She had skin as pale as the moon. Not a blemish was to be seen. Her hair was a fiery mane of scarlet ringlets that cascaded down her back. This girl was one of the most eligible bachelorettes in London. Her name was Jacqueline Morris. My name was Jacqueline Morris

The day of my sixteenth birthday was just like any other day. When I woke up, my nurse, Winnie, assisted me into my school uniform before eating breakfast made by the family cook. I went to Ponderosa School for Young Ladies. Rich young ladies, properly. The mane of red that was my hair, was braided tightly in the French style and tied with a white ribbon. This was my last day of school as I was turning sixteen and the only curriculum I would be learning now had to do with being a wife and a mother.

After my dressing was done, I ate a large breakfast of toast and eggs. My parents have been trying to fatten me up since I was eleven. I had come down with a high fever and was bedridden for three weeks. Long after I had recovered, I remained weak and my growth had slowed immensely. I now stand at a lovely five feet. Apparently, if it weren't for my height, I'd be the most eligible bachelorette in London. Something about having to do with child-bearing.

I was driven to school in my family's carriage. When I arrived, Miss Kenway gives me glare as I arrive at my desk. I am not particularly liked by most of my teachers. I'm what some of them would call a trouble maker. Mostly for my inattentiveness during class and my habit of running through the halls.

School passed dully, as usual, and then I'm escorted home to get ready for my "coming out party" in which I'm shown off to everyone. Mother invited many of the men who she thinks I should marry. I am personally in no rush to marry, but try telling that to Mum.

Getting ready for the party was no fun either. I was captured by a tight whale-bone corset which made breathing a much more difficult task. Winnie bundled me into a rose colored dress that was pretty but much too lavish for my taste. Winnie did her best to tame my hair into soft curls flowing around my shoulders.

I waited for Father to announce my presence at the top of the stairs. When I heard my name I slowly my made way down the staircase. Everyone's eyes were directed at me. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, the music started again, and the dancing continued. Mother and Father were there waiting for me, with a young man. He had dark brown hair that was slicked back and his eyes were a dull green, very different than my bright hazel. He gave me a once-over. I felt very uncomfortable under his gaze.

Father interrupted his inspection. "Jacqueline, this is Mister Lewis Richards. He has an interest in taking you as his wife."

I look back towards Mister Richards and curtsy. "I am flattered Mister Richards."

Richards took my hand and kissed it and smiled up at me. It was not warm or kind. It was arrogant and cold. "It is I, who should be flattered. Your parents have picked me out of many men, wishing to marry you."

"Only the best, for our daughter." says Mother, "We'll leave you two to talk." They left to socialize.

Lewis reaches out his hand and bows slightly. "May I have this dance?" His voice is deep and smooth. Terribly malicious.

I'm thinking about refusing, but I couldn't disappoint Mother. I put my much smaller hand in his. "Of course."

Mister Lewis was a wonderful dancer, though I didn't enjoy frolicking with him. He was very pushy with steps. We made absolutely no conversation. He just stared me the whole time. I refused to look in his eyes, afraid of what I might see. Though I tried to escape several times, we danced together for seven songs, there being twenty the entire night. I pretended to trip and excused myself to sit down.

After I had managed to escape, I was heading towards the kitchens. With my wonderful ability to pay attention, I bumped into someone. He was a tall man, or should I say boy, seeing as he looked about eighteen. He had strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was obviously very strong, as he had visibly large biceps, even within the sleeves of his tuxedo. His sideways grin was mischievous, but warm and though I hate to say it, it gave me butterflies in my stomach.

My cheeks turned dark pink. "E- excuse me."

I was about to run off, but a large hand grabbed mine. I turned to see those brilliant blue eyes of his staring back. "The fault's all mine. Would you like to dance?"

How could I say no to that smile? "Y-y…Sure."

He chuckled at my stuttering and placed a hand on my waist and held my own hand with his other. We swayed to the music. He look down at me. The top of my head reached below his shoulder. I was surprised I was able to talk. "What's your name?"

His smile grows wider as a funny thought seems to come to his mind. "Pan. Peter Pan."