The Blue Castle, Part 3

Please enjoy this continued reading of "The Blue Castle", a delightful 1926 Canadian novel from author Lucy Maud Montgomery, best known for her 1908 book "Anne of Green Gables".

Follow along as we hear how Valancy Stirling's dull life as a 29-year-old "old maid" is transformed by a life-changing medical diagnosis and subsequent foray into the world of romance, in search of the man and "Blue Castle" of her dreams!

Transcript

Hello there,

And welcome to this third part of our recording of The Blue Castle,

A 1926 novel by Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery,

Who is best known for her novel Anne of Green Gables.

So,

Let's take a moment here to relax,

Take a nice exhalation,

Get comfortable wherever we might be,

If we're sitting or laying down,

Whatever kind of baggage we're bringing along with us into this moment,

We can let go of all of that now.

Get comfortable,

And let's keep listening to the story of The Blue Castle.

Chapter 5 Of course,

She must buy the tea in Uncle Benjamin's grocery store.

To buy it anywhere else was unthinkable.

Yet,

Valancy hated to go to Uncle Benjamin's store on her 29th birthday.

There was no hope that he would not remember it.

Why?

Demanded Uncle Benjamin leeringly as he tied up her tea.

Are young ladies like bad grammarians?

Valancy,

With Uncle Benjamin's will in the background of her mind,

Said meekly,

I don't know.

Why?

Because,

Chuckled Uncle Benjamin,

They can't decline matrimony.

The two clerks,

Joe Hammond and Claude Bertram,

Chuckled also,

And Valancy disliked them a little more than ever.

On the first day Claude Bertram had seen her in the store,

She had heard him whisper to Joe,

Who is that?

And Joe had said,

Valancy Stirling,

One of the Dearwood old maids.

Curable or incurable?

Claude had asked with a snicker,

Evidently thinking the question very clever.

Valancy smarted anew with the sting of that old recollection.

Twenty-nine!

Uncle Benjamin was saying.

Dear me,

Doss,

You're dangerously near the second corner and not even thinking of getting married yet.

Twenty-nine!

It seems impossible.

Then Uncle Benjamin said an original thing.

Uncle Benjamin said,

How time does fly.

I think it crawls,

Said Valancy passionately.

Passion was so alien to Uncle Benjamin's conception of Valancy that he didn't know what to make of her.

To cover his confusion,

He asked another conundrum as he tied up her beans.

Cousin Stickles had remembered at the last moment that they must have beans.

Beans were cheap and filling.

What two ages are apt to prove illusory?

Asked Uncle Benjamin.

And not waiting for Valancy to give it up,

He added,

Mirage and marriage.

Mirage is pronounced mirage,

Said Valancy shortly,

Picking up her tea and her beans.

For the moment,

She did not care whether Uncle Benjamin cut her out of his will or not.

She walked out of the store while Uncle Benjamin stared after her with his mouth open.

Then he shook his head.

Poor Doss is taking it hard,

He said.

Valancy was sorry by the time she reached the next crossing.

Why had she lost her patience like that?

Uncle Benjamin would be annoyed and would likely tell her mother that Doss had been impertinent to me.

And her mother would lecture her for a week.

I've held my tongue for twenty years,

Thought Valancy.

Why couldn't I have held it once more?

Yes,

It was just twenty,

Valancy reflected.

Since she had first been twitted with her loverless condition,

She remembered the bitter moment perfectly.

She was just nine years old and she was standing alone on the school playground while the other little girls of her class were playing a game in which you must be chosen by a boy as his partner before you could play.

Nobody had chosen Valancy.

Little,

Pale,

Black-haired Valancy with her prim,

Long-sleeved apron and odd slanted eyes.

Oh,

Said a pretty little girl to her,

I'm so sorry for you,

You haven't got a bow.

Valancy had said defiantly,

As she continued to say for twenty years,

I don't want a bow.

But this afternoon,

Valancy,

Once and for all,

Stopped saying that.

I'm going to be honest with myself anyhow,

She thought savagely.

Uncle Benjamin's riddles hurt me because they are true.

I do want to be married.

I want a house of my own.

I want a husband of my own.

I want sweet little fat babies of my own.

Valancy stopped suddenly aghast at her own recklessness.

She felt sure that Reverend Dr.

Starling,

Who passed her at this moment,

Read her thoughts and disapproved of them thoroughly.

Valancy was afraid of Dr.

Starling.

Had been afraid of him ever since the Sunday twenty-three years before,

When he had first come to St.

Albans.

Valancy had been too late for Sunday school that day and she had gone into the church timidly and sat in their pew.

No one else was in the church,

Nobody except the new rector,

Dr.

Starling.

Dr.

Starling stood up in front of the choir door,

Beckoned to her,

And said sternly,

Little boy,

Come up here.

Valancy had stared around her.

There was no little boy.

There was no one in all the huge church but herself.

This strange man with the blue glasses couldn't mean her.

She was not a boy.

Little boy,

Repeated Dr.

Starling,

More sternly still,

Shaking his forefinger fiercely at her,

Come up here at once.

Valancy arose as if hypnotized and walked up the aisle.

She was too terrified to do anything else.

What dreadful thing was going to happen to her?

What had happened to her?

Had she actually turned into a boy?

She came to a stop in front of Dr.

Starling.

Dr.

Starling shook his forefinger.

Such a long,

Knuckle-y forefinger at her and said,

Little boy,

Take off your hat.

Valancy took off her hat.

She had a scrawny little pigtail hanging down her back,

But Dr.

Starling was short-sighted and did not perceive it.

Little boy,

Go back to your seat and always take off your hat in church.

Remember.

Valancy went back to her seat,

Carrying her hat like an automaton.

Presently,

Her mother came in.

Doss,

Said Mrs.

Starling,

What do you mean by taking off your hat?

Put it on instantly.

Valancy put it on instantly.

She was cold with fear,

Lest Dr.

Starling should immediately summon her up front again.

She would have to go,

Of course.

It never occurred to her that one could disobey the rector.

And the church was full of people now.

Oh,

What would she do if that horrible,

Stabbing forefinger were shaken at her again,

Before all those people?

Valancy sat through the whole service in an agony of dread and was sick for a week afterwards.

Nobody knew why.

Mrs.

Frederick again bemoaned herself of her delicate child.

Dr.

Starling found out his mistake and laughed over it to Valancy,

Who did not laugh.

She never got over her dread of Dr.

Starling and now to be caught by him on the street corner thinking such things.

Valancy got her John Foster book,

Magic of Wings.

His latest,

All About Birds,

Said Miss Clarkson.

She had almost decided that she would go home instead of going to see Dr.

Trent.

Her courage had failed her.

She was afraid of offending Uncle James,

Afraid of angering her mother,

Afraid of facing gruff,

Shaggy-browed old Dr.

Trent,

Who would probably tell her,

As he had told Cousin Gladys,

That her trouble was entirely imaginary and that she only had it because she liked to have it.

No,

She would not go.

She would get a bottle of Redfern's Purple Pills instead.

Redfern's Purple Pills were the standard medicine of the Sterling clan.

Had they not cured Second Cousin Geraldine when five doctors had given her up?

Valancy always felt very sceptical concerning the virtues of the Purple Pills,

But there might be something in them,

And it was easier to take them than to face Dr.

Trent alone.

She would glance over the magazines in the reading room a few minutes and then go home.

Valancy tried to read a story,

But it made her furious.

On every page was a picture of the heroine,

Surrounded by adoring men.

And here was she,

Valancy Sterling,

Who could not get a solitary bow.

Valancy slammed the magazine shut.

She opened the Magic of Wings.

Her eyes fell on the paragraph that changed her life.

Fear is the original sin,

Wrote John Foster.

Almost all the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that someone is afraid of something.

It is a cold,

Slimy serpent coiling about you.

It is horrible to live with fear.

And it is,

Of all things,

Degrading.

Valancy shut Magic of Wings and stood up.

She would go and see Dr.

Trent.

Chapter 6 The ordeal was not so dreadful,

After all.

Dr.

Trent was as gruff and abrupt as usual,

But he did not tell her her ailment was imaginary.

After he had listened to her symptoms and asked a few questions and made a quick examination,

He sat for a moment,

Looking at her quite intently.

Valancy thought he looked as if he was sorry for her.

She caught her breath for a moment.

Was the trouble serious?

Oh,

It couldn't be.

Surely it really hadn't bothered her much.

Only lately it had got a little worse.

Dr.

Trent opened his mouth,

But before he could speak,

The telephone at his elbow rang sharply.

He picked up the receiver.

Valancy,

Watching him,

Saw his face change suddenly as he listened.

Lo- Ye- Yes.

What?

Yes.

Yes.

A brief interval.

My God.

Dr.

Trent dropped the receiver,

Dashed out of the room and upstairs,

Without even a glance at Valancy.

She heard him rushing madly about overhead,

Barking out a few remarks to somebody,

Presumably his housekeeper.

Then he came tearing downstairs with a club bag in his hand,

Snatched his hat and coat from the rack,

Chucked open the street door,

And rushed down the street in the direction of the station.

Valancy sat alone in the little office,

Feeling more absolutely foolish than she had ever felt before in her life.

Foolish and humiliated.

So this was all that had come of her heroic determination to live up to John Foster and cast fear aside.

Not only was she a failure as a relative and non-existent as a sweetheart or friend,

But she was not even of any importance as a patient.

Dr.

Trent had forgotten her very presence in his excitement over whatever message had come by the telephone.

She had gained nothing by ignoring Uncle James and flying in the face of family tradition.

For a moment she was afraid she was going to cry.

It was all so ridiculous.

Then she heard Dr.

Trent's housekeeper coming down the stairs.

Valancy rose and went to the office door.

The doctor forgot all about me,

She said with a twisted smile.

Well,

That's too bad,

Said Mrs.

Patterson sympathetically,

But it wasn't much wonder.

Poor man.

That was a telegram they phoned over from the port.

His son has been terribly injured in an auto accident in Montreal.

The doctor had just ten minutes to catch the train.

I don't know what he'll do if anything happens to Ned.

He's just bound up in the boy.

You'll have to come again,

Miss Stirling.

I hope it's nothing serious.

No,

Nothing serious,

Agreed Valancy.

She felt a little less humiliated.

It was no wonder poor Dr.

Trent had forgotten her at such a moment.

Nevertheless,

She felt very flat and discouraged as she went down the street.

Valancy went home by the shortcut of Lover's Lane.

She did not often go through Lover's Lane,

But it was getting near suppertime and it would never do to be late.

Lover's Lane wound back of the village under great elms and maples and deserved its name.

It was hard to go there at any time and not find some canoodling couple or young girls in pairs,

Arms intertwined,

Earnestly talking over their little secrets.

Valancy didn't know which made her feel more self-conscious and uncomfortable.

This evening,

She encountered both.

She met Connie Hale and Kate Bailey in new pink organdy dresses with flowers stuck coquettishly in their glossy bare hair.

Valancy had never had a pink dress or worn flowers in her hair.

Then she passed a young couple she didn't know,

Dandering along,

Oblivious to everything but themselves.

The young man's arm was around the girl's waist quite shamelessly.

Valancy had never walked with a man's arm about her.

She felt that she ought to be shocked.

They might leave that sort of thing for the screening twilight at least.

But she wasn't shocked.

In another flash of desperate,

Stark honesty,

She owned to herself that she was merely envious.

When she passed them,

She felt quite sure they were laughing at her,

Pitying her.

There's that queer little old maid,

Valancy Sterling.

They say she never had a bow in her whole life.

Valancy fairly ran to get out of lover's lane.

Never had she felt so utterly colourless and skinny and insignificant.

Just where lover's lane debauched on the street,

An old car was parked.

Valancy knew that car well,

By sound at least.

And everybody in Dearwood knew it.

This was before the phrase tin Lizzie had come into circulation,

In Dearwood at least.

But if it had been known,

This car was the tinniest of Lizzie's.

Though it was not a Ford,

But an old grey Slossen.

Nothing more battered and disreputable could be imagined.

It was Barney Snaith's car.

And Barney himself was just scrambling up from under it,

In overalls plastered with mud.

Valancy gave him a swift,

Furtive look as she hurried by.

This was only the second time she had ever seen the notorious Barney Snaith.

Though she had heard enough about him in the five years that he had been living up back in Muskoka.

The first time had been nearly a year ago,

On the Muskoka Road.

He had been crawling out from under his car then too.

And he had given her a cheerful grin as she went by.

A little,

Whimsical grin that gave him the look of an amused gnome.

He didn't look bad.

She didn't believe he was bad,

In spite of the wild yarns that were always being told of him.

Of course,

He went tearing in that terrible old grey Slossen through Deerwood at hours when all decent people were in bed.

Often with old roaring Abel,

Who made the night hideous with his howls.

Both of them dead drunk,

My dear.

And everyone knew that he was an escaped convict,

And a defaulting bank clerk,

And a murderer in hiding,

And an infidel,

And an illegitimate son of old roaring Abel gay,

And the father of roaring Abel's illegitimate grandchild,

And a counterfeiter,

And a forger,

And a few other awful things.

But still,

Bilancy didn't believe he was bad.

Nobody with a smile like that could be bad,

No matter what he had done.

It was that night,

The Prince of the Blue Castle changed from a being of grim jaw and hair with a dash of premature grey,

To a rackish individual with overlong,

Tawny hair dashed with red,

Dark brown eyes,

And ears that stuck out just enough to give him an alert look,

But not enough to be called flying jibs.

But he still retained something a little grim about the jaw.

Barney Snaith looked even more disreputable than usual just now.

It was very evident that he hadn't shaved for days,

And his hands and arms,

Bare to the shoulders,

Were black with grease.

But he was whistling gleefully to himself,

And he seemed so happy that Bilancy envied him.

She envied him his lightheartedness and his irresponsibility,

And his mysterious little cabin up on an island in Lake Mystawis.

Even his rackety old grey slossen.

Neither he nor his car had to be respectable and live up to traditions.

When he rattled past her a few minutes later,

Bareheaded,

Leaning back in his Lizzie at a raffish angle,

His longish hair blowing in the wind,

A villainous-looking old black pipe in his mouth,

She envied him again.

Men had the best of it,

No doubt about that.

This outlaw was happy.

Whatever he was or wasn't,

She,

Bilancy Stirling,

Respectable,

Well-behaved to the last degree,

Was unhappy,

And had always been unhappy.

So,

There you were.

Bilancy was just in time for supper.

The sun had clouded over,

And a dismal drizzling rain was falling again.

Cousin Stickles had the neuralgia,

Bilancy had to do the family darning,

And there was no time for magic of wings.

Can't the darning wait until tomorrow,

She pleaded.

Tomorrow will bring its own duties,

Said Mrs.

Frederick inexorably.

Bilancy darned all the evening,

And listened to Mrs.

Frederick and Cousin Stickles talking the eternal niggling gossip of the clan,

As they knitted drearily at interminable black stockings.

They discussed second cousin Lillian's approaching wedding in all its bearings.

On the whole,

They approved.

Second cousin Lillian was doing well for herself.

Though she hasn't hurried,

Said Cousin Stickles,

She must be twenty-five.

There have not,

Fortunately,

Been many old maids in our connection,

Said Mrs.

Frederick bitterly.

Bilancy flinched.

She had run the darning needle into her finger.

Third cousin Aaron Grey had been scratched by a cat and had blood poisoning in his finger.

Cats are most dangerous animals,

Said Mrs.

Frederick.

I would never have a cat about the house.

She glared significantly at Bilancy through her terrible glasses.

Once,

Five years ago,

Bilancy had asked if she might have a cat.

She had never referred to it since.

But Mrs.

Frederick still suspected her of harbouring the unlawful desire in her heart of hearts.

Once,

Bilancy sneezed.

Now,

In the Stirling Code,

It was very bad form to sneeze in public.

You can always repress a sneeze by pressing your finger on your upper lip,

Said Mrs.

Frederick rebukingly.

Half past nine o'clock,

And so,

As Mr.

Peppers would say,

To bed.

But first,

Cousin Stickles' neuralgic back must be rubbed with Redfern's liniment.

Bilancy did that.

Bilancy always had to do it.

She hated the smell of Redfern's liniment.

She hated the smug,

Beaming,

Portly,

Bewhiskered,

Bespectacled picture of Dr.

Redfern on the bottle.

Her fingers smelt of the horrible stuff after she got into bed,

In spite of all the scrubbing she gave them.

Bilancy's day of destiny had come and gone.

She ended it as she had begun it.

In tears.

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