Author's Note: I have 12 reviews! Yay! It doesn't seem like a lot, but it
is to me. Thanks to everyone who is enjoying this story! Here's Chapter 7:
Meet Mr. Eddington!
Chapter 7: Meet Mr. Eddington
Angus Dansbury waits in the parlor, glancing at his lavish surroundings. He has been to this house before, photographing the family. Never has he seen a grander residence. Whenever he visits, he feels as if he has stepped in to a completely different world. The carpets and the paintings adorning the walls and floor are worth millions. Angus watches everything in awe. He adjusts his camera with shaking hands and hears Mr. Eddington come in to the room. He turns around abruptly and bows gracefully to the rich man.
"There is no need for that, Angus. How long have we known each other?" Mr. Eddington says. His wavy black hair is slicked back and his green eyes smile warmly. He fixes his suit and looks at the photographer. "How are you, Angus? How are your wife and the children?"
Mr. Dansbury clears his throat rather loudly and makes sure he is still in the same household. Usually, he does not talk to the family. He just tells them what position they should be in and not to smile. Mr. Eddington never really asks about his life. "Ah, well, I am fine. The family is in good health, thank you for asking." Angus scratches his head and there is silence. Despite the wealth that Mr. Eddington owns, could it be possible that he is just a normal person?
The Eddingtons are one of the richest families in London. Henry Eddington's father was a successful businessman, and owned much of the city's businesses. He passed all of his fortune onto his son and his wife, Patricia, after he died. A few years before, Mrs. Eddington found that she could not have children, which was an unfortunate disadvantage to the family. Heirs were needed, preferably males, and the couple did not know what to do. Three years ago, Angus was called to take a portrait. He thought this odd because children were not born. When he came to the house, he was surprised to see a teenage boy posing with the Eddingtons. He learned that Henry and Patricia adopted Peter a few weeks before. Mr. Dansbury has not seen Peter since then. He is interested in seeing their somewhat wild son again.
Mr. Dansbury listens to a conversation outside the parlor door. It sounds like Mrs. Eddington and one of the maids. A melodious laugh echoes throughout the room and Henry sighs impatiently. Patricia Eddington strolls in, wearing a blue velvet gown. Her long brown locks are wrapped in a loose bun and a comb studded with diamonds holds it in place. She kisses her husband on the cheek and smiles broadly at Mr. Dansbury.
"Good morning, Mr. Dansbury. I trust you are well," she greets.
"Good morning, Mrs. Eddington. I am well, thank you." Mr. Eddington looks around hesitantly.
"Where is Peter, Patricia? He should have been down here by now," he grumbles. Patricia nods and goes to the top of the stairs.
"Peter!" she calls. She does not like raising her voice to anyone. The adults hear footsteps' running above them and Mr. Eddington shakes his head. A young man hurries down the stairs, a tie dangling from his neck. He jumps from the last step and smoothes out the long strip of cloth.
"Oh, the cleverness of me," he murmurs to himself as he treads into the room. He sees his parents and the photographer standing in front of him, waiting for an apology. "Oh, you're already here...sorry for the delay," he says, running his hand through his hair. He smiles and it is hard for the adults to be angry with him. He still has the irresistible charm that Peter Pan is known for.
It is hard to believe that this teenager used to be the boy who would never grow up. He is much taller than he was before, almost Henry's height. He is broad-shouldered and muscular. His voice has deepened quite a bit and he looks more like an eighteen-year-old than a sixteen-year-old. While most boys his age are going through awkward stages, he has already passed them. It seems as if he grew up all in one day. He is very handsome, with honey- tinged skin and disheveled brown hair streaked with gold. Patricia cannot convince him to change it. His eyes are blue and green swirling into each other. They are mesmerizing universes, and they seem to look right into your soul. No one has seen eyes like his before, and sometimes they are unnerving. Peter is no longer a child and the memories of his past are fading. He still thinks about Wendy, even if he has not seen her in three years. Maybe, just maybe he will finally get his chance to meet her at the ball next Saturday.
"Where were you, son?" Henry asks. There is a tinge of exasperation in his voice.
"I slept late, Father," Peter answers. He does not tell him he was playing his flute, which is the only relic he has from Neverland. His leaf apparel and his dagger were thrown away.
"Angus, meet Mr. Peter Eddington," Henry introduces them. Peter recalls meeting Mr. Dansbury three years ago, when he first came to the Eddington mansion.
"It's very nice to see you again, Peter. Now, where would you like the portrait to be taken?" Angus asks, fidgeting with the camera lens.
"In front of the fireplace," Patricia responds, and brings an intricately carved wooden chair over. Mr. Dansbury feels it will be better if she sits with the two men standing behind her. Patricia sits down and folds her hands. Peter is standing next to his father and his hand is resting on the back of the chair. He remembers when he was thirteen and he could not keep a straight face in the photos. How much he has changed since then.
"All right, now look at the camera," Mr. Dansbury says. He puts his head under the black cloth and looks through the lens. He sees a miniscule picture of the family and he does not have to tell them not to smile. All members have serious expressions on their faces. Angus is satisfied. He presses the button and the camera flash goes off. Peter blinks and Angus takes a few more photographs, just in case. After it is done, someone knocks on the front door. Peter gets to the door before the butler does and he opens it slowly. He smiles when he realizes who it is. It is his best friend, Charles Malcolm.
"'ello Peter!" he says in his thick British accent. "'ow are you this fine mornin'?" Charles Malcolm is the son of a wealthy doctor. He has deep red hair and freckles all over his face. He is tall, but not as tall as Peter, and has curious brown eyes. Peter met him at the private all-boys school he was sent to. Charles was and is spontaneous like his friend. That is why they get along so well. Charles lives down the street from Peter, and their families are also close.
"Morning, Charlie," Peter yawns.
"You're all fancied up. What is the occasion?" Charles jokes, indicating Peter's suit.
"Family portrait," Peter answers, rolling his eyes.
"Want to come to the city with me? Mother wants to go shopping for the ball on Saturday with Evelyn, but I'll probably just walk around," he suggests. Evelyn is Charles's twin sister. She is very fond of Peter, but she never told him. Peter agrees and tells his mother that he is leaving. He grabs his hat and strides down the sidewalk with Charles. They have to meet Mrs. Malcolm and Evelyn at their carriage. While they are walking, a mother and her three girls are walking past them. Peter tips his hat, grinning at the daughters.
"Good day," he calls, and the girls blush. They whisper to each other and the eldest girl, who looks to be about seventeen, answers him.
"Good day to you too!" she calls back and continues to stare after Peter as he strolls away.
"How do you do it?" Charles asks Peter once they are out of hearing distance.
"What do you mean how do I do it?" Peter responds, gazing up at the sky.
"Those ladies back there. They could not keep their eyes off you!" Charlie blurts, stopping suddenly. "A girl takes one look at me, and she runs!" Peter doubles over in laughter.
"It was a simple hello, Charlie. I don't ask to be noticed, I - I just am," Peter explains, and Charlie smirks.
"Apparently," his friend guffaws and they get into the carriage. Evelyn and Mrs. Malcolm are already there.
"You boys do walk slow," Mrs. Malcolm says in a stern tone. "I expect you to be a little faster next time." Peter takes a seat next to Evelyn, who turns a deep pink.
"Yes, Mother," Charles drawls and laughs at Evelyn's blushing. She kicks him in the shin and Charles gasps for air.
"Hello Peter. You will be accompanying us to the city, then?" she asks, a calm expression on her face.
"Yes, I am," Peter answers and a small smile forms on Evelyn's face. Charles groans and rubs his leg angrily. He curses at Evelyn under his breath, much to the dismay of his mother, who can hear anything and everything.
"Charles Bartholomew Malcolm! You will not call your sister that!" she scolds. Peter bows his head, stifling the laughter that threatens to show.
This is going to be a very interesting ride, he thinks, before the carriage starts to clatter towards London.
******************************
Author's Note: There you go! Another all new chapter! I am sorry about the camera part. Since this takes place between the late 1800s and early 1900s, I did not know how to describe the camera at that time. Did they even have cameras back then? Oh, I am really confused now. I hope I described Peter well enough so you could picture him as a sixteen year old. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I promise I will update sometime again next week. So...in the famous words of Dory the blue tang fish, "Just keep reviewing, just keep reviewing..." LoL
Chapter 7: Meet Mr. Eddington
Angus Dansbury waits in the parlor, glancing at his lavish surroundings. He has been to this house before, photographing the family. Never has he seen a grander residence. Whenever he visits, he feels as if he has stepped in to a completely different world. The carpets and the paintings adorning the walls and floor are worth millions. Angus watches everything in awe. He adjusts his camera with shaking hands and hears Mr. Eddington come in to the room. He turns around abruptly and bows gracefully to the rich man.
"There is no need for that, Angus. How long have we known each other?" Mr. Eddington says. His wavy black hair is slicked back and his green eyes smile warmly. He fixes his suit and looks at the photographer. "How are you, Angus? How are your wife and the children?"
Mr. Dansbury clears his throat rather loudly and makes sure he is still in the same household. Usually, he does not talk to the family. He just tells them what position they should be in and not to smile. Mr. Eddington never really asks about his life. "Ah, well, I am fine. The family is in good health, thank you for asking." Angus scratches his head and there is silence. Despite the wealth that Mr. Eddington owns, could it be possible that he is just a normal person?
The Eddingtons are one of the richest families in London. Henry Eddington's father was a successful businessman, and owned much of the city's businesses. He passed all of his fortune onto his son and his wife, Patricia, after he died. A few years before, Mrs. Eddington found that she could not have children, which was an unfortunate disadvantage to the family. Heirs were needed, preferably males, and the couple did not know what to do. Three years ago, Angus was called to take a portrait. He thought this odd because children were not born. When he came to the house, he was surprised to see a teenage boy posing with the Eddingtons. He learned that Henry and Patricia adopted Peter a few weeks before. Mr. Dansbury has not seen Peter since then. He is interested in seeing their somewhat wild son again.
Mr. Dansbury listens to a conversation outside the parlor door. It sounds like Mrs. Eddington and one of the maids. A melodious laugh echoes throughout the room and Henry sighs impatiently. Patricia Eddington strolls in, wearing a blue velvet gown. Her long brown locks are wrapped in a loose bun and a comb studded with diamonds holds it in place. She kisses her husband on the cheek and smiles broadly at Mr. Dansbury.
"Good morning, Mr. Dansbury. I trust you are well," she greets.
"Good morning, Mrs. Eddington. I am well, thank you." Mr. Eddington looks around hesitantly.
"Where is Peter, Patricia? He should have been down here by now," he grumbles. Patricia nods and goes to the top of the stairs.
"Peter!" she calls. She does not like raising her voice to anyone. The adults hear footsteps' running above them and Mr. Eddington shakes his head. A young man hurries down the stairs, a tie dangling from his neck. He jumps from the last step and smoothes out the long strip of cloth.
"Oh, the cleverness of me," he murmurs to himself as he treads into the room. He sees his parents and the photographer standing in front of him, waiting for an apology. "Oh, you're already here...sorry for the delay," he says, running his hand through his hair. He smiles and it is hard for the adults to be angry with him. He still has the irresistible charm that Peter Pan is known for.
It is hard to believe that this teenager used to be the boy who would never grow up. He is much taller than he was before, almost Henry's height. He is broad-shouldered and muscular. His voice has deepened quite a bit and he looks more like an eighteen-year-old than a sixteen-year-old. While most boys his age are going through awkward stages, he has already passed them. It seems as if he grew up all in one day. He is very handsome, with honey- tinged skin and disheveled brown hair streaked with gold. Patricia cannot convince him to change it. His eyes are blue and green swirling into each other. They are mesmerizing universes, and they seem to look right into your soul. No one has seen eyes like his before, and sometimes they are unnerving. Peter is no longer a child and the memories of his past are fading. He still thinks about Wendy, even if he has not seen her in three years. Maybe, just maybe he will finally get his chance to meet her at the ball next Saturday.
"Where were you, son?" Henry asks. There is a tinge of exasperation in his voice.
"I slept late, Father," Peter answers. He does not tell him he was playing his flute, which is the only relic he has from Neverland. His leaf apparel and his dagger were thrown away.
"Angus, meet Mr. Peter Eddington," Henry introduces them. Peter recalls meeting Mr. Dansbury three years ago, when he first came to the Eddington mansion.
"It's very nice to see you again, Peter. Now, where would you like the portrait to be taken?" Angus asks, fidgeting with the camera lens.
"In front of the fireplace," Patricia responds, and brings an intricately carved wooden chair over. Mr. Dansbury feels it will be better if she sits with the two men standing behind her. Patricia sits down and folds her hands. Peter is standing next to his father and his hand is resting on the back of the chair. He remembers when he was thirteen and he could not keep a straight face in the photos. How much he has changed since then.
"All right, now look at the camera," Mr. Dansbury says. He puts his head under the black cloth and looks through the lens. He sees a miniscule picture of the family and he does not have to tell them not to smile. All members have serious expressions on their faces. Angus is satisfied. He presses the button and the camera flash goes off. Peter blinks and Angus takes a few more photographs, just in case. After it is done, someone knocks on the front door. Peter gets to the door before the butler does and he opens it slowly. He smiles when he realizes who it is. It is his best friend, Charles Malcolm.
"'ello Peter!" he says in his thick British accent. "'ow are you this fine mornin'?" Charles Malcolm is the son of a wealthy doctor. He has deep red hair and freckles all over his face. He is tall, but not as tall as Peter, and has curious brown eyes. Peter met him at the private all-boys school he was sent to. Charles was and is spontaneous like his friend. That is why they get along so well. Charles lives down the street from Peter, and their families are also close.
"Morning, Charlie," Peter yawns.
"You're all fancied up. What is the occasion?" Charles jokes, indicating Peter's suit.
"Family portrait," Peter answers, rolling his eyes.
"Want to come to the city with me? Mother wants to go shopping for the ball on Saturday with Evelyn, but I'll probably just walk around," he suggests. Evelyn is Charles's twin sister. She is very fond of Peter, but she never told him. Peter agrees and tells his mother that he is leaving. He grabs his hat and strides down the sidewalk with Charles. They have to meet Mrs. Malcolm and Evelyn at their carriage. While they are walking, a mother and her three girls are walking past them. Peter tips his hat, grinning at the daughters.
"Good day," he calls, and the girls blush. They whisper to each other and the eldest girl, who looks to be about seventeen, answers him.
"Good day to you too!" she calls back and continues to stare after Peter as he strolls away.
"How do you do it?" Charles asks Peter once they are out of hearing distance.
"What do you mean how do I do it?" Peter responds, gazing up at the sky.
"Those ladies back there. They could not keep their eyes off you!" Charlie blurts, stopping suddenly. "A girl takes one look at me, and she runs!" Peter doubles over in laughter.
"It was a simple hello, Charlie. I don't ask to be noticed, I - I just am," Peter explains, and Charlie smirks.
"Apparently," his friend guffaws and they get into the carriage. Evelyn and Mrs. Malcolm are already there.
"You boys do walk slow," Mrs. Malcolm says in a stern tone. "I expect you to be a little faster next time." Peter takes a seat next to Evelyn, who turns a deep pink.
"Yes, Mother," Charles drawls and laughs at Evelyn's blushing. She kicks him in the shin and Charles gasps for air.
"Hello Peter. You will be accompanying us to the city, then?" she asks, a calm expression on her face.
"Yes, I am," Peter answers and a small smile forms on Evelyn's face. Charles groans and rubs his leg angrily. He curses at Evelyn under his breath, much to the dismay of his mother, who can hear anything and everything.
"Charles Bartholomew Malcolm! You will not call your sister that!" she scolds. Peter bows his head, stifling the laughter that threatens to show.
This is going to be a very interesting ride, he thinks, before the carriage starts to clatter towards London.
******************************
Author's Note: There you go! Another all new chapter! I am sorry about the camera part. Since this takes place between the late 1800s and early 1900s, I did not know how to describe the camera at that time. Did they even have cameras back then? Oh, I am really confused now. I hope I described Peter well enough so you could picture him as a sixteen year old. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I promise I will update sometime again next week. So...in the famous words of Dory the blue tang fish, "Just keep reviewing, just keep reviewing..." LoL