"Underneath the moon's gentle glow, amidst whispers of running water, friendships are forged with solemn vows, binding hearts for eternity."
- Isabella Wood.
Chapter 3 - Reunion at Barry Manor
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As Lydia stood outside with Diana, Minnie May, and her new mother, awaiting the arrival of the Cuthberts, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension stirring within her. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate grounds, yet Lydia's thoughts were consumed by the imminent meeting with Anne and her new guardians.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, barely audible amidst the chatter of anticipation around her. Her gaze scans the horizon, searching for any sign of Anne's familiar figure. And then, she saw them—a young girl with fiery red hair walking alongside an older woman, their silhouettes distinct against the backdrop of the sunlit path.
Lydia's heart quickened at the sight of her dear friend, her lips curling into a smile as Anne drew nearer. Without a second thought, she broke into a run, heedless of the calls from her new mother and Diana echoing behind her. With every step, anticipation bubbled within her, driving her forward until she reached Anne's side.
Without hesitation, Lydia threw her arms around Anne in a tight embrace, a smile spreading across her face as she felt Anne's surprised but warm response. The two girls laughed and reveled in the joy of being reunited once again.
But as Lydia turned towards her new family, she noticed a flicker of disapproval on her new mother's face. A blush of embarrassment washed over her as she realized she had perhaps was too forward in her greeting. She quickly grabbed Anne's hand, eager to include her, in the circle of her new family.
As they approached, Miss Cuthbert's surprise was evident. She had heard rumors of the Barrys adopting a child, but she had never expected it to be a girl, let alone one so closely acquainted with Anne. Mrs. Barry stepped forward to greet Miss Cuthbert with a forced smile.
"Good afternoon, Miss Cuthbert," Mrs. Barry greeted, her voice carrying a tone of forced welcome.
"Afternoon, Mrs. Barry," Miss Cuthbert replied politely, acknowledging Lydia's new mother.
"Please, call me Eliza," Mrs. Barry insisted with a fake smile. "And this must be Anne."
Lydia felt a surge of pride as Mrs. Barry addressed Anne, her dear friend, by name. She released Anne's hand and stood by her new siblings, eager to introduce them to her cherished companion.
"Good afternoon," Diana chimed in, extending a friendly greeting.
Anne nodded her head in acknowledgment, her gaze sweeping over the faces of Lydia's new family members. Diana nudged Minnie May, encouraging her to join in the exchange.
"Good afternoon," Minnie May said to Anne, her voice small but sincere.
As the attention turned to Lydia, she felt a bead of sweat form on her brow. All eyes were on her, and she sensed the weight of expectation settling over her shoulders.
"Good afternoon," Lydia managed to say, her voice wavering slightly with nerves.
"Afternoon," Anne responded quietly, her demeanor reserved but polite.
Mrs. Barry's gaze lingered on Anne, her eyes betraying a hint of judgment that did not go unnoticed by Lydia. Sensing the tension, Miss Cuthbert offered a somewhat awkward expression of gratitude.
"Thank you for having us, Eliza," Miss Cuthbert said, her tone tinged with a formality.
"Marilla, Anne, please come in," Mrs. Barry invited, her voice warm despite the subtle tension in the air.
With a nod of acknowledgment, Mrs. Barry led the way, Miss. Cuthbert followed after her. Diana and Minnie May trailed behind after the two older females, eager to explore the familiar surroundings.
Meanwhile, Lydia lingered, waiting for Anne to catch up. Leaning in close, she whispered excitedly into her friend's ear.
"You have to see all the sweets they have," Lydia urged, her voice filled with anticipation.
Anne's eyes widened in surprise at the suggestion, a grin spreading across her face as she realized the potential for indulgence awaiting them. Caught up in the shared excitement, they exchanged a conspiratorial giggle before joining the others inside.
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As they trod softly on the forest's earthen path, with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds enveloping them, an air of unease clung to Lydia. Anne, her dear friend from days filled with longing and dreams whispered in the quiet of an orphanage, seemed lost in her world. She spoke to Lydia, yes, but to others, she remained an enigma, her words as rare as rain in a drought.
The silence stretched between them, a delicate thread ready to snap, until Diana, with the grace of one accustomed to weaving harmony, sought to bridge the gap.
"I don't believe you said two words during tea but for Lydia," Diana observed, her voice laced with concern as she turned to Anne. "You didn't even remark on the cake."
Her gaze then shifted to Lydia, as if seeking an ally in this gentle confrontation. Lydia caught in the middle of a moment she had not anticipated, could only offer a helpless shrug, her heart aching for Anne's silence to break.
"Mother let me and Lydia help her bake it special," Diana pressed on, her words tinged with hope. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
Finally, Anne's gaze lifted, meeting Diana's, and in that moment, a bridge was built. "The cake was scrumptious," she said, her voice soft yet sincere.
Lydia's heart swelled with relief at Anne's words. A smile found its way to her lips, and a silent thank you to the skies for this small yet significant victory.
"Scrumptious?" Diana repeated, the word lingering in the air like a new melody, her curiosity piqued by Anne's choice of words.
However, swept up in the moment, Diana's next question tumbled out thoughtlessly. "Have you always been shy, or does it come from being an orphan?" she asked, her voice laced with innocent inquiry yet heavy with implication.
Lydia's response was immediate and sharp, a protective reflex born of friendship and understanding. "Diana!" she exclaimed, her tone a mix of shock and reprimand. "That is very rude."
Diana, suddenly aware of the weight of her words, felt a warm rush of embarrassment color her cheeks. The realization of her inadvertent insensitivity hung between them, a cloud darkening the sunlit path.
Turning to Anne, her eyes filled with genuine remorse, Diana reached out, her voice soft and contrite. "Anne, I'm very sorry for what I said," she apologized, hoping her sincerity would bridge the gap her words had created.
Anne, with a resilience that belied her delicate frame, offered a weak but genuine smile in return. "It's okay," she assured, her voice a whisper of grace in the awkward silence. "I'm less shy than reticent."
"Goodness! There's another 25-cent word," Diana exclaimed, her voice tinged with both surprise and admiration, a sparkle of intrigue lighting up her eyes.
Lydia remained silent, a quiet observer in the unfolding dialogue between her adopted sister and her dearest friend from the orphanage. The air between them was filled with the delicate dance of getting to know one another, each word a step closer to understanding.
"It's just..." Anne's voice wavered, trailing into silence as if the words were butterflies, too delicate to catch.
"Yes?" Diana leaned in, her curiosity piqued, encouraging Anne to continue.
"I like to read. When I can," Anne confessed, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Lydia and I used to read at the orphanage all the time."
Lydia's heart warmed at the memory, a small smile gracing her face as she remembered the countless stories they had lost themselves in, worlds away from the harsh realities they faced.
"That so is, I like reading too, but Mother prefers that I do needlepoint," Diana shared, her voice carrying a hint of resignation.
"Does needlepoint provide much scope for the imagination?" Anne inquired, genuinely, her eyes searching Diana's for an answer.
"I don't think imagination is my strong suit," Diana admitted, a touch of melancholy in her voice as if acknowledging a part of herself she wished were different.
"Really?" Anne's voice was filled with surprise and a touch of pity, "I don't know what I'd do without mine."
Lydia, momentarily lost in her thoughts, pondered the same. Her imagination had been a sanctuary, a place of refuge and adventure amidst the confines of reality, Shaking off her reverie, she tuned back into the conversation unfolding between Diana and Anne.
"Life without it would be agony," Anne declared with a dramatic flourish, her words painting the starkness of a world devoid of imagination. "An utter agony."
"Agony?" Diana echoed, her voice a mixture of astonishment and intrigue as if the concept were novel ones.
Laughter bubbled up among the trio, a shared moment of joy that briefly bridged the gaps in their experiences and understandings. But then, a serene hush fell over them, the kind that speaks of deepening bonds and the comfort of silence.
It was Anne who shattered the silence, her voice eager and animated. "Lydia and I make up stories all the time," she confessed to Diana, her eyes alight with the magic of their created worlds.
"I could never do that," Diana admitted, a hint of wistfulness in her tone.
Without warning, Anne dashed ahead, her spirit too wild to be contained. "I like to imagine that I am a princess in a tower," she proclaimed, her imagination painting her as the heroine of her tale.
Diana and Lydia caught up in the moment and jogged to catch up, watching in amusement and admiration as Anne climbed atop a rock beneath the sheltering arms of the trees.
"Or Joan of Arc riding into battle," Anne continued, her transformation complete as she picked up a stick and brandished it like a sword, casting Diana and Lydia in the roles of her loyal followers or perhaps valiant foes in her imagined epic.
The laughter that followed Anne's theatrical depiction was light and carefree, echoing through the trees like music. Anne, ever the storyteller, seamlessly wove another tale, this time of a forlorn bride, her narrative rich with emotion and intrigue.
"Or a forlorn bride who lives by the sea, but never speaks to anyone," Anne narrated, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow as she moved to the other side of the path, embodying the character she had just conjured.
She turned, facing Lydia and Diana, her expression solemn. "Because her one true love was lost," she continued, clasping her hands together as if holding onto the memory of her vanished love, "when his ship went down and disappeared beneath the waves!" With a dramatic sweep of her arms, Anne mimicked the tragic sinking, her performance so vivid it was almost possible to hear the roar of the sea and the cry of the gulls.
Lydia watched, a smile playing on her lips, admiring Anne's boundless imagination. Diana's chuckle, light and filled with genuine amusement, joined the symphony of their shared joy.
"Wonderful!" Diana exclaimed, her laughter subsiding into a warm chuckle. "Could you and Lydia tell me a story now?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"We could tell you 12!" Lydia declared enthusiastically, her spirit uplifted by the magic of their camaraderie. Anne's smile in response was a beam of sunlight, illuminating the depth of their connection.
Approaching Diana, Lydia took both of Diana's hands in hers, a gesture of friendship and earnest inquiry. Diana, caught in the moment, found herself gazing into Lydia's eyes, as deep and captivating as the ocean itself.
"Diana..." Lydia's voice was soft, yet it carried a hopeful note. "Do you think you could like me and Anne just a little?"
The response was immediate and heartfelt. "I already do!" Diana exclaimed, her voice ringing with sincerity and affection.
Anne, not one to stand aside, joined the circle, linking Diana with one hand and Lydia with the other. other, her action symbolizing the unity they were forming.
"Shall we swear to be best friends forever and ever?" Anne proposed, her eyes alight with the prospect of a friendship that could withstand any storm, any tragedy, as enduring as the tales they spun together.
Diana's initial hesitation, marked by a sudden frown and the release of her companions' hands, brought a momentary pause to their budding ceremony of friendship. Her concern over the notion of swearing, deemed by her as dreadfully wicked, cast a shadow of doubt over the proceedings. Lydia, witnessing Diana's retreat and the smoothing of her dress, felt a twinge of disappointment, her face mirroring Diana's frown.
"No! It's not my kind of swearing," Anne hastily interjected, her voice laced with urgency as she hurried after Diana, with Lydia trailing behind. Anne's declaration of there being two kinds of swearing—an insight gained from her self-proclaimed worldly outlook—attempted to dispel Diana's worries. She insisted that their form of swearing was devoid of wickedness, instead embodying a vow, a solemn promise that was pure and virtuous.
Diana, pausing to consider Anne's explanation, turned to face her with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Anne's smile, hopeful and convincing, prompted Diana to inquire about the specifics of this righteous swearing.
"Well..." Anne began, her mind already crafting the perfect scenario for their solemn vow. She dashed to a nearby bush, plucking a flower with the delicacy of someone choosing a sacred token, then hurried back to her friends. Anne's description of the ideal setting for such a vow—by moonlight or over running water—sparked Lydia's imagination, even as she puzzled over Anne's intentions.
Imagining their surroundings transformed by the magic of moonlight and the gentle babble of a stream, Anne instructed Diana and Lydia to join in a physical manifestation of their promise. Diana, now holding the flower atop Anne's hand, and Lydia, following suit, intertwined their pinky fingers with Anne's, a gesture of unity and commitment.
"I solemnly swear," Anne began, her voice steady and filled with the gravity of the moment, "to be faithful to my bosom friend, Diana Barry, and Lydia Miller-Barry for as long as the sun and moon shall endure." The weight of Anne's words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of the bond they were forging.
Laughter soon followed Anne's solemn declaration, a shared giggle that sealed their friendship. In that moment, any lingering doubts were dispelled, replaced by the joyous acknowledgment of their connection—a bond promised to last as long as the celestial bodies that light the sky.
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[A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter. All I wanted to say. Bye!!! - Celia.]