Author's Note: Ahoy there me hearties!!! I you enjoy this story because I'm very excited about it. Hopefully I'll be able to be consistent with updates and at the same time continue on with my Labyrinth fic "No Apologies," which unfortunately has not yet recovered from a creative barrier that I am inches away from tearing down. Please be patient and review if the spirit moves you.
Disclaimer: If you don't recognize the name, then it's most likely mine. Neverland and all of it citizens belong to J.M. Barrie, although I truly wish Hook would run away to my world, wink wink.
Chapter One:
Hannah Jacobs eased into the rocking chair beside the nursery window and gazed out at the night sky. The chimneys of the countless London homes pointed up at the heavens where the stars guided the way to new and unknown worlds. A sigh of relief escaped the young woman's lips as she savored this moment she had to herself, a moment that for once was not devoted to amusing her two young charges.
Lydia and Abigail were the two young daughters of Henry and Elizabeth Whitmore. Henry was a well-respected and successful barrister and his wife Elizabeth was a permanent fixture in the best London social circles. Their fortunate position in society required the happy couple to constantly make appearances at dinners, balls, and operas and these necessary absences from home inevitably led to the necessity of hiring a nanny to care for their daughters.
So it was that Hannah, after being highly recommended by her former employer, came to reside at the Whitmore home. It was apparent after her arrival that Lady Havisham's praises were in no way unfounded, for while she made certain that her charges behaved, she clearly understood that children will be children and thus was never too harsh in any scolding or punishment. Lydia and Abigail, ages six and seven, respectively, were drawn to her friendly manner and her willingness to play, but there was one talent that truly endeared her to them and that was her storytelling. Night after night, the Whitmore daughters would sit in rapt attention as Hannah spun magical tales of chivalrous knights, cunning princesses, and strange beasts, both good and evil. She would then tuck them into their beds and sing them to sleep, wishing every time that their heads would be filled with happy dreams and that the nightmares would not taint the girls' sleep.
"Hannah! Hannah!" the excited cries of the young girls and the clamor they created as they ran up the stairs effectively brought Hannah out of her peaceful reverie.
"Ah there you are my little pixies! To think I thought you had grown too old for my stories and were out searching for handsome young men," she said with an overly dramatic sigh of sadness.
Abigail wrinkled her nose, "Boys are silly," she pronounced in a serious tone.
Lydia nodded in agreement, "We would never leave you for silly boys, Hannah!" she cried out in earnest.
Hannah smiled as she reached down to ruffle their curly blonde ringlets. "Your loyalty is very touching, my pixies. Now, what story shall I tell you tonight?"
The girls looked at each other and took a moment to debate over what story to request in whispered tones before cheering exuberantly, "Little Red Riding Hood!"
"Are you sure you won't be too scared if I tell you that tale?" she asked with a grin, knowing full well it was one of their favorites.
"We promise that we won't be scared!" cried the girls.
"Well alright," she relented with a wink. "Once upon a time there was a little girl, who was loved by all that knew her..." and with that her magical words captured the girls' imaginations. They hung on her every word and gasped when the Wolf revealed himself to Red Riding Hood, as though they had never heard the tale before, and cheered happily when the woodsman cut off the wicked wolf's head.
After the story ended, Lydia tried in vain to suppress a yawn, which alerted Hannah that it was time yet again to place the children in their beds. The girls knew by now that resistance was futile, so they allowed her to lead them to their beds without a fuss. Hannah carefully arranged the covers around them and placed a kiss on each forehead before returning to the rocking chair where she proceeded to sing softly, her voice heard only by the girls, who were drifting fast asleep, and the stars that shone down through the open window.
"Sleep my love, and peace attend thee
All through the night;
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night,
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber steeping,
I my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night.
Angels watching ever round thee,
All through the night,
In thy slumbers close surround thee,
All through the night,
They should of all fears disarm thee,
No forebodings should alarm thee,
They will let no peril harm thee,
All through the night."
As her song reached its end, the only sound Hannah heard was the steady breathing of the girls, a sign that sleep had claimed them. With a sigh, she rose from her chair and lowered the lamps that lit the nursery. After looking over her shoulder at their sleeping forms, she whispered, "Good night, my pixies," and closed the door.
Hannah's hands slowly unwound her long braid of auburn. Reaching for the brush, she found herself thinking of the conversation she had held with Mrs. Whitmore the day before.
"My dear Hannah," the lady had said softly, "Although Henry and I are more than satisfied with your work and wish for you to stay with this family as long as possible, we are concerned about your future."
Hannah lowered her cup of tea and gave Mrs. Whitmore a puzzled look, "What reason is there for concern, Mistress Whitmore?"
"Well my dear girl, you just recently celebrated your twenty-second birthday, if I am not mistaken."
Wondering where this was leading, Hannah simply nodded.
"The reason I mention this is that I am concerned you have not yet considered the prospect of marriage."
Hannah's eyes widened slightly at this statement. While it was true that she had not given much thought to marriage, she felt she still had time to spare before entering such a union.
"And while you are a clever girl with a steady position, I fear you may find it difficult to secure a husband if you wait too long."
"I thank you for the advice, Madam. You are correct in your assumption that I have not thought much on the subject of marriage. I suppose I felt there was plenty of time for such matters to be dealt with in due course."
Mrs. Whitmore smiled, "You are a handsome young woman, Hannah, and I am certain that once you place yourself in the view more men you will have little trouble in finding the right man." The conversation had continued on, with Mrs. Whitmore urging Hannah to attend the church socials more frequently and to perhaps consider paying a bit more attention to her wardrobe.
Hannah sighed as she turned down the covers of her bed. Though she wouldn't say it to Mrs. Whitmore, she inwardly confessed that she held no love for large social gatherings and the idea of attending them in hopes of catching the eye of eligible strangers frightened her. 'Why must I search for a husband at all?' she mused. 'Why can't I just stay with my girls in this house and watch them grow into charming young ladies?' The voice of reason answered, 'Because they are not your girls. You are a paid employee, not a mother and when the girls are grown, your place in this home will no longer exist.' Hannah's heart saddened at this realization and as she blew out the candle on her bedside table, she felt terribly alone and concerned over what was to become of her life.