gilbert. ‘What do you mean, you and me?’

Gilbert sighed, shifted uneasily, and finally said, ‘Well, we do spend rather a lot of time together, don’t we?’

‘Of course we do. What’s wrong with that? You’re my best friend. Who else am I supposed to spend time with? Moody McPherson?’ Anne tried to sound dismissive, but she could not help feeling like this conversation wasn’t going anywhere pleasant.

‘Nothing is wrong with it, Anne. But I don’t want people to talk nasty things about you on my account.’

Gilbert’s eyes were earnest on hers and there was a note of pleading in his voice that made Anne feel ashamed of her pretence at not being bothered. Accordingly, she scrambled to her feet and approached him, reaching out a hand to him. He took it, and she said, looking down at their interlocked fingers,

‘Gil, I really, honestly don’t mind anything people have to say about me. I am used to being vilified behind my back. And anyway, what is there to talk nasty things about? It’s not like everyone else our age is behaving so very prim and proper. Diana is always disappearing somewhere or other with Jerry for positive hours, and nobody has anything to say about it except for things like, ‘ah, to be young and in love!’’

Gilbert smiled in spite of the anxiety that was gnawing at his heart. Was Anne really so oblivious? Or did she blind herself to the implications of what she was saying on purpose?

‘Anne, Diana and Jerry are an officially engaged couple. And we are – what?’ He wanted to bite his tongue out for pressuring her like this, but couldn’t really see any other way out of their present predicament.

Anne looked up at him, her face suddenly rather pale.

‘We are best friends. Soulmates. Kindred spirits.’ Her voice was quiet and insistent. Gilbert smiled somewhat wryly at the way in which she had uttered the words, as though she was trying to convince both him and herself of their validity.

‘And do you suppose Mrs Lynde would have accepted that as a plausible explanation?’ He asked a bit sharply. She winced, and he continued quickly, ‘I’m sorry, Anne. I hate having this conversation as much as you do, probably more. After all, I’ve got way more to lose.’

Anne withdrew her fingers from his and folded her arms across her chest. She wished he would stop looking so terribly serious. It made her heart beat completely out of time.

‘What do you mean, more to lose?’ she asked slowly, watching him gulp.

‘You,’ he said quietly. ‘I might lose you.’

Anne blinked rapidly. ‘Why—‘ she stammered. The expression of Gilbert’s eyes – at once intense, pained and in some strange way demanding – made her suddenly wish she wasn’t standing quite so close to him. She took a step back, and her back hit the trunk of the nearby tree. ‘Why would you talk like this, Gil? You know nothing would ever make me want to stop being friends with you.’

Gilbert gave her a crooked smile. ‘Friends. Right. Well, I guess there’s no point delaying the inevitable.’ He looked away from her for a moment, clearing his throat and trying to sort out what he was going to say to her next. ‘Well, Mrs. Lynde was filling Marilla up on how not only the whole of Avonlea, but also half of Charlottetown is buzzing with talk about how Anne Shirley in leading Gilbert Blythe on, giving him false hopes and keeping him from getting settled down with some nice local girl.’

With every word he spoke, Anne’s face seemed to get whiter. He hated himself for distressing her like this, but he forced himself to go on, keeping his eyes locked with hers.

‘Anne, you would have heard this anyhow, if not from me then from Mrs. Lynde or Josie Pye, or some other ‘friendly’ soul. And I’d much rather you knew right away that not a word of it is true. Not one word, Anne. It’s just gossip made up by people who have nothing better to do with their time.’

‘Leading you on, Gil?’ Anne stammered, not paying any attention to his attempts at reassurance. ‘Have I been leading you on? Keeping—keeping you from spending time with other girls? I—‘ she had tears in her eyes now, and Gilbert cursed himself and all the old, meddling women in the world for causing them to appear.

‘No, Anne,’ he said, his tone softer than heretofore. He took a step towards her, and, to his dismay, saw her flinch away. Still, he reached out and grabbed her arms gently in a futile attempt to show her she needn’t be afraid.

‘Anne, none of what I've just repeated to you is true as far as I’m concerned. If I don’t spend time with other girls, it’s because I want and choose to spend it with you. You know it’s always been like that. You’ve always come first with me, because,’ he swallowed and, looking into her frightened face, somehow made himself say what he knew was a complete untruth. ‘Because you’re my best friend. And there’s absolutely no question of your leading me on or giving me any hopes, false or otherwise. We are friends, and we are perfectly clear on that point, right?’

‘Right.’ Anne’s voice was dull. ‘Let’s just forget about it, Gil, okay? Can we? Please,’ she bit her lip, trying hard not the let the tears spill down her face.

Gilbert sighed again, sliding his hands down Anne’s arms and taking her cold hands in his. ‘We can’t, Anne, because there’s something more,’ he gave her hands a gentle squeeze, smiling at her apologetically. ‘Because, you see, I couldn’t just leave after what I’d heard Mrs Lynde say. I had to – I had to tell them it wasn’t true, and that—‘ he swallowed hard, looking away from Anne’s eyes, unable to stand the vulnerability he saw in their gray depths. ‘That I have just come on purpose to ask Marilla’s official permission to court you.’

Anne snatched her hands out of his grasp and leapt away from him as though his touch burnt her. ‘You did what?’ she squeaked, her eyes scanning his face frantically. ‘Are you out of your mind, Gilbert Blythe?’

‘Anne, please, just listen—‘ he took a step towards her, but she flinched away, putting her hand out to keep him from approaching her.

‘Don’t!’ she knew she was probably being unjust to him, but right now she was so scared of what he might say next that she didn’t care. ‘How could you, Gilbert? Why would you do such a thing - behind my back, too? I’ve always trusted you – more than anyone,’ tears were spilling down her face freely now. ‘And you – you –‘ she gulped. ‘What am I supposed to tell Marilla when I get back home? And all because you were scared of some stupid gossip which wasn’t even really aimed at you! I hate you, Gilbert!’

‘Anne, you’ve got it all wrong,’ he grasped her hands again and didn’t let go, even though she was trying hard to wrench them away. ‘Anne, look at me. You got it all wrong, I swear. Nothing’s gonna change between us, I promise. Just look at me. Anne, please.’

She looked up, her lips trembling, her eyes accusing. Gilbert’s heart felt very heavy.

‘Anne, if I said what I've said to Mrs Lynde and Marilla it was because I knew it would not affect our—‘ he faltered momentarily, ‘our relations. If the gossip was indeed pointed at me, I would have just let it pass. But I would feel undeserving of – of such a very good friend as you if I just stood by and allowed people to slander you on my account. I’ll go home with you, and if Mrs Lynde is gone we’ll explain everything to Marilla together. I’m sure she’ll understand.’

As he spoke, he saw Anne’s eyes gradually lose their accusatory look.

‘And you swear,’ she asked quietly, her fingers involuntarily clutching tighter at his. ‘You swear things will stay just the same between us? That’s it’s all just for – for show?’

Gilbert replied, hating himself for doing it, ‘Yes, just for show.’ And yet, what other answer was possible when she was looking at him with that vulnerable, unguarded look on her face? He smiled reassuringly down at her. If it kept her happy, he would go on lying to her like this until the end of his days. Anything to stay near her.

Anne studied his face attentively for a moment. Then she nodded, somewhat curtly.

‘Okay,’ she said slowly, freeing herself from his grasp and bending down to retrieve her blanket. She folded it and slung it over her shoulder. Gilbert stood watching her, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. ‘But you’re going back with me right now. You’re going to explain to Marilla. Otherwise, I’ll never have a moment’s peace. She’s already—‘ Anne caught herself up short, frowning.

‘She’s already what?’ asked Gilbert absentmindedly, following behind as she set off towards Green Gables.

‘Nothing. Forget it.’

The short walk passed in silence, Gilbert wondering internally whether lying to the face of the girl he loved in order to remain in her good graces was as base as it seemed to him at the moment, and Anne remembering all the times she had caught Marilla smiling significantly when Gilbert's name was mentioned between them.

Chapter Text

To Anne’s relief – but not to her surprise, for she never really believed him capable of acting untrustworthily – Gilbert’s behaviour towards her did not change in the least, just like he had promised it wouldn’t. In the week that followed, she saw him, at least for a few moments, daily, and he was always his normal, teasing, joking self.

(There were, of course, those moments when suddenly something he said or did – some strangely intimate, ambiguous gesture or word – seemed to steal the air out of Anne’s lungs; but then again, they had always been there, ever since that day she first met him in the woods on her way to school all those years ago.)

Under Anne’s watchful eyes, Gilbert had presented a slightly adjusted version of his reasons for acting the way he had to Marilla, and not a word about the affair had passed between the two women since. Diana had also been told and sworn to the strictest secrecy; the knowing smile with which her friend received the revelations had a particularly exasperating effect upon Anne.

On Saturday, Jane Andrews’ parents were housing a party for the local youth in honour of their youngest daughter’s eighteenth birthday. On Friday afternoon, Gilbert found Anne on the back porch of Green Gables, bent over a mass of cream-colored muslin and intent on sewing.

‘It’s always surprised me that a person as impatient as you can sew so well, or indeed at all,’ he chuckled as he approached the wooden steps on which Anne was seated.

She glared up at him. ‘I am an angel of patience, if you want to know. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to put up with certain people’s nonsense – not to name any names – the way I do on, may I add, a daily basis.’

Gilbert sat down by her side. ‘I like this dress,’ he remarked casually.

Anne frowned unhappily. ‘I used to like it too, but it seems I’ve been wearing it forever. This must be the tenth time I’m mending a tear in it, and I really fear this time it’ll show and Josie Pye won’t let me forget about it for a second throughout the whole party. She’ll keep following me around, whispering, ‘Extraordinary, the amount of wear and tear these old things are able to stand, isn’t it, Anne? Only one of the ten stitches you’ve made in this skirt so far really shows!’ in that penetrating voice of hers which carries across the whole room.’

‘Josie Pye only teases you because she knows that however many newfangled things her mother buys for her, she’ll never look anything but average in comparison with you, no matter how old your dress may be,’ answered Gilbert rather hotly, stung into inconsiderateness by the audibly depressed tone of Anne’s voice.

He immediately regretted his words, for they made Anne look up at him with every appearance of discomfiture.

‘Why would you say a thing like that?’ she asked sharply, narrowing her eyes.

‘Because I believe it,’ replied Gilbert, holding her gaze with a calmness he did not really feel.

‘Well, it’s a very stupid thing to believe,’ Anne shot back, pursing up her lips and trying to keep her hand from trembling as she carried on with the sewing.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Anne torn between being glad about the compliment – was it a compliment? – Gilbert had paid her and being annoyed with him for making it, and Gilbert trying to gather up the courage for what he had to say.

Eventually, he cleared his throat and began,

‘Anne, there’s something I want to talk to you about.’

‘Yhmm,’ mumbled Anne, occupied in scouring her workbox in search of a thread the right shade of beige.

‘It’s about the party,’ he went on, looking at her nimble slender hands.

‘Yes, Gil, I’m listening,’ she had found what she wanted and bent down over the dress again.

‘I just wondered if – if you are aware that some people might talk to us tomorrow as though they believed us to be actually—well, a romantically involved couple.’

Very slowly, Anne sat up straight and faced him. There was no particular expression on her face, but the clearness of her gaze made Gilbert stutter a bit.

‘Anne, I’m sure most of our friends will have heard by now about what I told Marilla in Mrs. Lynde’s presence last Friday,’ he went on quickly, smiling apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Anne, truly. I’m sorry your fun is going to be spoiled because of me.’

‘No,’ Anne interrupted, her brows furrowed. ‘It’s not like there’s much fun to spoil, anyhow. You know I never dance, so it’s not like there’ll be people lining up to sweep me away in their arms. It’s rather the other way around.’

‘What do you mean?’

Anne sighed impatiently. ‘I mean, Gil, that the opinion that to have you for a dance partner constitutes the pinnacle of happiness is one of established currency among the girls of our acquaintance.’

‘And?’ he demanded.

‘And I don’t particularly like the thought that because of me – or rather, our stupid agreement – you will probably be expected not to ask anyone else to dance.’

As Anne uttered these words, it suddenly stuck her that they simply weren’t true. The thought that Gilbert would not be swept off onto the dance floor by Ruby or Josie or any other girl was a thought that sent a pleasurable thrill through her body, followed immediately by a pang of guilt.

She realised with a start that Gilbert was saying something.

‘Anne, I don’t think I’ve ever danced with any of the Avonlea girls – except for Jane Andrews, back when Mrs Lynde made us waltz for the Christmas panto. So I’m not really sure where your theory derives from.’ His voice was amused, but his eyes were serious when she looked up and into them.

‘From the fact that, in case you forgot, I’m a girl too, and I get to hear about these things all the time,’ Anne replied with forced nonchalance. ‘I know that any girl would be blown off her feet if you asked her to dance. And you know that too, Gilbert Blythe. Your play pretend at modesty doesn’t for a minute take me in,’ she added with a derisive smile.

He smirked. ‘Whatever you say, Anne. Perhaps we’ll find out tomorrow.’

Anne’s heart gave an almost painful lurch. ‘Oh. But I thought you said we were supposed to act as though—‘ she hesitated, not quite able to bring herself to finish the sentence.

Gilbert chuckled. ‘Ah, yes. I mean, I still mean it. I’m sorry. It was just a stupid idea I had. Then, we are agreed on that? I mean, agreed on acting—‘ he broke off, searching for the right word, ‘in compliance with the official version of events?’

Anne smiled wryly. ‘You can put in down in black and white and I’ll sign my name underneath, in case you don’t feel secure enough of my cooperation.’

‘I never feel secure of anything when it comes to you, Anne,’ Gilbert said with sudden intensity in his voice. ‘You change your mind so often.’

She turned towards him and looked his face up and down slowly. ‘But not about everything,’ she said quietly, without fully knowing what she meant by the words.

‘I hope not,’ he replied, and his face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheek.

‘Anne!’ Marilla’s voice called sharply from within, making Gilbert move away from Anne with a jolt. ‘Anne, what on earth is taking you so long? Are you sewing up a new dress?’

Gilbert winked at her, and she snorted. ‘I’m coming, Marilla!’ she called out, and then went on silently, to Gilbert, ‘You’ll come pick me up tomorrow?’

‘Of course. I didn’t think that needed saying,’ he replied teasingly. ‘I wouldn’t for the world miss the chance of being the first person to see you in this beautiful dress.’

‘Gilbert, everyone, including you, has seen me in it at least ten times already,’ Anne scoffed.

‘Well, the beauty strikes me anew each time then,’ he said in a non-committal voice, getting up, so that she couldn’t see his face when he made that enigmatic observation. When he turned back towards her, he was smiling warmly. ‘See you tomorrow at half past four.’

Anne nodded briefly, putting her sewing things back into the box and consequently managing to avoid his gaze. When he was a few steps away, he said in a slightly raised voice,

‘Anne?’

She looked up. A mischievous smile was playing on his lips.

‘I didn’t mean the beauty of the dress.’

With that, he was off, leaving Anne in a flurry of emotions she was not, for the moment, inclined to examine too closely.

***

To Anne’s surprise, she and Gilbert received only a very moderate amount of the giggling remarks and impertinent glances she had been fully expecting. When she commented upon that fact to Gilbert, he replied with a smirk,

‘That’s probably because we’ve been seen as courting, if without your guardian’s blessing, for quite a long time now. They regard my informing Marilla about it as a mere formality.’

Anne stared at him in disbelief. ‘Gilbert, you’re joking. I simply don’t get how anyone can at all believe that we are courting – much less that we have been for a long time! This is utterly ridiculous. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get out and get some air.’

Moving away from his side, Anne walked quickly towards the open French windows without looking at anyone. She suddenly felt like a cheater, though she couldn’t really tell why. After all, she wasn’t cheating Gilbert, Marilla or Diana, and the rest of the Avonlea folk may think whatever they please as far as her conscience was concerned. ‘You’re cheating yourself, Anne Shirley,’ said a small nagging voice in her brain, whose presence she routinely ignored.

In the semi-darkness outside, somewhere just behind the corner of the house, a voice which Anne immediately recognised as belonging to Josie Pye remarked, ‘Gilbert Blythe must be out of his mind to wade even deeper into whatever weird relationship connects him with Anne Shirley. If he fancies her, well and good, let him have his fling. But all this play pretend at being in love with her is really rather excessive.’

‘Yee-es, and it’s such a waste, too. He’s so handsome, and ambitious as well, I’ve heard,’ replied an unfamiliar voice, probably that of some Pye girl cousin from Charlottetown.

‘Well, he’s not very ambitious when it comes to women, apparently, since he’s decided to settle for the one who was the easiest to get.’

‘He’ll get bored of her soon now, I expect. She may be moderately pretty – provided one fancies that rather peculiar type of looks – but she’s hardly what you’d call a good catch. And she never seems to give him a moment’s peace. I give it a month at the longest.’

Tears of anger pricked Anne’s eyes. The easiest to get? Have his fling? Never give him a moment’s peace? She moved away noiselessly, picking her way through the dusk-shaded garden of the Andrews’ house until she came to a secluded spot where a small bench stood by the side of a disused well.

She couldn’t help feeling that perhaps she’d been asking for comments like the ones she’d just overheard, what with accepting Gilbert’s ridiculous plan and all the rest of it. But what else was she to do? Stop seeing him? Anne tried to imagine what it would be like to simply cut their acquaintance short, but every time she did she felt as though she was confronted by an insurmountable blank wall.

‘Anne? Are you here? Anne!’

She sat very still, holding her breath and praying he might not notice her. Gilbert’s eyes swept around the garden and finally met hers. He gazed at her in silent bewilderment for a moment.

‘Anne, please tell me you weren’t actually hiding and hoping I wouldn’t see you,’ his voice held a resentful note which Anne found extremely annoying.

‘Why, anyone would have thought you’d be glad of a moment’s respite from my constant company,’ she replied with bitterness she made no attempt at disguising.

‘What on earth,’ he paused, picking his way to her through the somewhat overgrown path, ‘are you talking about?’

‘Well, I suppose I am, after all, entitled to a little time on my own? Or are you going to tell me when and where I can go, now that we’re officially a,’ she brought the words out with derisive solemnity, ‘a romantically involved couple?’

They stared at each other, Anne’s eyes filled with bitterness, Gilbert’s with incomprehension, for a few moments. Then Anne sighed and looked away, propping her chin on her hands.

‘Anne, I’m sorry,’ Gilbert said resignedly. ‘Just tell me what I can do to fix this situation, and I will. I am sorry.’

Silence.

‘Anne, please. Talk to me.’

‘Talk?’ she snorted, her face still averted. ‘All we ever do is talk, and talk, and talk, and nothing ever comes of it. Nothing good. You’re wasting your time with me, Gilbert. Tell me one thing,’ she turned towards him, a fierce gleam in her eyes. ‘Did you become – friends with me because I was so lonely it was the easiest choice?’

Gilbert frowned in disbelief. ‘Easy—easiest choice?’ he stuttered. ‘Anne, I never thought I would actually have to spell this out for you, but getting you to become and stay friends with me has been the biggest challenge of my life. Anne,’ he went on in a tone of dawning comprehension, ‘have you been talking to Josie Pye?’

‘One needn’t talk to her in order to get acquainted with her views. She’s not exactly what you’d call a discrete person.’

‘And now Josie Pye is suddenly a mind-reader, who has somehow managed to get inside my brain and find out the truth about how I—‘ he swallowed hard, his eyes scanning her face anxiously, ‘how I feel about you?’

Anne took in a deep breath and gritted her teeth. ‘I’m not talking about feelings, Gil. I’m talking about what everyone except you seems to have been aware of for a long time now.’

‘Which is?’

‘Which is that you should look around for a girl who can someday hope to make you the wife you deserve, and not waste your time bound to me by a senseless agreement.’

Gilbert’s one heartfelt wish at the moment was to tell her that his only requirement when it came to choosing a wife was that her name should be Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. However, he managed to control himself, and said in what he hoped was a befittingly neural, slightly amused tone,

‘Anne, I’m going to make one thing clear to your right now, and I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely. Have I got your attention?’

Anne snorted dismissively, but looked up at him nonetheless, her eyes narrow.

‘I assure you that my friendship with you is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Consequently, I ask you kindly to never again consider your presence in my life to be in any way an impediment or a nuisance. Understood?’

Anne was silent. She cursed herself internally for being a silly goose; externally, she frowned.

‘All right, Anne, stop making faces and let’s shake hands on it,’ Gilbert came a step closer, his arm outstretched.

Anne rolled her eyes and put her hand into his. He pulled her to her feet and span her around.

‘Gilbert! What, in heaven’s name, are you—‘ she didn’t finish, for she felt Gilbert’s arm slide around her waist, while his other hand retained hers in a firm grasp.

‘Allow me to quote to you a certain interesting thing you said yesterday,’ he said with a mischievous smile, swaying her gently in time to the distant music that reached them from the house. ‘You said, ‘I’m a girl’—‘

‘And that came as a revelation? As in, it dawned upon you that you could actually ask me to dance without it being considered an aberration?’ Anne giggled, the feeling of Gilbert’s arms around her making her feel rather light-headed.

‘And,’ went on Gilbert imperturbably, ‘immediately afterwards you claimed that any girl would be blown off her feet if I asked her to dance. As you can see, I’ve disproved your theory. You’re a girl and you’re dancing with me right now, and yet both your feet are still on the ground.’

Anne considered giving him a shove, but was somehow unwilling to let go of his hand. Instead, she said sceptically, ‘Well, you haven’t actually asked me. I’d say you’ve practically tricked me into it.’

‘Don’t be such a stickler for details. You’re dancing with me, that’s what counts. Theory number one disproved, then.’ He smirked, but his eyes were so gentle and warm as he looked down at her that Anne was afraid she might melt. ‘But,’ he added, spinning her around again and then pulling her in even closer to his chest, ‘there was another one, which, if I remember correctly, stated that to dance with me was universally considered to be the pinnacle of happiness. What have you got to say on that point, miss Shirley?’

‘Only that for a person whose only experience in dancing derives from a waltz performed under the auspices of Mrs. Lynde, you’re not half bad at it.’

‘You don’t exactly have two left feet yourself, miss.’

‘Or perhaps we’re both equally terrible, and therefore unable to tell.’ Anne smiled up at him with unexpected sweetness, and Gilbert wished he could just freeze time and stay locked in this moment with her forever.

He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, revelling in the cool smoothness of her skin. ‘And if we are, do you mind?’ he asked quietly, his fingers lingering by the side of her cheek.

Anne opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment there was a sudden, shrill burst of laughter from somewhere nearby, which made her fairly jump out of Gilbert’s arms.

‘What was that?’ she asked, panicked for reasons she couldn’t explain to herself.

‘Anne, relax. It was simply someone with a fancy to fresh air, just like you.’ His tone was bantering, but Anne found herself trembling all over all the same.

‘I’m cold,’ she lied, making her way towards the house without looking to see if he followed her. ‘I think it’s time I went home.’

‘Sure. I’ll walk you.’

‘Diana and Jerry will probably want to leave as well. Let’s find them and ask.’

Somewhere behind and above her left shoulder, she heard Gilbert give a small sigh which, it seemed to her overwrought brain, was tinged with disappointment.

‘Yes,’ he said in no particular tone at all. ‘Let’s ask them.’

Chapter Text

Early next morning, Anne was awakened by the sound of something small and hard striking repeatedly at her windowpane. At first she thought she had simply dreamt it, for dawn was barely breaking outside and she still remained in the hazy borderland between sleep and wakefulness. Then her eyes snapped wide open and, suddenly certain that she knew what the source of that particular kind of noise would be, she got out of bed and dragged her sore body to the window.

Looking round the edge of the curtains, she saw Gilbert Blythe, fully dressed and with no signs of sleep deficiency on his face, gathering up a handful of small pebbles and raising his arm to aim them at her window.

Anne opened the window a crack and poked out her dishevelled head.

‘You godforsaken idiot, have you taken complete leave of your senses?’ she rasped, squinting down at him.

He grinned. ‘Hello there, sleeping beauty.’

‘Not sleeping anymore, thanks to you! What do you want?’

‘A word with you, miss.’

‘And it couldn’t have waited until we met at church, at a decent hour of the day?’

‘No. It’s private.’

Anne let out an exasperated sigh, closed the window, grabbed her dressing gown, gave her hair a few hasty brushes in the hopes of making it resemble a tangle of red wool a little less, and tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs.

When she emerged from behind the corner of the house, her face flushed with sleep and her long hair loose and tossed over her shoulder, Gilbert thought that he had never seen her look quite so enchanting. She came up to where he stood, trying her best to glare at him out of her drowsy eyes, and he had to suppress the urge to take her in his arms and kiss the remnants of sleep away from her lids.

‘Stop smirking,’ Anne hissed angrily, leaning against the wall of the house heavily. ‘Not everyone is crazy enough to look all spick and span at – what time is it?’

‘Half past five.’

‘Half past—‘ Anne gasped in disbelief. ‘Gilbert Blythe, I’m going to kill you as soon as my blood circulation gets back to normal.’

‘Anne, I’m truly sorry,’ he sounded earnest as he said that, though his eyes were still sparkling with amusement. ‘It’s just that I only got to know yesterday after I’d come back from the party, and I knew I’d probably get no chance to warn you privately before Mary asked you.’

Anne blinked confusedly. ‘Gilbert, you’re making zero sense.’

He laughed a bit awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. Well, the long and short of it is that Mary and Bash are planning to ask you to lunch today after church.’

‘Oh,’ Anne scrunched up her face. ‘And why exactly did you need to tear me out of bed at dawn in order to warn me about it?’

Gilbert looked away, clearing his throat. ‘Because they – especially Bash – they may... well... they may say things that will upset you. And I just wanted to tell you not to pay any attention. Bash’s favourite occupation is making my life a torture, and—‘

‘Then you two are truly birds of a feather,’ scoffed Anne. ‘Because I often – for example right now – have a distinct impression that you enjoy nothing better than to torture me.’

Gilbert winced. ‘Anne—‘

‘Okay, Gilbert, I know it’s not true. For heaven’s sake, get on with what you want to say before Marilla wakes up and finds us here. She’d never stop lecturing me about the impropriety of my behaviour, and all the rest of it.’

‘Well, that’s basically all I had to say. I mean, that you should simply disregard Bash’s nonsense.’

Anne rolled her eyes. ‘All right, whatever you say. May I go back to bed now?’

Gilbert smiled fondly down at her. ‘I like your hair like this,’ he said quietly, his hand ghosting over where it was tumbling in a coppery mass down Anne’s shoulder.

‘Like what?’ she tried to sound annoyed, but was only partially successful, due to a sudden difficulty in breathing. ‘Like a ginger mop?’

‘No,’ he breathed, curling a lock of it round his finger. ‘Like a—a cascade of fire. I had no idea it is quite so long when you let it down.’

He tugged lightly at the strand he was holding between his fingers, making Anne pull away from the wall she was leaning against. Her eyes went wide and limpid as she stared into his face, suddenly mere centimetres away from hers.

Unnaturally loud in the stillness of the summer morning, a shrill, penetrating ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’ sounded from the henhouse just behind the corner, making them both snap out of their trance. Anne took a quick step back, drawing her dressing gown closer around her chest. Gilbert’s hands fell limply to his sides.

‘See you at church, Carrots.’ His tone was teasing, but his eyes were dark and intense on her face.

Anne gave him a very slight nod and, quick and noiseless as a fox, disappeared round the corner of the house.

***

‘Anne, you do look rather pale. Had plenty of fun at the party yesterday, huh?’ Mary observed in her kind, pleasantly low voice.

‘That, or else it was a lovers’ quarrel,’ remarked her husband drolly from the opposite side of the table. ‘Blythe here came home last night looking like a lost puppy. Somehow, he usually looks like that after a meeting with the lady of his heart. You shouldn’t be so hard on him, Anne-with-an-e, considering how long it took him to muster up the courage to officially announce his intentions towards you! Me and Mary, we've been waiting for this moment for the past three years, and I can tell you it’s a relief to know he’s finally gone and did it. Now he’ll probably take another three years to propose, though.’

Anne nearly choked on her food.

‘Don’t tease the poor girl so, Sebastian,’ said Mary, giving him an admonishing smile. ‘She’s never going to visit us again if you frighten her away by your ill-timed sense of humour.’

‘She’ll get used to it, the way Blythe here has. Back when we were still out on the sea together, when I first started twitting him about this ‘red-haired, fiery-tempered’ girl he had left behind, he’d get all clammed up and glum and tell me off. Lately, however, he’s simply stopped bothering about denying his feelings. I mean, it’s pretty obvious for anyone who sees the way he looks at you, Anne-with-an-e, that he’s gone over you well and proper.’

‘You are one lucky girl, Anne,’ put in Mary kindly. ‘Gilbert may not be perfect, but he’s as close to it as they get. And I suppose it is after all proof of the genuineness and strength of his affection for you, the fact that he’s been so patient about winning your heart.’

Whilst the happy Lacroix couple sat exchanging those heart-warming remarks, Anne was steadily getting redder and redder in the face. Opposite her, Gilbert was staring down at his plate with unprecedented fixity.

‘You both seem to be rather out of sorts today,’ said Mary eventually, noticing their silence. ‘Is something wrong? Don’t you like the food, Anne?’

‘Oh no!’ replied Anne quickly, looking up at Mary with a forced smile. ‘The food is simply delicious. You are a wonderful cook, Mrs. Lacroix.’

‘Please, call me Mary,’ said the older woman with warmth. ‘After all, it won’t be long before we’re family now, will it?’

Anne gazed at her for a few seconds with her mouth slightly agape. Then she stuttered, ‘Y-yes. Of course. I’ll be honoured to call you by your first name, Mary.’

‘And what about you, Blythe?’ tuned in Bash, pointing an accusing fork at Gilbert. ‘Since when have you become so tongue-tied? Here sits the young lady whom you profess to be courting, looking as fair as though she'd just stepped straight out of a Botticelli picture, and you won’t even make the simple effort of telling her that?’

‘Anne knows I always think her beautiful,’ replied Gilbert with forced calmness, flashing the girl in question a crooked smile.

Anne clenched her teeth, suppressing the impulse to throw her plate into his face. How could he be so cool about this? Evidently, their relationship was something of a standing joke in this house, a practice doubtless encouraged by that nearly-perfect specimen of humanity, Gilbert Blythe. Why else would they talk like this?

‘Ah, but that’s no reason not to remind her of that!’ Sebastian’s humorous voice broke in upon her thoughts. ‘I tell Mary she’s lovely every day the minute she wakes up. And it’s my advice to you, Blythe, to adopt that habit as well as soon as you are legally allowed to sleep in one bed with the exquisite Anne here.’

Gilbert’s and Anne’s eyes met across the table. She wondered if it would be too much to ask God to take pity on her and cause the trumpet of Jericho to be sounded right then and there. She didn’t think she would ever again be able to look at Gilbert without Sebastian’s words ringing in her ears.

‘Well, I rather doubt that I look so very lovely with my hair all dishevelled and my eyes barely able to open,’ laughed Mary.

‘Why, that’s exactly when you women look the most alluring,’ countered Bash.

‘Yes, that’s true,’ Gilbert chuckled, his eyes locked with Anne’s. Against her better judgement, she returned his smile, remembering the mess she must have looked that very morning after he’d woken her. Then they both realised a sudden silence had fallen upon the table.

Mary, her eyebrows raised, was looking from one of them to the other. Bash grinned and then emitted a quiet whistle. That last action finally galvanised Gilbert into attempting an explanation.

‘For God’s sake, Bash, you know very well I spend all my nights at home!’ he said severely, giving the older man a scowling look. ‘It’s simply that Anne and I often study together, and when we get tired, we nap. That’s all. I didn’t think that needed saying.’

‘Of course it didn’t, Gilbert,’ put in Mary in a placatory tone. ‘I’m sorry, Anne, if we – my husband – made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that we’ve always been rooting for you two to get together so much. You are made for each other, you truly are. And anyone who sees you together knows at first glance that Gilbert respects and treasures you more than anything else in the world.’

That was it. Anne felt she couldn’t stand a minute more of this farce. If either Mary or Bash said anything more about Gilbert’s supposed feelings towards her, she would simply go into hysterics. To listen to such things – about how he had allegedly liked her in a special way for so long, and how it was taken for granted (by people who, after all, were his family!) that they would soon get engaged – and to know that there wasn’t and never could be an ounce of truth in it all was more than she had been prepared to bear.

Because suddenly, she no longer knew where their friendship ended and the ridiculous playacting they had decided to put on in order to save it began.

***

Mary and Bash, the first all encouraging smiles and the other all meaningful glances, walked Anne and Gilbert to the door and stood looking on as the younger couple made their way down the path to the gate.

As soon as they had turned the corner of the road and were no longer visible from the house, Anne folded her arms across her chest and turned around to face Gilbert. She regarded him silently for a few moments, her face strangely dispassionate. Finally, she said in a voice that was at once quiet and very clear,

‘Gilbert, I think we both realise that this should never have happened. It was simply – simply awful. I think I’ve never felt more embarrassed in my life.’

Gilbert gulped. ‘Anne, I’m honestly sorry, I didn’t mean to – to embarrass you. It just slipped out before I—‘

‘Slipped out?’ Anne repeated in sarcastic disbelief.

‘Well, yes... it’s just that I remembered how – how sweet you looked this morning, and—‘

‘No, Gil, that’s not what I’m talking about,’ she cut him short, hoping heartily that the way her heart had skipped a beat at the word ‘sweet’ had not registered in her face. ‘I mean this whole – this whole terrible, enormous lie.’

‘What lie?’ Gilbert queried with a confused frown.

‘What lie?’ Anne mimicked viciously. ‘Can you honestly ask? Don’t you think it’s nothing but a lie to let people – and not just any people, but people who are practically your family, Gilbert! – assume that there is really something going on between us, and that it’ll lead to more in the near future? It’s – it’s despicable. I simply despise myself for allowing you to do it.’ Anne’s voice was getting more and more feverish, and she could feel tears start to well up in the back of her throat.

Gilbert opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she put up her hand to keep him quiet. ‘No, Gilbert, let me finish! For one goddamned time in our life, just let me finish. The moment you get home, you’re going to tell Mary and Bash all about how none of this is true. You’re going to make them understand it’s all just play pretend. Right?’

‘I can tell them whatever you want me to, Anne,’ he replied, resigned and somewhat subdued. ‘But it’s not going to change a thing.’

The expression of Anne’s eyes went from severe to alarmed in the fraction of a second.

‘What – what do you mean, not change a thing?’ she asked in a very small voice, and it seemed to Gilbert that all the blood had been drained from her face.

He wanted to say, ‘Because it isn’t play pretend. Not as far as I’m concerned. It’s true. What I feel for you is true. And pure. And forever.’

But he couldn’t. Not when she stood there looking at him so pale and frightened, her whole attitude a plea to him not to say it, not to force her to hear out and acknowledge and make an answer to the declaration of his love for her.

There was nothing for him to do but take a deep breath and say in a calm, collected voice, giving her a smile that was half reassurance, half apology,

‘Because I don’t believe that either Bash or Mary – or, frankly, anyone who isn’t you or me – could possibly even begin to understand the truth about our – our relationship. After all, that’s why we’re doing this whole sham courtship thing, isn’t it? Because most people are unable to get their heads around the idea we could be so close to each other without it being in any way romantical.’

Anne's expression lost some of it tension. She studied his face attentively for a moment. ‘And so you think Bash isn't going to believe you when you tell him we're completely... non-romantical?’

Gilbert smiled wryly. ‘I think he’s going to believe it as far as you –‘ he caught himself up. ‘I mean, he’s probably going to say something like, ‘Come on, Blythe, I know you’re just saying that because in reality it’s all a ploy of yours meant to make Anne-with-an-e realise she’s every bit as much in love with you as you are with her.’ As he uttered this last sentence, his voice got gradually lower and less matter-of-fact than it had been before.

For a few moments, they gazed at each other in silence. Then, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Gilbert’s, Anne remarked softly, ‘What a very odd thing to say.’

‘Yes. Very odd.’

‘He would have to be crazy to believe this.’

‘Oh, he’s crazy all right.’

‘But he’s going to have to admit he’s been wrong all along someday. When we get engaged.’

‘Yes.’

‘I mean, each of us to someone else.’

‘Yes.’

‘Not engaged to each other. Because that would be absurd.’

‘Yes. Exactly. Absurd.’ breathed Gilbert, putting his hand up and cupping Anne’s cheek in it. She stared up at him with eyes that were like two bottomless, starry pools of gray.

He bent his head down slowly, his gaze locked with hers. His arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her close. He could feel her shiver at his touch.

‘Anne,’ he whispered, and she smiled up at him a thousand times more sweetly than she had done the night before at the dance, though he hadn’t thought that possible.

There was no more than a millimetre of space between their faces now. Anne could feel his breath on her trembling lips.

And then, like an embodiment of the common sense she had decided to cast to the winds, Sebastian Lacroix came running towards them round the bend of the road.

‘Blythe! Thank God you’re still here! Oh, I am so terribly sorry to interrupt, dear lovebirds,’ he grinned, seeing Anne and Gilbert start apart. ‘Making up after the fight, eh?’

‘What do you want, Bash?’ asked Gilbert sharply, his jaw clenched.

‘Don’t get so nasty, Blythe,’ Sebastian replied with a wink in Anne’s direction. ‘You’ll have plenty of time for making up your quarrels yet. It’s just that—‘

‘It's all right, Bash,’ put in Anne quickly, wondering internally how she still managed to stand up straight when her knees – all of her bones, really – felt like they were made of jelly. ‘You take Gilbert back home with you. I really have to go. I promised Marilla I wouldn’t be very long. Gilbert doesn’t have to walk me. Goodbye.’ She turned away without another look at either of the two men, and started down the road in a step so quick it was almost a trot.

‘She’s really something else, your Anne-with-an-e,’ snickered Bash, giving Gilbert a friendly clap on the shoulder. ‘But it’s been worth it, waiting for her, hasn’t it?’

Gilbert blinked. For a moment, he stared at Bash's face with eyes that didn’t in the least seem to take in what they saw. Then, without replying, he set off towards the house.

‘Come on, Blythe,’ he heard Bash chuckle a few steps behind him. ‘After all, you can kiss her whenever you want to now, right?’

Yeah, right. Sure.

Or rather, damn it all.

Chapter Text

With a decisive motion, Gilbert raised his hand and knocked at the weather-beaten front door of Green Gables.

It was high time he and Anne stopped playing hide-and-seek with their feelings. After what happened yesterday, nothing and nobody would prevent him from having it out with her right then and there in the kitchen of her house, in Marilla's presence, if need be. Nothing and nobody.

The door was pulled open from within, and, to his instant dismay, Gilbert was confronted by the short but substantial figure of Mrs. Rachel Lynde. At the sight of him, she smiled her most meaningful smile.

‘Well, well, well,’ she cackled, looking him up and down. ‘Gilbert Blythe. And what brings you here, young man? Are you looking for somebody?’

Gilbert managed a smile which he hoped could be described as polite. ‘Good morning, Mrs. Lynde. Is Anne home?’

The frog-like grin became wider. ‘Good question, young man. Why don’t you come in and help me find out? I’ve been trying to get her to come downstairs for the past ten minutes, and to no avail. These two women could be robbed in broad daylight and be none the wiser for it.’

With that, Mrs. Lynde moved back inside with Gilbert in tow. The kitchen was empty and the whole house seemed very quiet.

‘So... is she home or not?’ asked Gilbert awkwardly, watching Mrs. Lynde take her accustomed seat by the table.

At that instant, there was a loud thud from upstairs, as if something – or somebody – hit the floor with considerable force.

‘Ah, that’ll be Anne,’ said Mrs. Lynde with perfect equanimity. ‘Anne?’ she called out in a louder tone.

‘Yes, Mrs. Lynde, I’m coming,’ replied Anne’s voice from somewhere above. She sounded rather out of breath but not in any way hurt; realising that, Gilbert, who was already on his way up to check on her, stopped short in the middle of the stairs.

The next moment, Anne appeared in the corridor above. She was dressed in what looked very much like a potato sack, an old shawl was wrapped around her head, and her whole person was covered from top to toe in cobwebs, dust, and dirt of every possible description. When she saw Gilbert her eyes nearly started out of her begrimed face.

‘Hello, Anne,’ he smiled up at her, unable to eliminate from his voice a slightly amused note.

Anne simply stared. She had made a terrible fool of herself the day before, and she knew that. She had accordingly resolved to act as cool and dignified around Gilbert when they next met as possible. And, lo and behold, here she was, looking for all the world like some grotesque scarecrow, while he, neat and clean-cut as ever even in his workaday clothes, had the temerity to actually laugh at her to her very face.

Really, there was a limit.

‘For heaven’s sake, children, what’s become of you? Do you think I have all day to sit here and wait until you’re done kissing your helloes?’

Anne pushed past Gilbert, sending him a nasty look out of the corner of her eye. Slowly, he followed her to the table at which Mrs. Lynde sat drumming her fingers impatiently.

‘My dear girl, what’s happened to you?’ she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. ‘You do look a fright! Aren’t you afraid of scaring the young gentleman here away? You really oughtn’t to let him see you in a state like this before you’re safely married to him!’

‘Well, then you shouldn’t have let him in, Mrs. Lynde,’ replied Anne in as haughty a manner as she could muster at the moment. ‘I certainly didn’t invite him to come visit at this ridiculous hour of the day. It’s not my fault if, unlike him, I have actual chores to do around the house. If he doesn’t like the way I look, he is free to take his leave right now.’

‘Anne—‘ Gilbert began, coming a step closer.

She ignored him. ‘How can I help you, Mrs. Lynde?’

Mrs. Lynde clicked her tongue, looking from one of them to the other.

‘Upon my word, to look at you two, anyone would think you were mortal enemies rather than a courting couple,’ she chuckled.

Gilbert, heedless of anything but the object of his visit, grabbed Anne by the hand. ‘Look here, Anne, I really need to talk to you—‘

She wrenched her hand away without sparing him a look. ‘Yes, Mrs. Lynde, what is it?'

‘Well, well, well,’ Mrs. Lynde’s eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I’m not entirely sure that it’s really still anything. I was going to invite you two – as well as Marilla, of course – for a pleasant afternoon tea today. My husband’s nephew from Toronto, Royal Gardiner – an absurd name by the way, isn’t it?’

‘Royal Gardiner, the famous novelist? I never knew he was your family, Mrs. Lynde!’ put in Anne, her face losing some of its glumness.

Gilbert disliked the excited tone in which she uttered the words very much. ‘Yes, he does sound rather absurd,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest belligerently.

Anne threw him a disdainful look over her shoulder. ‘Of course, everything romantical sounds absurd to people devoid of imagination.’

Mrs. Lynde rapped her nails on the table, bringing their attention back to herself. ‘Well, he is indeed my family – or rather Thomas’s – but he’s also extremely difficult company. I mean, difficult for people like me and Thomas and Marilla. But I’m sure you and he would get on perfectly together, Anne. That’s why I wanted you to come and help me amuse him. And I thought,’ she looked with a meaningful smile at Gilbert, whose expression was getting less favourable by the second. ‘I thought Gilbert would want to accompany you. But now I’m not so sure that I ought to ask both of you to come after all.’

‘Of course I’m going to accompany Anne,’ Gilbert replied in a voice that came out sharper than he had intended. Almost unthinkingly, he grabbed Anne’s hand again, holding it so tight she couldn’t free it without putting on a visible struggle. ‘I’m very grateful for the invitation, Mrs. Lynde.’

‘Well, that’s settled then,’ Mrs. Lynde hauled herself up and out of the chair. ‘Only, Anne, do clean yourself up a bit before you come. I don’t think Royal would take to you much if he saw you in the guise of a chimney-sweeper.’

‘He would be a fool not to,’ put in Gilbert before Anne could reply. She looked up at him quizzically, and he flashed her a crooked smile. ‘Because Anne is the most charming chimney-sweeper I’ve ever seen.’

Anne rolled her eyes, but felt a sudden wave of warmth wash over her nonetheless.

Mrs. Lynde approached the door, putting on her hat. ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ she repeated, smiling indulgently at the two young people. This was love then, she thought: a headstrong girl and a determined boy holding hands so tightly their knuckles went white, both apparently unwilling to let go, yet at the same time looking displeased about it and angry with each other.

‘Gilbert is leaving as well, Mrs. Lynde, so he’ll accompany you home,’ said Anne, withdrawing her hand from his grasp and giving him a slight push towards the door. ‘I’ve got to go finish my work up in the attic quickly if I’m to have enough time to make myself look presentable.’

‘Well, I certainly won’t say no to that!’ exclaimed Mrs. Lynde. ‘Because, as it happens, I was just looking for someone to help me with some heavy lifting that’s got to be done before Royal graces us with his presence. Come on then, young man.’ She pulled the door open and stepped energetically out of the house.

Gilbert turned back with an almost desperate expression in his eyes. ‘Anne, can we—‘ he began, but stopped short upon realising that she had already disappeared upstairs.

With a heavy sigh, he followed Mrs. Lynde out of the house.

***

Gilbert was late.

He could literally count on the fingers of one hand the times in his life when he had been late to anything. And yet today, when (the excited voice in which Anne had said, ‘Royal Gardiner’ ringing in his ears) he was more than ever determined to pick Anne up and never, not for one second, leave her side, he was late.

Mrs. Lynde opened the door to him, looking extremely festive and imposing in her best purple lace. Gilbert followed her into the dining room, where, to his horror, only a very somnolent Thomas Lynde and a rather discomfited Marilla were seated at the food-laden table.

‘And where’s Anne?’ he blurted out almost before the two older people were done greeting him, trying hard not to appear anxious and failing rather miserably.

‘Showing Roy around the garden,’ replied Mrs. Lynde.

‘I’ll go join them, then,’ Gilbert said with forced unconcern, and it took all his self-control to walk rather than run out of the room.

Behind his back, Marilla and Mrs. Lynde exchanged knowing glances.

***

He spotted them almost immediately, and it was like all his worst nightmares were coming true right before his eyes.

A tall, dark man was leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a nearby tree, talking animatedly and gesticulating in a rather exaggerated way. Anne was standing opposite him, her arms folded across her chest, her head bent down, silent, motionless, listening.

In his rational mood, Gilbert Blythe would snigger dismissively at the suggestion that two strangers could actually fall in love within less than an hour of meeting each other.

Now, however, he was not being rational. He was torn by jealously, blinded by anger at the damnable cowardice which had made him shrink repeatedly from confessing his feelings for Anne, and terrified by the thought of what his life would look like without her.

He reached the spot in which they were standing in a few long strides. He didn’t even take the time to look at the man’s face or try to find out what he was talking to Anne about.

He simply did what all the strong and contrary impulses raging within him at the moment told him to do: he grabbed Anne by the waist, swung her around to face him, and crashed his lips to hers, kissing her rather harder than he had meant to.

Her eyes went wide, and as his arms pressed her to him he could feel that her whole body was stiff and motionless with the shock his action had caused her. He fully expected her to push him away, slap him, and demand that he never lay a finger on her again.

What he didn’t expect was that she would start kissing him back.

And yet, she did.

Gilbert felt Anne’s arms slide up and wind themselves around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair and her nails scraping the skin of his neck and scalp. She sighed against his lips and pressed herself closer, pushing herself up on tiptoe to deepen the kiss.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it came to a stop.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ an unpleasantly nasal voice drawled somewhere beside them. ‘But I do feel rather uncomfortable right now.’

Anne pulled away from Gilbert’s lips, clutching at his sleeves with both her hands in the hope of keeping her completely enervated body from tumbling to the ground. His eyes were so intense that it was almost too difficult for her to look straight into them, and she dropped her gaze to his lips. This made her want to kiss him again, and she quickly looked back up, only to see him do the exact same thing. He gulped, clenching his jaw and tightening his hold on her waist.

‘Will you kindly introduce me to your friend, Anne?’ the possessor of the mincing voice was at it again.

Gilbert would have probably just gone on disregarding him, for it seemed to him that letting go of Anne’s body right now was a physical impossibility. Anne, however, somehow managed to let go of Gilbert's shirt, and turned partially around to face the other man. Gilbert kept one of his arms wrapped around her waist, and, almost unthinkingly, she leaned slightly into his side.

‘This-’ said Anne, her voice rather raspy. She cleared her throat and began anew, ‘This is—this is Gilbert,’ she repeated, looking up at him with a bewildered expression on her face, as though she herself wasn't fully certain whether the person who had just kissed her so recklessly could indeed be Gilbert.

‘I’m her – her friend,’ Gilbert offered, frowning in a futile attempt to force his dazzled eyes to focus on the face of the man in front of him.

‘A rather special friend, I assume?’ Royal Gardiner drawled out, raising one eyebrow.

Anne’s eyes were still fixed on Gilbert’s face, and he looked down and into their gray depths as he replied slowly, ‘Yes, a special friend.’ Her blush deepened and she quickly averted her gaze, making, however, no attempt to move away from him. That, thought Gilbert, was in itself a small victory.

‘Ye-ees, I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Rupert,’ said Royal, and Gilbert had to physically keep himself from wincing. What was wrong with the man? He felt Anne’s body tremble slightly against his, and looking anxiously down at her saw that she was biting her lip. There was a distinct sparkle of amusement in the sideways glance she shot at him, and he felt so relieved by how different this whole situation was from what he had worked himself up into expecting that he pressed her closer to his side in sheer exultation.

‘What have you two been talking about?’ he asked quickly, trying to keep his voice level.

‘I’ve been telling the enchanting creature here about my latest work,’ replied Royal, twirling his waxed moustache and giving Anne a look that made Gilbert want to give him a kick in the shin. ‘She’s got a wonderful gift for listening. She would make the perfect wife of a writer.’

‘Well, that’s rather unfortunate,’ Gilbert observed in a tone more chilly than Anne had ever heard him use before. His fingers were digging so viciously into her side now that it actually hurt. ‘Because, if I'm lucky enough to get to have a say in the matter, she might end up being the wife of an ordinary country doctor of medicine.’

‘Gilbert,’ said Anne quietly. ‘Gilbert, this hurts.’

‘What?’ he asked in a panicked voice, thinking for an awful second that she actually meant his words.

‘Don’t squeeze me so tight, you idiot,’ she gasped. He relaxed his hold on her waist instantly, and, to his chagrin, felt her move a little bit away from him.

‘You two are engaged, then?’ asked Royal, who had been listening to their hushed exchange with raised eyebrows.

Anne looked up at Gilbert. There was the frightened look again. It would probably haunt his nightmares until the end of his days, he thought dismally.

He cleared his throat and said, ‘We are—‘

At that moment, Mrs. Lynde’s voice called from the direction of the house, ‘Hullo there, bright young people, do come in and have something to eat!’

Chapter Text

Some particularly well-timed impulse told Gilbert to grab Anne’s hand before she could bolt towards the house and leave him behind. He was just in time to snatch at the tips of her fingers and pull her back to his side.

Anne had indeed meant to get inside ahead of Gilbert and then place herself in a strategically chosen spot, preferably between Marilla and Mr. Lynde, thus making it impossible for Gilbert to interact with her directly at least for the duration of the visit.

She was already beginning to congratulate herself on succeeding when she felt Gilbert’s warm, calloused fingers catch at and then weave themselves firmly around her own.

It was amazing what an enormous difference one kiss could make in the way she responded to his touch. When she and Gilbert held hands before, it had always had the effect of making her feel very warm inside, and also very safe. Now, however, there seemed to be actual sparks of electricity coursing through her blood. It was the best feeling in the world; it was also extremely uncomfortable.

In short, it made Anne want to press her whole body flush against his and make him kiss her again in the deliciously heady way he had done just minutes ago.

And she did not particularly cherish the thought of having to confront the Lyndes and Marilla feeling like this.

She looked up at Gilbert, meaning to ask him to let her go, but when she met his eyes and saw her own desire reflected tenfold in their dark-brown dappled depths, all she could do was bite her lip and look away again, her fingers curling tighter around his almost of their own accord.

As for Gilbert, he wished with all his heart that he could think of a way to get them both out of here and somewhere they could be alone and uninterrupted so that he could explain to her and make her understand. He was usually good at reading Anne’s reactions, but right now his mind was strangely fuzzy and the only thing he could focus on was the memory of how extraordinarily soft and inviting her lips had been under his own, and how her nails had dug into the nape of his neck in an attempt to bring him closer—

Just as that last thought flashed through his mind, Anne raised her clear gray eyes to his face and looked at him speechlessly, her small white teeth tugging at her bottom lip, which was still slightly swollen from their kiss. The sight almost sent him over the edge again; however, she looked away before he had time to react, and then they were already at the door of the dining room.

‘Ah, aunt Rachel, this countryside really seems like the perfect idyllic setting for a psychological novel of dark and tormenting emotions,’ said Royal Gardner, sitting down in exactly the chair Anne had planned to secure for herself.

She and Gilbert had been assigned neighbouring seats. He still hadn’t let go of her hand, keeping it locked within his own in his lap, and Anne’s whole attention was for the moment engrossed in sitting very still and thus keeping her knee and shoulder from making accidental contact with his.

‘The protagonists would be two young people, to all appearances destined to become best friends and lovers,’ went on Royal in his mincing voice. ‘At first, it would seem that the course of true love never did run this smooth. Then, suddenly, tragedy strikes: they learn that they are half-siblings.’

Gilbert spluttered. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s ridiculous.’

‘It’s art, Rupert,’ replied Roy coolly. ‘And, may I be allowed to remark that, being engaged to a person of such deep sensibilities as Anne’s, you ought to be able to appreciate—‘

‘I’m sorry, my dear boy,’ piped in Mrs. Lynde. ‘What was that you said?’

‘About my new book?’

‘No, about—‘

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Lynde,’ it was an enormous effort to keep her voice steady, but Anne managed it somehow. ‘But I’ve got a terrible headache. I think it’ll be best if I go home and lie quietly down. I hope you’ll all excuse me. No, don’t get up, Marilla,’ she added hastily, seeing the older woman make a move to go. ‘Gilbert will walk me.’

‘Yes,’ said Gilbert with an eagerness he didn’t even try to hide, springing up and consequently pulling Anne to her feet rather abruptly as well. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to stay very much longer anyway. There’s something I – er, something I need to attend to. At the farm,’ he added aimlessly.

In a moment, they were out of the house. With one decisive jerk, Anne freed her hand from Gilbert’s grasp and folded her arms across her chest.

‘Don’t touch me until we’re out of sight,’ she snapped without looking at him. ‘And don’t say anything, or else I’m not responsible for my actions.’

At that, Gilbert’s already troubled spirits sunk even lower. He walked quiescently by Anne’s side, beating himself up mentally for having acted like a cad. And yet, he was simply unable to regret kissing her; if it was to be the only kiss they were ever to have shared, if she was going to send him to the devil any minute now, he would at least have that one memory to cherish and go back to.

‘All right,’ Anne’s voice broke the silence, clear and resolute. They had come to a path that led exclusively to Green Gables, and was therefore frequented almost solely by the inhabitants of that house. Anne had turned to face him, her hands on her hips, her head thrown back in a defiant gesture.

She looks so alluring when she’s acting fierce like this, thought Gilbert. His own indomitable, impetuous, free-spirited Anne, with those soft soft lips of hers that taste, for some reason, like caramel...

‘Gilbert, I assure you you’ve got nothing to snicker about,’ Anne said, pursing up her lips. ‘Perhaps you find it funny that the whole of Avonlea is going to be abuzz with news about our alleged engagement within a matter of hours, but somehow I don’t exactly enjoy the thought, especially considering—.’

‘I wasn’t snickering,’ Gilbert put in quickly, nervously wetting his suddenly parched lips with the tip of his tongue. Anne’s eyes flickered momentarily to his mouth, and she blushed, and scowled even harder.

‘Your behaviour today was simply unacceptable,’ she went on, looking away from his face and biting her lip again. ‘I ought to have slapped you – actually, I should slap you right now for not even bothering to apologise to me.’

Gilbert gulped. That was it, then.

‘I can’t tell you I’m sorry, Anne, because I’m not,’ he sighed, passing a hand over his eyes in a gesture of resignation.

‘You’re not?’ she repeated in disbelief, her arms falling limply to her sides. ‘Some gentleman you are, then.’

‘I could never be sorry for bringing about the best moment of my life,’ Gilbert gave her a wan smile. ‘Especially now that I know it’s not going to happen again. But,’ he went on, looking her straight in the eyes, ‘you’re welcome to slap me. I fully deserve it. Actually, if we’re to be even, you’ll have to slap me once for every day of our acquaintance.’

‘Ex—excuse me?’

‘Because that’s how often I’ve wanted to kiss you. Or, if I’m to be really honest, you’d best slap me for every hour. Or maybe for every minute. Or—‘

‘Oh, just shut up already, you idiot,’ gasped Anne, closing the distance between them and cupping Gilbert’s face between her hands. The unbelieving, surprised joy she saw appear in his eyes made her let out a small giggle. ‘You make so much more sense when you’re kissing me than when you’re talking, anyway.’

With that, she pressed her lips to his.

Gilbert’s hands shot up, gasping her wrists and making her wrap her arms around his neck. Then he folded his own arms tightly around her waist, so that there was scarcely a hairbreadth of space left between their bodies.

The kiss was even deeper and more intense than the previous one. Finally, unwillingly, Gilbert pulled away. Anne gave an impatient, discontented murmur at that, burying her face immediately in the crook of his shoulder.

‘Anne,’ he chuckled in a voice the was so deliciously husky she shivered. ‘I won’t be much use to you if I die of asphyxiation, will I?’ He pulled her face back up to his and placed a quick, sweet kiss on her lips. Then, looking into her sparkling eyes with a dazed smile, he added, ‘Besides, don’t you think there’s a thing or two we have to talk about?’

Anne huffed and pressed herself closer. ‘We’ve talked enough,’ she murmured, placing small kisses along the line of his jaw. ‘Actually, I’m kind of grateful you haven’t kissed me sooner. Then there’d heaps of talking to do. And the way it is, we already know everything about each other and can focus on what’s really important.’ She pressed her lips to his throat and heard him utter a quiet moan. ‘For example, this,’ she finished impishly.

Gilbert managed – with an inhuman effort, it seemed to him – to restrain the impulse to kiss her again, and drew away enough to be able to actually see her face.

‘Well? How do I look?’ she laughed, intertwining her fingers with his. ‘Because it feels like I’m drunk.’

‘You look—‘ he stopped, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw. ‘Anne, do you even realise how happy I am right now? And – and I’m sorry for asking, but I simply need to know. Do you – do you really have some kind of feelings for me?’

‘S o m e kind of feelings?’ she drawled teasingly. ‘As in, do I still feel like slapping you?’

‘No,’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. ‘No, Anne. As in, do you love me? Or,’ he added quickly in an increasingly feverish voice, ‘do you think you could learn to love me in time? Because the only thing I’m certain of right now is that I love you. And I – I always will. So that’s that.’

‘That’s that,’ Anne repeated softly. Her voice had lost its bantering quality, and she was suddenly rather pale. ‘That’s that.’

Gilbert felt the cold fingers of panic close around his heart again. ‘I don’t want to – to hurry you into any confessions, Anne,’ he stammered hurriedly. ‘I swear I don’t. If you can just tell me that there's hope, nothing will make me happier than to wait until you’re ready.’

‘Nothing?’

‘No. I mean, yes.’

‘Then it wouldn’t, for example,’ Anne said slowly, letting go of one of Gilbert’s hands and reaching up to trace a line along his cheek with her index finger, ‘make you happy if I told you falling in love with you has come so naturally to me that I can’t even tell the moment when I didn’t love you from the moment when I did?’

Gilbert’s eyes scanned her face frantically. ‘Anne—‘

She laid her palm flat against his cheek. ‘Gil, of course I love you. How could I help it? You’re always so good, and kind, and put up with my nonsense so patiently. Although... no, that’s not really the reason,’ she bit her lip, frowning slightly. ‘I think it’s just that – that you’ve always seemed to – to exist not just beside me, but within me. Do you know that quote?’ she smiled a bit self-consciously. ‘"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." That’s how I feel about you.’

Gilbert stared at her, his eyes getting more intense with every word Anne uttered.

‘I wish I had your way with words, Anne,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘So that I could tell you how much I—‘

‘Shh,’ murmured Anne, pressing her fingers to his lips. ‘You can and you do tell me, Gil. All the time. With your eyes. No one else has ever looked at me the way you do, and I’ve known that for much longer than I’d dare admit to myself.’

Gilbert reached up, took her hand in his, and pressed a kiss full of reverence to the inside of her palm. Then he tugged lightly at her other hand, bringing her close once more.

‘Then,’ he said, kissing the tip of her nose, ‘there’s only one more thing I’ve got to ask you.’

Anne rolled her eyes. ‘Only one, sure. And then you’ll come up with another one and want to discuss it for another hour, because apparently while kissing me you’re thinking about everything except the kiss itself.’

His eyes darkened in a way that caused a pleasurable thrill to run down Anne’s spine.

‘Not true, miss Shirley,’ he said in a low voice, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘And I’m about to prove as much to you in a second. But first, I have to make sure Mrs. Lynde doesn’t spread any more false rumours about you.’

Anne giggled. ‘Actually, I feel I ought to be grateful to Mrs. Lynde and her information corps. If it hadn’t been for your chivalrous proposition to protect our friendship by pretending to court me, Bash and Mary would probably have had to wait more than three years for us to get together.’

Gilbert smirked. ‘I’m about to prove Bash wrong on one front anyhow.’

‘Well?’

He took a deep, steadying breath, and then, his earnest eyes filled with such genuine devotion that Anne’s knees buckled and she had to clutch at his arms for support in a very unladylike way, he asked in a voice that was at once very low and somewhat faltering, ‘Will you marry me, Anne Shirley?’

The shaky laughter Anne let out was a mixture of pure happiness and wondrous incredulity. Gilbert couldn’t help laughing back, even though his eyes were still scanning her face anxiously.

‘Of course I will, Gil,’ she replied, pressing her cheek to his chest and revelling in the sound of his heart beating in exactly the same uneven, accelerated tempo as her own. ‘Won’t I make just the perfect wife of a—‘ she looked back up at him with a mischievous smile, ‘how did it go? Humble country doctor?’

Gilbert laughed again, wiping away with his thumb the tears that were sliding down Anne’s cheeks and kissing her quickly on the lips. ‘What I know is that you’ll make a wonderful writer yourself, so it’s just as well you’ll be married to someone with slightly more practical interests.’

‘Yee-es,’ said Anne musingly. ‘Roy Gardner was a terrible let-down, if I’m to be honest. I don’t know how I could ever have led myself to believe that melancholy artists were the most romantical breed of men. It turns out that sensible, down-to-earth students of medicine with a pronounced jawline are much more my type.’

‘With a what?’ Gilbert queried amusedly, raising his eyebrows.

‘A pronounced, extremely kissable jawline,’ murmured Anne, snuggling closer and placing feather-like kisses along that last-named part of his face. ‘Never forget that this is what really made me fall for you so hard.’

‘You truly are one of a kind, Anne Shirley,’ Gilbert chuckled, bringing his mouth down to hers.

Anne smiled against his lips. ‘I’m truly yours, Gilbert Blythe. Isn’t that all that matters?’

‘More than anything,’ he breathed, kissing her again.

And again.

And again.