Dancing with Danger and Discovery — The Blue Castle

"She would never have the courage to wear that dress."

Context: Valancy hangs up the green crepe after trying it once

Freedom from family fear has limits; body shame and old maid habits still govern how she presents herself in public.

In Today's Words:

She buys the dress that could change how she looks, then talks herself out of wearing it at the last minute. Courage in one area does not automatically fix every insecurity about your body. Notice where old habit still wins after you have started saying no to other people.

"You come with me to the dance,” he ordered. “It’ll do you good—put some colour in your face. You look peaked—you want something to liven you up.” Valancy found herself suddenly wanting to go. She knew nothing at all of what dances at Chidley Corners were apt to be like. Her idea of dances had been fashioned on the correct affairs that went by that name in Deerwood and Port Lawrence. Of course she knew the Corners’ dance wouldn’t be just like them. Much more informal, of course. But so much the more interesting. Why shouldn’t she go? Cissy was in a week of apparent health and improvement. She wouldn’t mind staying alone in the least. She entreated Valancy to go if she wanted to. And Valancy _did_ want to go. She went to her room to dress. A rage against the snuff-brown silk seized her. Wear _that_ to a party! Never. She pulled her green crêpe from its hanger and put it on feverishly. It was nonsense to feel so—so—naked—just because her neck and arms were bare. That was just her old maidishness. She would not be ridden by it. On went the dress—the slippers. It was the first time she had worn a pretty dress since the organdies of her early teens. And _they_ had never made her look like this. If she only had a necklace or something. She wouldn’t feel so bare then. She ran down to the garden. There were clovers there—great crimson things growing in the long grass. Valancy gathered handfuls of them and strung them on a cord. Fastened above her neck they gave her the comfortable sensation of a collar and were oddly becoming. Another circlet of them went round her hair, dressed in the low puffs that became her. Excitement brought those faint pink stains to her face. She flung on her coat and pulled the little, twisty hat over her hair. “You look so nice and—and—different, dear,” said Cissy. “Like a green moonbeam with a gleam of red in it, if there could be such a thing.” Valancy stooped to kiss her. “I don’t feel right about leaving you alone, Cissy.” “Oh, I’ll be all right. I feel better tonight than I have for a long while. I’ve been feeling badly to see you sticking here so closely on my account. I hope you’ll have a nice time. I never was at a party at the Corners, but I used to go sometimes, long ago, to dances up back. We always had good times. And you needn’t be afraid of Father being drunk tonight. He never drinks when he engages to play for a party. But—there may be—liquor. What will you do if it gets rough?” “Nobody would molest me.” “Not seriously, I suppose. Father would see to that. But it _might_ be noisy and—and unpleasant.” “I won’t mind. I’m only going as a looker-on. I don’t expect to dance. I just want to _see_ what a party up back is like. I’ve never seen anything except decorous Deerwood.” Cissy smiled rather dubiously. She knew much better than Valancy what a party “up back” might be like if there should be liquor. But again there mightn’t be. “I hope you’ll enjoy it, dear,” she repeated. Valancy enjoyed the drive there. They went early, for it was twelve miles to Chidley Corners, and they had to go in Abel’s old, ragged top-buggy. The road was rough and rocky, like most Muskoka roads, but full of the austere charm of northern woods. It wound through beautiful, purring pines that were ranks of enchantment in the June sunset, and over the curious jade-green rivers of Muskoka, fringed by aspens that were always quivering with some supernal joy. Roaring Abel was excellent company, too. He knew all the stories and legends of the wild, beautiful “up back,” and he told them to Valancy as they drove along. Valancy had several fits of inward laughter over what Uncle Benjamin and Aunt Wellington, _et al._, would feel and think and say if they saw her driving with Roaring Abel in that terrible buggy to a dance at Chidley Corners. At first the dance was quiet enough, and Valancy was amused and entertained. She even danced twice herself, with a couple of nice “up back” boys who danced beautifully and told her she did, too. Another compliment came her way—not a very subtle one, perhaps, but Valancy had had too few compliments in her life to be over-nice on that point. She overheard two of the “up back” young men talking about her in the dark “lean-to” behind her. “Know who that girl in green is?” “Nope. Guess she’s from out front. The Port, maybe. Got a stylish look to her.” “No beaut but cute-looking, I’ll say. ’Jever see such eyes?” The big room was decorated with pine and fir boughs, and lighted by Chinese lanterns. The floor was waxed, and Roaring Abel’s fiddle, purring under his skilled touch, worked magic. The “up back” girls were pretty and prettily dressed. Valancy thought it the nicest party she had ever attended. By eleven o’clock she had changed her mind. A new crowd had arrived—a crowd unmistakably drunk. Whiskey began to circulate freely. Very soon almost all the men were partly drunk. Those in the porch and outside around the door began howling “come-all-ye’s” and continued to howl them. The room grew noisy and reeking. Quarrels started up here and there. Bad language and obscene songs were heard. The girls, swung rudely in the dances, became dishevelled and tawdry. Valancy, alone in her corner, was feeling disgusted and repentant. Why had she ever come to such a place? Freedom and independence were all very well, but one should not be a little fool. She might have known what it would be like—she might have taken warning from Cissy’s guarded sentences. Her head was aching—she was sick of the whole thing. But what could she do? She must stay to the end. Abel could not leave till then. And that would probably be not till three or four in the morning. The new influx of boys had left the girls far in the minority and partners were scarce. Valancy was pestered with invitations to dance. She refused them all shortly, and some of her refusals were not well taken. There were muttered oaths and sullen looks. Across the room she saw a group of the strangers talking together and glancing meaningly at her. What were they plotting? It was at this moment that she saw Barney Snaith looking in over the heads of the crowd at the doorway. Valancy had two distinct convictions—one was that she was quite safe now; the other was that _this_ was why she had wanted to come to the dance. It had been such an absurd hope that she had not recognised it before, but now she knew she had come because of the possibility that Barney might be there, too. She thought that perhaps she ought to be ashamed for this, but she wasn’t. After her feeling of relief her next feeling was one of annoyance with Barney for coming there unshaved. Surely he might have enough self-respect to groom himself up decently when he went to a party. There he was, bareheaded, bristly-chinned, in his old trousers and his blue homespun shirt. Not even a coat. Valancy could have shaken him in her anger. No wonder people believed everything bad of him. But she was not afraid any longer. One of the whispering group left his comrades and came across the room to her, through the whirling couples that now filled it uncomfortably. He was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, not ill-dressed or ill-looking but unmistakably half drunk. He asked Valancy to dance. Valancy declined civilly. His face turned livid. He threw his arm about her and pulled her to him. His hot, whiskied breath burned her face. “We won’t have fine-lady airs here, my girl. If you ain’t too good to come here you ain’t too good to dance with us. Me and my pals have been watching you. You’ve got to give us each a turn and a kiss to boot.” Valancy tried desperately and vainly to free herself. She was being dragged out into the maze of shouting, stamping, yelling dancers. The next moment the man who held her went staggering across the room from a neatly planted blow on the jaw, knocking down whirling couples as he went. Valancy felt her arm grasped. “This way—quick,” said Barney Snaith. He swung her out through the open window behind them, vaulted lightly over the sill and caught her hand. “Quick—we must run for it—they’ll be after us.” Valancy ran as she had never run before, clinging tight to Barney’s hand, wondering why she did not drop dead in such a mad scamper. Suppose she did! What a scandal it would make for her poor people. For the first time Valancy felt a little sorry for them. Also, she felt glad that she had escaped from that horrible row. Also, glad that she was holding tight to Barney’s hand. Her feelings were badly mixed and she had never had so many in such a brief time in her life. They finally reached a quiet corner in the pine woods. The pursuit had taken a different direction and the whoops and yells behind them were growing faint. Valancy, out of breath, with a crazily beating heart, collapsed on the trunk of a fallen pine. “Thanks,” she gasped. “What a goose you were to come to such a place!” said Barney. “I—didn’t—know—it—would—be like this,” protested Valancy. “You _should_ have known. Chidley Corners!” “It—was—just—a name—to me.” Valancy knew Barney could not realise how ignorant she was of the regions “up back.” She had lived in Deerwood all her life and of course he supposed she knew. He didn’t know how she had been brought up. There was no use trying to explain. “When I drifted in at Abel’s this evening and Cissy told me you’d come here I was amazed. And downright scared. Cissy told me she was worried about you but hadn’t liked to say anything to dissuade you for fear you’d think she was thinking selfishly about herself. So I came on up here instead of going to Deerwood.” Valancy felt a sudden delightful glow irradiating soul and body under the dark pines. So he had actually come up to look after her. “As soon as they stop hunting for us we’ll sneak around to the Muskoka road. I left Lady Jane down there. I’ll take you home. I suppose you’ve had enough of your party.” “Quite,” said Valancy meekly. The first half of the way home neither of them said anything. It would not have been much use. Lady Jane made so much noise they could not have heard each other. Anyway, Valancy did not feel conversationally inclined. She was ashamed of the whole affair—ashamed of her folly in going—ashamed of being found in such a place by Barney Snaith. By Barney Snaith, reputed jail-breaker, infidel, forger and defaulter. Valancy’s lips twitched in the darkness as she thought of it. But she _was_ ashamed. And yet she was enjoying herself—was full of a strange exultation—bumping over that rough road beside Barney Snaith. The big trees shot by them. The tall mulleins stood up along the road in stiff, orderly ranks like companies of soldiers. The thistles looked like drunken fairies or tipsy elves as their car-lights passed over them. This was the first time she had even been in a car. After all, she liked it. She was not in the least afraid, with Barney at the wheel. Her spirits rose rapidly as they tore along. She ceased to feel ashamed. She ceased to feel anything except that she was part of a comet rushing gloriously through the night of space. All at once, just where the pine woods frayed out to the scrub barrens, Lady Jane became quiet—too quiet. Lady Jane slowed down quietly—and stopped. Barney uttered an aghast exclamation. Got out. Investigated. Came apologetically back. “I’m a doddering idiot. Out of gas. I knew I was short when I left home, but I meant to fill up in Deerwood. Then I forgot all about it in my hurry to get to the Corners.” “What can we do?” asked Valancy coolly. “I don’t know. There’s no gas nearer than Deerwood, nine miles away. And I don’t dare leave you here alone. There are always tramps on this road—and some of those crazy fools back at the Corners may come straggling along presently. There were boys there from the Port. As far as I can see, the best thing to do is for us just to sit patiently here until some car comes along and lends us enough gas to get to Roaring Abel’s with.” “Well, what’s the matter with that?” said Valancy. “We may have to sit here all night,” said Barney. “I don’t mind,” said Valancy. Barney gave a short laugh. “If you don’t, I needn’t. I haven’t any reputation to lose.” “Nor I,” said Valancy comfortably"

Context: He orders Valancy to the Chidley Corners dance at supper

The invitation is blunt care, not romance; Abel pushes her toward life outside Deerwood propriety.

In Today's Words:

Abel does not ask politely; he tells her to come to the dance and get color in her cheeks. Sometimes you need someone to drag you toward joy you would never choose alone. Accept pushes from people who want you alive and present, not merely proper.

"You’ve got to give us each a turn and a kiss to boot.”"

Context: After Valancy refuses to dance with the new rough crowd

Her first taste of danger when she leaves respectable spaces without protection or knowledge of their rules.

In Today's Words:

He treats her refusal as arrogance and demands physical payment for showing up at his party. Risk is not only emotional; unfamiliar rooms can turn predatory fast. Going somewhere new without a plan is different from being brave, and leaving early beats pride. Read the scene as a mirror for your own choices, not as

"Nor I,"

Context: Barney says they may have to sit on the road all night and he has no reputation to lose

She accepts scandal as already spent capital, finding freedom instead of panic at being stranded with him.

In Today's Words:

Barney worries about her safety and gossip; she answers that she has no reputation left to protect either. When you are already the talk of the town, fear of appearances loses leverage. That can be liberating if you choose it instead of fighting it. Read the scene as a mirror for your own choices, not