Author's Note: Here we begin the truly despairing chapters of the story. I shall do my best to lead you through the darkness – Please bear with me, there is light at the end of the tunnel... although it will take me the next few chapters to get there. My sincerest thanks to my beta reader Cheetahlee, whom, without her help, I would still be wondering about lost in the shadows.
My Darling Love
Chapter 45 – Cat and Mouse
"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."
-Joseph Conrad
And so "Mama" it was to Joseph and Edmund who moved in with Mary and George. They called their grandfather "Papa," and considered him more of a father than John, who took up George's old bedroom at Uncle Harry's flat. The children blended well together, once they all learned the important lesson of sharing and taking turns. Soon, everything was at it once had been when Wendy, John and Michael lived in the nursery. The children went off into their own worlds of imaginary adventures, leaving Mary and George, older parents for younger children with each other at home. "You said you wanted another baby, Mary, now we have three," George chuckled to Mary as the laundry piled up and dirty dishes crowded the sink.
She shook her head, laughing. "However did I manage when our own children were that age? I guess I was younger myself, with more energy."
The maid that John released came to work for George and Mary. She was an older proper maid of British decent, the type Aunt Millicent would surely have approved of. Very short, extremely stout with gray hair held up in a bun, and always attired in the correct uniform of house servant, she gave them bits and pieces of information about their estranged daughter-in-law, happy to have any position still available to her. "To tell you the truth, she really wasn't bad to the children, but having baby boys made her uncomfortable in some odd way, she always avoided handling them. But she absolutely adored her daughter, she used to dress her up and carry her all over like she was a china doll. She was very friendly to the cook and I, and everyone else that ever came calling for that matter."
After being employed by Mr. and Mrs. George Darling for a month, and receiving her first raise ever in her career, she informed then with much honesty, "I know you want to know where Margaret is, and if I knew I would tell you. I came to work early one morning and she was gone. I overheard you and Mr. Darling speaking about a man you called Peter, and I must tell you I never heard that name mentioned by anyone other than Martine. And he was only her imaginary friend."
The maid leaned toward her employers and whispered, "It was Mr. John Darling having the affair, sir, and his missus was a very faithful wife to him. She was very obedient and always well behaved. Mrs. John Darling was a proper lady of the manor, although I must say, I'm not sure she knew how to smile. But that being what it was, she was always very friendly. "
George paid her in full her back wages that John owed her, as he did John's cook, but because he still preferred his wife's cooking to all others, there was no position to be found for her at their door.
George and Mary had no idea when Jane was born; Wendy left nothing but her name on the note. So, they assigned her birth date the day she arrived, which made her a few months younger than Joseph. Edmund came not even a year after his brother, so the three children were so close in age that when the school year began, they were all put in the same class. On their first day, as Mary and George dropped them off, dressed in their best, the teacher named them "The Darling Triplets."
"And at your age, dear, it's a wonder you didn't die giving them life," the teacher told Mary, and George simply nodded, feeling it better to allow certain matters commonly accepted as truth than to disagree and have go into lengthy explanations.
The children enjoyed their lessons, and spent each day after school at the kitchen table doing their homework. When homework was completed, they raced up the stairs and played a game all the children loved. Each would take turns pretending to be the teacher attending to their dutiful students. Mary bought them a blackboard and they spent their afternoons rehearsing all that they had studied so far. With kindergarten completed, next it was first grade, and still the children played school.
John worked a full-time job and a part-time one after that. He only came to visit his sons on Sundays, but for the most part, being his only day of rest, he did just that, napping on the sofa while his two active sons played with their adopted sister. Uncle Harry spent much of his time at the house, and soon decided to leave his flat to John, and moved in with George and Mary in Grandpa Joe's room. "It's alright, George. When Jane gets older, she can take Wendy's room."
George was not convinced, thinking it best to eliminate the separation anxiety the children would encounter later in their youth, he suggested, "Uncle Harry will take the attic, and Jane will take Grandpa Joe's old room." Mary agreed at the time, but thought better of it later when she ascended the stairs and looked about at her eldest child, her daughter Wendy's room.
Mary had left all her things, as they were, not moving anything that Wendy had placed inside. Everything had a layer of dust covering it, including the bed, which creaked and blew out an enormous puff of dust when she sat down, which set Mary to sneezing. The closets were empty, and her vanity table had been cleaned out. Wherever she went on her adventure, she took all her personal effects with her but one. She left George's gift set from Paris. Looking through her daughter's writing desk, Mary found letters from her gentleman friend in New York City, notes and cards from people she met in school and at social functions she had rarely attended.
The last drawer in the desk, Wendy's dream drawer, was unlocked. The key was inserted inside, leaving her mother to turn the bolt. Mary did slowly and then swiftly pulled out the drawer. There were only two items left inside, a large velvet box and the note underneath.
On second thought, this is no fair trade.
Mary read the note again as George read it over her shoulder. "I have no idea whom this is from or what this is about. Who could afford to give Wendy such a gift and why would she not take it with her?" Mary asked wonderingly, pulling out a gorgeous diamond necklace fitted with rubies, emerald and sapphires.
"Fair trade for what?" George asked, touching her shoulder.
"George, I have no idea."
Mary walked with George down the stairs, and helped her children dress in their overcoats and watch after them as they walked towards school. With their departure, they both went upstairs to their room, and gathered the necklace.
With it in their custody, their first stop was to a jeweler to appraise its value. "Worth a fortune, Mr. Darling. If I am not mistaken, the diamonds taken from the necklace that you had made for your wife a few years back were brought here and pawned. I sold them to an older gentleman whose name escapes me at the moment. I couldn't tell you if these were the same ones. The markings on the back say it was set at the jeweler across town. You should check there, they could give you a better idea of how it came into your possession."
"Peter must have sold the diamonds for money," Mary offered as they made their way across town.
So they went to the other jeweler next, and the head jeweler recognized his prized piece. "Crafted it myself from the gentleman's design." He checked the name on the order in his records and told Mary, "Very strange, he didn't leave a name, only his initials." The jeweler gave Mary the client card that read, "C.J.H."
"If I remember correctly, he was a short stocky man with a gray beard. His clothes were filthy, I almost threw him out of my shop, but then he paid cash, so, well ... He said he wasn't the man who was ordering the piece, just his messenger. He dropped off all the stones and then picked up the necklace a month later." Mary and George walked slowly home turning the letter over and over in their heads, which were devoid of any idea of the identity of their daughter's admirer.
George and Mary took apart Wendy's old room from floor to ceiling, looking for any hint of the man's true name. Finally when they were exhausted and encountered not even the slightest clue, they both sat on the floor nearest her bed. The floorboard underneath George creaked and when he moved to get a better look at the spot that needed mending, the piece of wood he leaned his hand upon shot up and exposed a secret compartment underneath. When Wendy emptied it years before, she left one item that her parents now assumed she hoped one day they her parents would find. Finally, on that afternoon, they did.
It was an old drawing of a pirate captain with a hook for a right hand and standing next to him in an elegant dress, one Mary imagined right out of Wendy's stories, was a stunning young lady that closely resembled their daughter. It was inscribed at the bottom,
"Capt. Jas Hook & The Fair Maiden Gwendolyn"
"Well at least we are getting closer to a correct name," Mary fumed; as she stood up frustrated with the game of cat and mouse their daughter seemed to be engaging them in.
"What is the meaning of this, and that?" George pointed to the necklace Mary had clasped in her hand and its mirror image around the neck of the young lady standing arm and arm with the pirate captain in the picture. "George, I don't know. Truly," she responded.
"They are one and the same." George gave his expert opinion.
"I know, dearest, but I have no idea what this could be about." As her husband began ransacking everything not already turned upside down and inside out in Wendy's room, Mary grabbed his arm. "It really doesn't matter, George. Wendy, wherever she is, is never coming back. If she's with this man, all we can hope is that he loves her enough to be good to her and keep her happy. So, best that I can tell, none of this really matters."
George scoffed the notion with a whisper, "Look at him closely, Mary, he's Jane's father, I know it. He didn't even want his own child, what kind of man is that?"
Mary glanced at the picture, yellowed with time; it did not reveal anything about the man except he had long curly dark hair and a moustache. His facial features were smeared by whatever was used to draw the picture in the first place. "You can't tell anything by looking at this, George. And we only assume Jane is Wendy's, maybe she belongs to someone else, a stranger who abandoned her with us instead of an orphanage."
George pulled himself up and dusted the grime from his pants. "Are you telling me you disbelieve for one moment that Jane is Wendy's child?"
Mary shook her head. "I think she is, but we don't know anything about her paternity, and guessing -- with no possibility of actually knowing the correct answer -- is an utter waste of time. Maybe one day we will know, but not today. And like I just told you, it doesn't matter, not for us, not for Jane, not for Wendy."
Mary handed George a large box and began throwing things Wendy left in her old room inside. George stood for a moment watching Mary, and then copied her, doing the same. They worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon, and well after supper was served, and the children were in bed before they finally finished.
Mary glanced through everything once before discarding the useless items. The rest she marked and placed neatly in the cupboard of the attic, against the farthest wall. George washed the dinner dishes and Mary dried them and put them away. The nighttime fairies made their rounds and then retired to their own bedroom.
"You know, Mary, we haven't made love in a very long time." George grinned as Mary dressed in her nightgown and brushed out her hair standing by her vanity.
"You've been so tired lately and worried, I didn't think you wanted to."
George looked amorously at his wife of many years, and then patted her side of the bed. Mary, seeing his actions, could not contain her giggle and raced over next to him, cuddling up into his kiss.
After their passion, they lay next to one another smirking like the young couple they once were. "Remember when we thought we could only do that once a day? How foolish were we in our youth."
George laughed as Mary reminisced about years past. "Remember the morning we made Wendy? And on our honeymoon in the countryside, George? What was your favorite time, you know, with making love?"
George laughed a little louder than he meant to, and then closed his eyes and thought back. "Chaise lounge, while you were dressing to go out. You sprayed that fancy perfume over your dress, and well... You remember." He giggled like a little schoolboy recounting the details of what Mary was to be remembering in his head when she abruptly turned on her side away from him and covered herself up the neck.
George leaned up on his arm, "What's wrong?"
Mary moved her face into her pillow, presumably to wipe away a tear that ran down her cheek when she responded, "George, we've never made love on a chaise lounge."
George started to explain further, "Well, dearest, we started on the lounge and then rolled over unto the floor and then..."
Suddenly he had an unusual mix of emotions hit him at once. He was angry at himself for the mixup, although when in his memory he saw Mary's face, confused, for could he would swear on his children it was in fact Mary...
Now terrified of his wife's wrath when her own haze of feelings cleared, and sick to his stomach that of all the times he could have called to mind, this is the one he did. He peeked over at Mary, who had her eyes closed, and then slowly moved back down on the bed and covered himself also up to the neck and waited for her words. Her silence was killing him and after only a minute he could bear it no longer.
"Mary..." He touched her shoulder. She didn't speak, only nodded and he continued, "I'm sorry, I could have..."
Mary shook her head and raised her hand that rested nearest him, "Forget it, it is me, George, not you. Just say a prayer for Wendy."
George said a prayer for Wendy and Jane and then a rosary for Mary before falling asleep.
Mary awoke first, well before dawn and sat in the rocking chair she had in the nursery and watched her babies sleep. So innocent to the world they were, and so peaceful in their dreams. One by one, as the sun rose above the horizon, they opened their eyes with a yawn and stretch, not to mention a smile to their mother, or "mama," as the boys called her, and then a kiss. She dressed them up in play clothes, and before the morning haze had even lifted above the street, they were out the door and to the park.
George woke up and found Mary's side of the bed empty. He dressed quickly, hearing the house silent, and ran downstairs to search out the missing residents. Fearing Mary was devastated about the prior evening's events, he got quite upset when he found no trace of them anywhere. Then he entered the kitchen.
Mary and the children had made him a makeshift breakfast of misshaped muffins and crumpets, "Eat me," the direction of one of the boys written with crayon. A teapot on the stove with a note attached in Jane's scribble, "Drink me." On the table with a neatly folded napkin over a plate, Mary had written, "We went to the park to play, join us when you are finished with breakfast."
George stuffed an entire muffin into his mouth, swigged down at teacup, nearly causing himself to choke as he quickly dressed in his jacket and hat and raced out the door. He ran all the way to the park and was out of breath and winded when he found Mary sitting on a bench watching the children chase after one another in a never-ending game of tag. "Good morning, Mary, how are you feeling today?"
Mary had a very pleasant look of amusement, and only glanced at George as he took a seat next to her. Before she could answer or give him her full attention the children took notice of his arrival and ran up to him.
"Father, look what we found." Each of the children had an ugly fat frog they held in their hands and as George fixed his glasses, they pushed them forward to give him a better look. "Can we keep them?" they all begged loudly.
George turned to Mary who closed her eyes tightly and looked away. He knew the answer, and he knew he was to be the one to give it to them, so he did. "No." Simple and to the point, the children lowered their heads and began weeping. "Maybe Mama will let us get a dog as a pet," George offered to their devastated expressions.
The children jumped up, looking to their mother, and she smiled widely and nodded her head. These Darling children had never known Nana. She had died in her sleep years before, and was buried in the backyard. Of all the headstones George was required to purchase, he took the most care -- next to his son's -- with Nana's. Most crafters of tombstones had never created one for a pet before, and the one George enlisted thought it was a fine idea to honor a loyal family pet. He charged George half price for the stone on the one condition that George allowed him to tell people it was his own original idea. "Soon they will have pet cemeteries all over England. I'm sure of it," the mason said as he leveled it over Nana's grave. The next day, outside his shop he had a large sign hung advertising his new invention.
NANA DARLING
Loyal Nurse, Family Pet
This day, the children put fresh picked flowers from the park down near her grave and said a prayer for her. They retired to their beds with dreams of puppies and kittens running about the house for their amusement. Even though Papa said "No," Joseph did not release his frog, and hid him in the toy box away from Mama's eyes. George and Mary sat in the parlor, George looking over the house accounts, Mary doing her needlepoint.
Every so often, George would turn around to glance at his wife, trying to figure out her blank expression. Not so mindless, he thought, but more mindful and of what he had no idea. "I'm going to retire, George," Mary offered, as she lay down her handiwork and rose from the sofa. It was still quite early in the evening, and George was not tired at all.
"All right dear, I'll be up in a little bit." Mary nodded to him, and without a kiss good night she took to the stairs.
Instead of returning to his books, George was lost in thought, just sitting at his desk trying to make some kind of sense of what was to happen next. Just as he was sure Mary was doing all day, he repeated his memory in his mind, and every time he played it back, it was indeed his wife and no other whom he had engaged in passion on the chaise lounge. He was so lost in the past that he never heard Mary walk up behind him, nor touch his shoulder to gain his attention. She leaned in front of him and ran her hand over his glazed over eyes to bring him back to the present.
"George, it was that night at Sir Edmund and his wife's annual dinner party. The night the children went missing. After dinner, you and I strolled through their home, and peeked into their bedroom. I sprayed myself with Mrs. Couch's fancy French perfume, and then laid on the chaise lounge in their bedroom. You told me I looked like a queen, but you didn't feel much like a king, more so a court jester, and I joked that Queens often have affairs with court jesters when the king is not around. We made love on the floor in their room and broke the lamp nearest the bed. The maid caught us and told us we had to leave the party or she would tell Mr. Couch where she found us and what we were doing. The reason I was mad at you was because you would not allow me to purchase a new dress, and I got stuck wearing the gown your brother Peter purchased for me in Paris. Old memories I just wish I could not remember." Mary said in all seriousness before giggling with her hand over her mouth and then pecked George on the cheek. "That would not have been my favorite choice."
Mary turned to head back from the direction she came, and George grabbed her hand. "When?"
Mary smiled and touched his cheek. "I can't tell you, you will be angry." Now she was truly laughing out loud and George was taken aback by her hillarity.
"No, now I must know," he demanded pulling on her hand in attempt to bring her closer. Mary got very serious and leaned down to whisper in his ear. She gave him a specific date with no other information and he reared his head back, baffled.
God in heaven, watching something else, jerked His own head up and over to the Darling House. He gazed about frantically, as if worried that something was about to happen being far beyond His reach or control. His eyes fell back down to George and Mary where He kept his attention until suddenly, thinking of a salvation that could be utilized later on if need be, He shifted in his seat casting his visions over to Neverland. Captain Hook was busy being a dreadful pirate, chasing children out of the forest, and Peter Pan flying overhead was shouting the safest direction for his friends to follow for escape. A bolt of lightening struck down right in front of Captain Hook who was in hot pursuit of the new lost boys, stopping him dead in his tracks. He looked up to the night sky and grimaced, giving up on his hunt and stomping back to the Jolly Roger. Peter Pan landed right there in God's clear vision and bowed respectfully. With that taken care of, God uncomfortably shifted on his throne and turned His concentration back to George and Mary Darling.
"I don't understand?" George queried as she again began to giggle. "Only if you promise not to be mad." George tilted his head toward her, giving her permission.
God was watching closely now, and He Himself covered His eyes as Mary stepped back from her husband of many years and answered, "That was the time we conceived John. We made love in the morning and I spent the better part of the day with my legs raised in the air trying to keep your..." unsure of the word she continued, "well, what you have that make a baby inside of me. It worked, for then we had another and our first son. You said we could not afford another baby, but I wanted one so much. I prayed to God and he answered my prayers for once that way was enough."
George ran through the scenario in his mind, and God in heaven peeked through His almighty fingers, seeing George remember not only that event, but also all events leading up to and after. God knew Mary was right in her assumption before she made it; George was not only angry, he was utterly furious.
"You tricked me...you trapped me..." He rose from his chair hard and knocked it over, pushing Mary out of the way as he went. He stormed down the hall and to the kitchen, through the back door and out into the backyard. He stood there for a few minutes and then thundered back in. Mary was waiting in the kitchen unexpectedly fearful of his livid expression.
"We were flat broke and I told you we could not afford another baby, not to mention having Wendy almost killed you and with the hell your parents and my parents were putting us through at the time, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"
He stomped down the hall and stood in the foyer before turning and stomping into the parlor, Mary following anxiously behind him the whole way. "I can't believe it. You are a liar, a complete and total bold face liar. I asked you if it was your mistake or mine and you told me a little bit of both, what did that mean? You, for being a sneaky untrustworthy bitch, or me, for being the fool who believed you only could speak the truth! You have done nothing since the moment we met but lie and deceive me. I can't tell when you are telling the truth and when you are making things up to suit yourself. And worst of all, I am the one who always suffers due to your selfishness. When will it end Mary? When I am dead?"
Mary was speechless, as was God. She had lied a lot, well, not so much lied as withheld the truth from him on many occasions, but only to protect him, at least that would be her defense. George always was honest, and only once had he sinned against her. And even then, he hid nothing from her. He made his affair completely obvious to her, wanting to get caught. George stared at Mary with his father's ruthless eyes and shouted, "Well, nothing to say for yourself?"
He lowered his head and shook it, holding his hands on his hips muttering to himself. Mary still could not find the words and so she attempted to touch George, hoping to sooth the malice that seemed to pour out of him into the room. "Do not touch me, Mary, with your foul hands." George jerked away and Mary still holding her hand out to him began to cry. "Oh wonderful, Mary, and now you are going to cry. So not only are you a foul deceitful deliberate liar, you are also an actress. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
Mary knew on the advice of her mother-in-law and her own father that this day would eventually come, and now it was here. "I swear to you, Mary, if you don't get out of my sight this very moment, I won't be able to control myself. And as I am sure you can imagine, you know what's coming next!" George shouted, still looking downward, shaking his head so quickly back and forth, Mary would swear it would surely come off if he continued. "Mary, please, I'm begging you, get out of my sight," George hissed shoving her once to get his point across. George was not the only one who was begging, God was too, but His voice was shushed by the devil standing in the Darling's parlor.
What Mary was to do? She felt she deserved it, and so she held her footing firm and closed her eyes in preparation. Wiser it would have been to at least defend herself by holding up her hands, for that is what God shouted. But she felt it better to let it hit her full force expecting only a slap. It was to be more than a slap, so when what was coming did finally come, she was unprepared for the strength behind it and faltered and backed up but did not fall from sheer shock.
Again, it would have been sensible to hit the floor, but foolishly she just stood there as the onslaught of George's fists to her face and head dropped her like a sack of potatoes to the parlor floor. Her last salvation was to roll into a ball, protecting the most delicate parts of her frame, but disbelief and pain filled her from top to bottom and she lay straight as an arrow out on the floor. And so it got worse as her husband of many years took one last good kick, a direct hit to her belly that broke something within her and stole her discourse of agony. And then for no reason, he kicked her again.
"Mary Elizabeth, even though George has promised you he will never hit you again for any reason, you must remember that he has hit you once. He is still is his father's son. No matter what the reason for it, it only means one thing, at another time, somewhere in that far off future, he will hit you again. Listen to me Mary Elizabeth, as I am your father and you are my daughter, my only child. George, your husband, will hit you again and it will be worse than the first. I promise you thereafter when his hand is raised to you in anger the second time the beatings will begin. There is still evil hiding in him. I promise you that." Grandpa Joe had told her many years before.
George had warned her repeatedly, and now he glanced into Mary's face and saw her eyes were closed. He couldn't hear God either. But the devil was there, and he was giving George an earful. Mary is a stubborn woman, she always has been, and now she is just taunting you by holding her tongue. Just another bout of the silent treatment she always puts forth when caught in one her little games. So George, being the man he was, felt it was time again to put Mary in her place and slapped her hard with an open hand across the cheek. Mary did not collapse or falter, she just kept her ground and her voice and so this time he backhanded her.
She made no attempt to stop him or react, so, as the anger and resentment grew within him, he found his fist clutched tightly and beyond his control as he repeatedly struck her in the head and face. Finally, she fell, and in one last try to force something out of her, he kicked her as hard as he could in the stomach, and even then, Mary, his willful and egotistical wife, was silent.
"You think me weak, don't you!" he shouted down to her as he pulled his foot back again. Mary wished she could make her mouth work, but found she had enough trouble breathing, let alone speaking, so she shook her head as hurriedly as he had in response. George wanted desperately to kick her again, just one more time for all the heartache she caused him throughout the years. The devil, happy to have sneaked in undetected, leaned on George's shoulder and whispered in his ear. His mother's voice echoed in his head to where he heard nothing else but her "Put her in her place George. Your wife needs to know her place."
He felt he had no choice and sent one more boot forward into her. "Now you know your place in my house." George screamed as he left the parlor and ascended the stairs to their room.