Mrs. March's Revenge

"Mrs. March's Revenge" is a novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores the themes of resilience, identity, and the complexities of human relationships. The story follows Mrs. March, a woman grappling with her past and navigating her present life, as she confronts societal expectations and personal desires. With Montgomery's signature lyrical prose, the novel delves into the intricacies of love, loss, and self-discovery, all set against a richly drawn backdrop of early 20th-century Canada. Through Mrs. March's journey, readers are invited to reflect on the power of revenge and the quest for personal fulfillment.

• Short story

								
"I declare, it is a real fall day," said Mrs. Stapp, dropping into a
chair with a sigh of relief as Mrs. March ushered her into the cosy
little sitting-room. "The wind would chill the marrow in your bones;
winter'll be here before you know it."

"That's so," assented Mrs. March, bustling about to stir up the fire.
"But I don't know as I mind it at all. Winter is real pleasant when it
does come, but I must say, I don't fancy these betwixt-and-between
days much. Sit up to the fire, Theodosia. You look real blue."

"I feel so too. Lawful heart, but this is comfort. This chimney-corner
of yours, Anna, is the cosiest spot in the world."

"When did you get home from Maitland?" asked Mrs. March. "Did you
have a pleasant time? And how did you leave Emily and the children?"

Mrs. Stapp took this trio of interrogations in calm detail.

"I came home Saturday," she said, as she unrolled her knitting. "Nice
wet day it was too! And as for my visit, yes, I enjoyed myself pretty,
well, not but what I worried over Peter's rheumatism a good deal.
Emily is well, and the children ought to be, for such rampageous young
ones I never saw! Emily can't do no more with them than an old hen
with a brood of ducks. But, lawful heart, Anna, don't mind about my
little affairs! The news Peter had for me about you when I got home
fairly took my breath. He came down to the garden gate to shout it
before I was out of the wagon. I couldn't believe but what he was
joking at first. You should have seen Peter. He had an old red shawl
tied round his rheumatic shoulder, and he was waving his arms like a
crazy man. I declare, I thought the chimney was afire! Theodosia,
Theodosia!' he shouted. 'Anna March has had a fortune left her by her
brother in Australy, and she's bought the old Carroll place, and is
going to move up there!' That was his salute when I got home. I'd have
been over before this to hear all about it, but things were at such
sixes and sevens in the house that I couldn't go visiting until I'd
straightened them out a bit. Peter's real neat, as men go, but, lawful
heart, such a mess as he makes of housekeeping! I didn't know you had
a brother living."

"No more did I, Theodosia. I thought, as everyone else did, that poor
Charles was at the bottom of the sea forty years ago. It's that long
since he ran away from home. He had a quarrel with Father, and he was
always dreadful high-spirited. He went to sea, and we heard that he
had sailed for England in the Helen Ray. She was never heard of
after, and we all supposed that my poor brother had perished with her.
And four weeks ago I got a letter from a firm of lawyers in Melbourne,
Australia, saying that my brother, Charles Bennett, had died and left
all his fortune to me. I couldn't believe it at first, but they sent
me some things of his that he had when he left home, and there was an
old picture of myself among them with my name written on it in my own
hand, so then I knew there was no mistake. But whether Charles did
sail in the Helen Ray, or if he did, how he escaped from her and got
to Australia, I don't know, and it isn't likely I ever will."

"Well, of all wonderful things!" commented Mrs. Stapp.

"I was glad to hear that I was heir to so much money," said Mrs. March
firmly. "At first I felt as if it were awful of me to be glad when it
came to me by my brother's death. But I mourned for poor Charles forty
years ago, and I can't sense that he has only just died. Not but what
I'd rather have seen him come home alive than have all the money in
the world, but it has come about otherwise, and as the money is
lawfully mine, I may as well feel pleased about it."

"And you've bought the Carroll place," said Mrs. Stapp, with the
freedom of a privileged friend. "Whatever made you do it? I'm sure you
are as cosy here as need be, and nobody but yourself. Isn't this house
big enough for you?"

"No, it isn't. All my life I've been hankering for a good, big, roomy
house, and all my life I've had to put up with little boxes of places,
not big enough to turn round in. I've been contented, and made the
best of what I had, but now that I can afford it, I mean to have a
house that will suit me. The Carroll house is just what I want, for
all it is a little old-fashioned. I've always had a notion of that
house, although I never expected to own it any more than the moon."

"It's a real handsome place," admitted Mrs. Stapp, "but I expect it
will need a lot of fixing up. Nobody has lived in it for six years.
When are you going to move in?"

"In about three weeks, if all goes well. I'm having it all painted and
done over inside. The outside can wait until the spring."

"It's queer how things come about," said Mrs. Stapp meditatively. "I
guess old Mrs. Carroll never imagined her home was going to pass into
other folks' hands as it has. When you and I were girls, and Louise
Carroll was giving herself such airs over us, you didn't much expect
to ever stand in her shoes, did you? Do you remember Lou?"

"Yes, I do," said Mrs. March sharply. A change came over her sonsy,
smiling face. It actually looked hard and revengeful, and a cruel
light flickered in her dark brown eyes. "I'll not forget Lou Carroll
as long as I live. She is the only person in this world I ever hated.
I suppose it is sinful to say it, but I hate her still, and always
will."

"I never liked her myself," admitted Mrs. Stapp. "She thought herself
above us all. Well, for that matter I suppose she was--but she needn't
have rubbed it in so."

"Well, she might have been above me," said Mrs. March bitterly, "but
she wasn't above twitting and snubbing me every chance she got. She
always had a spite at me from the time we were children together at
school. When we grew up it was worse. I couldn't begin to tell you all
the times that girl insulted me. But there was once in particular--I'll
never forgive her for it. I was at a party, and she was there too, and
so was that young Trenham Manning, who was visiting the Ashleys. Do you
remember him, Dosia? He was a handsome young fellow, and Lou had a
liking for him, so all the girls said. But he never looked at her that
night, and he kept by me the whole time. It made Lou furious, and at
last she came up to me with a sneer on her face, and her black eyes
just snapping, and said, 'Miss Bennett, Mother told me to tell you to
tell your ma that if that plain sewing isn't done by tomorrow night
she'll send for it and give it to somebody else; if people engage to
have work done by a certain time and don't keep their word, they
needn't expect to get it.' Oh, how badly I felt! Mother and I were
poor, and had to work hard, but we had feelings just like other
people, and to be insulted like that before Trenham Manning! I just

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