Author's Note: Wow. It's been a while, huh? For everyone who's been waiting so patiently for an update: don't worry, I'm alive and well (well sort of…I'm so busy I'm about to drop dead…argh…) ANYway, thanks so much for your reviews. I really enjoyed reading them. And I noticed I kind of left you all hanging, didn't I? Well, after what seems like ages, chapter 9 is up! There's also a little recap from the previous chapter just in case you forgot what happened, so please read, indulge, enjoy and all that other good stuff.
Mr. and Mrs. Darling parted from each other, and a sweet young lady appeared between them with a gracious smile and her white-gloved hands folded shyly in front of her.
And it is here that William was finally allowed a complete vision of the girl that had caught his eye. Wendy, he repeated in his mind, his lips discreetly shaping the sound of the name. Wendy… He saw her staring at him, and noticed the blush that was coming on to her cheeks. The left corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and the girl removed her stare from him to the floor. He did not know why, and he would never have admitted it, but the sight of this young lady made him feel as if he were short of breath, something he surely had not felt with any other. William looked at Wendy, and felt butterflies.
At this point, there are many holding their breath and crossing their fingers, hoping and wishing that somehow, a light will click between the two old-time companions. Even the stars watched them tonight, gleaming and calling to them in suspense. It is clear here, nonetheless, that William did not remember. He could not recognize her bright eyes, her soft honey hair, or even her rosy lips that had once affectionately touched his own. It was sad, but true.
And what of Wendy? One shall soon find out.
Chapter 9: A Brush with High Society
Wendy was fluttering.
Hands casually in the pockets of his stylish pants. Weight coolly shifted to one side. An undying twinkle in his bright blue eyes. Familiar. Mouth turned up in a confident smirk. Quite familiar.
Oh goodness, Wendy thought to herself. She looked down at the shiny checkered floor, feeling the growing warmth in her cheeks. That smile. Does he notice the blush?
The signs were all there in his attractive face, in his swaggering stance, in his mischievous stare. Wendy, however, was too self-conscious, too nervous, too shy to take the familiarities to heart. The same distinct features that should have manifested William's true identity were instead the ones that made Wendy flutter so much as to let those familiarities slip her mind. All she knew was that the William Locke was standing before her. She could not recognize what was really disguised in this handsomely grown body and ignored the sudden spark she had felt inside.
So, she continued peering at the floor, waiting uneasily for William's gaze to drift away from her. She bit her lip girlishly and felt her palms beginning to sweat beneath her silk gloves. After a short moment, she lifted her eyes slightly and saw that William had finally turned his attention away from her. He was looking to his father, who was in turn addressing a tense Mr. Darling.
"I don't believe we've seen you at any of the socials," Mr. Locke stated inquiringly. "Have you and your wife been to any of the recent gatherings?"
"Oh-no, no," Mr. Darling answered with a nervous chuckle. Mrs. Darling stood with her arm wrapped around his, and smiled gently at him as he spoke. "We haven't been to any recent ones...Oh-yes, but, last month Mary and I attended the ball for the music festival at the conservatory."
"How brilliant," Mrs. Locke chimed in. Until now, she seemed to have been quite hesitant towards making small talk with Mr. Darling. "Then you must have seen William play that night. He was one of the featured pianists."
Mr. Darling nodded quickly while Wendy and Mrs. Darling offered William admiring smiles.
"Yes," William took his cue to speak. "If I remember correctly, I played a piece from Chopin that night."
"That's wonderful, dear," Mrs. Darling said, giving William a courteous nod. "I believe I do recall you performing, now that you've mentioned it."
"Mr. Darling," another member of the group finally spoke. The Lockes' other four or so colleagues had barely said a word since the Darlings had walked in on their inner circle.
"Oh, please call me George," Mr. Darling told the short, white-bearded man who had addressed him.
"George," the man corrected, "if you don't mind my asking—what is it you do for a living?"
"I'm branch manager of the local Bloomsbury bank," Mr. Darling answered without hesitation. This made Wendy smile because she knew how proud her father was of his promotion in work.
"I see," the white-bearded man replied as he looked thoughtfully beside him to a tiny woman, whom Wendy assumed to be his wife. "Very well, very well."
"Hmmm," Mr. Locke speculated aloud, raising a finger intellectually to his chin. "You must know Edward Quiller Couch then?"
"Yes, of course," Mr. Darling said rapidly, still with a hint of uneasiness in his voice. "Sir Edward Quiller Couch. He is president of the bank."
"Yes, for almost 20 years now," Mr. Locke added. "He's a good acquaintance of mine."
"Is that so?" Mrs. Darling said interestedly. "Twenty years is quite an accomplishment."
"He's one of the most hard-working men in London," another refined-looking man standing next to Mr. Locke spoke. "I had the opportunity to have lunch with him a few weeks ago, and he told me all about his hectic schedule—meeting after meeting. It must be a demanding life, but he's a good man, nonetheless."
Wendy looked at her father closely. She thought these people should know what it was like being a father to and trying to support eight children, and then speak about a demanding life.
"And Edward's family is just wonderful," Mrs. Locke suggested. "Hospitable wife and lovely daughter."
Wendy noticed a sudden stir in William from the corner of her eye.
"And I must say," Mrs. Locke went on, "it is a coincidence to have mentioned the Couchs. We've been planning a dinner with them to come within the next few weeks."
"Some kind of special occasion, Elizabeth?" asked the white-bearded man's wife. Wendy did not like the way this woman projected her nose in the air as she spoke. It reminded her too much of Aunt Millicent.
"Yes, actual—"
"Please excuse me," William politely tried to speak over his mother, who was beginning to answer the question. "I should like a refreshment…Would Miss Wendy like to join me?"
Wendy raised her eyebrows and smiled at William hopefully, and then looked to her parents.
"Go on, Wendy," Mrs. Darling told her daughter reassuringly. "You haven't had a sip of anything since this morning."
As William started off, Wendy followed behind at a shy distance. She couldn't understand why she was being so different all of a sudden—so bashful, so fussy, so jittery and skittish—why she couldn't just relax. When did boys ever make her so bedazzled? What made him so exceptional? She only hoped he wouldn't notice how flustered she felt.
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William was fuming.
Why did his mother just insist on reopening such a sore subject? "A wonderful family." Ha. The Couchs had money, and that was it. Nothing William and his parents didn't already have. And to imagine Jacqueline as a wife? Well, it was simply not what William saw in his future.
But what did he see in his future then? Marriage, commitment, work, a son or daughter…Certainly none of those. And the truth was, no matter how much he refused to admit it, he was afraid.
It took William accidentally shouldering an old woman in the back and a scolding from her for him to realize just how briskly he was walking. When he looked back, he found Wendy just catching up to him. She looked rather perplexed.
"I'm sorry," William said with an embarrassed smile. "I suppose I do walk a bit fast."
"Just a bit," Wendy replied, grinning back. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," William assured the confused young lady, laughing at his own behavior. "I really just needed a break from the very interesting conversation the group was having."
"I understand," Wendy replied with a pleasant and comforting beam.
The two stopped at the side of the room, where a table stood with dozens of champagne glasses and bottles of cider lined up neatly on top of it. A server stood motionlessly behind the table with his hands folded smartly behind his back.
"Well, how about a drink?" William suggested before turning to the server. "Two please."
William watched the man as he carefully poured bubbling cider into two glasses. The liquid sizzled softly, and the server let it fizz over until passing each glass to William.
"There you are," William said, handing a glass to Wendy.
"Thank you," she replied with a gracious smile. "I am rather thirsty."
William absentmindedly drank his cider, but focused closely on Wendy over the brim of his glass. He watched as she lightly touched her rosy lips to the rim of her own glass and prettily took tiny sips of the cider. She was so careful in her movements, so precise, as if every single one was completely thought out.
William liked that.
The attentive girl, who must have noticed his seemingly not-so-sly observance, narrowed her eyes a bit humorously at William. She took her glass away from her mouth and held it conscientiously in front of her with both hands, looking away from him. William rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
Pull it together, he thought to himself.
"How did you like Madame Butterfly?" he finally asked.
"Oh, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Wendy answered instantly, looking back at him with a glow in her eyes. "It's almost silly how excited I was to see it. This is my first time at an opera."
"Is it?" William asked with a hint of amusement. He knew it.
"Yes, my very first one," Wendy replied. She let out a little laugh before going on. "You must be accustomed to these events, so it might sound a bit ridiculous to you, but I was absolutely awe-struck just by the sight of the Royal Opera House. I've always wanted to attend this kind of event."
A girl untainted by the spoils of high society, William thought with an amused smile. Resfreshing.
"Well it's wonderful that you've had the opportunity to attend such an occasion," he told Wendy. He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice before adding, "But would you like to know a secret?"
"What's that?" Wendy asked softly in return.
William wanted to tell her exactly how it was. How he had been watching her attentively from the balcony, how a light had beamed in him as she appeared between her parents, how he wished he had known her long before this moment.
"It is all a facade," he said to her, almost in a whisper. "Many of the people who regularly attend these kinds of elitist gatherings hide behind their posh clothing and extravagant jewelry to conceal something unpleasant inside of them."
"What could be so unpleasant?" Wendy asked with a faint smile, scanning the crowd of people around them.
"Spend more time with them, and you'll find out."
"You say 'them,'" Wendy replied wonderingly, "but doesn't that include you as well?"
William smiled at this.
"Yes. I do suppose you could spend more time with me if you insist."
"Oh, I wasn't suggesting…" Wendy's voice trailed off as another pretty blush tinted her cheeks.
William's mouth turned up into a smirk that Wendy didn't see.
"'Money,'" he stated erratically, hoping to relieve Wendy of her bashfulness, "'nothing worse in our lives, so current, rampant, so corrupting. Money—you demolish cities, you train and twist good minds and set them on to the most atrocious schemes.'"
Wendy took another sip of her cider and smiled at William once more.
"Sophocles," she said simply.
"Yes. I think the quote is representative of the ladies and gentlemen around us now."
Wendy laughed, again glancing at the people in the room.
"So you are quite learned," she said. "I thought you might have been hiding behind a spoiled-rich-son façade."
William laughed at the subtle way Wendy was making fun at him. Clever, he thought. Very clever.
"Well, now that we've established that I like to quote Sophocles in my spare time," William replied, "what is it that you like to do?"
Wendy nit her lip and looked around thoughtfully before answering.
"Well, I suppose I sew and practice needlepoint quite often."
"And those are things you like doing?"
Wendy grinned uncertainly before answering.
"Well, at times, I do enjoy it."
William couldn't help but laugh.
"Alright, what else?" he asked.
"I…"
William made a motion with his hand for Wendy to continue speaking.
"I…well…there was one thing I did truly enjoy doing." Wendy looked down at the floor and smiled.
"Did enjoy?"
"Yes."
"And what would that be?"
"Storytelling." Wendy looked back up at William as if she were trying to get his approval.
"Really?" William replied encouragingly. "That's quite fascinating. Who did you tell your stories to?"
"My younger brothers. When I shared the nursery with them."
"And what were your stories about?"
William saw that Wendy hesitated before speaking again.
"Oh, just silly fairy tales, I suppose. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty; just a simple dose of fantasy for children, you know?"
"I think that's wonderful. Do you not tell your stories to your brothers any longer? Have they grown up?"
"Well, I have. I don't stay in the nursery anymore."
William frowned at Wendy's answer. She could have kept telling her stories. He'd bet they must have been captivating.
"Well that should be no reason to stop," he suggested. "Perhaps you could write a book of all your stories."
"Oh, wouldn't that be a sight." Wendy laughed. "And that is certainly more easily said than done."
"Yes, it is," William agreed. "But you could do it if it's what you desire. And I should most like to hear your stories one day."
Wendy tilted her head to one side with a weak smile, staring distantly into William's eyes.
"Maybe," she replied. "One day."
William watched her beaming at him, his stare moving from each baby blue eye, then to her full, pink lips. Again, he settled his stare back up to her eyes, where he found an innocent gaze. Dazzling.
"Wendy Darling."
William looked over Wendy's shoulder, and saw Mrs. Darling approaching.
"Yes?" Wendy said, looking away from William and turning around to her mother.
"Are you ready to go?" Mrs. Darling asked while compassionately glancing to William. "I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but your father's already outside with the carriage. I'm afraid he has a bit of a headache."
"Alright," Wendy said before turning back to William.
"Miss Wendy," William spoke chivalrously, seeing that this was their goodbye after such a short time together. "It was a pleasure, and I hope to see you again soon."
"Yes, it was good to meet you." Wendy waved shyly before turning to leave.
"Good evening, ladies."
And she was gone. Without even a kiss on her hand, William let her go. But what could he do? He had never felt so unsure of himself before. This girl was different from others. But what was it? What made her so exceptional? He just hoped that she hadn't noticed how flustered he had felt.