Chapter 21
Mrs Darling paused a moment in the hallway, trying to settle the feeling of anguish that was overtaking her heart. Could her daughter be correct in her accusation? Could Mary have entrusted a child to the care of a violent man? Of course not; Sir Arton was a well-respected paediatrician, and he was not in the habit of murdering his young patients.
But then, Dr Leighton's words of concern echoed in her mind; "I am afraid, Mrs Darling, that I have serious reservations concerning Sir Arton's choice of treatment for Peter."
Could it be true?
The fear and despair she felt in that moment, quickly morphed into annoyance, disbelief, and something like anger. She could not help but direct a little of this towards Wendy, and considering the girl's wayward behaviour that evening, Mary was compelled to turn back to the nursery door, and slide its bolt for the first time.
Straightening, she lightly touched her hands to her hair in an attempt to neaten it, then made for the stairs.
"Liza," she called to the maid as she reached the front hall. The young woman soon appeared from the kitchen, her eyes heavy with fatigue after a long day of housework and cooking.
"Yes, ma'am?" She approached Mrs Darling casually, having had taken little notice of the raised voices that had come from the nursery only minutes before.
"I have put the children to bed. Please see to it that they do not leave the nursery again tonight."
"Very good, ma'am. Only… I shall be off to my own bed soon enough, madam." A slight pale concern had alighted on the maid's face, fearing the longing for her pillow would have to continue for even longer than she had expected.
"Yes, of course," Mary was clearly distracted. "That is, unless I need to go out."
"Go out, ma'am?" Liza's face fell even more.
"Hopefully not. I just need to make a telephone call first." Walking to the instrument and picking up the receiver, Mary did not see the look of annoyance and frustration that darkened the maid's expression. Knowing her place, and being the first to keep herself in it, however, Liza held her tongue, and listened as her mistress spoke to the operator.
As she waited for her call to the hospital to connect, Mary gazed at nothing, her mind still reeling at the idea that she might be responsible for something so terrible. But before she could sink too deeply into anguish, a voice came through on the line;
"Hello, yes. Mrs Darling speaking. Could you please have my husband come to the telephone? I must speak with him. He is visiting a patient: Peter Pan… Yes, I am aware that it is too late for visiting hours, but he was accompanied by our doctor. Dr Leighton… Thank you."
Feeling flustered at having to explain herself to whom ever had answered, Mary turned about in agitation, and was slightly more flustered still to behold the maid still watching her.
"Thank you, Liza. That will be all."
Liza flinched at Mrs Darling's unusually harsh tone, fixed her employer with a scowl, which Mary failed to notice, and stomped back to the kitchen, grumbling under her breath.
At last, the voice on the other end of the line returned.
"Yes? What do you mean? He isn't there? Well… is Dr Leighton? I see. Please… could you tell me… how is the boy?"
At that moment, the front door before Mary flew open as George crashed through.
"George! What on earth..." Telephone call forgotten, Mary replaced the receiver and approached her husband.
"Wendy?!" George looked about frantically as he called for his lost child.
"It's alright, George. Wendy is here. She is upstairs, safely in the nursery."
Mr Darling looked into his wife's eyes, only now registering her presence.
"Oh, thank God! I thought I had lost her."
"I told her you would be beside yourself! Come and sit down..." She gently took his hand in her own, and led him into the Drawing Room.
Once he had settled for a moment, in his favourite armchair, she pressed him for an explanation.
"She insisted on coming with us, Mary. I couldn't see the harm. She wanted to see Peter."
"Well, I suppose you can see the harm now!"
George glanced up at her face, surprised at her sharp tone. "Yes, I suppose I can, in hindsight."
From her kennel in the backyard, Nana started barking.
"How is Peter?" Mary looked down at her feet as she asked this, like an ashamed child.
Mr Darling took a moment to measure his response.
"He is… not well."
"Wendy said he had been attacked."
"By Sir Arton… yes."
Mary's eyes snapped up to meet her husband's. "So it is true? Sir Arton?"
"I'm afraid so."
"And you witnessed this?"
George heard the note of scepticism in her voice, and wished her could give her some other, more palatable explanation.
"Yes. I was there, Mary. We burst in on him trying to inject the boy with a lethal dose of some drug."
Mary sat in contemplation for some moments, trying to comprehend what her husband's words meant.
"He is dead, then. Peter is dead?"
"No. Arton only had time to administer some of the dose. We pulled him away in time."
Relief relaxed Mary's face a little, but her brow still furrowed with concern.
"He..." George hesitated, "He is not well, though, my dearest. He may still die. In fact, Leighton is almost sure of it."
Reaching out to her husband for support, and grateful when he rose from his chair to kneel before her and take her hands in his, Mary shuddered as tears escaped her eyes and a pained gasp rose in her throat.
"We must go to him."
George nodded in agreement, and helped Mary to stand.
"Wait." Mr Darling turned to Mary as she spoke, "We must take the children with us."
He nodded again. "Very well."