when tragedy strikes ☾ shirbert

chapter 16: in sickness & in health

Muffled shouts leaked between the cracks of Diana's bedroom door frame. The yelling carried across the upstairs hall, seeping into the carpeted floors and lavish walls.

Anne, arising tempered from her bed with hands tightly fisted at her side, stormed out of her room. The echoed arguing seemed to subside, but she couldn't take hearing Diana's torturous complaints anymore. No amount of pillows pressed up against her ears could block out the sound of her own anger.

As she strode into the hall, pivoting for the stairs, she figured the sudden stark silence meant the tantrum was soothed. Still, she was in no mood for any reprimanding concerning her behavior.

From the top step, Anne's irate bounding began its cascade, hand gliding down the polished railing. By the middle, her eyes flitted down to Marilla— she had a motionless hold on the front door's handle as if she had just closed it, the other palm pressed against its wood. The air, heavy.

On the third to last stair, she caught the faces of those around her. In the living room, Mr. Barry sat with a hand cupped over his mouth, stare solemn. Minnie May was tearful at his side, whispering questions he couldn't answer. Paces away Matthew leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Anne stopped at the final step, breath slowing.

"What is it?" came softly from her mouth.

Marilla turned to her, face grave. Her gaze drifted to her brother's, and at that moment, Anne caught the woman's composure falter.

"Marilla?" Anne mumbled.

Regaining his weight on his feet, Matthew walked in between the two of them, grabbing his hat and leaving out the front door. Staring into the empty space where he once was, Marilla took a moment before lifting a thin black coat off the rack. She faced Anne while folding the garment over in her arms as if trying to stall the inevitable.

The only sound in the house was the light patter of Anne's socks as they met the floor. Then, a few gentle words.

"Mary has been falling deeply ill."

Marilla looked away, unable to say it all at once.

"It's not looking well."

—

One of Barry's horses trotted along the fir-lined path, avoiding the thickets. Matthew had a hold of the reigns, while Marilla sat quietly in the open carriage, hands clasped. Next to her, Anne stared vacantly into the woods they passed through, wondering how long Mary had been sick— and if she'd have known sooner, had she not treated Gilbert so rashly when she last saw him.

Uneasiness swept over Anne with the onset of clouds, as they traveled out from the forest and into a still meadow. Upon a knoll came the Blythe-Lacroix house, thick puffs of smoke pluming from their chimney, with windows full of candlelight.

"What's Mary sick with?" Anne asked quietly, facing the home they approached, meeting the heavy air surrounding it.

"Blood poisoning," Marilla replied, drawing out a breath, "Sepsis."

—

Matthew halted the carriage by the outer post of their front porch, as Marilla gathered their baskets of goods, handing one to Anne. Inside, was an assortment of bread loaves and pastries that Eliza had thrown together before they left, pre-made from earlier breakfasts. She decided to keep the Barry's home and visit later on, as the Cuthberts knew the Blythe-Lacroix family far better, and felt they'd appreciate the space.