CHAPTER 7 – SUMMER IV – MASQUERADE
Teaching Valancy trout fishing in one of the countless little rivers and streams feeding the lake turns out to be fun too, even if she does nearly fall into the water in her enthusiasm at catching her first one. Thankfully Barney manages to catch her instead at the last moment and they both laugh at the near miss.
"But I got him!" cries Valancy triumphantly, holding up her catch. "It would have been worth a wet dress."
"You must be starving if you're willing to risk your life for your dinner," observes Barney with a grin. Valancy tosses her short hair.
"You taught me how to swim," she retorts. "I wouldn't have drowned. But I am starving! I should have packed us some sandwiches."
"Why would we need sandwiches when we have such handsome fish?" asks Barney and promptly teaches Valancy how to cook trout by wrapping them in leaves, coating them with mud and baking them in a bed of hot coals, with the addition of some potatoes and salt he had stored in the canoe and which he now roasts over the fire. Valancy does this meal a full justice, announcing that she has never eaten something so delicious.
"It seems you know how to cook, after all," she says with a sly look at him. "Apparently the only thing necessary is the absence of a stove."
Barney throws his head back in laughter at that accurate observation.
"I managed not to actually starve before you moved in and took over the kitchen duties," he says dryly and then naturally falls into a long tale of his different food related mishaps in the Yukon and during his travels.
He has noticed some time ago that he speaks so much more in Valancy's company – not just because he has company for a change, but simply because he enjoys sharing things with her. Valancy is such a good listener, engaged, attentive and always ready to respond with laughter, awe or compassion to whatever anecdote he brings up. He finds himself climbing to the heights of wittiness to hear that wonderful laugh of hers, but is also happy to mention the more poignant and moving experiences or observations he had had over the years, secure that Valancy will understand.
It isn't always him telling the stories either, Valancy has plenty of her own. She never went further than Port Lawrence before she married him, but her rich inner life fully made up for it. Many evenings when they sit on their verandah looking over the beauty in front of them, she tells him one adventure or another which she created in her original Blue Castle over the years and to his surprise, Barney finds himself truly captivated. There's such a mix of intrigue, daring deeds, magic and humour in them, all told in her throaty, summery voice as the twilight slowly falls over Mistawis, that he marvels for a thousandth time how on earth this girl came from such people as the Stirlings – and how did she manage to develop such a rich imagination with so little material to feed it with in her life.
"You should write them down," he says sincerely one evening. "They're beautiful."
She laughs self-deprecatingly and shakes her head.
"They are just silly fairy tales."
"They are fairy tales", he agrees partially. "But they are not silly."
He takes to surreptitiously writing some down himself for her, doing his best to capture her whimsical turn of phrase and her own gentle brand of humour. He has a vague thought of getting them printed. He wouldn't publish them without her consent, but he could get them printed just for her, to have her dreams preserved in a tangible form to remember and treasure. An awful thought flashes through his mind that it soon would be a tangible reminder for him; a trail left by Valancy passing through his life long after Valancy herself is gone. He pushes it violently out of his mind; this is the last thing he wants to contemplate now. If he ever completes this project, it will be for her pleasure alone.
xxx
It's one of her stories, actually, which draws Barney's attention to the poster hanging outside a store at Port Lawrence.
"Look, Moonlight," he calls her attention to it before he has time to think it over properly. "Do you fancy a masquerade? It would be like in that story you told me last week – about the wood folk sneaking into a masked ball at the Blue Castle and disappearing before the clock struck midnight to keep their secrets."
The moment he sees Valancy's dark eyes widen in wonder and delight he knows that they will be attending the masquerade – and only then starts to think that it might not be a good idea, for several reasons. But he doesn't have the heart to take it back after he raised the possibility in the first place and inspired this kind of anticipatory joy in her.
"It would fit us very well, wouldn't it?" she asks, her eyes shining as she reads the poster. A masquerade dance is to be held in the pavilion at one of the hotels up the lake – a truly fancy place, normally used by rich tourists from Toronto and the States – and Valancy's brows frown when she reaches the price. "The tickets cost 10 dollars each though. But how fun it's imagining us going to such an event! We would be as out of place as the wood sprites in my story!"
"We can go for real," says Bareny simply, shrugging at Valancy's surprised stare. "I have twenty dollars I don't need to spend on anything else. So if you feel like going, we can make a date out of it."
She looks at him questioningly, but then smiles joyfully, taking his word at its value, as usual. If he says he has the money, Valancy is obviously not going to ask how he got it or how much he has on hand. It amuses him often, the fact that she clearly thinks of him as a possible criminal, but it touches him equally that she loves him too much to care. He thinks that he would have likely told her about being a writer by now if it wasn't for the fact that she adores John Foster to a truly astonishing degree.
He's tried to imagine confessing the truth to her so many times, but he can't predict how it would go, much to his frustration. Would she be delighted? Embarrassed for unwittingly gushing over her favourite books to their author? Would she cease to see him as Barney, her husband, and look at him with the awe she quotes anything John Foster ever wrote?
It's the last thing which ultimately stops him. Having Valancy love him – simply him, Barney Snaith, without any outside trappings of money, family name or fame – is still too big of a shock to his system to give it up or open it to doubts. He finds himself ridiculously possessive of Valancy's affection at times – it's so precious, so genuine, so utterly unexpected – that the last thing he wants is to endanger it in any way. And he knows himself too well – if he told Valancy about being John Foster and it changed her regard of him in even a minuscule way, he would be defenceless against the resulting doubts whether it's not his alter ego that she loves most. It's absurd, he knows so much – Valancy loves him – but he's too self-aware to risk spoiling what they have.
He's fine with being suspected by her of being a criminal. She probably can find it dashing and romantic anyway and if not, then at least sufficiently rebellious against the Stirling clan to draw some satisfaction out of that.
But now he has a more immediate dilemma to solve because Valancy asks him what they are going to wear to the event.
"We will need masks," he tells her teasingly, earning himself an annoyed look at stating the obvious. She is too excited to be truly cross with him though.
"I can make them for us," she promises eagerly. "But to do that, I need to know how we will be dressed, so they'll match."
"We should go as spirits of the woods posing as humans, obviously," he says, getting into the spirit of the thing. "So it won't matter if we get some details of human dress wrong. But we should add some hints of our true origins – maybe a hint of green paint on our skin or leaves in our hair."
Valancy nods quickly, clearly liking his impromptu idea.
"I'll wear my smoke blue dress then," she announces, looking at him in a manner he can only describe as flirtatious. "You keep saying it makes me look like a creature of the woods, after all."
He only says it as he sees it. His mouth goes a bit dry when he imagines dancing with her when she wears this dress.
"Good choice," he manages to say, clearing his throat just a little bit. "I'll find it hard to match your elegance."
She bites her lip, but gives him a brave little smile.
"Well, you said that the wood sprites are not likely to get all the details of human attire right," she says charitably, but then gives him a bit alarmed look. "But you will wear a coat… won't you? It is a proper party!"
He nearly laughs at her concern, entirely justified as it is.
"I'll see what I can do," he promises gravely. "I'll try not to give you too many reasons to be ashamed of showing up on my arm."
He promised her a fancy date after all and by God, he intends to give her one.
"Goose!" says Valancy immediately. "I could never be ashamed to show up anywhere on your arm, whether you wear a coat or not."
And this is why he feels that she deserves so much more than being wined and dined at a pricey hotel. So much more.
"As much as I appreciate your staunch loyalty on this issue, Moonlight, I'll do my best not to try it too much," he says lightly, his mind already quite made up on what he's going to wear.
xxx
Barney has to admit it, he rather relishes the shocked and awed look on Valancy's face when he emerges from the Bluebeard's chamber wearing a linen shirt with silver cufflinks, an evening suit and a black tie. He even makes a little twirl to show it all off.
"I borrowed it from a much more fancy fellow than myself," he explains with a grin. Thankfully John Foster needed a bit more presentable wardrobe than Barney Snaith would ever bother with otherwise. Reclusive as he was, he did need to attend some dinners with his publishers from time to time and Barney's homespun shirts were hardly something which would get him let through the doors of an expensive Toronto restaurant. "What do you think?"
Then he looks at Valancy properly and his own jaw drops.
He's seen her in that damnably attractive dress before of course, many times – she wears it most evenings in fact – but now she matched it with a silver mask dotted with little blue and purple sequins and a wreath of little wild white roses and moonflowers, looking like fallen stars against her shiny black hair, which she curled somehow into most becoming shape. She looks… glamorous, fascinating, alluring, untamed. For a moment she literally takes his breath away.
At least it seems to be mutual though.
"Barney!" exclaims Valancy finally in a choked little voice. "You look fit to be a prince!"
He grins again, glad both at the impression he's made and that he somehow regained the power of speech.
"It's good then," he says in a low, intimate voice, walking over to kiss his maddeningly distracting wife, "because it means I match the elf maiden in front of me, bedecked in flowers, twilight mists and moonlight. Are you sure you're not going to disappear if an electric lamp touches you with its rudely modern and artificial light?"
She laughs that throaty little laugh that never fails to drive him wild. He has half of a mind to cancel their plans and just keep her home. His present thoughts are definitely not of the kind which can allow spectators.
"I'm allowed to have my ball until midnight, just like Cinderella," she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door, more the pity. "And like Cinderella, I intend to milk every second of it."
Well, he did promise her a fancy date, didn't he? With a little sigh, Barney follows the shiny, otherworldly creature in front of him to the shore.
They arrive at the hotel in a good time, ending up in a little flotilla of canoes and dispro boats bearing elegantly dressed, masked people eager for an evening of unrestrained fun. The pavilion is decorated with colourful Chinese lanterns, hanging flowers and fairy lights and the band is already playing, although only the first several couples are whirling to their lively tunes. There are round tables all around the dance floors, covered with white damask tablecloths, and the waiters in white jackets are carrying trays with champagne. Barney watches Valancy's eyes taking it all in with relish and doesn't regret coming here after all. There aren't many things he's grown to enjoy so much as introducing his wife to new things and experiences.
Barney, wearing a silver and blue mask of his own to match Valancy's and a wreath of soft larch twigs and bracken leaves, hands their tickets to the usher and they are led to one of the round tables, seating eight. There is only one other couple there at present and they exchange polite greetings, although of course no names. Anonymity is the theme of tonight, after all. They wear Egyptian style headdresses and introduce themselves as Osiris and Isis, to which Barney responds with the names of Titania and Oberon.
"You promoted us simple faerie folk to royalty?" asks Valancy dryly.
"Only fitting, if we are to share the table with gods," answers Barney seriously. "Besides, isn't it the night for illusions of grandeur?"
He orders champagne for both of them and is glad to discover it a good one. He hasn't drunk any in a decade, but apparently he retained enough of latent sophistication to still be able to tell. Valancy tries a small sip of hers tentatively and smiles at him with a happy surprise.
"It's good!" she says.
"Were you expecting something vile?"
She laughs a little self-consciously.
"I wasn't allowed to drink, of course," she explains with a naughty grin, "but I did try cooking sherry once - and the other time I tried a wine left over in a carafe while I was helping to clean the dishes after a family dinner. Both were vile so I never minded the lack of permission to indulge in them; I was rather baffled that people would. But now I can see the appeal," she finishes, taking another sip out of her crystal glass.
Barney shakes his head in mock disapproval.
"You've always been a bit of a rascal at heart, haven't you?"
Valancy grins at him, her teeth looking sharp, but before she can answer him she looks behind him and utters a little gasp of surprise. Barney immediately turns his head to check for any threats but sees only another young couple taking their assigned seats at their table.
"It's Olive with her fiancé," whispers Valancy, then adds with incredulous delight. "But she hasn't recognised me!"
It doesn't take Barney long to agree that it's true. Olive Stirling, resplendent in rose silk and golden mask, with her lush hair kept in place with a diamond circlet, greets them politely and, in response to Barney introducing them again as the Queen and King of Faerie, gives the names of Mary Stuart and Bothwell. Besides him Valancy barely stifles a laugh.
"She would make a passable Mary Stuart," she says honestly. "But can you imagine milquetoast Cecil Price as Bothwell?"
"I know him too little to say, but the first impression would suggest Rizzio as the more appropriate disguise," agrees Barney uncharitably. He heard the rumours that Cecil Price cooled in his ardour for his future bride from the fears of insanity in the family. Since, as it happens, Barney has never considered Valancy in the slightest bit mad, his opinion of the young engineer has become inevitably soured.
They have too much fun though to pay much attention to the other couple. The waiter serves salmon mousse and they eat it with gusto, exchanging joking observations about the costumes of the other revellers. At some point, when Valancy's laugh at one of Barney's more biting comments rings over the table, Olive only looks at them curiously for a moment before turning back to Cecil. This brief moment piques Barney's curiosity.
"I know you look much different than the last time she saw you back in June," he says incredulously, "but not so different as to be unrecognisable. How could she hear you laugh like that and not recognise the sound of it alone?"
Valancy smiles wryly.
"Because she never heard me laugh," she explains simply. "And as for my looks – I think she just never would dream of encountering me here – and dressed prettily for a party – so she dismisses any similarity of the elegant woman she shares a table with, with an equally resplendent husband, to her mousy old maid of a cousin as a coincidence. See, our disguise works as if we used real magic!"
Barney shakes his head, still incredulous, but offers Valancy his hand.
"Then let's make sure we will enjoy it while the magic is working. What about a dance with your husband, my elvish queen?"
Valancy's eyes shine as she accepts eagerly and Barney leads her to the dancefloor just as the band starts playing a waltz.
In fact, he is a little nervous. His very expensive school took turning its pupils into proper gentlemen very seriously, so he had endured years of dance classes but, first of all, he was always a bit awkward in any actual ballroom – feeling woefully out of place does that to you – and secondly, he feels terribly out of practice. It's been over a decade since the last time he danced – with Ethel, of course, at the very ball he got his heart shattered by her later in the evening – and he has never felt the urge to do so since. But Valancy wants to dance, very much from the sight of it, and he can muster enough will and his half-forgotten skills to give her that small pleasure for once.
What he doesn't expect – what takes him entirely by surprise – is that dancing with Valancy feels fantastic.
The way she just fits in his arms – the way it feels to look at her upturned little face, with her slanted dark eyes peering at him through the slits in her beautiful mask – the fragrance of the flowers in her hair – how good of a dancer she is, as light on her feet as thistledown – it all makes Barney a bit lightheaded, to be honest, but at the same time as if he was flying – as if they were both flying over the dancefloor, with nothing and nobody else existing behind them two and the music. Somehow, he doesn't feel awkward at all – the steps and rhythm just come to him, with the simplicity of muscle memory aided by his hard won self-confidence and the allure of the girl in his arms. He can't feel awkward when he simply feels so good dancing with her. He wants this night to last forever.
"Do you know that the main reason I harked to go to Childers Cornes was because I had this impossible hope that you may be there and that I would get to dance with you?" whispers Valancy and Barney nearly does trip in his surprise at this confession, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Of all the places I would ever go!" he can't help saying. "I'm afraid it was a rather unreasonable expectation, Moonlight – I don't dance."
She raises her straight brows, as if to ask what they are currently doing then and he chuckles, conceding her point.
"Alright, alright – I don't usually dance – in fact, I haven't danced in over ten years. That's precise enough for you?"
Now her exquisite delicate brows frown in confusion.
"But why?" she asks. "You're so good at it."
"I am – with you," he says in a low, intimate tone, looking at her fondly. "You're the first woman in a decade who made me want to dance."
She blushes happily and her eyes look at him with this still startling, earnest, impossible to miss love.
"You don't know how glad it makes me to hear it," she says. "Until that unfortunate party at Childers Corners I haven't danced myself in four or five years – and I do love it so."
Now it's his turn to frown.
"Why? If you enjoy it?"
She shrugs delicately, her mouth upturned in that wry, self-deprecating smile she often wears when she's speaking about her life before. His heart twists for her before she even opens her lips to explain, anticipating that he won't like what he's going to hear.
"People stopped inviting me to dances," she says simply. "Since it didn't look as if I ever was going to catch a husband anyway. Not that it made so much difference, I spent most of the ones I did attend as a perfect wallflower. You are one of the very few men who ever found dancing with me enjoyable."
"It only proves something I've been long convinced of," says Barney savagely, leading Valancy in the last swooping twirl of the waltz, "that most of Deerwood men are both blind and stupid."
The music stops and they walk slowly out to the hotel's magnificent gardens overlooking the lake and lit with more Chinese lanterns. Their colourful lights transform the place into a fairyland, with the moon adding its own silver shine on the calm waters of Mistawis and the blooming bushes of the last summer flowers. The night is still warm, but a slight hint of sharpness in the air promises a short advent of cooler autumn's evenings. Valancy rubs her naked arms.
"Cold?" asks Barney, immediately reaching for the buttons of his coat to offer it to her, but she shakes her head with a smile.
"No, not really. It's good to cool a little after the heat in the pavilion," she looks around, her eyes wide and full of awe. "Thank you so much for taking me here – it's a magical evening. None of the dances I've ever attended could compare to this one."
"None of mine either," says Barney quietly, although he doesn't mean the luxury of their surroundings. As upscale as this hotel is, he stayed in even more opulent ones – much more opulent – once upon a time, in a different life. What he thinks of though is how much fun he has tonight – genuine, joyful fun – something he never experienced at any of the numerous events of that kind he attended in his past. Even during his engagement to Ethel – as always, he immediately scowls when he thinks of how damn stupid he was then – the happiest time of Bernie Redfern's life, he always preferred to spend time with her alone rather than brave a roomful of people he felt were barely tolerating him. He should have known that this category included his fiancée, he really should have but well – lesson learnt and learnt well. He swore never to fall for such lies and self-delusions and he hasn't, not since then.
He looks at his wife, standing by him and looking at the bright stripes of colours from the Chinese Lanterns on the dark mirror of the lake, and suddenly feels such a wave of fondness for her that it nearly bowls him over. His Moonlight is such a rare treasure – such a unique human being – with her startling honesty, her loving heart and her steady loyalty to people she cares about – such a courage to face whatever fate throws at her without flinching – oh, he really is such a lucky chap to have her in his life, however briefly – and so very grateful that a woman like this chose him to love and spend her last days with.
He reaches for her hand without thinking twice, his fingers lacing with her cool, little ones. He wants to tell her… he's not sure what, exactly… but he really, truly wants to tell her something of those powerful feelings she is inspiring in him – just enough so she knows how very important she has become to him. But the more he tries, the more empty he finds his brain of words to express it.
In the end, he doesn't say anything. They just stand together, Valancy leaning slightly against him, her head on his shoulder and their fingers laced intimately together, and simply look at the beauty surrounding them until the band picks another song they like and they run eagerly to dance some more before the clock strikes midnight.
They dance several dances in a row and then sit down to enjoy a delicious Apple Charlotte pudding with vanilla ice cream and some more of the champagne. They are just finishing it when a young man in a scarlet mask approaches them and asks Barney whether he can have his permission to dance with his wife.
"You can have my permission to ask my wife," answers Barney coolly. "Whether she dances with you or not, is up to her."
The man takes the rebuke in a good faith and immediately asks Valancy to dance with full gallantry. She accepts eagerly enough and throws Barney an incredulous look over her shoulder as she goes with the fellow to the dancefloor.
Since as it happens Olive has been just asked to dance as well, Barney finds himself alone at the table with Cecil Price who takes it as a reason to start a conversation with him. Barney doesn't know what he's done wrong to give Cecil an impression that he'd welcome it, but in the end subjects himself to the rules of politeness for the duration. He and Valancy are soon going back to their secluded island after all, thank God.
"Isn't my fiancée the most beautiful woman in the room?" asks Cecil dreamily, watching Olive dance. "Sometimes I think that it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say in the province."
Barney looks at Olive Stirling, with her luscious hair, big dewy eyes, creamy skin and full figure and thinks that he would choose his elvish queen over her a hundred times over. His eyes go to her instead, nimble and graceful as she twirls around the room, with that damnable dress making her lithe figure much too distracting. Or maybe he just has consumed too much of this excellent champagne.
"She is stunning," he says only. It's unfortunately enough to encourage Cecil to continue speaking.
"I'm such a lucky chap to have won her over. Many have tried over the years – so many – but in the end she chose me and ever since I've been walking on air," he gushes, his eyes still following Olive's every move. "Mother started voicing some doubts – she's been more than happy in the beginning, her people are a good family and her parents are the richest of them all – a proper match for me in every way – but then an unfortunate business with her cousin happened and now Mother is making it all damnably uncomfortable."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," continues Cecil blithely, shaking his head with a gloomy expression. "Her cousin Doss – she went queer or mad or something and ran away from home to work as a servant for most unsuitable people – can you imagine? – and then went and married some jailbird or fugitive from justice or some creature like that. Good riddance to bad rubbish, but one has to think of one's descendants, you know."
Barney's hands slowly curl into fists. He takes a deep breath, but before he can do anything he'd be likely to regret, he looks at his wife instead, dancing not far from him and looking so happy – so damn happier than she ever did before she left her home, before she married him – that it makes him breathe easier just to see it. What do Cecil Price's absurd views matter in comparison to that?
"Why should you care about her cousin?" he asks instead indifferently. "Everybody has some queer relatives. Either you love your fiancée enough to not give a damn about such trifles or you don't and you're wasting your time and hers. Or are you happy to drag your engagement on until you get your permission from your mother?"
"I would have married her long ago if I had my contract!" protests Cecil hotly. "But she is used to a certain lifestyle – and rightly so – and of course her parents would be more than willing to help us in the beginning and mine as well – but I have my pride too. I don't want to keep a wife on her parents' money, I want to do it myself, and I will, soon enough. I just hope mother calms down about this cousin of hers. It is worrying to have insanity in the family, of course it is, but I don't believe I will ever find a girl equal to her – with her beauty, brains, breeding and money – things like that just don't happen twice," he looks at Barney with sudden interest. "How did you know that you made the right choice of a wife?"
Barney's eyes don't leave Valancy for a moment when he answers.
"Because we make each other happy," he answers simply, with the utter feeling of rightness filling him as he speaks. "And we don't give a damn about anything or anybody else."
Thankfully Valancy's partner brings her back to him soon after and leaves her by his side with a gallant bow, ending his conversation with Price. Barney is less happy to see another man soon following him with a request for Valancy to dance with him as well, but this time Valancy declines.
"Tired?" asks Barney, looking at her with hopefully well masked concern. All this dancing… it wasn't too much for her heart, was it? But to his relief, Valancy immediately shakes her head.
"Not in the slightest," she says firmly, then looks at him with a question in her dark eyes. "I simply thought… that if I am to dance some more, I'd prefer to do it with you. If you're not too tired or bored of it, of course."
Barney gets up and buttons up his coat with one hand while offering his other to Valancy.
"For you, my elvish queen – never!" he responds with a smile, earning himself his favourite delighted smile in return.
"What were you talking with Cecil about?" asks Valancy as he leads her back to the dance floor.
"Nothing important," answers Barney casually. "The fellow simply didn't want to shut up."
They sneak away to the jetty and get into their canoe like a pair of naughty children just before the unmasking is announced, laughing the whole time and holding hands.
"It wouldn't do to break the spell," says Valancy, her eyes dancing in the moonlight as they start paddling home. "Even if I relish the idea of Olive realising she's been sharing a table with me the whole time, I don't really want to spoil our extraordinary night by dealing with her. Oh, Barney, it was an extraordinary night, wasn't it?"
"It was," agrees Barney, his eyes unable to leave her and not just because she's sitting in front of him. "And it's not over yet."
The magic of this night indeed doesn't leave them yet – as they cross the moonlit lake, leaving the music, the noise and the bright lights of the party far behind them it only increases. Seeing Valancy in front of him, her skin pearly white and her dress shimmering in the moonlight, with the white flowers still falling over her dark hair, does weird things to Barney's insides, and when she turns her head to look at him with a smile over her shoulder it's all he can do to keep his paddling in stride. He doesn't know whether it's the champagne, the moonlight, the night of dancing with her or something inherent to Valancy herself, but his blood is singing and he's never felt more alive.
He kisses her as soon as they finally reach their island and get out of the canoe – kisses her as he wanted to do the whole night. She laughs that throaty, low little laugh against his mouth and pushes her little fingers through his hair, dislodging the wreath he is still wearing.
"Isn't it time for us to unmask, my king?" she asks playfully. "We reached our faerie home after all."
"Gladly," agrees Barney, eagerly reaching to remove her mask first. "As pretty as you look in yours, I missed seeing your face properly."
Soon both masks are off, but Barney is for some reason loath to go inside. There is something wild and intoxicating about kissing Valancy here, under the stars, among the nature she seems so wholly belong to. The night is warm and they are alone on their island; who's to tell them they can't? He looks at her questioningly while he fingers the strap of her smoke blue dress and his heart skips a beat when she nods her consent and reaches for his tie.
Making love to Valancy while she lies under him, naked except for the moonlight bathing her skin and the white flowers in her hair, is going to be forever seared into his brain. Barney feels more intoxicated by it than he has ever been by any drink; it hardly seems real. The way her slanted dark eyes bore into him pierces him to the soul. He's never felt so seen – so known, for all the secrets he keeps from her – so loved. When her soft cry goes into the night, with his own soon to follow, he thinks wildly once again that it all seems more like a scene from a poem or a fairytale than anything a mere mortal should ever expect to experience. He certainly never did.
They lie for a bit longer in each other's arms afterwards, until the night air chills the drying sweat on their bodies and forces them to reluctantly come back to earth.
"I hope your clothes didn't get ruined from being thrown so carelessly to the ground," says Valancy with concern as they pick them up and walk to the house without bothering to put anything on. Why should they, if they only have a dozen yards to cross and are going to put on their nightwear in a moment anyway? "When do you have to return them to their rightful owner?"
"Anytime within the next week is good," answers Barney, opening the door for her and neatly stepping over lurking Banjo. "No rush."
"Good," says Valancy, hanging her rumpled dress with care and reaching for her nightgown. "I will be able to inspect them and clean them tomorrow then. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with somebody nice enough to lend them to you."
Barney is reasonably sure that John Foster would never mind anything which could bring Valancy some enjoyment, even if it did result in some grass stain on his suit or shirt, but he deems it wise to change the topic.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Moonlight?" he asks, after he puts on his pyjamas and goes to feed the cats.
"It was lovely—but I don't want to go again."
"Why not?" asks Barney with a frown as he puts the meat into the bowls, to the lively interest of both cats swarming around his ankles. He thought she did enjoy it, but maybe he missed something? Was somebody rude to her? Was she distressed by meeting her cousin? She appeared more amused by that encounter than anything else…
She comes over and climbs to her toes to kiss away the frown from his brows.
"It was lovely," she repeats with a smile. "I was so glad to experience a fancy party like that with you – and to have a chance to dance with you! – but I don't need fancy parties all the time. You looked so dashing in the evening suit, but I married a man in a homespun shirt and he is more than enough for me."
Her smile widens as she watches his undoubtedly flabbergasted expression at that statement.
"This," she says, gesturing at their home, their cats, him, "is better than anything I've ever dreamt of before. I don't need anything else to be perfectly happy – I already am."
Barney has no answer to that – his heart is too full for his head to have any chance to express it in words, even if he could name the whirlwind of emotions going through him – so he just kisses her again and hugs her tightly to his chest.
Their long kiss is finally interrupted by the cats' indignant protests and Valancy's adorable yawn. They both burst out laughing.
"Go to bed, Moonlight," says Barney as he gives in and bends down to serve the cats their much belated supper. "I'll follow in a moment."
"It's such a bliss to know that nobody is going to mind if we stay in bed until noon to sleep off our night of revelry," says Valancy with evident satisfaction.
"Banjo will," Barney reminds her drily, getting up to follow her as promised.
Valancy looks back over her shoulder at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Oh, but I can always kick you out of bed to deal with him. You sleep on the outside."
Just for that he needs to chase her to the bed and tickle her silly as she tries to fight him off with her pillow, both of them laughing like a couple of madmen.