Hello there,
Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of Moonlight at Misdarwis,
My independent,
Unofficial,
Fan-written sequel to The Blue Castle,
Which was published 100 years ago,
Back in 1926,
By Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery.
Montgomery never made a sequel to The Blue Castle.
So this is my version of that a hundred years later.
And believe it or not,
We have actually reached the final chapter here for Moonlight at Mastawis.
I sincerely hope you've been enjoying this story if you've been listening along.
It was my hope,
My intention,
To offer something soothing,
Gentle,
Old-fashioned,
Comforting,
Moving us back a hundred years or so ago to a time when things were simpler,
With a slower pace of life.
If you haven't somehow heard the preceding parts of this book yet,
And you'd like to,
You can certainly look for the playlist for Moonlight at Mastawis and you'll find everything in order there.
This book is also available as an e-book and a paperback and you can also look for a long form track version of this book.
Which will have all of the chapters in order in one track so that it can play continuously,
Hopefully help you to stay asleep during the night.
Thank you so much if you have joined me to hear the whole of this book.
It's been a pleasure and a joy and a very unique experience for me to share this with everyone.
So before we reach into the final chapter here,
Let's just take a moment to have a nice deep exhale.
Letting go of the day letting go of whichever baggage we might be bringing along with us into this moment.
For right now.
There's nowhere else we have to go.
Nothing else we have to be doing.
So we can just relax get ourselves comfortable and enjoy the final chapter of Moonlight at Mystalis.
Chapter 28 Moonlight at Mastawis.
By November,
Miss Starwyce had lost nearly all its colour.
The maples stood bare against a pale November sky,
And the lake had taken on a cold metallic sheen.
Frost silvered the dock most mornings now,
And the last stubborn leaves went skittering across the paths whenever the wind rose.
The lancy had grown rounder too.
There was no mistaking it now.
Even beneath her warm dresses,
The new curve of her body showed plainly.
And she had lately developed the habit of resting one hand there without noticing she was doing it.
That morning,
She was sitting near the window with the cream-coloured knitting spread across her lap.
The little jacket had progressed.
Unfortunately,
It had progressed in several directions Valancy did not entirely understand.
She held it up and regarded one sleeve suspiciously.
That cannot possibly be right.
Good luck,
Curled beside her,
Opened one eye.
Well,
You needn't look superior.
You don't even have sleeves.
Good luck,
Closed the eye again.
Balenci turned the knitting,
Sorry.
But once he turned the knitting around.
Somewhere outside came the measured knock of Barney's hammer,
Followed by silence,
Then another knock.
She counted the stitches again.
31.
There ought to have been 34.
The lancy frowned.
Three of you have escaped.
Banjo appeared at that moment and jumped onto the table.
And I know exactly whom to suspect.
She lifted him down before he could sit on the pattern again.
A few minutes later,
Barney came in,
Bringing a gust of cold air with him.
He shut the door quickly and rubbed his hands together.
Valancy held up the jacket.
Does this look like a sleeve to you?
Barney studied it.
Which part she lowered it.
Never mind.
He bent and kissed the top of her head as he passed.
Valancy smiled and went back to counting.
31.
Still 31.
By the afternoon,
The wind had risen.
It moved around the house in long,
Low breaths and bent the bare branches occasionally to tap against the roof.
Barney had come in from his work and was sitting across from her with a mug between his hands,
His hair still carrying a faint dusting of wood shavings.
Balancy set the knitting aside and stretched her fingers.
I think the child will have to be satisfied with one sleeve.
Should be economical.
She gave him a look.
For a while,
They sat without speaking.
The room was warm,
The windows beginning to mist faintly at the edges.
Valancy glanced down at the little jacket.
We shall have to call it something,
Eventually.
Barney looked up.
The jacket?
The baby.
Awww.
She waited.
He appeared to consider the matter.
Which names do you like?
Barney leaned back in his chair.
That is a dangerous question.
Why?
Because somewhere in the world,
There is undoubtedly a perfectly innocent person bearing every name.
I am about to insult.
For Lancey to laugh.
All right.
We shall be discreet.
He thought for another moment.
If it's a boy,
Absolutely not Clarence.
The lancy laughed again.
Why Clarence?
I knew a Clarence once,
Barney said,
As if that cleared the matter up.
Wow.
That seems a little unfair to all the others.
You didn't know this one.
Valancy smiled.
The wind rattled briefly at the window.
All right,
She said.
No Clarence then.
Barney nodded gravely.
That's one decided.
What would you call her if it's a girl?
What about.
.
.
Amelia.
Bonnie suggested.
Valancy stared at him.
Amelia.
A fine Dignified name.
Barney.
Very proper.
And surely.
.
.
A daughter ought to be named after her dear.
.
.
Beloved.
Grandmother?
Valancy narrowed her eyes.
I'm only thinking of family tradition.
You have never thought of family tradition in your life.
Wow.
There's a first time for everything.
Valancy tried not to laugh and failed.
No,
Amelia.
Barney side.
Your mother will be crushed Mother will survive.
I dare say she will.
What about something from our travels?
Valancy suggested instead.
A name that reminds us of somewhere.
He considered this.
Jean-Pierre Valancy looked at him.
France.
I do rather like Jean Vievre.
So do I.
They sat with it for a moment.
Then Barney shook his head.
No.
No.
I shall always think of that little hotel in Rouen where the pipes screamed all night.
Valancy laughed.
That was not Geneviève's fault.
It would become associated.
All right then,
No Jean-Yves.
She picked up the jacket again and wound the wool once around her finger.
Another small silence.
Wellancy bent over the knitting.
There was that child in Venice,
She said,
After a moment.
Barney groaned.
Oh no.
What was his name?
"'I have deliberately forgotten,
' replied Barney solemnly.
"'No,
You haven't.
'" i have tried very hard Valancy began to laugh.
Alessandro!
Barney squeezed his eyes closed as if wincing.
Alessandro.
He was sweet.
He threw an orange at me.
You were teasing his dog!
You called it a badly made footstool.
It was shaped like one.
Valancy laughed harder.
Barney pointed a warning finger at her.
We are not naming a child Alessandro.
I wasn't suggesting it.
Good.
Nor after that little girl in Spain who followed us for half a mile asking for your hat.
Barney frowned.
Wasn't she called Pilar?
I think so.
She had excellent taste in hats.
She stole it.
Borrowed.
Well,
We never saw it again.
Barney looked thoughtful.
Perhaps Pilar is out.
Valancy set down the knitting.
What about something simpler?
Such as.
.
.
She hesitated.
Anne.
Barney's expression softened slightly.
And it's nice.
Or Margaret Also nice.
Elizabeth.
Very respectable.
Too respectable.
Possibly.
They went on like that for some time.
Trying names on and setting them aside again.
Some belonged too strongly to people they had known.
Others sounded wrong the moment they were spoken aloud.
Few lasted several minutes before one of them found some objection.
No name.
Seemed quite ready to belong to the small unseen person.
Who had already rearranged so much of their lives.
At last Valancy gathered the knitting back into her lap.
We have plenty of time.
Barney nodded.
That,
He said,
Is an excellent thing to have.
Balancy looked at him.
For a moment,
Neither of them said anything.
Then she picked up her needles again.
34 stitches,
She said.
Valancy had scarcely begun the next row.
When she stopped,
Her hand went instinctively to her middle.
Barney noticed.
What is it?
Nothing.
Of me.
She waited.
There it was again.
Not the faint uncertain flutter she had been noticing now and then for the past few weeks,
Which might almost have been imagined,
But a definite little movement from somewhere deep inside.
Valancy's face changed.
He was beside her at once.
She caught his hand and pressed it against the curve beneath her dress.
They waited.
Nothing happened.
Barney looked at her.
Typical for Lancey Mermaid.
Already contrary.
Apparently.
She kept his hand where it was.
For several seconds there was only the ticking of the clock and the wind brushing softly around the house.
Then Barney's fingers moved Was that?
Balancy laughed.
Yes!
His whole expression altered.
Do it again,
He said loudly to her stomach.
Bonnie.
What?
I'm asking politely.
They waited again.
But the baby had evidently lost its willingness to perform.
Barney left his hand there a moment longer anyway.
Wow.
He said at last,
Very quietly.
Lancy looked at him with wonder it's strange isn't it?
Very.
Sometimes it still seems impossible.
Barney nodded.
Then he bent and kissed her forehead.
Before returning to his own chair.
But Lancey picked up her knitting again.
Though it took her some time to remember which row she had been on.
Towards evening,
The wind dropped.
The clouds that had hung low over the lake all afternoon seemed to break apart,
Leaving long,
Pale openings in the western sky.
Barney went out to bring in another armful of wood,
And Valancy stood for a while at the window,
Watching him cross the yard.
Mastawis looked so different now from the island they had returned to in spring.
The lush green had Vanished.
Windward showed plainly through the bare trees,
Its little roof dark against the fading light.
The paths were thick with leaves and the garden had mostly given itself over to winter.
Here and there,
A stubborn stalk still stood upright,
Rattling dryly whenever the breeze touched it.
Yet,
Balancy did not find it melancholy.
She lied.
Being able to see farther through the trees.
Barney came back with the wood piled almost to his chin and nudged the door open with his shoulder.
You might have made two journeys.
Now,
Where would be the glory in that?
They stacked the wood beside the hearth together.
When they had finished,
Barney glanced towards the window.
It's clearing.
Balancy followed his gaze.
The first star had appeared above the dark line of the pines.
So it is.
She looked down at the knitting still lying abandoned on the chair.
Oh.
Gladly.
Bani fetched Balansi's heaviest coat.
She wound the blue scarf from Istanbul twice around her throat,
And then they stepped outside.
The cold met them at once.
Clean and sharp.
The leaves along the path had stiffened with frost and crunched beneath their boots.
Barney took Valancy's hand.
They walked without any particular destination.
Past the garden.
Past the place where the summer herbs had gone brown and brittle,
Past Windward,
Quiet now among the trees with its curtains drawn.
Valancy glanced towards it.
I wonder what Olive would say if she could see it now.
Probably that we have allowed the standards to decline Valancy smiled and squeezed his hand.
They walked on.
The trees thinned gradually as they neared the shore.
Through the branches,
The lake showed broad and dim beneath the darkening sky,
The last light lying pale across its surface.
Valancy slowed a little over the uneven ground.
Barney noticed and offered his arm without comment.
She took it.
They went on towards the water.
The shore was quiet in the fading light.
The lake laid dark before them,
With a faint wash of silver beginning to gather across its surface.
Lancey leaned into him and looked out across the lake.
For a while,
They said nothing.
Then.
She felt that small,
Unmistakable movement beneath her coat again.
She caught Barney's hand.
There!
He looked down.
And this time the baby obliged almost at once.
Barney's face changed in that quiet way she loved.
Wow.
He said softly.
Valancy laughed under her breath.
Above the trees,
The moon had begun to rise.
It came slowly.
Pale at first behind the bare branches,
Then clearer as it climbed.
A long path of light now stretched across the lake.
Barney's hand remained against the curve of her belly.
We've watched the moon come up in some extraordinary places.
Valancy said.
We have.
Rome,
She said softly.
You did show me the moon there,
After all,
Rising through the cypresses.
Barney smiled.
Said I would.
And I still don't think it was lovelier than Miss Starwess.
He said.
Only different.
Remember that little in.
High in the Alps.
The one with the wooden balcony and the enormous feather bed.
And the goat underneath our window.
That goat was very fond of you.
Naturally.
And that village in Provence where our room was over the bakery.
We could smell bread half the night.
And we ate half the bakery by mid-morning.
She laughed softly.
For a moment,
They watched the silver widen across the water.
I'm so glad we came home,
Valancy said.
Barney looked out over Misdalwyth.
Me too.
Beneath his palm,
The baby gave another small kick.
His eyebrows lifted.
And apparently we have another vote.
The lancy laughed and covered his hand with hers for a moment.
The moon was well above the trees now.
Somewhere behind them,
The house waited,
Warm and familiar.
The little woollen jacket lay unfinished near the hearth,
And Barney's pages were scattered across the desk in Bluebeard's chamber.
The crib still needed work.
Before long there would be another letter.
From Olive or Georgiana.
Or perhaps one of the grey children.
The lancy looked across the water.
Barney shifted beside her.
You're cold.
I'm not.
You are.
A little.
He smiled.
Come on Moonlight.
This time.
She did not argue.
Together,
They turned back towards the house.
Through the trees,
The windows of her blue castle shone warm against the dark.
The path beneath their feet was pale with frost.
And Bani kept her hand tucked securely through his arm as they walked.
Behind them.
Moonlight.
Lay quietly.
Over Miss Darwis.
The end.
