Author's Note: I may upload these last 6 chapters (12-17) more quickly than 1/day, because they are less drastically changed (since they contain no entire new scenes), and because I am getting bored with this revision and want to just declare it finished. I apologize in advance if I end up spamming your email inbox with multiple Author Alerts on the same day. At least I didn't do all 17 at once, eh?
Thanks: Thanks again to my husband and Mara Trinity Scully for their beta-reading. And thanks again, also, to those who have taken the time to review.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. This fic, however, is mine. Please don't take it without my permission.
Chapter 12
Life and Death
~
Harry, of course, had been sent to fetch Dr. Carew previously, both for luncheon and for his medical advice, and so was able to carry Wendy directly to that gentleman's residence. When he at length stopped the carriage before a respectable-looking home in Kensington, Wendy whispered softly, "Wait here, Harry," and then cautiously crossed the street to stand in the darkness surrounding the home Harry had indicated.
The front windows showed no light whatsoever, and Wendy for a moment despaired that the man might not be at home, despite his failure to attend Aunt Millicent's Christmas party. But as she crept through the shadows, Wendy saw one window to the side of the house through which shone some small amount of light.
The snow crunched loudly beneath her feet and thoroughly wet the train of her crimson party dress as she hurried to hide in the darkness below the illumined window. The space between the dark curtains was so thin that Wendy could see little, and so she instead pressed her ear to the glass, hoping to hear something useful.
Thoughts continued to whirl through her mind, over and over again. It could not be Hook! Surely she must have imagined the similarity. Hook was dead! And, at any rate, he would not be in London! She was quite certain she must have been imagining the resemblance. Her mind was often dreadfully muddled with the fever, and so she needed to learn more, to learn if it had been only her mind, or if this man could truly be the dreaded pirate she had known in Neverland.
The cold of the snow which fell upon her and the fevered weakness of her limbs made Wendy nearly trip and fall more than once, and she fought shivering chills that attacked her despite the fever. The illness which had kept her confined to home much of the past weeks now threatened to overtake her, but Wendy stubbornly held her ear against the cold glass of the window.
"Now, good Dr. Carew," the man said, and indeed his voice did sound less genteel and more of an arrogant growl, his voice deeper and less fashionably charming. "Dr. Carew, what are we to do about my hand? As such a skilled and educated doctor, I have every confidence that you know precisely what to do."
It sounded as if Hook, for she now was sure that it must be he, were pacing back and forth across the floor, in some agitation.
"Tell me, my dear Dr. Carew, where I might have fashioned a fine hook for myself, for I find this wretched hand quite useless to me now. And with it now most suddenly and mysteriously missing, I cannot venture abroad even so much as to attend ridiculous Christmas parties hosted by feeble-minded spinsters!"
He was talking of Aunt Millicent! Surely he must be! And disrespecting her sorely, which made Wendy's spine stiffen with resolve to defend her aunt's honor and goodness. It gave her yet another reason to learn what Hook was up to, so that she might somehow put a stop to it, if only by exposing him publicly as an impostor and a villain. But first she must learn what in the world a dead pirate was doing walking about in London!
Several moments passed, with footsteps the only sound. Wendy felt an almost overwhelming need to cough, but pressed her hand tightly over her mouth, for she felt certain that Hook would kill her if he knew she were there. Her body shook with the silent coughing held within by her restraining hand, but Wendy found that she felt no better afterward. Her chest was paining her, and she felt increasingly weak from standing so long, but she would not leave until she knew as much as possible about what Hook was up to.
"Certainly I can start again, with other marks who do not realize that my hand was present so recently. And without that insolent boy to interfere. Yes, that shall work admirably. Do you not think so, Dr. Carew?"
Who was Hook talking to? Was he talking to himself? Or was the real Dr. Carew held prisoner inside? Wendy turned her head to peer through the tiny gap between the curtains. She saw Hook, still dressed in modern clothes quite similar to her father's and any other modern gentleman's, his hair somewhat in disarray as if he had been combing his fingers through it. She could now see that it seemed rather longer than usual, and quite curly.
"No answer, Dr. Carew? You are such a disappointing conversationalist."
Hook paced into and out of her vision repeatedly, grumbling darkly to himself and gesturing occasionally with the glass goblet he held in his left hand, as if he had been drinking brandy.
"And, good excellent Dr. Carew, I hold you personally responsible for the fact that my memory did not return quickly enough, and as an unfortunate result" -- and here Hook's voice rose to a roar -- "PAN IS GONE!" And with those words, Hook furiously threw his brandy glass across the room so that it shattered, slightly jarring the curtain so that Wendy had a marginally better view of the room.
But the slight movement of the curtain was enough. For Wendy saw, propped on the floor in the far corner of the room, the person to whom Hook had been speaking.
It was the corpse of a long-dead man, his putrid, discolored flesh rotting and horrible.
Shocked at the sight, the frail Wendy gasped, her last bit of strength deserting her as her illness overtook her stubborn determination. With a small cry of distress, she fell insensible to the snowy ground, shivering unconsciously, her body drenched in an unhealthy sweat.
Hearing a sound from without, Hook frowned and narrowed his eyes, cautiously pulling aside the curtain barely enough for him to peer out. But the surrounding area outside was too dark for him to see anything, and so he walked toward his front door, a revolver in his left hand.
Opening the door and stepping menacingly onto the narrow stoop, Hook looked about for what had made the mysterious sound. Seeing nothing, he strode toward the side of the house, where he spied Wendy's red dress bright against the white snow. He recognized her face immediately, of course, and an enraged growl emerging from his throat as he took a step toward her, cocking his revolver with a menacing "click."
"Miss Darling!" another man called in dismay at that same moment, running across the street toward the front of Dr. Carew's home, for Harry had seen Wendy collapse to the ground, but it had taken him a moment to alight from the carriage.
Stepping out of the light and back inside his house to quietly close the door, Hook went once more to the window and watched with cruel and dangerous eyes as Wendy Darling was carried away by Miss Millicent Tilney's driver.
And so it was that Aunt Millicent's Christmas party was suddenly interrupted by a crashing through the front door, and the sudden appearance of Harry, hatless and distressed, carrying an unconscious Wendy Darling in his arms, her red party dress trailing upon the floor.
Everyone gasped and some cried out, and suddenly Harry was surrounded by a worried crowd of concerned family members. No one had even realized that Wendy had left the house! What had she been thinking, to leave in her condition?
Dr. Woodhouse rapidly took control of the situation, instructing Harry to carry the girl to her bed, where Mrs. Darling and Lottie should remove her wet clothing and take down her hair, dressing her instead in a warm nightdress. The doctor would see to her when she was thus more comfortably situated.
Wendy still had not wakened, and her breathing was harsh and labored, her body wracked by painful coughing, and her skin as heated as if a fire burned within her. The poor girl tossed her head upon the pillow in distress, speaking occasionally in delirious bouts of mad mutterings.
"It's Hook!" she moaned. "Not a doctor! Not a doctor!"
"But Wendy," soothed Mother gently, unbuttoning her daughter's soaked party dress, "you simply must see the doctor, for you are quite ill."
"It's Hook," moaned Wendy deliriously. "Dead man! Terrible dead man!"
Lottie and Mrs. Darling exchanged concerned glances, and worked together to try to make the feverish girl more comfortable.
Dr. Woodhouse had quickly sent the boys into the sitting room, where they fidgeted and attempted to pretend interest in their new Christmas toys. All of them had seen how pale and limp Wendy had been when Harry burst through the door, and all of them were terribly worried. But they could do nothing but wait and hope that the adults would soon tell them that all was well.
While Mrs. Darling and Lottie attended to Wendy upstairs, Dr. Woodhouse spoke briefly with Aunt Millicent and Mr. Darling in the drawing room to learn of Wendy's symptoms. As they talked, Dr. Woodhouse's face grew more and more grave. "Cough?" he verified. "Loss of appetite? Fever? Night sweats? Chills? Loss of energy?" And then he shook his head in dire concern. "It sounds as if it may be the consumption, but I shall not know until I have examined her, of course."
Aunt Millicent, it must be admitted, felt rather faint upon hearing this, but she encouraged the doctor to go upstairs to examine Wendy as soon as possible, and then sank down into the nearest chair, barely looking where she was, her hand lifting to anxiously finger the cameo at her throat as she tried desperately to control her mounting fear.
Her nephew George Darling took one of her hands in his and then awkwardly patted it. He himself was dreadfully upset, but knew he must maintain strength to assist the ladies and children at this difficult time. When his wife rejoined them, Wendy's toilette complete, the three adults most concerned with her well-being sat close together and prayed.
When Dr. Woodhouse slowly descended the stairs once more, some time later, the two Darling parents and Aunt Millicent stood immediately, all watching him anxiously for some word. His kind brown eyes shone with a gentle sorrow.
"Mr. and Mrs. Darling, Miss Tilney, I am afraid I have very unfortunate news. It is indeed the consumption, and it is very advanced."
"What does that mean?" inquired Mary Darling, holding her husband's hand quite tightly and doing her best to hide the quaver in her voice.
Dr. Woodhouse gave a compassionate shake of his head and explained apologetically, "If she had been given sufficient fresh air and good nutrition earlier, it may have improved her lot, but I fear it is much too late for that now. If the windows are kept open, the fresh air may give her some relief, but it will only help to make her more comfortable as her time approaches. I am very sorry to have to give such unhappy news, particularly on such a night as Christmas."
Aunt Millicent listened in horror, thinking of the long weeks during which she had kept the windows and curtains so tightly closed on the recommendation of Dr. Carew. Surely Dr. Woodhouse could be trusted in his recommendations, for the Darlings had known him for years. But who was Dr. Carew? A stranger she had met upon the street, and then blindly trusted with Wendy's health, knowing nothing about him whatsoever. She had never even asked for his references, so charmed had she been by his flattery.
Aunt Millicent did not even notice Mary and George Darling's own expressions of grief, shared as they were between those two who had each other to lean upon, for she was alone within her own isolated world of sudden sorrow and guilt. Wendy's desperate condition was most certainly her own fault, for trusting a strange man they had met upon the street, of that Aunt Millicent had no doubt whatsoever.
And so -- lost to despair and numb to the kind doctor's comforting hand upon her arm -- that fine and elegant lady put her face into her hands and wept not only for her beloved niece ... but also for herself, who had caused so much harm through her own vanity and false hopes.
To Be Continued ...