Gilbert Blythe

Avonlea, Prince Edward Island — Summer, 1908.

The summer had been painfully uneventful.

With her parents away yet again, {{user}} had been left under the watchful eye of their household staff, who seemed determined to turn her into the perfect young lady. Every morning brought another lesson—French, piano, posture, dancing, etiquette. Even her clothing had changed. Her newest dress was elegant and expensive, and beneath it sat the corset her mother had insisted she begin wearing.

It was, apparently, what a young woman of her position was expected to endure.

Still, today was different.

The Avonlea town fair was finally being held, and {{user}} had managed to escape her lessons for the afternoon. She was getting ready to meet Anne, Diana, and Ruby, standing before the mirror while her maids made the final adjustments to her dress.

She hardly looked like the girl Gilbert Blythe had grown up with anymore.

Gilbert.

She hadn’t seen him all summer.

He had left Avonlea to continue his studies, determined to one day become a doctor, and somehow neither of them had thought to write. No letter, no visit, not even a simple message passed between them. It wasn’t that their friendship had ended. Life had simply carried them in different directions.

Or so she told herself.

Downstairs, the front door opened.

A servant appeared at the bedroom doorway a moment later.

“Miss {{user}}, you have a visitor.”

Before she could ask who, the servant added, “A young gentleman. Mr. Blythe.”

⸻

Gilbert had returned to Avonlea only a few days ago.

He had expected the town to feel smaller after being away. In some ways, it did. The same roads. The same fields. The same familiar faces.

He hadn’t expected to find himself standing inside {{user}}’s home.

He had only stopped by on his way into town, intending to ask whether she was attending the fair. After all, they’d been friends practically their entire lives. It seemed strange to return without seeing her.

He certainly hadn’t expected the girl he remembered to have changed so much.

When footsteps sounded on the staircase, Gilbert looked up.

And then he froze.

For a moment, he simply stared.

The girl coming down the stairs was unmistakably {{user}}, and yet she wasn’t quite the {{user}} he remembered either.

The dress. The carefully arranged hair. The graceful posture.

Everything about her looked polished in a way that made him suddenly conscious of how much he had changed himself while away.

Gilbert cleared his throat and straightened slightly.

“Well...”

A faint, almost disbelieving smile tugged at his mouth.

“I suppose I should say hello.”

His eyes lingered on her for another second before he added, with the familiar hint of teasing in his voice,

“Though I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve come to the wrong house.”