#MY DEAR SIR YOU HAVE LEFT ME BREATHLESS AND RENDERED ME UTTERLY SPEECHLESS

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Li Zeyan’s Upcoming Halloween SSR!

“I don’t mind if you forget your reasons at this moment.”

“Of course, I’m well aware of what you like.”

—

[royalcordelia]

Summary:  Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn't easy, but they're more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Notes: Lots of stuff happening and lots of kissing as Anne and Gilbert’s time together comes to a close. Enjoy!

All those months ago, Gilbert hadn’t been lying when he’d told Bash that Winnie was easy to be around, but being around her parents had been an entirely different story. With perfect vividness, he remembered nights after dinners with the Roses that he’d trudged back to Avonlea, more tired than he’d ever been in his life. None of the studying in the world, not even the endless weeks of Delly crying in the middle of the night, could compare to the exhaustion of entertaining people socially higher than you and not crumbling under their expectations. 

But tonight, ascending the marble steps of the Meryton Hotel with Anne on his arm, Gilbert realized that would be exactly what she’d be facing tonight. People would ask her about her country upbringing (“You’re surprisingly elegant for an islander” ) and her family (“ It’s most peculiar to have two last names, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert”).  He knew because he’d spent his first months answering uncomfortable questions of his own. The only difference was that Anne wouldn’t be doing it for herself, but for him. 

He stopped mid-step on the grand staircase. 

It wasn’t too late to turn around and go home. Or to a concert, a nice one where the seats were made of velvet and they’d be able to feel the orchestra’s music inside their chests. Somewhere they could enjoy each other’s company, somewhere they wouldn’t have to be put on display. 

If he was being entirely honest with himself, as oftentimes he wasn’t, maybe he was a bit more nervous for himself. Of course, people would like Anne - lately she had developed a mastery of first impressions. Her own confidence and compassion enchanted everyone she met, but somehow Gilbert wasn’t so sure about himself. Sure, in Avonlea, it was easy to believe he was intelligent, a meaningful contributor to society—everyone knew him there. But here where society was so much bigger, so far out of reach, would he measure up?

“Gil?” Anne called quietly. “There’s nothing to be worried about. They’re going to love you.” 

The light within the hotel was so bright that it turned Anne’s eyes bright blue as it flooded out the open doors. She peered up at him with increasing concern the more he stayed frozen staring at him. 

“Do you feel sick?” she continued, uncertain.

Gilbert only lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of her palm for a long second before pulling her to keep moving with him. In front of them, Ron and Christine were crossing the threshold into the grand entrance. The younger, much lovelier, of the Stuarts  watched Gilbert with a strange expression on her face that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. When she caught his glance, she spun around and glided faster past Ron.   

“You’re not usually a man of silence,” Anne commented. 

“Maybe having a creature of such astonishing beauty beside me renders me speechless,” Gilbert replied slyly, causing a pretty rose blush to rise on Anne’s cheeks. 

Anne knew him better than that. “And?” 

“And my thoughts are preoccupied, too,” he admitted. 

“On what?” 

Gilbert turned to her, catching a trace of her sweet perfume. 

“Is this truly a good use of our time together? I barely get to see you anymore.” 

“Gilbert-” 

“Ron and Christine won’t miss us if we disappear. I want to hear more about you, and Queens, and Avonlea. I want to spend our last evening together in your company and not trying to impress a bunch of big-wigs at my school. Let’s go somewhere, let’s have fun!” 

“I’ve already told you about all that, twice , and we have had fun!” Anne replied laughing. “Gilbert, we have our entire lives to go out and explore every inch of the world together. But tonight...tonight is for you to take your next steps toward a bright, magnificent life of helping people.”  

How could he refuse her when her voice was so glorious with hope and pride? Heaving a deep breath to calm his nerves, they made their way into the hotel. 

An awed gasp left Anne’s lips as they took in the brilliance of the party. The ceilings lorded high in the air, supported by corinthian pillars and edged by an ornate marble trim. A small quintet comprised of strings and a grand piano played their opulent songs and the harmonies filled the space high into the flickering chandeliers. 

Gilbert glanced down at Anne, whose grin was the reflection of all the breathless thoughts running through her head. 

“It’s amazing ,” she said simply. They made their way through the crowd of Gilbert’s classmates and distinguished guests, smiling politely at those they passed. 

“I’m glad I get to spend this night with you,” Gilbert commented lowly. “After this, you’ll want to leave me for sunbursts and marble halls.” 

“Don’t be silly, I just want you ,” Anne replied, nudging his side with her elbow. The statement, which had seemed obvious to her, sent a thrill through Gilbert, and instead of encouraging him, was only successful in brightening his eyes with desire. He dove down for a kiss, but she ducked away,  nodding to the gathering of dignified guests congregated in front of them. “Are you ready to forge your connections, Mr. Blythe?” 

Just like that, all the wind was knocked right out of him. Was he ready? Absolutely not. He had to make good impressions and connections. He had to be memorable for the sake of his future, for Anne. He had to. His thoughts were spiraling out of control when a voice interrupted their uncontrollable descent. 

“Ah! Gilbert!” 

The pair turned to find an older gentleman reaching out his hand to Gilbert, another fellow trailing behind him. 

“Dr. Joselin, a pleasure,” Gilbert said politely, catching his professor’s hand and giving it a stiff shake. 

“You country fellows can clean up well, after all,” Dr. Joselin teased, only to be rewarded by a stiff chuckle from Gilbert. “And I see you’ve found yourself a city girl.” Anne nearly pressed her lips together against her correction that To your disappointment, sir, you’ll find that I am completely and utterly nature’s child, and smiled as sweetly as she could. 

“How are you this evening, sir?” she asked.

“Oh, very well, my dear, very well. I just hoped I could steal a moment of Gilbert’s time so that he could share his stance against phrenology with my colleague. He’s trying to get a full opinion, you see.”

“Of course,” Gilbert agreed evenly. 

“I’ll go get us something to drink,” Anne cut in. 

There was something very unlike Gilbert in the way that he walked away, stiff and uncomfortable. She watched him for a few moments before turning over her shoulder to find a waiter. When she returned, two crystal glasses in hand, she found him alone and a bit gray. 

“How was it?” Anne asked, handing him his share of the wine. The dejected man in front of her sighed. 

“I must’ve said something he disagreed with. He interrupted me right in the middle of me telling him about phrenology’s recognition as a pseudoscience, and made a comment about finding engagement somewhere else,” he murmured, almost as if he were afraid someone around him might hear. “Dr. Joselin looked so embarrassed.” 

“Oh, darling, I’m sure it wasn’t you. He seemed like an odd sort of man.” Anne ran her hand down his arm comfortingly, but her touch did little to soothe his troubled eyes. “Better you know so you don’t waste your time on him.” Just then, she caught sight of a familiar face across the room. “Here’s a man I know has good taste!” 

Gilbert followed as Anne lead the way, weaving in and out of people until finally she said, “Dr. Sullivan!” 

The tall man was amongst his peers, though they were standing silently, taking in the splendor of the party. Upon hearing his name, Dr. Sullivan lifted an amused brow with a small smile to match. 

“Ah, come to finally convince me to invest in more suitable literature, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?” Dr. Sullivan said lightly. 

“Not quite. I was hoping to introduce you to my beau so you could help him invest in suitable literature.” 

Dr. Sullivan spared a glance at Gilbert, waiting for the young man to speak up, but was met with silence. Anne squeezed his arm and glanced at him. The message took a second too longer to register, and when it did, Gilbert was stammering, “Oh! Uh, Gilbert Blythe, sir.” 

The lines of Gilbert’s shoulders were straight and tense. He shoved a stiff hand out, somewhat ungracefully, and gave Dr. Sullivan a brisk handshake. Sullivan’s colleagues exchanged a look that Anne hoped escaped Gilbert’s notice. 

“How are you finding your studies, Mr. Blythe? It must be hard to be so far away from home,” Sullivan asked. 

“My studies are going well,” Gilbert answered. Anne’s brows furrowed at his vapid, flat tone. “I’m fortunate enough not to suffer any homesickness. I’m solely focused on my coursework, and only that.” 

“You have no diversions for pleasure outside of school?” Dr. Sullivan wondered. 

“None whatsoever,” Gilbert replied almost too quickly. From where Anne was standing, she could feel the situation slowly spiralling out of control. 

“I hear you’re a medical student. What special topics capture your attention, then?” 

Anne smiled in pride, knowing that Gilbert had such an interesting answer to this question. She had letters full of his thoughts about upcoming vaccines and mind-boggling breakthroughs in pathology. His knowledge was nearly comprehensive, so it was to Anne’s utter dismay when his reply was an almost uninterested, “I like all topics, sir.” 

Dr. Sullivan nodded politely, but his eyes revealed he was unimpressed with what he saw. A man at his side leaned to mutter something in his ear, and he turned back to Anne. 

“It’s about time we find our seats at the table. Good evening, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert.”

And then they were gone, leaving Gilbert staring at the floor with a disheartened dullness in his eyes. Anne’s hand moved over his back, rubbing a warm circle, but he shirked away. 

“Gil, it’s not so bad-” 

“Let’s go home,” Gilbert interrupted. Anne’s face dropped, and he rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “I know you got all dressed up, but I’d rather leave before I make a fool out of myself. Again. Seems to be a trend lately.” 

“If that’s what you want,” was Anne’s dispirited reply. “But I don’t have to be a medical student to diagnose the situation.”

“That I’m in over my head with these people?” 

“ No! Just the opposite!” Anne surged forward, grabbing his hands and squeezing tightly. “The people here are drawn together not because they want to prove they’re the  most driven or because they want to show off how smart they are. They’re here because they’re alike in their passion . You have that passion, too. Right here.” She patted his chest. “But you’re keeping it locked up. You’re putting on a stale, disinterested version of yourself that isn’t real because you think it’ll make them like you more. It’s having the opposite effect, darling.” 

“I thought I was being professional,” he admitted.

“You’ve already got that mastered without trying to fake it. Just be yourself, love, and I promise the night will go better.” 

“I don’t know, Anne…” 

She placed a hand on his cheek, and he kissed it, eyes melancholy.

“Gilbert, you are the most intelligent, brave, refreshing, stimulating, exceptional, impressive-” 

“ Anne. ”

“- amazing person I know, and I am so proud of you.” She poked his nose and took a step back. “I just don’t want you to give up so soon. Give it one more go, and if you really aren’t having a nice time, we’ll go. Alright?”

Gilbert swayed forward, like he wanted to kiss her but thought better of it. Instead, he only gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright.” 

They ambled throughout the room, pausing periodically to greet upperclassmen Gilbert was acquainted with. One after another, each interaction just got better and better. Anne observed it all with a prideful swell in heart, offering a few thoughts of her own here and there, much to Gilbert’s delight. The approval of his peers seemed to stoke up the fire of excitement in his eyes. A short time later, all the pretense that he’d managed to fabricate had dissipated, leaving behind the real genuine Gilbert Blythe in its wake. 

Anne bit back her grin as Gilbert all but strutted across the floor in his newfound confidence. As they drew nearer to Dr. Joselin, Anne tried to steer Gilbert away, not wanting to ruin his improved disposition, but his ears had already twitched to the conversation, and he approached it without hesitation. 

“Dr. Joselin, is this talk of that Montreal trial on aphthous stomatitis? ” he interjected with ease. 

“Ah, Mr. Blythe, just the lad I was hoping to run into.” To Anne’s surprise, this response was not accompanied by any evident insincerity. 

Another one of the students seized Gilbert’s hand, shaking it with vigor. Without a spare look at Anne, the young man grinned eagerly and said, “Gilbert, Dr. Joselin was just sharing your review on that study. Do you really suppose the results could have been invalid?”

“It’s a strong claim, I know, but with such a small population size, the results can hardly be generalized to the Canadian public. Had they interviewed the participants on their eating habits, their sexual behavior, even their home environments, I’d be more inclined to trust the validity of the results. The list of confounds was infinite, yet the clinicians acknowledged none!” The deeper Gilbert dove into dismantling the study, the less Anne comprehended of the conversation. But when it was over, there was a rosy flush of pride lighting underneath his scarce freckles and a delight that Anne hadn’t seen in his eyes the whole night. 

As they walked away, Anne pressed herself onto her toes and leaned toward his ear. He bent it to her as she asked, “What in heaven’s name is aphtho...alphath…”

“ Aphthous stomatitis, ” Gilbert corrected sweetly. “It’s the medical term for a sore on your lip.” 

Anne hummed in understanding. “And would you diagnose me with aphthous stomatitis, Dr. Blythe?” 

His ochre eyes drifted down to her lips. With a shuddering breath, he licked his own before he could stop himself. 

“No, I think your diagnosis is not sores, but an irresistible sweetness.” To prove his point, he placed a hasty kiss on the corner of her lips. Anne wondered if he could feel the heat emanating off of her cheeks at his coy attentions, and nudged him away playfully. When Gilbert pulled back, his gaze met something across the room that made his jaw tighten. Without preamble, he declared, “I have to apologize to Dr. Sullivan.” 

It was because Anne said “Yes, I believe you must” that Gilbert felt even more sure he had chosen - as she would say - the right lifemate. Anyone else would’ve told him, No, Gilbert, he’s probably already forgotten. But Anne understood what had to be done if he was to remember this night with any sort of satisfaction or pride.

Across the room, Ron was wiggling his eyebrows at her, gesturing her over with a short wave of his hand. Anne sighed dramatically. “It appears I’m likely being summoned, likely for discussions of philosophy.” She paused, shaking his fingers in her own, before saying, “I’ll be cheering for you.”

Then she was disappearing into the crowd, the red of her hair blending with the raining candlelight. 

*

Dr. Sullivan sat by himself against the wall like a moth who has shunned its lifelong work of chasing the moon, contrary to his earlier remark that he was departing for the dinner table. His even eyes observed the dance floor with a light interest, but the content of his thoughts was miles away. It was only when two shiny shoes appeared in his view just before him that he lifted his head up and met eyes with Gilbert. The boy’s shoulders were looser and the stern stiffness of his brow was missing.  Dr. Sullivan did not have to be a PhD to surmise the cause of the change. 

“Rejoined the world of the living?” the older man asked casually. Gilbert laughed on a somewhat embittered scoff, and settled into the seat next to the broad shouldered professor. “No doubt you have your young lady to thank.” 

“No doubt I do. She sees everything with her own eyes, and no one else’s. I admire her unique perspective of the world, and am thankful when it helps me see things differently.” Sullivan made a sound of agreement in the back of his throat. Clenching his fists to ground his thoughts, Gilbert continued. “I don’t pretend to be as fetching or as interesting as Anne, but I’m not the tasteless person you saw earlier who completely lacked a backbone.”

“I’m aware,”  Dr. Sullivan admitted. “That is the test of events like these. Do you come merely assimilate and try to mirror what you think you’re observing around you? Or do you rise to the occasion and add yourself into the discord without compromising your own integrity? It’s sink or swim, Mr. Blythe, yet I think you’re doing just fine. I knew you must be a fine student as soon as Emily Oak said so.” 

“I’m glad you think so, sir.” 

There was a moment passed in silence where Gilbert could not fathom whether or not Dr. Sullivan’s thoughts had moved on, or if he was quietly altering his judgments. He almost jumped when the man finally spoke. 

“Favorite poet, Gilbert?” 

Without hesitation, “Whitman.” 

For the first time that Gilbert had seen, Sullivan’s smile stretched across his entire face and he nodded approvingly. 

“Ah, and there lies the rub. ‘Henceforth, I ask not good fortune, I myself am good fortune .’ Adequate on nights like these, no?” 

At first, Gilbert didn’t know what he meant, but as they settled into a comfortable discussion about the sacrilegious themes in “Song of Myself,” Sullivan’s meaning settled over him. Had he spent the party with a rake up his backside and listlessly trying to engage his peers, he’d have asked for good fortune, yet found no return. I myself am good fortune , Gilbert repeated in his head. What it meant tonight was I am enough. He’d lost sight of it, but now that it was regained, the vastness of the future didn’t seem so daunting. 

Many minutes later, Gilbert skimmed the room for Anne’s red hair or Ron’s lofty head, but the search was fruitless. Not even Christine was anywhere to be found.

“I apologize, sir. I’m supposed to be escorting Anne this evening, yet I’ve done a poor job of it. I should go find her.” 

“Very well,”  agreed Dr. Sullivan. “You should know, Mr. Blythe, that just because I’m an English professor doesn’t mean my office door is closed to medical students. Should you need someone to talk to as you rage through your freshman year, please don’t hesitate to stop by.” 

“I appreciate that, sir. Thank you!” Gilbert replied sincerely. He nodded once, then left Dr. Sullivan to his quiet solitude. Yet, even as he departed, he could still hear the professor’s lyrical thoughts emanating from the corner - “To drive free, to love free, to court destruction with taunts. One brief house of madness and joy!”

*

When Anne snuck a peek over her shoulder at Gilbert and Dr. Sullivan, she found easy smiles on both their faces and a tender bloom of pride blossomed in her chest. The more Anne became acquainted with Gilbert’s heart, the more she could see its warmth emanating around him like a constant crown. Not all the gentlemen in the room could claim having such a vast soul, one that had the capacity to love and learn with such brilliance. Perhaps the almighty had been up to something after all when he tied her to Gilbert. 

She let a lovesick smile dimple her cheeks, when suddenly her hands were seized. Ron was before her squeezing her fingers in his with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“It’s time,” was all he said. Fred was at his side, a wooden instrument case wrapped under his arm, and he shared Ron’s conspiratorial smile. 

“Time for what?”

“Remember that tradition I was telling you about? The one in the basement?”

“Yes…” Anne replied, interest piqued.

“The festivities are about to begin, and I wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” Anne replied immediately.  “I came to support Gilbert, and I know if I say I want to go to this party, he’ll just end up following.” 

“He can come,” Ron added in.

“He’s supposed to be making connections.” She squeezed Ron’s fingers before dropping his hand. “You all go and have fun. I’m having a splendid time where I am. Promise!” 

Ron pursed his lips, his shoulders slumping down in dramatic disappointment.

“As you wish, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert. I’ll come find you before the end of the night so we all can walk home together.” 

When Ron and Fred were gone, Anne scanned the room, wondering if she’d find some long lost friend in the sea of faces and finery. Gilbert was gesturing in circles in front of him, explaining something with a fierce conviction. She wondered if she ought to go and silently impose herself at his side, but hated the idea of interrupting him unnecessarily. Then her eyes fell on Christine. 

Just one look at Christine told Anne that underneath her silken black hair and throat of jewels, Christine was decidedly not having a good time. Her lips were downturned in a bitter frown, and a line crinkled between her brows. There were a few fellows beside her who seemed to be rambling on about this or that, nothing which amused Christine. Another young man joined the small circle, and when he lingered a kiss on her knuckles, the color drained from her face. 

Before Anne knew what she was doing, she was marching up to Christine, mind set and hands clasped at her side. 

“Miss Stuart, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Anne announced. The taller gentlemen jumped at the intrusion, grumbling when they were forced to back up and make room for her. “There’s something you must see. Come now.” 

“We were talking!” a fellow objected as Anne snuck her arm into Christine’s and tugged her away.

“Excellent understanding of the past tense, sir!” 

Christine was stiff beside her until they were out of sight, upon which she let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“Some of those gentlemen seemed to think I was on the menu,” she admitted. “I was  relying on Fred to fend them off, but he disappeared.” 

“He ran off with your brother to the party in the basement.” Anne replied.

“He’s supposed to be my escort,” Christine said bitterly. “It’s not like I wanted to come with him in the first place.” 

Gilbert was supposed to take me - Christine didn’t have to say it but Anne still heard it. She wondered if Christine agreed to still attend the event in order to save face, hoping that Gilbert wouldn’t notice the real reason she wanted to stay home. Still, no matter her reasons for coming, it didn’t warrant being abandoned by her escort. 

“Well, we ought to go tell him so,” Anne decided fiercely. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Okay, maybe not. Fred’s sensitive. But you should still have a good time tonight, regardless of your escort’s presence. How about I take you down to the party? There’s supposed to be music, dancing, drinks. We can get you situated, and then I’ll come back up and find Gilbert.” 

“It’s for the servants. They won’t take kindly to my presence there.” 

Across the room, the gentlemen they’d disposed of seemed to be watching them with hawkish eyes. One brave soul began to trek across the room toward them, dragging a tired groan out of Christine. 

“They won’t even notice you. Don’t you worry,” Anne said hurriedly. She wove their arms back together and rushed down the marble corridor. Christine’s dainty heels clacked against the floor as they hurried, and she nearly fell forward. When Anne reached out and caught her, a sputtered laugh snuck out of Christine’s lips.

“You’re alright?”

“I’ve never run in a gown before!” Christine laughed.

“Neither have I!” Then, remembering the day she’d seen Winifred in Charlottetown corrected, “Okay, I have, but it was only once!”

They followed the harmonics of lively music to a thin doorway leading down to the basement of the hotel. From the top of the stairs, they could hear the roar of laughter, cheering, and chatter. Much to Anne’s surprise, Christine was the first to descend toward it. They came upon a wide room with low ceilings and golden light. It was filled with bright red faces and lined with crates that had been shoved aside to make room for the dancing. 

“My God,” Christine breathed out, though Anne barely heard it over the noise. 

In the front of the room, some of the smaller crates were pushed all together with a large sheet of wood laid on top to form a makeshift stage. Fred was among the musicians fixed on it. He had discarded his jacket on a chair, but was still sweating through his white shirt as his fingers danced over his fiddle at rapid speed. Ron was nearby, stomping his feet to the quick rhythm of the jig. One of his hands was on the knee of the blonde fellow beside him, who returned the touch with an arm around Ron’s shoulder. When he caught sight of his sister and Anne wide-eyed in the corner, Ron shot up to meet them. 

“You brought my sister?” he stammered. 

“Fred left her, what was she supposed to do!?” Anne said, trying her best to be heard over the music and cheering. 

“Think you can handle it, Chris?” Ron answered, uncertain.

“Better than you expect, I think.” 

“And the two of you..?” 

“Have sorted out our differences,” Anne said evenly. She knocked his shoulder with a light tap of her knuckles. “How much longer do you intend to herd us in the doorway?” 

Ron’s brows shot up. 

“Come on in,” he chuckled. Christine nodded primly as she strode past him. She’d only taken a few steps when a short girl with ear length hair burst from the center of dancing bodies and latched hold of Christine’s hand. Christine turned back to Anne, a look of panic on her face. 

“It’s alright! Go dance!” Anne encouraged. It only took one sheepish smile for the girl to spin Christine around, and they disappeared into the crowd. 

“Come Anne, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Ron said lowly. He led her through the only clear path in the room to a raggety table. The man he’d been sitting with before looked up at her through long blonde lashes - easily, without judgment. His features were that of any prince in the Grimm fairy tales, so startlingly beautiful that Anne felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “This is Adam...my uh, well, you know. Adam this is my roommate’s sweetheart from PEI.” 

Adam’s smile was small and relaxed. He shook Anne’s hand with geniality but said nothing. 

“A pleasure to meet you. Ron speaks of you with such esteem,” sputtered Anne. 

A hint of insecurity rose within her the same way it might if she met George Eliot or Jane Austen. Would he think her simple and foolish, a sixteen-year-old girl here to drink and dance with adults? But the kindness in Adam’s eyes suggested otherwise. Finally he said, “Thank you.” But Anne got the impression that he was thanking her for more than just the polite compliment. She smiled in return, contagious and sweet. 

“It’s been so lovely to drop by, but I really did want to save Christine from those awful vultures-for-men. I ought to go find Gilbert. Dinner will be starting soon.” 

“Stay for a song,” Adam suggested. Anne hesitated, finding no help in Ron’s eager face. 

“One song. I won’t leave Gilbert alone upstairs.” 

That was enough to satisfy Ron, who tugged another crate for Anne to sit on. She settled down beside him, and found herself immediately enraptured by the sight before her. The band played fast paced folk tunes that kept the hearts of the dancers racing, but each jig and reel only powered the dancers through each measure with energy. It was a mess of wild hair, rolled up sleeves, rosy cheeks, and somehow, it was one of the most beautiful things Anne had ever seen. Dances like the “Dashing White Sergeant” may have their benefit with the right partner, but this... this was self-expression and freedom. Without knowing it, Anne had begun to sing along to the familiar tune. 

“You sing too?” Ron asked incredulously. The song stopped abruptly in her throat.

“Not really. My best friend back home is the real musician. I just love a good song,” Anne replied sheepishly. 

“Your voice is beautiful,” Adam added. “You should go up and sing something. I know the band was disappointed they couldn’t find a singer for tonight.” 

“I doubt I would know any of their songs!” Anne objected.

“You knew this one.” 

She squirmed in her seat, hoping Gilbert would appear in the door and save her. 

“It’s so kind of you to suggest it, but really—”

It was too late. Ron had taken Anne by the arm and tugged her in front of the stage. 

“This young lady is a singer.” 

The banjo player peered down at Anne with obvious musical interest. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said. 

Anne spared a desperate glance at Fred, who merely let out a hearty guffaw and helped the banjo player lift her up by her underarms to stand on the stage. Anne stumbled, eyes widening as the dancers watched the scene unfold. 

“It’s alright, Anne. What songs do you know?” Fred muttered in her ear.

“...I’ve been learning Scottish songs. For my heritage. Some Irish ones too. Canadian classics too, I suppose,” she answered quietly. “I really don’t like this, Fred.” 

“Relax. Gilbert says you’re a story-teller.” 

“Well, yes, but—”

Before she could finish, Fred began to string together a melody on the fiddle. The guitar behind her jumped in, strumming a familiar set of chords. Fred lifted a brow at her, an unspoken You know this one? To Anne’s dismay, she nodded and after a moment began to sing.

“‘Oh, rise up my darling and come with me

I want to go with you and leave this country

To leave my father’s dwelling, this house and the land.’

So away goes Jamie with his love in his arms.” 

Anne’s instincts had taken over before she could stop them. Every story she’d told in class, to the bird’s in the trees, every song she had sung to the forest air had prepared her to let loose her inhibitions. This was just another story to tell—a man captured by his love’s father, his love desperately trying to plead his innocence in court, a fate doomed from the start. Anne forgot she was singing and dancing on a stage that was seconds away from falling apart. Rather, she was whisked away with the tale, desperately trying to rescue her “Bold Jamie.” 

“The judge says ‘this young girl being tender in youth

If Jamie is guilty she will tell the truth.’

It was here a familiar face appeared from the stairwell at the back of the room. Gilbert had his hands stuck in his pockets, the way he always did when he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He seemed to search the room for something, before his eyes fell on her, dancing on the stage. Anne laughed as she sang the next lines, a grin turning her face to golden light. He smiled back, shaking his head with surprise.

Then the radiant beauty before him did stand

“‘Oh I'm happy to see you, my bold Irish lad!’”

Anne was only slightly aware of Gilbert finding his way through the crowd to the front of the stage. His eyes were hazy and lovesick as he watched her move and sing and let strands of hair fall from their pins. Occasionally, she’d flash another small smile down at him, and he’d feel it resonate down to the soles of his feet. As Fred played the last notes of the song, Anne fixed her gaze on her love and was thankful the song had only been a story. Her own bold man was here before her, very much not in jail and very much hers to adore. 

Behind her, another upbeat song filled the air. Anne placed her hands on Gilbert’s shoulders, biting her lip at the ease with which he lowered her back to the ground. They were inches apart, Anne’s chest still heaving from her song. 

“I didn’t mean to leave for so long,” Anne apologized lightly. Gilbert shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from her sticky face. 

“I’m the one that left you alone. You were right, Dr. Sullivan is a kindred spirit, after all.” Their explanations were cut short when a dancing couple all but crashed into them. They scurried to the wall, the only place where no arms or legs could hit them. Out of public eye, Gilbert bent down and pressed a kiss against Anne’s smiling cheek.

“I didn’t know you sang that well,” he admitted. Anne shrugged.

“It certainly was very fun to try! One minute I was telling Christine to go off and have fun, and the next minute I was being lifted on stage.”  

“I wish I could have seen the whole thing.” His hands found hers and he caressed her skin gently. “Are you hungry? They’re starting dinner.”

Anne laughed and looked around the room. 

“After all this, I could use some sustenance. And some quiet time to hear about your conversation with Dr. Sullivan.”  

After a quick nod to Ron, they were heading back upstairs, the sound behind them turning into a mere mumble in the distance. Anne was glad to breathe some fresh air that didn’t smell of sweat and whisky. Beside her, Gilbert had fixed her with a strange expression, one that was nearly smiling, but also deeply distressed.

“What is it, love?” Anne asked.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” 

“That’s a whole day away. There’s plenty of time to…” 

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of something several feet ahead of them. Gilbert traced her gaze to another couple pressed up against the floral-papered wall of the hotel. The silhouette of a woman was pressed beneath that of her lover, who held her flush against him. Perhaps the strange thing which had stolen Anne’s breath was the way the man had his face buried at his lady’s pulse point along the hollow of her neck, luxuriating there for a long moment before slowly moving his way along the skin. Gilbert felt his own face burning. He’d seen kissing before, but not quite like that. Judging from Anne’s reaction, neither had she. 

It looked really… nice. Different, but nice. 

As they passed, Anne rushed into a new conversation, desperately trying to avoid his eyes. Is she embarrassed? he wondered. Is she scared I’ll kiss her like that?

Anne on her part was violently trying to keep all thoughts of what she had seen from her head, but found it was difficult to think of anything but that. Her fingers touched her throat, but she tore them away before she could imagine what it would feel like if Gilbert kissed her the way she’d seen. Would he even want to? Her mouth rambled of the strange men she’d fended off from Christine, but Gilbert was smart enough to know her mind was somewhere else. So, for some reason, he said the very first thing that came to his mind. 

“Hey, Anne?” It cut off her thoughts and she snapped her lips shut. 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you.” 

Anne laughed, tugging Gilbert’s arm closer to her chest to nuzzle her head against his shoulder. 

“I’d like to see anyone try to love you as much as I do!” she declared. Anne tried not to think about how this time tomorrow she'd nearly be arrived back home to the Blackmore house. The Sunset House would be a thousand miles away, her soft-hearted man kept safely inside of it, and she would be missing his warmth at her side. For now, she grounded herself in the present moment, ran a finger down his handsome jaw, and tried to prepare herself for what might be the most lavish dinner she’d ever attend.

*

Some time later, their bellies were full of delicious food and the guests of the banquet began to file out. Leaning tiredly onto Gilbert, Anne wondered if this was the first in a very long future of attending events like these. If he became a renowned doctor like he planned to, he’d receive all sorts of invitations to more banquets, conferences, meetings. On one hand, Anne looked forward to it with everything she had in her. On the other hand, Anne was very ready to lay beside her love and get some rest. 

The streets of Toronto at night were mostly lit by shed candlelight from its surrounding streets. Ron was in light spirits as he led the way, a blissful spring in his steps as he hummed “Bold Jamie.” Gilbert had leaned in close to whisper, “He’s a night owl and an alcoholic.” But Anne knew the kiss she’d seen Adam quickly plant on him had something to do with his chipper mood as well. 

She turned her face to the moonlight and felt the crisp night air lay smooth against her cheeks. Oh, if only nights this wonderful were eternal , she thought. No one in the world could be unhappy then. 

They’d long since taken Fred to his boarding house, next planning to bring Christine back home. She was quiet in front of Gilbert and Anne, and had said nothing about her time at the party. When they arrived at the Stuart house, she was the silhouette of Juliette Capulet on a Shakespearean doorstep. Without warning called out, “Actually, Gilbert?” 

Gilbert couldn’t make out Christine’s expression in the darkness. A strangeness had taken over her voice and it was with uncertainty that he replied, “Yes?” 

“Might I speak with you...for a moment? I won’t keep you long.” 

Gilbert’s eyes fell on Anne, who squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll walk slowly with Ron for a bit.” 

He wasn’t able to make it any further up the walkway when Christine began to speak. 

“You’re probably waiting for an apology,” she rushed out. 

“An apology? For what?” Gilbert asked.

“Anne… didn’t tell you?” 

Gilbert stuffed his hands in his pockets at the growing awkwardness radiating off of Christine. Instead of an answer, he shrugged and shook his head. A shadowy cloud crept over the moon, shielding his sight from the embarrassed flush warming Christine’s cheeks. She took a deep breath.

“When you offered to take me to the banquet all those weeks ago, I thought you were doing it because you liked me.” Gilbert’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. “And I was really ...elated, I suppose, because, well…I’ve been in love with you since I first met you.” 

“Christine, you don’t have to say it. Or apologize. I must’ve just assumed you knew about Anne. I should be the one apologizing. It’d never be my intention to hurt you,” Gilbert responded truthfully.

“No, you don’t understand. I knew you were courting someone . It just didn’t make a difference until today.”  Christine grabbed the handle of her front door, squeezing until her knuckles were white. “I was so jealous of Anne when I met her. Then this afternoon, I said dreadful things to her, things I’m not brave enough to repeat to you. I insulted her in every way I could.” 

Gilbert’s lips drew thin. 

“Oh.”

“She didn’t let me get away with it, of course,” continued Christine. “But she didn’t despise me for it either. Anyone else would have. Her and I talked. I apologized to her, and now I’m apologizing to you.” 

Silence fell between them as he shifted his weight. 

“If Anne forgave you, I’ll have to too,” he said half-heartedly. What else was there to say? The thought of someone being cruel to Anne on his account made his blood boil, but Anne had already won the battle, it was all over with. Yet he felt an increasing distaste for Christine the longer he stood there, so he gave a small nod. “Goodnight, Chris.” 

Anne was not hard to catch up with. Gilbert found her shortly ahead of the Stuart house, humming along to Ron’s off-key tune and touching any flower heads that grew tall along the pathway. She didn’t startle when he appeared beside her, only let out a blissful sigh.

“I love to smell flowers in the dark," she said. "You get hold of their soul then.”

Gilbert let out a sigh of his own as he wrapped an arm around her and leaned his head onto hers. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Anne smiled knowingly.

“I didn’t think there was anything to tell. Sometimes we have to just return to our natural roots. Like mountain cats, we had it out bitterly and violently, and once it was over, we were...oh, I don’t know, hunting together?” 

“Hunting together?” Gilbert chuckled.

“I cannot be expected to hold a decent metaphor so late in the evening. But you understand what I mean.” Anne hoped it would be enough for him to drop the topic. It wasn’t. 

“What did she say to you?” 

“What good would it do you if you know?” 

“None, I suppose,” he stated unhappily. “She really didn’t hurt your feelings too badly?” 

“Maybe for a moment. But look here, Gilbert.” She took his hand, kissed it, then lifted it up to twirl around underneath it. “I’m a young lady dreadfully in love, exploring a foregin city with the most handsome man I’ve ever seen by my side. I intend to kiss him very soundly when we settle back home, and expect each kiss will be reciprocated ten-fold! Jealous girls can say what they will, I have won the grand prize!”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Anne. You are the grand prize.” 

Anne of a year ago might’ve crinkled her nose at his boldness, and declared that she was not a prize to be won. But the Anne of today knew that Gilbert didn’t have to be reminded of respect, so she nuzzled herself back into his side and began to hum a new tune. 

When they were home, the tune still lingered in the back of Anne’s mind. She sat on the edge of Gilbert’s bed, scanning her eyes along his bare bookshelf to catalog the few books he did bring with him, and braided her hair. Gilbert himself was combing his wild curls in a mirror, or at least was supposed to be—when Anne looked up at him, she found him watching her in the reflection. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked quietly.

“Truthfully?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“What we saw in the corridor at the hotel.” 

“Really?” she squeaked. 

For some reason, this sent a thrill of delight down Anne’s spine. Off-handedly she thought that Gilbert’s shoulders looked so strong when they weren’t being swallowed by his jacket. 

“I’ve never seen anyone kiss like that before. It seems too…” 

“Intimate?”

“Maybe.” 

They stared at each other nervously, a budding fire of desire tugging at each of their hearts. Then, without being prompted, Gilbert threw his hands up in surrender. 

“It’s just that, you’re so beautiful, you know?” he exploded. “You’re gorgeous, and sitting there with your neck exposed, and the moon is out, and—”

“The moon?” Anne chuckled, face red. “What’s the moon have to do with it?” 

“It just makes you look—” Gilbert let out an exasperated sigh. “And you have no idea.” 

He was right. Anne barely followed what he was talking about. “Alright, then tell me.” 

Gilbert’s own cheeks were growing hot now. 

“I really would like to kiss you like that someday,” he admitted quietly. Anne bit her tongue against a gasp, trying miserably to hide her own hopeful desperation. 

“Someday?” she questioned timidly. “Why not now?” 

It was Gilbert’s turn to squeak. “Now?” 

Anne nodded. 

Her breath was short as Gilbert nervously set down the comb and crept toward her. Without thinking about it, Anne uncrossed her legs and let her arms fall down at her side. Gilbert’s eyes glistened in the low candlelight— half wrought with confidence, half shaking. He sat on the bed beside her, brushing some loose hair away from her hair. Anne wondered if she’d ever get used to feeling so desired by him, as if she really was the grand prize among women. He leaned forward and Anne’s breath caught in anticipation.

Then, he stopped.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted almost bitterly. Anne smiled easily, lifting his chin back up to her face. 

“Then why don’t you start with what you know?” 

With that, she captured his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him flush against her. Gilbert’s hands fell to her side and he let out a soft breath. She was soft in just her nightgown, the way women were, the rigid boning of her corset gone for the day. They kissed like that for a few moments, long enough that every ounce of Gilbert’s self-consciousness fell by the wayside. When he was brave enough, he broke off of her mouth and trailed his lips from her cheek down to the underside of her jaw, and eventually her neck.

It was euphoria to the highest degree. Anne shot an arm out to hold herself up, but when Gilbert sucked gently at her collarbone, the arm went limp and they fell backwards. Anne laid flat against the bed, peering up at Gilbert with adoration. Her braid had fallen beside her face, and the sleeve of her nightgown had crept just barely down her arm. For a split moment, he considered helping her up, but then she smiled at him and all that was left was his utter ruination. He bent back down, done with experimenting. Instead, he intended to kiss all of his love into the pulse point of Anne’s throat so that it would seep into her veins and reach all of her. She didn’t stop him when his lips found the borderline of her collar and chest. 

“You have freckles here too,” he muttered blissfully, tasting her sweet skin and inhaling her perfume. 

Without thinking, Anne clutched the fabric of his shirt and said, “I have freckles everywhere.” 

Gilbert ceased his ministrations, freezing above her. He planted one more kiss to the corner of her lips and laid down at her side. In the silence, he forced himself to think of anything other than all the places Anne could have freckles. Time began to move at real speed again for Anne, who slowly roused to reality. 

“How was that?” she heard him say eventually. Then, sparked with an idea, she propped herself onto her elbow. 

“Would you like to know?”  

His eyes turned wide, and whatever self control he had left evaporated. After he gave a nod of consent, Anne pushed gently on his chest to get him flat on his back. She’d been attuned to every way he’d kissed her, and she replicated it effortlessly. The moment her lips met his skin, he heaved a heavy sigh. His fingers found their way to her hair, and he contemplated undoing his braid and letting her loose auburn locks fall over him. 

“I’ve always liked your chin,” she commented, pressing a kiss to it before moving back to the sensitive part of his collarbone.

“I’ve always liked you ,” he replied breathlessly, desperately. 

“I haven’t always liked you, but I’m warming up to it,” Anne teased. Below her, Gilbert was a moment away from begging for mercy. 

Suddenly, the door swung open and Anne jumped up. Gilbert’s hazy vision made out Ron standing in the doorway, jaw dropped to the floor. He knew they were a sight to behold—messy hair, red cheeks, swollen lips—but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Anne pressed her lips together against a laugh, and helped Gilbert sit up.

“Can we help you?” Gilbert asked, annoyed.

“Gilbert Blythe, you saucy man!” Ron exclaimed, shocked. 

“This from you! You know how many times I’ve heard you sneak girls home like I wouldn’t hear you?”

“That’s me, though. You’re... you! ” 

“Goodnight Ron!” 

“Not so fast there, lover-boy. I came to say goodbye to Anne. I’ll be dead asleep when she leaves for her train.” 

Much to Ron’s delight, Anne jumped out of the bed and gave Ron a tight squeeze. 

“Good luck with Adam,” she whispered. 

Ron shook her around like a rag doll, before letting her free. 

“Come back whenever you’d like. I mean it! This fellow is miserable when he’s homesick.” 

“I will, I will! Thank you for being an excellent host and making a delicious breakfast.” 

“Oh, you’re most welcome. Sorry again about my sister.” Anne shook her head, waving the comment aside. “Well, see you soon, Anne.” 

They were nearly rid of him—at least in Gilbert’s mind—until Ron poked his head through the door one last time.

“Try to maintain some semblance of propriety under my roof, Gilbert.” 

Anne’s laughter followed him until he had shut his own bedroom door behind him. Finally alone, Gilbert turned to Anne and gave her a sad smile.

“We should probably get some sleep. You have a big trip tomorrow,” he said. 

“You hated being kissed that much?” Anne teased, but Gilbert could hear the barest hint of honesty in the question. 

“Quite the opposite. I think any more and I’d be a dead man. Too much happiness is the strongest weapon.” 

Anne chuckled as she crawled underneath the soft blankets. When Gilbert was settled beside her, he leaned over and kissed her cheek one last time. Anne turned to her side toward the window where she looked at the moon making faces down at her. She felt a hand come to her waist, and pulled it all the way across her. That was how she fell asleep, praying that nights could continue forever in the warm embrace of the person she loved most. 

~~~*~~~

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