The Blue Castle

The Blue Castle

by L.M. Montgomery


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Valancy lives a drab life with her overbearing mother and prying aunt. Then a shocking diagnosis from Dr. Trent prompts her to make a fresh start. For the first time, she does and says exactly what she feels. As she expands her limited horizons, Valancy undergoes a transformation, discovering a new world of love and happiness. One of Lucy Maud Montgomery's only novels intended for an adult audience, The Blue Castle is filled with humour and romance.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781402289361
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Publication date: 03/04/2014
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 256
Sales rank: 74,169
Product dimensions: 5.30(w) x 8.20(h) x 0.80(d)
Age Range: 10 - 17 Years

About the Author

L.M. Montgomery achieved international fame in her lifetime that endures well over a century later. A prolific writer, she published some 500 short stories and poems and twenty novels. Most recognized for Anne of Green Gables, her work has been hailed by Mark Twain, Margaret Atwood, Madeleine L'Engle and Princess Kate, to name a few. Today, Montgomery's novels, journals, letters, short stories, and poems are read and studied by general readers and scholars from around the world. Her writing appeals to people who love beauty and to those who struggle against oppression.

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Chapter 1

If it had not rained on a certain May morning Valancy Stirling's whole life would have been entirely different. She would have gone, with the rest of her clan, to Aunt Wellington's engagement picnic and Dr. Trent would have gone to Montreal. But it did rain and you shall hear what happened to her because of it.

Valancy wakened early, in the lifeless, hopeless hour just preceding dawn. She had not slept very well. One does not sleep well, sometimes, when one is twenty-nine on the morrow, and unmarried, in a community and connection where the unmarried are simply those who have failed to get a man.

Deerwood and the Stirlings had long since relegated Valancy to hopeless old maidenhood. But Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way yet-never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the fact that she was twenty-nine and unsought by any man.

Ay, there lay the sting. Valancy did not mind so much being an old maid. After all, she thought, being an old maid couldn't possibly be as dreadful as being married to an Uncle Wellington or an Uncle Benjamin, or even an Uncle Herbert. What hurt her was that she had never had a chance to be anything but an old maid. No man had ever desired her.

The tears came into her eyes as she lay there alone in the faintly graying darkness. She dared not let herself cry as hard as she wanted to, for two reasons. She was afraid that crying might bring on another attack of that pain around the heart. She had had a spell of it after she had got into bed-rather worse than any she had had yet. And she was afraid her mother would notice her red eyes at breakfast and keep at her with minute, persistent, mosquito-like questions regarding the cause thereof.

"Suppose," thought Valancy with a ghastly grin, "I answered with the plain truth, ‘I am crying because I cannot get married.' How horrified Mother would be-though she is ashamed every day of her life of her old maid daughter."

But of course appearances should be kept up. "It is not," Valancy could hear her mother's prim, dictatorial voice asserting, "it is not maidenly to think about men."

The thought of her mother's expression made Valancy laugh-for she had a sense of humor nobody in her clan suspected. For that matter, there were a good many things about Valancy that nobody suspected. But her laughter was very superficial and presently she lay there, a huddled, futile little figure, listening to the rain pouring down outside and watching, with a sick distaste, the chill, merciless light creeping into her ugly, sordid room.

She knew the ugliness of that room by heart-knew it and hated it. The yellow-painted floor, with one hideous, "hooked" rug by the bed, with a grotesque, "hooked" dog on it, always grinning at her when she awoke; the faded, dark red paper; the ceiling discolored by old leaks and crossed by cracks; the narrow, pinched little washstand; the brown-paper lambrequin with purple roses on it; the spotted old looking-glass with the crack across it, propped up on the inadequate dressing-table; the jar of ancient potpourri made by her mother in her mythical honeymoon; the shell-covered box, with one burst corner, which Cousin Stickles had made in her equally mythical girlhood; the beaded pincushion with half its bead fringe gone; the one stiff, yellow chair; the faded old motto, "Gone but not forgotten," worked in colored yarns about Great-grandmother Stirling's grim old face; the old photographs of ancient relatives long banished from the rooms below. There were only two pictures that were not of relatives. One, an old chromo of a puppy sitting on a rainy doorstep. That picture always made Valancy unhappy. That forlorn little dog crouched on the doorstep in the driving rain! Why didn't someone open the door and let him in? The other picture was a faded, passe-partouted engraving of Queen Louise coming down a stairway, which Aunt Wellington had lavishly given her on her tenth birthday. For nineteen years she had looked at it and hated it, beautiful, smug, self-satisfied Queen Louise. But she never dared destroy it or remove it. Mother and Cousin Stickles would have been aghast, or, as Valancy irreverently expressed it in her thoughts, would have had a fit.

Every room in the house was ugly, of course. But downstairs appearances were kept up somewhat. There was no money for rooms nobody ever saw. Valancy sometimes felt that she could have done something for her room herself, even without money, if she were permitted. But her mother had negatived every timid suggestion and Valancy did not persist. Valancy never persisted. She was afraid to. Her mother could not brook opposition. Mrs. Stirling would sulk for days if offended, with the airs of an insulted duchess.

The only thing Valancy liked about her room was that she could be alone there at night to cry if she wanted to.

But, after all, what did it matter if a room, which you used for nothing except sleeping and dressing in, were ugly? Valancy was never permitted to stay alone in her room for any other purpose. People who wanted to be alone, so Mrs. Frederick Stirling and Cousin Stickles believed, could only want to be alone for some sinister purpose. But her room in the Blue Castle was everything a room should be.

Valancy, so cowed and subdued and overridden and snubbed in real life, was wont to let herself go rather splendidly in her daydreams. Nobody in the Stirling clan, or its ramifications, suspected this, least of all her mother and Cousin Stickles. They never knew that Valancy had two homes-the ugly red brick box of a home, on Elm Street, and the Blue Castle in Spain. Valancy had lived spiritually in the Blue Castle ever since she could remember. She had been a very tiny child when she found herself possessed of it. Always, when she shut her eyes, she could see it plainly, with its turrets and banners on the pine-clad mountain height, wrapped in its faint, blue loveliness, against the sunset skies of a fair and unknown land. Everything wonderful and beautiful was in that castle. Jewels that queens might have worn; robes of moonlight and fire; couches of roses and gold; long flights of shallow marble steps, with great, white urns, and with slender, mist-clad maidens going up and down them; courts, marble-pillared, where shimmering fountains fell and nightingales sang among the myrtles; halls of mirrors that reflected only handsome knights and lovely women-herself the loveliest of all, for whose glance men died. All that supported her through the boredom of her days was the hope of going on a dream spree at night. Most, if not all, of the Stirlings would have died of horror if they had known half the things Valancy did in her Blue Castle.

For one thing she had quite a few lovers in it. Oh, only one at a time. One who wooed her with all the romantic ardor of the age of chivalry and won her after long devotion and many deeds of derring-do, and was wedded to her with pomp and circumstance in the great, banner-hung chapel of the Blue Castle.

At twelve, this lover was a fair lad with golden curls and heavenly blue eyes. At fifteen, he was tall and dark and pale, but still necessarily handsome. At twenty-five, he had a clean-cut jaw, slightly grim, and a face strong and rugged rather than handsome. Valancy never grew older than twenty-five in her Blue Castle, but recently-very recently-her hero had had reddish, tawny hair, a twisted smile and a mysterious past.

I don't say Valancy deliberately murdered these lovers as she outgrew them. One simply faded away as another came. Things are very convenient in this respect in Blue Castles.

But, on this morning of her day of fate, Valancy could not find the key of her Blue Castle. Reality pressed on her too hardly, barking at her heels like a maddening little dog. She was twenty-nine, lonely, undesired, ill-favored-the only homely girl in a handsome clan, with no past and no future. As far as she could look back, life was drab and colorless, with not one single crimson or purple spot anywhere. As far as she could look forward it seemed certain to be just the same until she was nothing but a solitary, little withered leaf clinging to a wintry bough. The moment when a woman realizes that she has nothing to live for-neither love, duty, purpose nor hope-holds for her the bitterness of death.

"And I just have to go on living because I can't stop. I may have to live eighty years," thought Valancy, in a kind of panic. "We're all horribly long-lived. It sickens me to think of it."

She was glad it was raining-or rather, she was drearily satisfied that it was raining. There would be no picnic that day. This annual picnic, whereby Aunt and Uncle Wellington-one always thought of them in that succession-inevitably celebrated their engagement at a picnic thirty years before, had been, of late years, a veritable nightmare to Valancy. By an impish coincidence it was the same day as her birthday and, after she had passed twenty-five, nobody let her forget it.

Much as she hated going to the picnic, it would never have occurred to her to rebel against it. There seemed to be nothing of the revolutionary in her nature. And she knew exactly what everyone would say to her at the picnic. Uncle Wellington, whom she disliked and despised even though he had fulfilled the highest Stirling aspiration, "marrying money," would say to her in a pig's whisper, "Not thinking of getting married yet, my dear?" and then go off into the bellow of laughter with which he invariably concluded his dull remarks. Aunt Wellington, of whom Valancy stood in abject awe, would tell her about Olive's new chiffon dress and Cecil's last devoted letter. Valancy would have to look as pleased and interested as if the dress and letter had been hers or else Aunt Wellington would be offended. And Valancy had long ago decided that she would rather offend God than Aunt Wellington, because God might forgive her but Aunt Wellington never would.

Aunt Alberta, enormously fat, with an amiable habit of always referring to her husband as "he," as if he were the only male creature in the world, who could never forget that she had been a great beauty in her youth, would condole with Valancy on her sallow skin-"I don't know why all the girls of today are so sunburned. When I was a girl my skin was roses and cream. I was counted the prettiest girl in Canada, my dear."

Perhaps Uncle Herbert wouldn't say anything-or perhaps he would remark jocularly, "How fat you're getting, Doss!" And then everybody would laugh over the excessively humorous idea of poor, scrawny little Doss getting fat.

Handsome, solemn Uncle James, whom Valancy disliked but respected because he was reputed to be very clever and was therefore the clan oracle-brains being none too plentiful in the Stirling connection-would probably remark with the owl-like sarcasm that had won him his reputation, "I suppose you're busy with your hope-chest these days?"

And Uncle Benjamin would ask some of his abominable conundrums, between wheezy chuckles, and answer them himself.

"What is the difference between Doss and a mouse?

"The mouse wishes to harm the cheese and Doss wishes to charm the he's."

Valancy had heard him ask that riddle fifty times and every time she wanted to throw something at him. But she never did. In the first place, the Stirlings simply did not throw things; in the second place, Uncle Benjamin was a wealthy and childless old widower and Valancy had been brought up in the fear and admonition of his money. If she offended him he would cut her out of his will-supposing she were in it. Valancy did not want to be cut out of Uncle Benjamin's will. She had been poor all her life and knew the galling bitterness of it. So she endured his riddles and even smiled tortured little smiles over him.

Aunt Isabel, downright and disagreeable as an east wind, would criticize her in some way-Valancy could not predict just how, for Aunt Isabel never repeated a criticism-she found something new with which to jab you every time. Aunt Isabel prided herself on saying what she thought, but didn't like it so well when other people said what they thought to her. Valancy never said what she thought.

Cousin Georgiana-named after her great-great-grandmother, who had been named after George the Fourth-would recount dolorously the names of all relatives and friends who had died since the last picnic and wonder "which of us will be the first to go next."

Oppressively competent, Aunt Mildred would talk endlessly of her husband and her odious prodigies of babies to Valancy, because Valancy would be the only one she could find to put up with it. For the same reason, Cousin Gladys-really First Cousin Gladys once removed, according to the strict way in which the Stirlings tabulated relationship-a tall, thin lady who admitted she had a sensitive disposition, would describe minutely the tortures of her neuritis. And Olive, the wonder girl of the whole Stirling clan, who had everything Valancy had not-beauty, popularity, love-would show off her beauty and presume on her popularity and flaunt her diamond insignia of love in Valancy's dazzled, envious eyes.

There would be none of all this today. And there would be no packing up of teaspoons. The packing up was always left for Valancy and Cousin Stickles. And once, six years ago, a silver teaspoon from Aunt Wellington's wedding set had been lost. Valancy never heard the last of that silver teaspoon. Its ghost appeared Banquo-like at every subsequent family feast.

Oh, yes, Valancy knew exactly what the picnic would be like and she blessed the rain that had saved her from it. There would be no picnic this year. If Aunt Wellington could not celebrate on the sacred day itself she would have no celebration at all. Thank whatever gods there were for that.

Since there would be no picnic, Valancy made up her mind that, if the rain held up in the afternoon, she would go up to the library and get another of John Foster's books. Valancy was never allowed to read novels, but John Foster's books were not novels. They were "nature books"-so the librarian told Mrs. Frederick Stirling-"all about the woods and birds and bugs and things like that, you know." So Valancy was allowed to read them-under protest, for it was only too evident that she enjoyed them too much. It was permissible, even laudable, to read to improve your mind and your religion, but a book that was enjoyable was dangerous. Valancy did not know whether her mind was being improved or not; but she felt vaguely that if she had come across John Foster's books years ago life might have been a different thing for her. They seemed to her to yield glimpses of a world into which she might once have entered, though the door was forever barred to her now. It was only within the last year that John Foster's books had been in the Deerwood library, though the librarian told Valancy that he had been a well-known writer for several years.

"Where does he live?" Valancy had asked.

"Nobody knows. From his books he must be a Canadian, but no more information can be had. His publishers won't say a word. Quite likely John Foster is a nom de plume. His books are so popular we can't keep them in at all, though I really can't see what people find in them to rave over."

"I think they're wonderful," said Valancy, timidly.

"Oh-well-" Miss Clarkson smiled in a patronizing fashion that relegated Valancy's opinions to limbo, "I can't say I care much for bugs myself. But certainly Foster seems to know all there is to know about them."

Valancy didn't know whether she cared much for bugs either. It was not John Foster's uncanny knowledge of wild creatures and insect life that enthralled her. She could hardly say what it was-some tantalizing lure of a mystery never revealed-some hint of a great secret just a little further on-some faint, elusive echo of lovely, forgotten things-John Foster's magic was indefinable.

Yes, she would get a new Foster book. It was a month since she had Thistle Harvest, so surely Mother could not object. Valancy had read it four times-she knew whole passages off by heart.

And-she almost thought she would go and see Dr. Trent about that queer pain around the heart. It had come rather often lately, and the palpitations were becoming annoying, not to speak of an occasional dizzy moment and a queer shortness of breath. But could she go to him without telling anyone? It was a most daring thought. None of the Stirlings ever consulted a doctor without holding a family council and getting Uncle James' approval. Then, they went to Dr. Ambrose Marsh of Port Lawrence, who had married Second Cousin Adelaide Stirling.

But Valancy disliked Dr. Ambrose Marsh. And besides, she could not get to Port Lawrence, fifteen miles away, without being taken there. She did not want anyone to know about her heart. There would be such a fuss made and every member of the family would come down and talk it over and advise her and caution her and warn her and tell her horrible tales of great-aunts and cousins forty times removed who had been "just like that" and "dropped dead without a moment's warning, my dear."

Aunt Isabel would remember that she had always said Doss looked like a girl who would have heart trouble-"so pinched and peaked always"; and Uncle Wellington would take it as a personal insult, when "no Stirling ever had heart disease before"; and Georgiana would forebode in perfectly audible asides that "poor, dear little Doss isn't long for this world, I'm afraid"; and Cousin Gladys would say, "Why, my heart has been like that for years," in a tone that implies no one else had any business even to have a heart; and Olive-Olive would merely look beautiful and superior and disgustingly healthy, as if to say, "Why all this fuss over a faded superfluity like Doss when you have me?"

Valancy felt that she couldn't tell anybody unless she had to. She felt quite sure there was nothing at all seriously wrong with her heart and no need of all the bother that would ensue if she mentioned it. She would just slip up quietly and see Dr. Trent that very day. As for his bill, she had the two hundred dollars that her father had put in the bank for her the day she was born, but she would secretly take out enough to pay Dr. Trent. She was never allowed to use even the interest of this.

Dr. Trent was a gruff, outspoken, absentminded old fellow, but he was a recognized authority on heart-disease, even if he were only a general practitioner in out-of-the-world Deerwood. Dr. Trent was over seventy and there had been rumors that he meant to retire soon. None of the Stirling clan had ever gone to him since he had told Cousin Gladys, ten years before, that her neuritis was all imaginary and that she enjoyed it. You couldn't patronize a doctor who insulted your first-cousin-once-removed like that-not to mention that he was a Presbyterian when all the Stirlings went to the Anglican church. But Valancy, between the devil of disloyalty to clan and the deep sea of fuss and clatter and advice, thought she would take a chance with the devil.

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The Blue Castle 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 92 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a book that I have read many times and have given away numerous copies of. For the romantic it comes through with sentimental colors and for the champion of the underdog it brings a sense of justice. It has drawn my daughter and I together in ways I cannot begin to imagine. Each of us identifying in some way with Valancy. If you want a book that you cannot put down then read this book. Encourage your daughters,moms, aunts, cousins and friends to do the same. You will not regret it and they will thank you for sharing such a great piece of literature. Then share your common interest and likes and dislikes and what you can apply from it to your own lives.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I stumbled upon this book when I was eight and fell in love with Valancy and her life. Twelve years later (with numerous rereadings over those years!) this book is still my favorite of all time, and as an avid book reader, that's a feat. The book is full of romance, and shows how one girl blossoms into an independent woman.
JRSR More than 1 year ago
Be sure to read the book before you read the introduction! Ms. Tracey outlines the entire plot and has some very odd takes on the "meaning" of the book. Don't let her spoiling the plot and prejudices ruin The Blue Castle for you. This book is a treasure. It's a little slow at the beginning, but stay with it because it is well worth the time. You will love Valancey. The descriptions of her family, the people she meets, and Canada are all outstanding. A great read with plenty of ideas about dealing with life's challenges for a book club to discuss.
EsmeraldaMM More than 1 year ago
This little known book by LM Montgomery has been my favorite from her collection since I first read it years ago. It is a wonderful friend that I return to often. I am very excited that it is available for my nook...sold!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I ADORE this book! A true old fashioned underdog romance or the "cinderella type". Valancy will be a character I will share with many people. Run, don't walk to find it
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I simply love this book. It is a childhood favorite, as are most of L.M. Montgomery's books. A++.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I have read my paperback copy of this book to shreds. I adore it. I don't know what makes it stand out for me so much, but i absolutely love it. My all time favorite book out of hundreds of favorites.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
When I saw the nook version of this book for only $.99 I had to get it. Lucy Maud Montgomery is my favorite Canadian author! The Blue Castle is a love story and is quiet enjoyable for a work of fiction that was written well over 80 years ago. Well worth the money.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a wonderful story with a twist at the end. Makes you smile and believe in love again!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Some of it is a bit over the top in a fairy-tale-ish way and I found it hard to believe that Valancy could be so different in her different stages, but it was a lovely tale overall. The description of spinsterhood was spot-on and some bits made me tingle to my fingertips :) Recommend!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I enjoyed this with the references to nature with the joy it could bring into your life. The story had a lot happening that kept your interest, was easy to follow and very believable.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is a timeless treasure for any girl who has ever felt stifled, put down, or repressed. You will find yourself cheering for the heroine, Valency Stirling, who finally decides to take her life into her own hands (judgement, foul sneers, and shame be damned!) I will be passing this one down to my daughter.
MariaSavva_Author More than 1 year ago
I decided to read this book as I heard it was similar to 'The Ladies of Missalonghi' by Colleen McCullough, which I really enjoyed. I found 'The Blue Castle' to be a captivating read. I couldn't wait to find out what happened. I was amazed that 'The Blue Castle' was written over 80 years ago, as I could relate to the character Valancy as if she were a modern woman. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who is a romantic at heart. I'm sure everyone has their own 'Blue Castle' (i.e. a dream). What L. M. Montgomery seems to be saying to us through this great novel, is that personal dreams and aspirations are very important and can get you through the hardest of times.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I could not put this book down. I read it in one day. I always like to see the underdog come out on top as did the character in this book. Sometimes I laughted out loud and sometime wanted to cry. I will probably read this again soon and highly recommend it.
Guest More than 1 year ago
everything is lovely, from the description to the humour to the romance. i loved how Valancey just picks up and follows her true desires!
Guest More than 1 year ago
I've always loved LMM's books, and this one is no exception. It held me captivated till the end. Barney is so sweet, and I really enjoy the way it ends. It is so realistic, unlike most romance novels. I loved this story!!
Guest More than 1 year ago
This was definately a great book, although it was very depressing in a lot of parts. I'd have to say that Montogomery has written better books, but I still enjoyed this one and the ending was very special.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Though some L.M. Montgomery books can be rather sentimental, I think this story is brilliant. The characters are lovely. I find that I enjoy books where the main characters marry and then fall-in-love, and Blue Castle is one of the best. I must have read it over ten times and I can still skim through, and read my favorite chapters again. I recommend this book to people who are sick of the rubbish that is being put out today. This novel is a clean, charming, and a funny love story. I think is was Montgomerys best book.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book has really touched and inspired me. The main character, Valancy, goes from miserable to happy, simply by the strength of her own decisions. Its an incredible story of finding, without luck, power, or money, your own little place of idealized happiness.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book was absolutely amazing, and definitely one of my favorites. I fell in love with Lucy M. Montgomery's books at a young age and my appreciation for her literature has only grown with age.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I read all of the Anne of Green Gables books and loved them. I decided to read more by Montgomery and found "Blue Castle". At first it was a little depressing, but I found so much beauty and strength in Valancy, that I learned to love and appreciate every sentence. This book is being added to my list of books that will always be a part of me. We all have a little Valancy in our souls and minds.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I loved this book. The characters are great(often a bit humorous) and the message is powerful. I recommend this book to everybody, especially if you are a L.M. Montgomery fan and have read all of the Anne of Green Gables books.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This is one of the best books Montgomery has ever written. It's comical and romantic and the characters really live. I recommend this book to everyone. Its a really touching story.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book is a great book. It's funny, romantic, and just a little bit sad. I have read it over and over and over!
Guest More than 1 year ago
The Blue Castle is a great story. Filled with total irony, laughter, and tears it is the perfect story. I have read it over and over. I have read almost all of L.M. Montgomery's books but this is one of the better ones.