Hello there,
Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of Moonlight at Miss Starwiss.
This is my unofficial fan-written sequel to celebrate a hundred years since the publishing of The Blue Castle by Ellen Montgomery,
The amazing Canadian author.
She published The Blue Castle in 1926.
Towards the end of her writing career,
She died in 1942 and Anne of Green Gables has remained her most famous book,
Which was actually her first novel.
Incredibly,
She was a prolific writer.
Many novels and poems and.
.
.
All kinds of collections of short stories and different things.
Personally,
The Blue Castle is my favourite of her books,
So I do enjoy so many of them.
And so it's been a very special kind of thrill for me to put together this sequel and to be sharing it now with the world.
There in order.
You can also find my whole playlist for the Blue Castle and listen to that too if you haven't.
So for now,
Let's just take a moment here 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 next installment of Moonlight at Misdarwis.
Chapter 13 Windward Miss Starwes,
In mid-June,
Was something out of a half-remembered dream.
The lake stretched out like a sheet of rippling glass,
And the trees had deepened into a green so rich it felt almost enchanted.
Wild strawberries were beginning to dot the sun-warmed edges of the clearing,
And the scent of pine sap and sweet clover hung thick on the air,
Birdsong threaded through the stillness in bright,
Darting bursts.
The day before,
And stayed the night.
This time,
Not out of necessity,
But by choice.
No storm had trapped her.
No excuse had compelled her.
She had brought her overnight things in a neat carpet bag and arrived with an air of brisk composure.
As if this were no more remarkable than a weekend call on a friend in town.
Still,
Her cheeks had been faintly pink when she'd stepped ashore.
And she'd looked over her shoulder once or twice as though half expecting to be pursued by her outraged mother.
Now,
In the light of morning,
Olive moved about the clearing with a sort of cautious ease,
As if the island might vanish if she looked too pleased with it.
She had brought a few additions this time.
A small striped rug for the guest cabin floor,
A delicately embroidered pillow,
And two framed prints of birds that she said she didn't particularly like.
But which seemed to belong there all the same.
Barney had raised his eyebrows when she unpacked these items.
Getting comfortable,
Are we?
Olive sniffed.
Just keeping things civilised.
Then the cabin shall be governed accordingly,
He replied,
Retreating with mock solemnity.
Valancy,
For her part,
Was secretly delighted.
With Olive's touches,
The little guest cabin was taking on a personality of its own.
They had still never told her that it used to be the old tool shed.
They'd been calling it the guest cabin without thinking,
But Olive had wrinkled her nose at that in the morning over tea.
It sounds like a spare cot in a railway hotel,
She said.
Wow.
What would you rather call it?
Valancy had asked.
Olive considered.
Windward.
She said.
It sounds like something in a novel.
Valancy tilted her head,
Smiling.
Windward it is,
Barney grinned over his toast.
A very sterling choice,
Olive shrugged.
You may call it what you like,
But I shall call it that.
And so it was christened.
A small sign followed later,
Cut from a scrap of cedar shingle and hung jauntily above the door,
In Valancy's careful lettering.
The morning passed unhurried.
They breakfasted outdoors at the old cedar plank table.
Porridge with cream and strawberry preserves,
Slices of still warm barley bread.
A pot of strong black tea that Olive insisted on preparing herself.
She had learned,
She said,
To make it properly from an English governess in Toronto.
Who had refused to tolerate weak brews or lukewarm water.
Valancy smiled across the table.
We should invite her out next.
She's dead,
Said Olive calmly,
But I do imagine her ghost would appreciate your kettle.
After breakfast,
Barney headed to the mainland with a long list of errands.
He had made several trips lately.
All connected with the little abandoned cottage near Bay Point.
The one they hoped might soon be home to Eliza Grey and her children.
It was a small,
Weathered old house,
Tucked back from the road and shaded by elder trees,
The kind of place most folks wouldn't give a second glance.
Nobody had lived there for at least 25 years.
But the little place was sound enough to be made snug again.
Best of all,
It was dry,
With a good chimney and a bit of garden going wild.
She doesn't know it yet,
He'd said the night before,
But she's going to have a dry little house and a porch where she can sit out of the rain.
Balanci had sent him off from the dock post-breakfast with a kiss and a tin lunch wrapped up in a clean tea towel.
Sandwiches,
Two hard-boiled eggs and a slab of blueberry cake still warm from the oven.
When exactly did I become a contractor for damsels in distress?
He'd asked as he climbed into the canoe,
Tools clinking faintly behind him.
About the time you bought a sack of nails and developed opinions about roofing?
" said Valancy.
Barney gave her a wounded look.
A dark day.
Then he pushed away from the dock.
The air was soft with heat that afternoon.
The lake stippled with sunlight.
Olive sat at the little table on the porch,
Her sketchbook open,
Head bent in quiet focus.
Melancy had brought out lemonade in a bowl of wild strawberries and now returned to her own sewing,
Content in the hush.
For a long time,
There was no sound but the scratch of pencil on paper and the hum of bees in the wild roses.
Olive didn't speak,
But she didn't seem to need to.
She was drawing windward,
Capturing the tilt of the roof,
The way the eaves sagged just slightly,
And the long afternoon shadows cast by the birch trees across its mossy shingles.
Eventually,
She paused,
Gazing down the hill towards the lake.
It's strange,
She said.
I used to draw every day when I was a girl.
Somehow.
It became something I did only in fits and starts.
Valancy looked up.
Why?
Olive gave a half shrug.
Wasn't Useful.
And there was always something else I should have been doing.
Like preparing to marry a civil engineer?
Well,
Precisely.
She paused,
Looking out at the lake,
Then continued.
Cecil didn't like messy things or unprofitable things.
He liked tidiness,
Efficiency.
He wanted me to be decorative,
I suppose,
But not too noticeable.
Soft-voiced Steady Admirable.
I tried to be all of that.
I thought I had to.
Valancy reached for another strawberry.
And did it work?
It worked.
For a time.
Olive shaded the corner of the cabin's roof.
But.
.
.
I wasn't happy.
And I don't think he was either in the end.
Do you?
Miss him.
Not!
Him,
Really.
Just the life I thought we were going to have.
Olive closed the sketchbook gently.
He married a bank manager's daughter.
In Uxbridge.
I saw the notice in the paper.
Her name is Anne.
She plays the organ.
I dare say she never raises her voice.
They were quiet again for a while.
A breeze lifted across the island,
Stirring the trees and rustling the leaves like a held breath being let out.
Some time later,
Barney returned from the mainland,
Calling a greeting from the dock before disappearing again with the canoe to gather a bundle of dead fall from farther along the shore.
Valancy heard him moving about below from time to time,
The knock of wood against the landing,
The scrape of the canoe on stone.
And thought nothing of it.
Pen.
All of a sudden,
From the direction of the dock,
Came a very loud splash.
And a flurry of startled birds.
Both women jumped to their feet in alarm.
A moment later,
Barney emerged from the water dripping wet,
His hat floating behind him like a stubborn lily pad.
He was laughing as he dragged himself up onto the rocks,
Boots squelching,
Hair slicked down like a bedraggled seal.
For Lancey called out,
Alarmed.
Barney!
Are you hurt?
Only my pride,
He called.
She slipped out from under me.
The whole blasted plank came loose.
Olive's hand flew to her mouth,
But.
.
.
Too late.
The sound escaped.
A startled,
Utterly unguarded laugh,
Round and bright.
It broke free from her like a cork from a bottle.
And seemed to surprise even her.
The lancy turned wide-eyed.
Olive!
But Olive was laughing still.
And now Valancy joined in,
Gasping and helpless,
Doubling over as Barney,
Grinning,
Tossed his soaked hat onto the sand.
Well,
Called Barney,
Mock offended,
I'm glad my humiliation brings such delight to my wife and guest.
I'm sorry,
Olive managed,
Though her eyes were still wet.
You just looked like some great sea creature being expelled from the depths.
Barney bowed low.
THE LAKE MONSTER OF MYSTARWIS AT YOUR SERVICE He's squelched off to change.
Leaving the two women still catching their breath at the porch rail.
Olive wiped her eyes.
I haven't laughed like that in.
.
.
I don't even know how long.
It suits you,
Said Valancy.
Supper had been a simple affair.
Hot tea,
Oat cakes and a pot of chowder,
Fragrant with dill and lake perch.
And now,
The day was sliding into that gentle hush that always made Valancy's heart ache with a kind of joy.
Olive stood a little apart from them on the bluff,
One arm wrapped around her waist,
The other shading her eyes,
As she watched the sun melt towards the horizon.
She didn't speak,
But she didn't retreat either.
Her skirts caught the evening breeze,
And her hair,
Slightly must from the day,
Looked softer than usual,
Less like armour,
More like an ordinary woman's.
She's not staying the night?
Barney asked quietly.
Olive lingered behind on the bluff while Barney and Valancy started slowly down towards the cabin.
Valancy shook her head.
No,
She said she has things to attend to tomorrow.
And besides,
I think she wanted to leave before she got talked into staying again.
Small woman,
Said Bonnie.
She didn't say much,
Valancy murmured,
But Just before we watched you flail about in the lake,
She told me something about Cecil.
About how she spent years trying to be what he wanted.
Barney tilted his head.
Huh.
She said it all very,
Very clearly.
Simply,
Valancy added.
And she didn't make a single comment about your wardrobe today.
Barney looked mock thoughtful.
I did notice a twitch when I put my hat on backwards,
But she let it pass.
Well,
That's practically glowing praise from Olive.
They smiled at each other.
There was a pause,
And then he added,
Well,
The chimney's still intact on Eliza's place.
I got the leak patched on the north side.
And we reinforce the porch roof with salvaged boards from Old MacEwan's place.
Should hold through the winter.
Unless something wild comes through.
Your amazing.
He shrugged.
I'm possible.
Oh,
Barney.
You're so much more than that.
You're building someone a home.
He looked down at her.
Well,
I suppose I am.
I didn't ever anticipate that.
She'll never forget it.
None of them will.
As they walked on,
Barney suddenly said,
Guess who I passed on the road this morning?
Lady Jane Grey.
The lance he turned.
You did?
Down near the general store.
She's still going strong.
The fellow I gave her to was driving her into town and says,
She's running beautifully.
Beautifully.
Lady Jane.
Well,
Said Barney,
She still makes enough noise to announce herself three roads away.
He says it helps scare off anyone who might try to sell him something though.
Balancy laugh.
Incredible that she's still going.
I'm glad she found someone else who appreciates her.
So am I.
I couldn't have handed the old deer over to just anybody.
Valancy slipped her hand into his.
Lady Jane Grey and Eliza Grey.
Both finding new homes.
You've done wonders Barney.
Must be something with that name,
Mused Barney.
From the bluff,
Olive suddenly turned towards them,
Silhouetted now against the lake.
Barney,
She called,
Not unkindly.
I believe if we want to make it to Deerwood before my mother dispatches the militia,
We should be leaving.
Bonnie laughed.
Coming!
Olive's bag was already packed and leaning against the trunk of a birch,
She'd folded a small woolen shawl over her arm.
Valancy stepped forward and hugged her briefly.
Thanks for coming back,
Olive,
She said.
Olive gave a half smile.
I brought a pillow and a nightgown.
I suppose I may as well admit I meant to stay.
Valancy gave them a final wave as the canoe pushed away from the starwhisk and Olive echoed the gesture,
Her face unreadable in the twilight.
Over at the mainland,
Barney loaded the bag into the car while Olive slipped into the passenger seat.
The sky was fading now,
Lavender turning to indigo,
And soon the first stars would be pricking through,
Mirrored faintly on the still surface of the lake.
Barney would leave her,
Far enough outside Dearwood to avoid curious eyes,
But near enough that she would only have a short walk home.
The car trundled off up the track.
And disappeared among the trees.
Valancy stood for a while,
Listening to the first frogs begin their evening chorus.
