Chapter Three
After about a good hour of pounding his feet against the grass of Kensington Gardens, Peter was walking back towards his house. The sounds of the garden had done nothing to relax him at first. Eventually the soothing winds and gently swaying trees calmed him, if only a tad bit. He forced himself to stop pacing and leaned against a tree with his arms across his chest. Though he felt the incredible urge to put his hands on his hips and stick out his chest, he managed to resist. He had sighed a great many times while he hid his face with his hat.
Eventually his breathing became normal and the thoughts in his head had shifted from despair mixed with a touch of anger to determination and stubbornness. It was then that he began his journey home. Before that happened, however, his mind analyzed his short conversation with Nibbs. Feelings were so blinding at times and he had found himself trying to fight them so that he could rationalize. The educated side of his mind went over all the positive and negatives of the conversation.
Obviously the former Lost Boys were under no pressure to change as much as he apparently had. Wendy was still telling her stories. This he couldn't help but grin about. The fact that she was still the avid reader and storyteller reassured him more than anything. That would mean that the spirit that made Wendy so desirable was still in tact. It would have been crushing if she had grown to become one of the stuffy and boorish young ladies that he had to endure conversations with. Since Nibbs had not recognized him he could still surprise Wendy. But was his lack of recognition because Nibbs had forgotten about him or was it that he had changed that drastically that he had fooled him? If it was the first, Peter would be crushed. For that would mean that his darling Wendy had also forgotten about him. If the latter were true then would he still have a chance at winning Wendy? Maybe it was both.
Now, as he walked within sight of his home, a determination had set in. He swore that either way, it did not matter. He would try and make Wendy fall in love with him. Love him as Peter Panning or Peter Pan, it did not matter. Just as long as she loved him, he would be happy. That would make everything he had done worth the price. It would make his last adventure the greatest triumph of his life. True, it broke him to think that there was a chance that Wendy had forgotten their precious moments together, but he would not turn back in defeat. He would win this battle.
The adrenaline pumped through his veins like a drug as he climbed the steps of his house and stepped through the door as Mr. Colins held it open.
"Dinner young master," he announced.
"Perhaps later Mr. Colins," answered Peter thinly. He mechanically began taking off his hat, gloves, coat, jacket, shoes and socks. "I wish to be outside," he stated as he unbuttoned his collar and began pulling up his sleeves. His steps never halted as he made his way towards the backgrounds, leading into the garden. "The tree house is calling to me."
"Hang on a moment there lad," called Mr. Smee as he hurried down the stairs to catch Peter from leaving the doors. "I cannot allow ye to get yeself all dirtied up just yet."
Peter clenched his jaw as he tried to look at Smee calmly as he halted his steps. "I possess too much motivation at the moment," explained Peter. "If you keep me within walls you may regret it."
"What happened?" asked Smee, as a flash of fear wrinkled his face.
Peter sighed as he leaned against the doorway. He pinched the area between his eyes and tried to think of how to explain what happened to Smee. "Nothing," he tried.
A raised eyebrow told him that his answer wasn't good enough.
"There was no premature meeting between Wendy and I if that is what troubles you," he sighed again.
"Is that the very reason you suddenly need to exert yourself?"
"Not, exactly," said Peter, hesitantly.
"Then what is it exactly?"
"Why am I not permitted to dirty myself?" asked Peter.
"That anxious are we?" asked Smee with a glint in his eye. His look of worry was gone behind a masked smile.
"I can always feel the energy radiating out of my ears," commented Peter. "I have a few new additions I want to put into the tree house before I forget."
"We both know that is impossible lad," said Smee. "But since you have so much energy I have no need to give you any for tonight."
Peter suddenly felt very afraid. He suddenly noticed what Smee was wearing.
"Have you forgotten the Costume Ball tonight?"
Peter's face immediately turned pale. "I suddenly feel like sleeping."
"Too late for excuses lady," said Smee as he walked closer to Peter. "So it would be most appropriate to hurry and ready yourself."
"Why are these events so looked forward to?" grumbled Peter. "Why did you not mention this before? You know I tend to forget such gatherings."
"Then I would have had to hire detectives to find you," commented Smee off handedly.
Peter groaned and tried not to pout as he allowed Smee and Mr. Colins to lead him up the stairs to his room.
"Mr. Colins, we must make sure he looks his best."
"I would rather look my worst," grumbled Peter. "Am I not going to wear a mask? Why must I look my best underneath a mask?"
"You only keep the mask on until midnight," answered Smee.
"I still prefer to go just as I am now," complained Peter. "Everyone there will have already dressed as peacocks with their feathers ruffled with lace and meaningless frills."
Smee laughed at the criticism and shook his head. "So ye'd prefer to go as a donkey?"
Peter stopped enough to squint at Smee before a grin spread across his lips. "To be a wolf then," he suggested. "Then maybe the peacocks would not flock to me!"
"Get on with you lad," said Smee giving him a small nudge on the shoulder. "We only have an hour to be ready."
"Why are there so many of these things?" asked Peter as they were finishing up his costume. Due to his lack of enthusiasm in the event, he was only going to wear a black tuxedo with long tails. His mask was very elaborate and it stuck to well to his face that you could just barely make out his lips beneath it. His unruly hair was securely slicked back so that the mask could slip on easily. It seemed to stare at him from where it lay on the bed. "There is a Spring Ball, a Masquerade Ball, a Summer Ball, an Autumn Ball, a Winter Ball and every other conceivable excuse to hold one!"
"Have you counted those too?" asked Smee as he worked on tying Peter's collar.
"I have lost count with those," said Peter as he saw Smee's knowing gaze. "This time, I speak truth."
"Umhmm," said Smee as he finally managed to tie the bow sufficiently.
"The only one I wanted to go to was Wendy's debut," grumbled Peter. "But that was the one I was not allowed to attend."
"We should head down the stairs now," said Smee as he gave Peter another look over before he felt they were both properly dressed. Smee had chosen to wear a less intricate mask for himself. It was pure white and simple with no beads or feathers. He snatched up Peter's mask off of his bed before he answered the hanging question. "You know the reasons for that," he answered as he handed the mask to Peter and started pushing down the stairs and into the awaiting carriage outside.
"I doubt the minds of London are bright enough to sense those coincidences," commented Peter as they both grabbed their appropriate hats and cloaks.
"You give no credit to gossipers then," laughed Smee almost bitterly. He shooed Peter into the carriage before getting in himself. "The fact that an unfamiliar face appeared at the same time a certain lady was being debuted would bring notice to those eyes."
"It was not just Wendy's debut," argued Peter. "A debutante ball is for a group of ladies."
"Aye, but who would you have watched quite scandalously?" asked Smee with some dramatic tone.
Peter sighed in resignation as he leaned back on his side of the compartment. "I know it is not in my place to argue," said Peter. "You are right in your reason, but that would have been the only one that I had any wish to attend. It was a big moment in Wendy's life and I have missed it. Just as I miss everything else. You know, as I know, that Wendy does not attend balls often. It seems as if I am invited to the ones she is not and so on." Bringing his elbow to rest on the window, he leaned towards it and covered his mouth with his hand in thought as he looked outside at the passersby.
"Whatever happened this afternoon must have been really something," stated Smee as he watched Peter's drastic mood swing.
Peter turned his head to regard him for a moment. "It was," he said simply as he turned his head away again.
"Oh come now," said Smee as he tried to keep the mood light. "Not having sad thoughts are we?"
"Never," said Peter without turning his head. "But I suddenly feel drained."
"You only say that because of where we are going," teased Smee. "You exude energy my lad. You will get through tonight."
The carriage came to a halt as they had reached their destination. A grand estate lay before them and they found themselves surrounded by other carriages bearing other guests. Everyone seemed to have arrived at once. There was an excited atmosphere around them that you could not feel so dull with it.
"Now, look tis lovely," said Smee as he pointed towards the elaborate house.
"Enchanting," grumbled Peter without taking a glimpse. He slid on his mask and stepped out of the carriage. The surroundings were not at all appealing to him as he turned around to help Smee out of the carriage. He noticed that Smee had been having a harder time moving around as he used to.
"Will you be all right?" asked Peter, genuinely concerned. "Should I have the carriage take you back home and return for me later?" He grabbed hold of Smee's arm to help him get up the stairs.
"No need to worry about me," reassured Smee as he steadied himself with his cane. "Try to have fun tonight." With that he had turned and made his way towards a few gentlemen of his acquaintance.
Peter watched him go with a worried expression on his face. For a moment he simply watched Smee as he conversed with the group of gentlemen before making his way towards the ballroom. It was then that he noticed just how many people were running around in masks. There were masks of very shape, size and color. A few people were dressed as animals, which caused him to smirk. Many of the ladies were damsel in distresses and more than a few gentlemen were dressed as nothing. They probably were looking forward to this just as he was. The anonymity that comes with wearing a mask is a blessing indeed, for none seemed to recognize him. He recognized many of the masked people by their movements and their shapes. If they had not recognized him, there was no need for him to initiate a conversation he did not want to have.
The smoky lighting produced by the ornate chandeliers above gave the room a mysterious glow. Shadows danced along the ceilings and the walls. If not for the many people around, you would think that the room was filled with ghosts. It gave Peter an exhilarated feeling as he walked along the walls. Murals were painted with stories from Greek myths and he found himself lost in them. The room was stuffy but with a little bit of ingenious side stepping, he easily made his way through as he studied each mural.
Venus. Goddess of love. Her long, brown curls flowed along with the wind with a face that pictured all things beautiful and magical. Without her, nothing was worth the adventure. How many men and Gods, alike, had fallen under her spell? Just a smile from her lips could make any feat seem possible. Just to have her in your presence was precious and a rare privilege. No wonder the God of War had forgotten his duties to be with her. There had been no need for war, even to him, when she was there. Beauty and sweetness that could make even the most hardened of men turn to the way of love.
So much like Wendy has changed me, thought Peter as he looked at the goddess. She was smiling slightly, almost to herself. The picture beside her was one of Mars. Peter tiled his head to look at them both for a moment. Shaking his head at the thought, he felt a strange feeling pass through his body. The hairs on his neck seemed to stand up from the connection he suddenly felt. The feeling was so strong that he found himself slowly turning around to look at the crowd of dancers. He turned around fully to take in the sight of that which he had longed to see for so very long, Wendy.