Hello there.
Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of Moonlight at Misdarwis.
This is my independent,
Unofficial,
Fan-written sequel to celebrate 100 years.
Since the publishing of The Blue Castle,
Which was Ellen Montgomery's fantastic novel from 1926.
I don't know how long it took Lucy Maud Montgomery to write The Blue Castle,
But it took me about a year and a half to complete this unofficial sequel.
It felt like a lot of work and also interesting for me because although I've written various books in my lifetime,
Written a novel.
In fact,
Believe it or not,
Most of my life I have actually been more of a fan of non-fiction than fiction.
I have long thought of fiction as a little bit sort of questionable.
There already seems to me to be so much going on in this world,
In this reality.
I wasn't really sure why people wanted to make up other stories.
However,
Later here in my life I find a new appreciation for fiction.
I can see it more now as a certain kind of art form and I do hope you've been appreciating this book if you've been listening along already.
If you haven't heard the previous chapters of this book and you'd like to,
You can certainly look for the playlist for Moonlight at Mistahwis and you'll find everything there in order.
You can also find my playlist for The Blue Castle if you've never listened to that or would like a refresh future.
For now though,
Let's just take a moment here to have a nice deep breath.
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 17 The Happiest Scandal Olive had been at Wynwood more often than not these last few weeks.
Since leaving her parents' house,
She had made the little cabin her temporary home.
Though stiff letters from Aunt Wellington continued to arrive with depressing regularity.
On Sundays,
Olive still went back to Dearwood for church.
A habit so deeply ingrained that she had not yet thought to question it.
But when the first days of July came,
Olive packed a small case and announced that she meant to spend a week with cousin Georgiana.
You'll want the island to yourselves,
She said,
Airily.
Balansi was touched.
Olive had remembered.
Three years.
But Lancey could hardly believe it.
She stood on the porch with her arms folded loosely about herself,
Looking across the water.
Three years since she had walked out of her mother's house,
Married a man Dearwood considered a mystery and a scoundrel.
And stepped into a life.
She had never done.
Dared to imagine.
The evening had drawn itself in,
Soft and golden tonight,
The lake breathing a hush against the shore,
As if it too were aware of the occasion.
The porch of the main cabin was dressed like a theatre for their celebration.
Barney had fussed with lanterns until the railings glowed with warm points of light.
A cloth was spread on the little table,
Plain white,
Softened by a spray of meadow flowers that Balancy had gathered that afternoon.
There were two candles in brass holders,
Their flames dancing in the lake breeze,
And a loaf of Barney's best bread,
Still fragrant from the oven.
Three years,
" Barney said,
Coming out with a jug of lemonade beaded with moisture.
And you haven't run screaming back to Deerwood yet.
That's a record.
Valancy laughed,
Tilting her head.
Well,
I might have if you hadn't improved so much.
He pulled a face of mock offence,
Then leaned against the port rail,
Watching her.
With that glint of boyish amusement that always made her heart give a little leap.
The meal was simple,
But abundant.
Trout caught that morning,
New potatoes with a dill from Valancy's garden boxes,
And gooseberry chutney in a jar that bore Olive's unmistakably careful label.
It had arrived via the hands of young Tom Gray at the mainland dock,
Along with a note scrawled in Olive's precise script.
If you're determined to persist in scandalous happiness,
You might as well have something sharp to put on your table.
Try not to quarrel over it.
Happy anniversary.
Barney had laughed so heartily when he read it,
That Balancy was certain half the lake had heard.
Now he set the jar in the middle of the table with a flourish.
From the princess herself.
Though if it's as tart as she is,
I might regret this.
They both laughed,
And for a while there was only the sound of cutlery and the lake's rhythmic whispering.
Later,
Barney leaned back in his chair and sighed with contentment.
Do you remember that day?
Valancy did not need to ask which.
She saw it vividly,
As if it had happened yesterday.
The clandestine drive out to the minister's house,
The stunned faces of Dearwood when the news spread,
The way her family had sat in frozen,
Choking silence,
As if the world itself had cracked asunder.
Aunt Wellington had declared she would never forgive such disgrace.
Olive had looked as if she might faint from sheer mortification.
Her mother.
Had not spoken a word to her.
For months.
Valancy had borne it all.
With an OAT?
Secret sort of glee.
Underneath all the fury and scandal.
She had found her true,
Blue castle.
At last.
They thought you'd ruined your life,
Barney said,
Eyes twinkling as if he were sharing some inside joke with the stars.
I think some of them still think it,
" Valancy replied softly.
But they don't know.
They can't.
The conversation meandered as easily as the waves lapping the dock.
They spoke of Olive and of the grey children,
Of Abel,
Who had dropped by the other week and left his tobacco pouch behind,
Of Georgiana's last letter,
Which had been filled with gossip,
Funeral notices and underlinings.
Yet,
Nestled between accounts of Mrs Fletcher's remarkably well-attended funeral,
Dorothea's new baby,
And Uncle Benjamin's sciatica,
Georgiana had written almost breathlessly of olive.
She's looking better than I've ever seen her,
Valancy.
Positively blooming!
She laughs more easily.
And doesn't seem to bristle so much at trifles.
It's the oddest.
Happiest thing to witness.
Georgiana's delight had warmed Valancy more than all the rest of the news combined.
Soon the couple drifted,
As they often did on anniversaries,
Back into fond memories.
Barney leaned forward,
Resting his elbows on the table,
Eyes alight with reminiscence.
I still remember coming for you at your mother's house,
The way you walked out of that parlour with me afterwards.
Moonlight.
You might have been a queen.
Valancy's smile deepened.
I was only trying not to cry.
I was afraid if I opened my mouth,
I'd just be breathless.
Begging you.
Not to change your mind.
He shook his head slowly,
Tenderly.
Change my mind?
Not then.
Not now.
Ever.
A pause.
Although you must admit the wedding itself was a scandal of shambles.
No flowers,
No fuss,
No proper cake.
No fuss was perfect.
The fuss came after,
Didn't it?
We've been living in the scandal ever since.
But I'd say it's the happiest scandal in Muskoka.
Her eyes shone in the candlelight.
I wouldn't have changed one thing.
Barney gave a mock solemn nod.
Except perhaps the old minister's cough that nearly carried him off,
Mid-vowel.
I thought for a moment we'd be done.
Legally unfinished.
They both laughed,
The memory sweet with absurdity now.
The night folded round them,
Soft with cedar scent and lake air.
Valancy tipped her head,
Eyes glinting.
You know.
I never did thank you.
For being such a good sport about.
The whole business of my proposing to you.
He gave a low chuckle.
Good sport.
I've dined out on that tale in my imagination for years.
The boldest woman in Muskoka,
Down on one knee,
In spirit,
To me.
Don't exaggerate.
I was far too stiff-kneed for that.
Still,
Barney said,
That took courage.
And it rather made me look like the prize,
Didn't it?
Valancy laughed.
You mean you've been secretly gloating ever since?
Absolutely.
But don't worry,
I never let on just how smug I am about it.
He paused,
Then his voice softened.
Truth is.
I thank my lucky stars every day.
You did ask me.
I'd never have had the sense to ask you myself.
I'd still be rattling around in this old house,
A lonely crank of a bachelor.
Best offer of my life.
Best I'll ever have.
For a moment.
But Lancey couldn't answer.
She pressed her lips together.
And the gentle lapping of the waves filled the silence.
She lifted her face.
And the look she gave him was wordless gratitude,
Wordless wonder.
He saw it,
Smiled.
And brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek.
I love you,
He said simply.
I'm the luckiest man.
In Muskoka.
After a while,
The talk turned to travels.
Valancy had fetched the leather-bound journal they had kept,
Worn from being thumbed through so often.
She laid it on the table,
Opening at random.
Oh,
Here,
Do you remember the little pension in Florence with the courtyard full of lemon trees?
The landlady thought we were brother and sister because we laughed so much.
Yes,
She nearly fainted when she discovered we were married.
And do you remember the night the rain came down like a Roman tragedy and we had to move the bed twice to dodge the leaks?
And you said we were simply following the stars across the ceiling.
But Lancey's laughter rippled like the water below.
Barney's grin softened.
We were absurdly happy,
Weren't we?
In all those half-wrecked rooms.
It somehow always felt like home.
More home than deer would ever do,
Don't I imagine?
Valancy traced a fingertip down the margin of the page,
Where she had once scribbled a note about a street violinist they had heard in Paris.
Everywhere was home,
Because you were there.
He reached across the table and clasped her hand.
And because you were.
The journal lay open between them.
But neither read further.
Instead,
They watched the stars blink over the lake in the darkening sky.
A candle flame gutted and revived,
Somewhere across the water.
Leander called his evening song.
Valencia looked out across the lake.
Seems strange.
Does not.
Three years.
It feels like forever.
And also,
No time at all.
Barney leaned back,
Drawing in the night air.
I never thought I'd live three years so richly.
Valancy smiled.
I didn't think I'd live three more years at all.
For Lancey Rose then.
Came round behind him and slipped her arms about his shoulders.
She laid her cheek against his hair,
Breathing in the faint scent of wood smoke that always clung to him.
I think.
These have been the best three years.
Any two people ever lived together,
" she said softly.
Careful,
He teased back.
That sounds dangerously close to sentimentality.
I don't care,
She said.
I mean it.
Bees were easily the best three years of my life.
No comparison.
And.
.
.
I can only hope for more with you,
Barney.
She hesitated,
Straightening up,
Then adding with a faint,
Almost incredulous laugh.
And to think.
Dr Trent said,
I ought to have been dead.
Two years ago or more.
Thank goodness for him,
All the same.
I'd never have had the courage to do what I did and ask you to marry me without his miserable diagnosis.
Strange,
Isn't it?
How the worst thing I ever heard.
Turned out to be.
Be the best gift I was ever given.
Barney tilted his head back enough to glance up at her,
His eyes glimmering.
I'll never be one of Dr.
Trent's admirers.
He got it wrong.
So wrong.
But.
.
.
Somehow.
In doing so,
He handed me.
.
.
I am grateful too.
Valanci gave a soft laugh and kissed the top of his head.
The evening had deepened into that peculiar hush of summer twilight,
The lake now seeming to hold its breath.
Across the water,
The first whippoorwills were calling.
A broad,
Waning moon had risen,
Casting a silver sheen along the ripples near the shore.
Barney rose and stretched,
His joints cracking companionably.
Well,
We've eaten,
We've made our solemn declarations,
And we've scandalised the loons with our displays of affection.
I'd say it's been a very fitting anniversary.
Not quite finished,
Balancy countered with a spark in her eye.
There's still cake.
Cake?
Barney groaned in mock despair.
I thought you were trying to make me a temperate man.
Hopeless case,
" she said serenely.
Besides,
This bit is ours.
I saved the slice with the thickest frosting.
She brought out the plate she had hidden away in the kitchen and set it triumphantly on the little table between them.
Bani accepted it with exaggerated reverence,
As though receiving an imperial decree.
They ate the cake together,
Laughing at the smears of icing Valancy dabbed onto his nose.
Which he refused to wipe off until she leaned across and kissed it away.
By the time the last crumbs had vanished,
The stars were burning in their thousands,
Clear and close above the dark lake.
For a while,
They sat in contented silence.
Valancy curled against his side,
His arm warm and easy about her.
Do you ever think?
She said softly.
What it might have been like if.
.
.
We hadn't found each other.
No.
Barney said flatly,
Why would I waste time on such a dreary hypothesis?
She gave a low laugh.
It isn't dreary to me.
It's a reminder.
That my old life could have gone on and on and on.
Grey,
Narrow,
Shrinking,
Confined.
And instead.
.
.
Here we are.
It makes me so grateful.
Then I'll allow it,
He said,
With mock gravity.
So long as you don't dwell too much on those torturous old relatives of yours.
Who didn't know what treasure they had walking among them.
Melancy smiled,
Looked down,
Said nothing.
Presently,
Barney stirred.
Come,
Let's take the canoe out.
The lake's like glass tonight.
Will paddle to the middle and float a while.
Best way I know to crown an anniversary.
Valancy needed no urging.
Within minutes they were in the canoe,
Barney's paddle dipping quietly into the water.
The cool night air was threaded with the scent of pine and the faint sweetness of clover.
They let the canoe drift after Barney had rested the paddle across his knees,
Leaning back to gaze upward.
The stars.
Poured down unbroken.
Mirrored in the dark water until it seemed they floated in an endless sea of light.
A shooting star streaked across the sky.
And Valancy gasped,
Clutching his hand.
Wish moonlight.
Barney Merman.
I already have.
Everything.
Could wish for.
She whispered.
Then,
With a shy smile,
She added,
Accept.
Perhaps more years together.
Many more.
Barney reached over and drew her against him.
That is one wish I'll spend my life trying to grant.
They floated in silence after that,
Rocked by the faintest swell of the water,
Listening to the distant cry of a loon.
When at last they paddled back and tied up at the dock,
They lingered a few minutes longer on the porch,
Reluctant to let the night end.
Inside,
The cabin glowed with lamplight,
Welcoming and familiar.
Banjo stretched luxuriously on his cushion by the stove.
Valancy paused to stroke him.
Happy anniversary,
Moonlight,
" Barney said,
Kissing her hair.
Happy Anniversary.
She whispered back.
And in the quiet of that glorious July night,
With laughter still on their lips and the tang of pine-scented wood smoke in the air,
They closed the door behind them.
