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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Father

Marilla giggled as her father tossed her gently up in the air before catching her.

He did this a few times and then put her down.

“Father, again, again!” She cried tugging at his arms.

“I’m afraid that’s all your old papa can do for now, my little Amaryllis flower,” he smiled, feigning a pull in his back before she grabbed his hand and he twirled her around.

Michael came in then with a stack of wood.

“Thank you, son. You have been a big help, especially since your mother is expecting.” He clapped eleven-year-old Michael on his back.

This was five-year-old Marilla’s world. Her darling mother who was constantly nurturing her two children, beloved responsible brother whom protected his little sister with everything he had, and her adoring father who doted on his son and daughter with such protective love.

Her mother always tucked her into bed and prayed with her, her round tummy making it hard for her to bend over but she tried her best.
———-
Marilla had a hard time falling asleep, she wasn’t sure how she felt about having another sibling. She wished she could stay the baby. And then another thought came to mind,

What if Father and Mother loved this new child more than her? She began panicking at this idea and couldn’t help but cry.

“Marilla? My Amaryllis, what’s the matter? This isn’t like you?” Matthew Cuthbert Sr crept in and held his daughter.

“With the n-new b-baby you won’t love me any more,” she cried into his chest.

He held the small girl against himself, “darling that won’t ever happen. My love and your mother’s love only grows. You’ll always be my girl.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm, we don’t love your brother more than you, or you more than him. Do I act like I love Michael more? Or that I love you more than him?”

Marilla shook her head, her father was always good at being fair with them.

“Come now, you can sleep with your mother and i tonight.”

She followed him to her parents’ bedroom and Constance rolled over, opening her arms to her little daughter.

“Shh, lass, mother’s here,” Constance soothed, brushing her daughters brown hair with her soft fingers.

Marilla fell asleep with a smile on her face.
————-
It was a confusing time for Marilla. One minute she was eating a biscuit and drinking her afternoon milk and the next Michael was whisking her off to the barn.

“Won’t be long now, Rill. The baby’s on its way,” he said with a smile while he flicked the brush over the grey gelding.

Marilla was too little to groom horses, of course, so she just played in the haystack, giggling when Michael jumped in next to her.

They stayed in there until Father came running out.

“You can come inside now!,” he said, excitedly, picking Marilla up.

“Did the baby come?” Marilla asked him as he carried her inside, Michael in tow next to his father.

“Indeed, my Amaryllis, you have a new little brother,” he tousled Michael’s hair.

“A brother! Yes!” Michael laughed and ran on ahead.

The trio headed upstairs, passing the midwife on her way out, and upon entering the bedroom they saw Constance, cradling a small bundle. She gave a tired smile and said,

“Come closer, see?” She took Marilla from Matthew and let her daughter snuggle in close next to her. Michael joined her on the other side.

“His name is Matthew, just like your father,” she introduced the little baby to them.

Marilla looked at his tiny fingers and nose.

“C-can I touch him?” She asked, her big blue eyes staring up at her mother’s.

“Of course you can. Be gentle.”

Marilla stroked his head hesitantly.

“He’s so soft,” she whispered.

Constance placed the baby in Michael’s outstretched arms.

“Remember when Marilla was born you were too small to hold her?”

“Yes, Mother, I do,” Michael couldn’t hide his grin.

Constance glanced down and saw her daughter with a look of longing in her eyes.

“I’m afraid you’re a wee bit too small to hold him on your own, Darling. Maybe I can help you when Michael’s had enough?”

Marilla nodded, her eyes glued to her brothers.

Matthew Sr leaned down to be eye level with his sons and daughter.

“Now, Marilla, I want you to watch out for your little brother the way Michael does for you. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Father, I will,” Marilla hugged him hard and he chuckled, his big hand gently patting her small head.
———-
Little Matthew grew quickly and before Marilla knew it, he was toddling around the house.

She enjoyed having someone to play with; Michael being older was often at school or working the land with Matthew.

Little Matthew and Marilla grew very close because of this. Their father didn’t believe children should go to school until they were seven so Marilla had two years of staying home with him.

Marilla was her father’s little girl. Of course he adored his boys but perhaps he spoiled her just a tad more?
——
The five of them were an immensely happy family for a long time until tragedy struck, the year Michael turned sixteen.

Matthew and Michael were out with the hired field hands, using the hay sled to feed the Cuthbert cattle.

Matthew was driving the sled, pulled by two black Shires. Michael was the one throwing the bales off the sled into the field, and the field hands were astride their own horses, making sure the bales ended up the right distance apart.

Halfway through the job the horses spooked and raced across the field. In the commotion the reins somehow wrapped around Matthew’s ankle and he lost balance, falling off of the bales of hay he was standing on and hitting his head on a rock.

Michael watched in horror as his father toppled from the sled, “Father!! Noo!”

He screamed, entirely helpless as the field hands tried to corral the runaway shires and slow them down.

When it was over, Michael and one of the men carried Matthew up to Green Gables to Constance.

The doctor was called but Matthew had died instantly.

Constance wept for her husband, the shock was too much to bear.

Little Matthew ran up to his father’s body lying on the bed and he held his hand.

“Mama? Is Father all right? Why won’t he wake up?!”

“My darling son,” she knelt down to his eye level and cradled him in her arms, “he’s gone to heaven. We’re on our own.”

Marilla was the only one out of her family who wasn’t at home when the incident happened. She was at school and had won the spelling bee over the boys.

She ran home, unable to contain her excitement. Father had been practicing with her every night after dinner. She knew he would be so proud of her, all of them would.

“Father, father! Mother! I-“ she stopped in her tracks as she saw her family sitting around the kitchen table, in shock.

“Sweet girl,” Constance looked at her with weeping eyes, “Your father has been in an accident. He’s in heaven now.”

Her breath quickened and her heart raced, it wasn’t true, no, it couldn’t be?

She ran upstairs to find the mortician pulling a sheet over his face.

“Father?!” She screamed, running up.

The mortician looked rather sad, “I’m so sorry, little girl, there was nothing to be done.”

She ran into her room, shut the door and refused to come out.
————
The whole family stood stoically as the coffin was lowered into the family plot.
Marilla gripped Little Matthew’s hand tightly, feeling that it was the only thing keeping her standing.
————
Poor Constance was never the same. She tried to be there for her children, and was but Marilla could tell that the light was gone from her eyes.

For the Cuthbert siblings, Michael worked himself harder. He was the new provider for the family and farm. He tried to become what they had lost, both for his little siblings and his darling mother.

Marilla struggled with school that year on account of her home life but by Providence she managed to get though with the help of John Blythe who was a year older than her.

Little Matthew was only six when he lost his father. He became much more reserved and spoke little. Without his father’s guidance he was lost.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Michael

The four Cuthberts stuck together and as Marilla grew up she grew a sense of wanderlust. Her home life, while not uncomfortable, was far from happy.

Constance loved her three children more than anything in the world. She was close with each of them but considering she managed the farm with Michael, she maybe respected him more than her younger two.

He felt the weight on his shoulders but he was proud to support his mother and siblings. He was always seeing the good in people, and in nature. On the rare days he wasn’t working, he was on an adventure with his brother or sister.

“Say, Matteroo, why don’t we go and find the wisest tree in the forest, today?” He nudged his brother, one Sunday afternoon.

Matthew, at ten years old was a shy, reserved boy. He was mature beyond his years but he felt mediocre in just about everything. His brother was the best at instilling confidence in him.

“Okay, Michael. What does that mean? How can a tree be wise?”

“I dunno, we’ll just have a feeling come over us,” Michael reassured.

Marilla sent them off with baskets of food she and her mother had prepared. Since turning fifteen her culinary lessons from her mother had advanced, and she was able to do most of the work by herself.

“Smells delicious, Rilly!” He grinned at her and spun her around, “I’m sure John Blythe will be pleased when he tastes the raspberry tart!”

Marilla smacked him on the shoulder in exasperation, “we’re just friends! He can enjoy a tart just as much as you and Matthew do. Now off you go! You’ll want to be home by dark.”

Michael tipped his hat to her and with a wink to Matthew he ran outside.

Marilla rolled her eyes and set to work gathering up the bed clothes.

“The dance is on Saturday. Might you and Michael go?” Constance asked over the soaking linens.

“I dunno, Mother. It’s exhausting watching all the girls twit about so,” Marilla braced herself and picked up the basin full of clean, wet laundry.

“I’m sure John would want you to join him,” Constance pressed.

Marilla felt a flush come over her face, “perhaps so, Mother. But I must stay and keep you and Matthew company.”

“You’re fifteen years old, you shan’t be playing caretaker. Go and enjoy yourself!”

“Alright, Mother,” Marilla sighed. If it weren’t for John she would never even think it.

Later that evening she went over the Blythe house for some tea and to let John know she would come.

“Why dont you like my hat?” He laughed, performing an elaborate bow in front of her as she sat on the sofa.

“Other than the fact that it’s too big for your head?”*

He smirked, “room to grow.”

“Maybe when you acquire some more brains,”*

“Perhaps, this might offer me a small token of your gratitude?” He said, slowly pulling out a gorgeous blue hair ribbon from his pocket.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I was hoping you would want to come to the dance, and maybe wear it?”

“Absolutely, it will go so nicely with my good dress.”

“May I?” He sat on the sofa next to her and gently tied it into her side braid.

Her breath quickened, they were sitting too close together, surely his mother would be in from milking any moment.

“John, I-“

He stroked her cheek and then ever so gently, kissed her soft, warm lips.

They broke apart after that moment.

“Oh, John, we mustn’t. We’re not chaperoned!”

“Mar, we didn’t do anything that Rachel and Thomas haven’t done,” he grinned again as she swatted him lightly.

They both burst out giggling and that’s how Sara Blythe found them.

“Well I’m glad that John is taking you! Can’t say I’m surprised,” she said good-naturedly.”

Marilla felt her face flush as she laughed,
“No, I suppose it wasn’t a surprise!”
————-
Michael put his best clothes on and waited downstairs for his sister.

Marilla came down a few minutes later in her dress with the ribbon tied in the back of her hair.

“You look lovely, Sister,” Michael gave her a gentlemanly bow before giving his arm to her to hold.

Marilla rolled her eyes at him but she secretly was quite pleased.

She took the outstretched arm and they walked out the door.

All night long she and John danced and danced. She would catch glimpses of Michael spinning Dorothy Lynde around but for the most part her eyes were locked to Johns warm, brown ones.

“Come away with me, Mar. You know this town is too small for us. Let’s go and explore the world together,” he kissed her cheek.

“John-I, I can’t leave my family. Without my father my mother-“

“She’ll understand! One day Michael will take over the farm in full, and Matthew will be married off. What will you do?”

“I-just…let me think about it. Please. Can you be patient with me?”

“Of course I can,” he smiled and loosened his arms as she leaned against him.

Michael watched his sister intently. At one point she looked rather upset but now it was clear. John Blythe and his sister were the perfect couple.

As the jaunty fiddle tune ended he bowed to Dorthy Lynde and then went to find his sister.

“I saw you and John,” he grinned like a little boy.

Marilla turned up her nose, “maybe I do like him more than a friend,” her face flushed.

“That was quite clear to me. And I think he’s a fine man.”

“Oh, I need your approval, do I?” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, without Father to keep you in line, yes I suppose you do. And i should hope he would come to me to ask my blessing on your courtship.”

“Michael Cuthbert! We’re not courting!” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He laughed again and patted her hand.

“And what about you and Dorothy? I’m sure Thomas would appreciate you for a brother in-law.”

“I like her. She’s quiet but has a certain humor about her,” he glanced fondly at the blonde standing in the corner, drinking punch.

“Seems like she feels the same way,” Marilla noted as Dorothy gave a small smile to Michael.

“We’ll see. I’m so busy running the farm. We would have to court for a long time before I have enough money.”

“Good luck to you, Brother.”

“I think we best get home. Mother’ll start to worry.”

“Yes, Michael. Let’s go home.”
————-
The three siblings were playing marbles while their mother watched gaily.

“Good shot, Matteroo!” Michael picked up a marble and flicked it, watching it roll.

“Your turn, Marilla.”

Marilla did the same and was pleased to see that her marble knocked a few of the mibs out of the ring.

Each sibling took turns until at last, Matthew was declared the winner.

“Now, you know that this means, right?”

“No?” Matthew glanced up at Michael questioningly.

“You’re gonna take these and make some friends at school,” He handed his little brother the bag of marbles and winked at his mother who nodded, satisfied.

“I dunno.”

“Cmon, Matthew. All the other boys will wanna play when they see how good you are,” Marilla tried to encourage.

“Well, maybe.”
————-

The winter of Marilla’s sixteenth year was what cemented her future.

The farmhands rushed Michael in from working one day and they laid him down on the sofa.

“Michael! What is it?” Constance cried out as she tried to wake him up.

“He just-fall!” The two men yelled, in thick French accents.

“Thank you for bringing him in. Matthew! Go and fetch the doctor,” she instructed her youngest who was just coming down the stairs.

He saw his brother and wordlessly left.

To the men she said, “here, your wages are on the table. Thank you again.” She pointed to the side table.

They tipped their hats to her. Unfortunately, being new immigrants from France, they had broken understanding.

When the doctor came he helped Constance get him to bed and then he examined him.

Marilla came in with John, and Matthew explained the situation. She went pale and clutched John. Not her darling brother, if he was sick it was like she was too.

“I’m here for you, Mar. I’m not going anywhere,” John clutched her and led her to the table with her mother and brother.

The doctor came down the stairs with a sorrowful look in his eyes. The same look that had haunted Marilla for years.

Constance, Marilla, Matthew, and John stood up anxiously.

“This isn’t easy for me to say,” Dr Ward said, the memory of the first time he had to tell this family bad news fresh in his mind, “we were too late.”

Constance fell on the floor, screaming her son’s name.

Marilla felt like the doctors words were underwater.

John held her as she cried on his chest, his shift muffling her anguished cries.

“No, I don’t understand! How?” Matthew went to his mother.

“I-I found this in his pocket,” the doctor laid a bloody handkerchief on the table,
“Tuberculosis. He must’ve been feeling poorly for a long time.”

Marilla remembered then, “h-he went to the vessel to drop off the last crops at the end of November. He could’ve ran into anyone that had it—it’s always so crowded.”

Matthew crept into Marilla’s room that night and laid next to her.

“I don’t know what we’re to do, Matthew,” Marilla said, numbly.

“We’ve got each other,” he said quietly.

Marilla hugged her little brother,

“Don’t worry, Marilla. I know what to do. With the help from Henri and Paul the farm will still be able to run,” Matthew felt the weight of responsibility land on his shoulders now.

He knew his sister would sacrifice her time to run the farm but he would also step up and do more than he had been.

“Matthew? I don’t want to sleep here tonight.”

The two siblings padded down and slipped into Constance’s room.

She opened her arms to her two children and the three of them stayed like that all night long.
—————
Marilla watched the pallbearers lower the coffin next to her fathers grave. She felt a piece of herself get buried with it as the dirt was thrown back over the hole.

At that moment she decided that the world was not a forgiving one. She was angry, angry at God, angry at her father for leaving, angry at the world.
——————-
When she and her mother were cleaning out Michael’s bedroom a couple weeks later they found a bowl of bloody handkerchiefs under his bed, soaking in water.

Constance was overcome with grief upon seeing how her son had sacrificed his health for them. Of course, he didn’t realize what he had but even still. She felt more guilty than ever.

Matthew made his announcement at dinner, “I’m leaving school. I know more than I’ll ever need to know seeing as I’ll run the farm.”

“No, son, you’re only eleven. You must finish.”

Matthew looked between his sister and mother stubbornly, “I’ve decided. I’m no good at school anyway.”

Constance was too weary to argue and after a long moment, she finally said, “if you’re sure you want to be a farmer then I suppose it is fine.”

“We’ll work it out together, Matthew,” Marilla added, a sorrowful expression on her face. She was lucky to have graduated early that spring and didn’t have to worry about her education. College was out of the question for her.

They finished their pork in silence, a heavy fog of grief surrounding the entire property and all therein.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Mother

Marilla was downstairs preparing breakfast for them when she glanced at the clock.

“Mother should’ve been up an hour ago!” She thought, dusting her hands off and going upstairs to see what’s up.

Constance lay in her bed, not saying a word, her eyes were wide open.

“Mother? Are you feeling alright?” Marilla fretted, placing a hand on her mother’s forehead.

Constance flinched at her daughter’s touch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright, Amaryllis,” Constance voice faded out at the end and she just lay there, staring into space.

Marilla was bewildered, she hadn’t heard that nickname since her father used to call her that.

“Are you ill?” She asked, almost in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Constance said tiredly, rolling over away from her.

The doctor was called and he sat at Constance’s bedside.

Marilla fretted downstairs with Matthew.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, his blue eyes filling with tears.

“Sh, it’s alright. She misses Michael,” Marilla hugged him, feeling him tremble beneath her.

The doctor came down, a grave look on his face.

“Your mother has what is known as melancholia. She will need much support to get though it.”

“Is it painful?” Matthew asked, the term sounding scary to him.

“Er, it’s painful to her but not physically. The losses of your brother and father have affected her so much that her mind needs to heal.”

The siblings nodded in understanding.

After the doctor left, Marilla went to her bedroom in the East Gable wing and looked out the window.

The cherry tree her father had planted was just past the first story window. She dreamily thought about her children climbing it one day. Through all the sadness she could still look to the future in hope.
———
Constance barely ate, her face becoming more and more grey.

“Please, Mother! Just take a bite!”

Matthew heard Marilla raise her voice through the bedroom door.

He tried with his mother with even less luck than his sister had so they gave it up as a bad job and Constance became Marilla’s sole duty—with Matthew attending the chamber pot at least.

John Blythe came over every day to help Matthew with the farm and to see Marilla, of course.

The three of them would eat dinner downstairs, sharing laughter in the moment.

Matthew would watch his sister light up when she was around him. She had a hard job to do but John gave her worth.
———
“Marilla! Marilla!,” Matthew called out, running up the stairs. He wanted her to mend his trouser leg.

He stopped short when he saw her in a deep sleep, sitting on the floor outside of their mother’s room.

He felt extremely sad, at his family’s situation. His sister sacrificed so much of herself, he didn’t know how to repay her.

Sighing he wrapped Marilla up in her bed quilt and left her to nap.
——
Constance’s physical health rapidly declined.

Matthew had taken to sleep next to her at night in hopes to raise her spirits.

The question raised in the back of his mind, “doesn’t she love us, too?”

Marilla looked at her sleeping brother and mother in despair. Though she didn’t want to believe it, in her heart of hearts she knew her mother would join Michael and Father soon.

A couple weeks later Marilla sat at her mothers bedside and her mother opened her eyes for a moment, staring directly into her daughter.

“Marilla, please…” Constance trailed off, a tear trailing down her cheek.

“Mother, I won’t leave him. He can live with John and i when we get married.”

Content with that answer, Constance closed her eyes slowly again.

Marilla kissed her hand and then ran down the stairs to Matthew and John who were in the yard.

“Matthew, you should go in. It won’t be long now,” she said, gently. Matthew’s eyes welled with tears.

“But-noo,” he cried once more as his sister hugged him.

He ran in and laid next to his sleeping mother, breathing in her scent and memorizing her features. It wasn’t hard, she looked exactly like his sister, after all.

When he ran in, John held and offered support for Marilla who was numb. She felt nothing anymore, not after Michael.

That night the siblings went to sleep in chairs at their mother’s bedside, while John had taken to the sofa downstairs.

In the morning, Marilla was shaken awake by Matthew’s small, trembling hand.

Her eyes opened slowly and she saw his tear stained face, eyes bloodshot. She glanced past him and saw her mother’s grey pallor.

“Oh,” was all she said.

“We’re orphans, Marilla,” Matthew sobbed, “poor Mother.”

John woke up to whispers and he climbed the staircase.

“Dear lord,” he said, sorrowfully.

He took it upon himself to call the coroner with Matthew and in the mean time Rachel came over.

She and Thomas Lynde were newlyweds, both at seventeen so Marilla barely saw her friend.

“Oh Marilla, I’m so sorry!” She cried, gathering her much taller friend up into her arms.

Marilla said not a word, too many emotions and feelings swirled around.

The two undressed Constance and sponge bathed her, her skin cold to the touch.
———
Three tombstones sat erect in the warm spring earth, the base of them sinking in a bit from all the rain.

Marilla and Matthew visited their family plot when Constance’s stone was finished.

“You know, Matthew, I am sixteen and legal age. I can be your guardian until you become of age. We won’t be parted,” Marilla said, flatly as they stared at the names on the stones.

“What about when you marry John?”

“He agreed that when we marry we’ll live at Green Gables and then, if he’s running the farm, maybe you can go back to school. We can make a family—the three of us.”

“I’m not ever going back to school. Been farming for too long now. It’s the only thing left that I had of Father and Michael.”

“Whatever you wish, little brother. Either way, we shan’t be separated.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: John Blythe

John Blythe had stayed by Marilla’s side for a long while and their love had blossomed.

Still, he had to admit that Marilla was not the same girl he had fallen in love with. She was just as gorgeous and wise, with her steady, blue eyes, but now understandably, she had a mournful air about her.

He loved the Cuthberts and they loved him. His mother would joke that she barely saw him because he was always over at Green Gables.
——
John would work his farm in the mornings with his father and then go and help Matthew with theirs.

He mentored Matthew as he grew up. Marilla would tell him that she was hearing his voice crack quite more often now, and he had shot up in height.

Then he and Matthew would discuss growing up over making hay, or plowing.

“I worry about him,” Marilla sighed, with an unusual maturity in an eighteen-year-old, “he lost everything so early in life.”

“He’s got a good attitude about him,” John sipped his tea and squeezed Marilla’s hand.

“I’m so indebted to you. I know that you’ll make a wonderful father to our children one day,” Marilla smiled at him.

John looked taken aback for a moment and then he smiled, “our children? That sounds nice.”
——————-
Another year went by and one day, John came by with a very serious look on his face.

“Hello, John!” Matthew said, coming up to him.

“Good to see you, Matthew. Is Marilla in?”

“Yes, she’s in making dinner.”

“I have to speak with her. Good work on those vegetables you’re planting,” John gave an approving nod over to the garden where everything was in a perfect row, neat as a pin.

“Thank you, I used wood shavings like you told me.”

John chuckled and gave an approving smile.

“Yes, John?” Marilla came briskly from the upstairs of the house and she stopped as she saw the look on his face.

“I-um, I have some news. You may want to sit down,” he pulled out a chair for her.

She hesitatingly sat down, “John, what is it?”

“…well I suppose I’ll just come out and say it. Um…right before your mother passed away I had applied to work on a steamer—“

“John Blythe, what are you telling me?!” Marilla’s face clouded and she began to shake.

“They have an opening now. It would be a chance to see the word. Look beyond Avonlea.”

“But, everything you could possibly want is right here! I’m right here!” Marilla knew she was being selfish, especially after everything he had done for her but the emotions kept coming.

“Listen, you can come with me! We can elope and be together, forever!”

“No, no, I can’t. I won’t leave everything my parents works so hard on. I won’t leave him!” Marilla angrily pointed to the picture of her and her siblings on the wall.

“My mother agreed that she can come in and be with him. He can even stay with her and Father! They would love the company. I would take him with us but a steamer is no place for a boy his age.”

Marilla stared at him, enraged that after all the time they had spent together that he would suggest such a thing.

“I will not abandon him. I won’t make you stay, I know you have put off so much of your future for me. I cannot go with you.”

“So where does that leave us then?”

“I suppose it ends here. You’ll go and meet another girl in your travels and do everything you have put off. Just leave,”

The last part hit him as cold as ice.

“No, Mar, you don’t mean that! I-I’m sorry!”

“Goodbye, John.”

He tried to give her a kiss and she balked, turning her back to him and walking back up the stairs. He was strictly forbidden to go to the second level of the Cuthbert house so he knew not to follow.

Crushed, he walked back to his own home. He wondered where he had gone wrong? He had a solution for their problems. The job paid well and you could have your spouse with you. Matthew wouldn’t be alone either so that would put Marilla’s mind at ease. He shook his head, women.
———-
Marilla wasn’t sure which part she was more angry with. John leaving, asking her to leave with him, or suggesting that she abandon her only brother.

While it would be exciting to see new sights, she had everything she wanted right in Avonlea. Her family were buried in the soil; her father’s blood, sweat and tears built into her house and the foundation underneath. How could he expect her to leave it all? And of course John’s parents were lovely people but no, she was her brothers only relative. She couldn’t selfishly leave him.

She sobbed bitter tears and rage filled her heart.

She found her mother’s amethyst broach and clutched it to her chest, the lock of hair encased in it shimmering in the sunshine.

Perhaps, if she wished hard enough, her mother would come back and she might be able to leave. If only life was a fairy tale, she thought to herself, bitterly.

After a long while Matthew crept in.

“Marilla? Are you alright?” His small hand brushing away his sister’s hair from her eyes.

“John’s leaving. What shall we do?” Marilla looked in earnest.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Sister. Do not worry, I will take on more work. We will be fine,” Matthew assured her, though inside he had no idea how he would manage. He was heartbroken himself; John had been a wonderful brother figure to him. He put on a brace face though, lest his sister get more upset.

“You are a good brother.”

“Marilla, I am very sorry that he’s leaving. I know what he meant to you.” He looked into her eyes earnestly.

Marilla took his hand and squeezed it.

“We have each other.”
———

A few days later John came around again, this time with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Matthew shook his hand, “thank you for everything. I’ll be forever indebted to you.”

John clapped him on the shoulder, “you’ll do well, I have no doubt. You have a natural talent for farming,” he winked and continued to the house.

“Mar!”

Marilla came around the corner, “so today’s the day,” she said unfeelingly.

“Mar, I don’t have to go. I’ll stay and continue to help out.”

“You had made your decision before you ever spoke to me. I won’t hold you back. You can’t help your own feelings of adventure.”

John grimaced, she was right. In his heart, he had decided to leave before ever speaking to her. It felt like his destiny.

“Mar, I love you.”

“John, please, you’ll miss your train,” Marilla coldly turned away, too upset to look at him.

He reached out to touch her shoulder and she flinched as if he burnt her.

Sadly he turned away and left. Marilla ran up to her bedroom and sobbed as she watched his figure grow smaller in the distance.
——-

Matthew noticed his sister was hardened after John left. Days would go by and they wouldn’t say a word. It was a very lonely life.

At first, John would send letters apologizing to Marilla but she couldn’t bear it to write back, too hurt to even think of apologizing herself.

“Mar, please, forgive me. I beseech you. You little know how utterly wretched I am without you by my side. I should have never asked you to leave, or leave Matthew. My contract is up in one year and I can come home again. If you’ll have me, please, write back to me. I will be forever indebted to you over this incident…”

Marilla read the rest of the letter, rage filling her every vein. She was about to throw the cream piece of paper in the fire but, at the last second, changed her mind. Instead folding it nicely and putting it in her keepsake box back into the recesses of her closet.

His letters became more infrequent over the next few months, and then in the final letter she ever received, he wrote that he had met a girl while in port in the States.

One last time he begged Marilla to forgive him and to give him a reason not to marry Rose. Marilla was too stubborn and once again he waited in vain to receive post from Green Gables, eventually giving up.
————-
As the months dragged on Marilla decided that she might forgive him—in person. She waited patiently for the day to come that he would come home.

As the fateful day drew closer she felt herself get nervous, it had been a whole year since he had left.

John came home late Saturday night so she didn’t get a chance to go and profess her love for him.

In the morning she put on her best dress and she and Matthew strolled into the church sanctuary. Her eyes scanned the room and her heart dropped as she saw a beautiful girl—blonde with green eyes—on John’s arm.

He was stunning in his own right, a year working on the sea had made him tan with muscles bulging. No longer was he the skinny, young, highschool graduate lad.

He had become a man.

He has a joy in his eyes that Marilla hadn’t seen in a long while.

After the service he came over with the woman.

“Matthew! Marilla! It’s so good to see you. Please, let me do the honor of introducing my fiancée to you, Rose Martin,” he stared at Marilla, gauging her reaction.

“Rose, it-it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she shook the woman’s outstretched hand.

Matthew did the same, “pleasure, ma’am”

“Why, Matthew! You’re almost taller than I am!” John said with a cheery smile.

Matthew blushed shyly and shook his hand.

“We’re to be married in a few weeks, back home in the States,” Rose said, gaily as she looked fondly at John.

“Oh?” Marilla looked at John as she kept her voice neutral.

“Yes, erm, Mother and Father are going to come and see Rose’s family estate. We shall move back here to Avonlea after that. We would have married here but Rose’s parents are too elderly to make the journey.”

“I see. Well, I wish you all the best. Congratulations.” Marilla felt her brother put his smaller hand in hers. She appreciated the moment of support.

“We must be going, it was good to see you,” Matthew pulled his sister along.

The ride home was quiet between the siblings.

Upon entering the house Marilla went straight to bed, feigning a headache. Matthew knew she needed to be by herself though.

He felt terrible, he knew his sister had abandoned her chances of being with John for him. Right then he vowed to make it up to her, his darling sister deserved to want for nothing.

When he thought sufficient time had passed he crept into her room,

“Matthew?” Marilla rolled over, her tear-stained face glistening in the candlelight.

“Marilla, I can manage the farm. I’ll make a living for us. Don’t worry about things,” he squeezed her shoulder.

“Oh, my dear brother,” Marilla wept for their future, for John, for her life to be what it should have been all along.
————
Eventually, as they got older, the pain subsided. They plunged themselves into working the land and continuing what their father had wanted.

People wondered if Marilla would marry and perhaps if she didn’t have such a strong sense of duty she would have but there was nobody that she felt for strong enough to leave everything she knew behind.

When Matthew became of marrying age, he, too, didn’t want to leave behind his sister, nor after everything she had done for him. Besides, women were intimidating and rather scarce. He would have to leave his beloved home to find a partner and that was out of the question. He was content to stay and be a bachelor.

He became man of the house and in his heart he vowed to always protect his sister.

They were good companions, neither requiring much in the way of conversation. It was the lack of children that nearly undid both of them, though neither mentioned it to the other. The Cuthbert memories would die with them.
—————————
The birth of John’s firstborn son was a huge blow for Marilla. She asked God for forgiveness for her self-pity, knowing that John and Rose hadn’t thought they could have a baby and after 8 years of marriage had assumed that door was shut.

Marilla sobbed in her room, alone, in anguish for her body that would never have children, for a life that she was not destined to live.

In her grief and sorrow for all the lives that had passed by her she became rigid. On the exterior she might appear calm, hardened, cold—but in her heart of hearts, she was hurting, angered by her past, yearning for an unknown something.

Firming her resolve, she shoved all those uncomfortable feelings deep down, locking them in her heart. Her job was to take care of her little brother (though he may be little no longer) and keep house like her mother taught her. It was in that way that she felt closest to Constance.

She hardened herself, vowing to never feel deep feelings for anyone else ever again. The road ahead was lonely and rather boring, but she wouldn’t starve and her life wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

Chapter Text

“The Spencer’s are adopting a girl to help out come spring. I ran into Ted Spencer on the docks,” Matthew grunted over his morning newspaper.

“Is that so? I s’pose Margaret could use the help. She seems flustered in church sometimes,” Marilla glanced over at him with mild interest.

“I was, ah, I dunno. Might be nice to have some help around here,” Matthew peeked over the papers to gauge his sister’s reaction.

“Mhmm, I agree.”

“Y‘know the French hands always come and go. Someone offers them more wage and they move on. It’s good on them and I don’t blame them for wanting more than I can offer but, well, what would you say if we adopted a young boy to help me?” He blurted out the last part by accident. Initially wanting to just feel her out first.

Marilla sat stunned. Of all things for her quiet brother to say that was certainly not something she had ever imagined coming out of his mouth.

“I-I-um…let me think about it. You said they weren’t getting the girl until spring? That leaves all winter to make a decision.”

Matthew felt a small victory there, she hasn’t outrightly said no. He looked at the picture of him and his siblings—looked at a Michael for guidance. Was he doing the right thing?
———-
A few weeks later Marilla placed breakfast on the table and said,

“Yes, Matthew. Let’s adopt a boy, maybe around eleven or twelve? Young enough that we might do right by him but old enough to do some chores.”

“I don’t think you’ll regret this,” Matthew offered a rare smile, further satisfying his sister that she was agreeing to the right thing.
———
“Matthew Cuthbert, who is that?!” Marilla’s face had hard lines as she stared at the little redheaded girl in front of her.

Something about the way the child expressed herself made Marilla feel pity on her.

No, she couldn’t take the girl. She had no use. Maybe it got a little lonely, keeping house, but she couldn’t keep up with the amount that the girl talked.

Sometimes she found herself getting drawn into Anne’s stories and that made her nervous. Then, she would tell her to still her tongue. More words were said out of the peculiar girl in half a day than the two siblings that whole week.

At Mrs. Spencer’s house, she found herself unable to give the girl up to the shrewd, angry-looking Mrs. Blewett. The child’s small, pale face would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She found herself in a bizarre dilemma—the likes of which she had never expected to be in.

That night, when Anne went to say her prayers, Marilla felt a twinge of amusement mixed with pity.

Maybe, maybe she could be mother to this unusual, vibrant creature?

She was mortified by the end of the girl’s prayer…and yet, quite taken with her.

“It’s a bout time that girl found herself a home! She’s next door to a perfect heathen!” Marilla said to Matthew as he sat smoking his pipe.

“Oh, that is a filthy habit!”

Matthew let her go on, he knew she was torn.

“I propose a one week trial—she has five days. I’ll need a lot of convincing,” Marilla said as she made her way up to bed.

Matthew smiled, he knew his sister would come around.

Marilla lay in bed that night unsure of the future. Anne was a bright thing, she just needed some guidance and fattening up. Maybe an old maid like herself could bring up a little girl?
————-
Even after Anne’s explosive outburst towards Rachel Lynde Marilla was torn.

“You can’t send her back over this,” Matthew muttered as he poured the cream layer of the milk into a separate jug.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Marilla snapped, she was frustrated at the girl…but also at herself for being amused by the whole situation. Yes, Anne should have been respectful but Rachel had it coming.

The apology made Marilla want to laugh whole-heartedly. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted to laugh like that. Perhaps when Michael was alive? Or when John—no, she couldn’t go there.

“Come along, Anne,” she shook her head of that memory and turned off of the porch.

On the way home Anne slipped her small hand into Marilla’s own larger one. The years of soap and farm work making them more leathery than the child’s.

Another unfamiliar feeling rose up from within Marilla. She had felt it off and on since Anne’s arrival. Fondness, perhaps?

More than that, should I say love?…..no, more than that. Marilla was troubled by the warm feeling that crept from her inner core outward. Maternal? Ah, yes. That was it.

She glanced down at the redhead, perplexed at how this curious creature was making her feel these things. It was like her whole life was turned upside down. Was the image of the future becoming clearer?
——
“I don’t feel as squashed in it as I did my old one,” Anne said, trying not to be disappointed.

“High praise, indeed,” Marilla rolled her eyes, “you have room to grow now.”

“It’s just nice to have something new.”

A thought popped in Marilla’s mind.

“This was mine as a girl, so it’s far from new.”

She opened her top drawer and unwrapped a powder-blue colored hair ribbon.

“Thank you, it’s so pretty!” Anne’s eyes sparkled as she let Marilla tie her braids together.
“Your brooch is beautiful, too,” she said earnestly.
“Thank you, it was my mother’s,” Marilla said, a hint of pride in her voice.
“I think amethyst is the prettiest gem.”
“Do you now?”
That strange feeling creeped in again. Marilla remembered her own mother doing the same thing for her, once upon a time.
—————-
Marilla found herself in the odd position of chatting with Eliza Barry while the little girls went out to play in the garden. She never thought that she would be taking tea with the likes of her. Admittedly she had a rather nice visit.

“I look forward to visiting again,” Marilla said, as she took Anne’s hand in hers and left.

Yes, Anne’s future with them was clearer than ever. She could almost feel that small hand in hers grow bigger, and see the little girl grow into a young woman, a bride, a mother. She pondered up her thoughts and treasured them in her heart; much like the Virgrin Mary she supposed.

“Can you hear the dryads?” Anne’s sing-song voice cut in Marilla’s daydream.

“I should think not. Don’t you go hearing things that aren’t real,” Marilla warned, rolling her eyes in the sheer stupidity.

When they arrived home, Marilla took her shawl off.

“Anne, would you mind bringing this to my room? You may leave my brooch on it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Anne said diligently as she took the offered cloth from the woman and brought it up.

The purple gem sparkled in the candlelight, the reflection of the flame looking like tiny stars, a minuscule galaxy, trapped inside it and frozen in time.

Anne gently stroked it, before her human nature kicked in and she pinned it to her breast, staring into Marilla’s vanity mirror.

For a moment, she let herself believe she was a princess. After that passed she placed it back on the fabric and left.
————-
Marilla let out a small g sigh of relief as she undid her corset and put her nightgown on.

Lovingly, she braided her hair, taking small pride in its length. She stared at herself in the mirror. Could she be a-a parent?

Putting a word to her new role made it all the more real. In a flustered huff she picked up her shawl to hang it up.

It was with shock that she discovered her brooch to not be on it.

“It couldn’t be? No, it couldn’t be,” she thought, her mind racing.

She tore apart her room looking for it, even pulling out the vanity from behind the wall.

When she felt that she thoroughly looked through everything she felt with some dread what had to be done next.
——-
Marilla knocked on Anne’s door and after hearing the, “Come in!” she entered.

“Anne I seem to have misplaced my brooch. Have you seen it?” She asked, not unkindly.

“I-um-y-yes,” Anne faltered, her eyes big and her brow furrowed.

Marilla was incensed, “Anne Shirley, I told you to put it away. What did you do with it?”

“Oh, Miss. Cuthbert, it was so tempting. I couldn’t resist! I kept telling myself to stop as my wicked hands picked it up and pinned it on my dress. I am so very sorry,” Anne gulped, nervously.

“Give it back? Right now,” Marilla sighed, she could look past this childish hiccup.

“Wha-? I-I didn’t take it. I put it back after a moment,” Anne said, quickly. A little too quickly for Marilla’s liking.

“Anne! You knew how much that brooch meant to me. Confess at once!” Marilla was annoyed at this point. Perhaps Rachel was right.

“But I-I”

“Confess! Confess at once to what you have done!” Marilla insisted, her insides now boiling.

“Miss. Cuthbert, I did not take it!” Anne was getting more flustered and her face flushed.

“Confess! Or I’ll send you right back to the asylum,” Marilla dropped that last sentence like a bomb.

“Y-you’ll se-“ Anne shook her head and stepped backward, she was in hot water now.

“Um, I took it. I pinned it on my dress and pretended that I was Lady Griselda about to meet her lover. I wanted to see the sunlight sparkle on it again so I stepped outside and walked all the way to Barry’s Pond. As I stood on their bridge I bent over the railing to see my reflection and the brooch unclasped from my dress and slipped to its watery depths. I am so very sorry,” Anne’s eyes were big and apologetic.

In that moment, Marilla boiled over.

“Pack your things! Tomorrow you will go, at first light! I won’t live with a thief under my roof,”

“What?! No, I made that up! That didn’t happen! I don’t know what happened to it, I swear! Please don’t sent me back!” Anne cried, about to clutch Marilla’s dress.

“Enough! I’ll not hear a word!” Marilla turned on her heel and closed Anne’s door behind her.

She was angry, angrier than she had been in years. Angry at the child, yes, but angry at herself for allowing the child into her house, and into her heart.

She laid in her bed, crying softly to herself.
Losing the brooch was like losing her mother all over again.

She wanted to yell, to never wake up, or to wake up as her little girl self again.

The last time she remembered feeling this upset was when she entered the change of life. The finality that she would never bear a child. Never marry. Never fulfill her girlhood dreams. It broke her for many months.

She felt that losing Anne would’ve been avoidable. She didn’t listen to herself from all those years ago. To never feel attachment to anything ever again.

Father, Michael, Mother, John, her youth, the brooch,…Anne.

Angrily she rolled over and stared at her family’s photo on her wall. Why did she never learn her lesson?

Chapter Text

Silence. Marilla stared at the cherry blossom tree, thinking of the girl.

She wanted to forget; to move on, and for life to go back to normal.

It was so quiet.

She sighed, frustrated that she still cared, and carried up the laundry.

Placing her blouses on her bed she felt a streak of light hit her in the eye.

“What on earth?”

She strode over to where it was doing it and was in shock.

Her brooch, stuck between the chair cushions.

In a moment she was out the door, calling for Matthew in the garden.

“My brooch! You have to fetch Anne!”

Matthew was off in a moment leaving Marilla behind to worry.

At dinner time she went outside to wait, getting more nervous when it got dark.

Going back upstairs she went into the girl’s room. Since when had it become “Anne’s Room”?

She saw the dress she made Anne laid on the bed, as well as the ribbon. The girl didn’t think that even the clothes she wore belonged to her.

Marilla let out a sob, holding the small dress to herself. The room even smelled of Anne’s outdoorsy, but pleasant scent.

She paced Green Gables, then scrubbed the floor, finally deciding to bake. She baked all night long, eventually falling asleep on the floor out of exhaustion.

When she finally woke up she didn’t know what to do with all the food she had made. It’s not like her family would be home to eat it, she thought, bitterly.

Taking a plate with food on it she went to the barn, wordlessly handing the plate over to Jerry, who looked so out of place alone in the barn, without Matthew’s silent companionship.

“Merci,” he nodded his head questioningly, as he watched her grab the mare from her stall.

She hitched up the buggy and urged Belle at a brisk trot, determined to piece what was left of her family back together.

“Marilla!” Rachel hollered over the horse clops.

“I have to go!” Marilla called, not slowing down.

“Wait! Whoa!” Rachel grabbed the horse’s bridle.

“Rachel, step out of the way,” Marilla pierced her gaze at her friend.

“I sent Thomas out already. When I saw Matthew tearing off I knew he must be fetching Anne.”

“I have to go. What if he’s dead? What if hes lying in a ditch? What if they both are?!” Marilla began to panic, thinking of all the horrible things that could happen.

“Stop it, Marilla! Thomas will ride all the way to the train station. The only thing to do is wait.”

Rachel helped her friend out of the buggy and instructed Jerry to take the rig back in.

She guided Marilla to the kitchen table and began making tea.

Marilla looked out the window, hoping, wishing, praying. If her only brother was lost, it would be her fault.

She broke down, sobbing. Completely lost as to what she could do.

A horse whinny took her out of her break down.

She ran out the door, relief flooding her face as she saw Matthew astride the horse—and Anne sitting in front of him.

“Well it certainly took you long enough to fetch her!” She snapped at Matthew, immediately regretting it, but unsure of how to react.

“Hello, Miss Cuthbert,” Anne smiled a wide toothy grin.

Marilla saw her dirty clothes and dirt smudged on her face. She had caused this.

“Hello, Anne. It’s nice to have you back.”

It was unfeeling and stilted. She didn’t know how to act around her, and the girl knew it.

After awhile she went to Anne’s room, knocking before entering. Maybe she could try again.

Anne looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“Yes?” She asked, curiously, tracking Marilla’s gaze.

“We’re having a simple supper. I won’t need your help, just come down when you’re ready.”

Anne’s face fell, “Yes, ma’am.”

Marilla nodded and headed back down.

It was awkward and everybody felt it.

Marilla watched Anne eat, her thoughts swirling around.

She recalled when Anne first came and how there was a bruise on the child’s wrist. Pain hit her when she realized how much this child had wanted a place to live and a family to support her.

Another memory popped up from that past week when she announced that the Barry’s wanted to meet Anne. The girl’s scared face as she thought for a moment that she was getting carted off to another family would haunt Marilla forever.
———
“Let me look at your head, Matthew,” Marilla demanded, when the two had a moment alone.

“It’s fine, really,” Matthew swatted her away.

“Matthew. Sit down,” Marilla’s blue piercing eyes stared into his own matching ones and he gave up, defeated.

He sat in the chair as Marilla undid the bandage wrapped around his head. She let out a gasp when she saw the cut in the side of his head.

“Oh, Matthew! What happened?”

She gently blotted it with a damp rag.

“Oh, nothin. Just a mishap is all,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“This is all my fault. I am ever so sorry.”

He felt a tremble in his sister’s hand as she continued to clean out his cut.

“It’s really alright,” he insisted.

Marilla gave him a small smile and
replaced the dirty bandage with a new one.

“That should do it,” Marilla tied it off and rolled her sleeves back down.

“Thanks, sister,” he nodded his head as he left.
————-
Marilla hung up the wet laundry, that strange feeling creeping up inside her once more as she put the child-size clothes on the line.

She would never admit it but lovingly she stroked the undergarments she had made for the girl. The fine stitching had held up well to wherever Anne had been.
——
“Are you feeling better, Marilla,” Rachel asked when they met again during the church picnic.

“Were you poorly?” Matthew looked at his sister with concerned eyes, knowing the stress of the past few days had affected Marilla even if she was too stubborn to admit it.

“No, I-“
Rachel cut Marilla off, “she was sick with worry. But you’re all back together again. One big happy family.”

Marilla watched Anne run off, the two Bell children making fun of the poor girl, calling her trash.

“I’ll go,” she walked in Anne’s direction, unsure of what to say.

She found Anne lying against a fallen tree trunk, her little body all tucked up like a kitten.

“Anne?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Anne,” she said more gently.

“Did you feel a sense of obligation? I would’ve been fine on my own. Better than here!”

What happened next came out so naturally that Marilla was surprised at her own actions:

She knelt down to eye level with the girl.

“Anne, I’m very sorry. I was quick to judge, but what’s worse is I made you tell a fib. I know now that you were telling the truth.”

Anne sat up a little straighter, resting her head on Marilla’s shoulder.

“I-if you could find it in your heart to believe me…and forgive me, we can start again.”

The two sat in companionable silence, Marilla feeling wildly out of her natural stoic self. There was a reawakening inside of her soul. .
———
“A girl her tender age, she ought not to know such things,” Matthew growled, in a rare display of passion as the two sat, discussing Anne’s inappropriate tales from school.

Marilla looked at him, realization dawning on her. She immediately grabbed her hat and went to the Andrew’s.

“Miss Cuthbert,” Mrs. Andrew’s answered her door coldly.

“We’re very sorry for this incident between your daughter and Anne.”

“You did Avonlea no favors bringing that trollop into our midst.”

Marilla was incensed, to call her beloved daughter—an innocent child no less—a trollop was beyond the pale.

“Trollop?! We cannot imagine the horrors that Anne has faced. We shall thank the Lord that the poor child has found safety, here at Green Gables. It’s a shame you have no compassion, perhaps you’ll get some at church and thank God that Anne is safe. I know I will!”

Marilla turned on her heels and left. She was outraged and Matthew watched his sister in a rare temper when she arrived home.

“To call that little girl impure is ludicrous! Why, I never! She is innocent in all of this!”

Matthew winced as Marilla threw the dishrag across the room in her outburst.

When Anne came home in a fit of sobs a half hour later, Marilla was quick to hold her.

“I know. You’ve been judged harshly,” she calmly consoled the child, petting her hair like her mother had once done.

When Anne had let go of Marilla’s waist she sent her up to bed.

“Things will look better after a rest,” Marilla sighed.

Anne let the woman tuck her into bed, her eyelids feeling very heavy as Marilla’s calm voice lulled her to sleep.

Once Anne was asleep Marilla felt emotionally weary. The day had been strenuous for two introverted, middle-aged new parents.

She let herself take a nap in the parlor, wondering what her mother would think of all this as she closed her eyes.