Ch. 2: Year Eight
Wendy Darling is eight the next time she sees him.
She is alone in the nursery, crying because Aunt Beatrice is visiting, and Wendy can still hear the criticism, the constant "That is not the behavior of a proper lady, Wendy Moira!"
If Aunt Beatrice is the best example, then Wendy doesn't want to be a "proper lady"!
"What is wrong, little Sorcha?"
That voice, like a dagger wrapped in velvet, has been seared into her brain since she was four, and though it's been years since their first meeting, she recognizes it immediately.
"Ciar!"
She feels him stiffen as her arms wrap around his waist, as if he is wholly unused to physical contact, but just as she is about to pull away and apologize, he relaxes and hugs her back.
"Why do you cry, little one?" he whispers.
Wendy is too ashamed to look him in the eyes, so she buries her face in his dark coat and tells the silver buttons about Aunt Beatrice, about the criticism and contempt, and about how, sometimes, when Mummy and Daddy are out, Aunt Beatrice hits her.
The temperature in the nursery drops abruptly, the shadows deepen, and somehow Wendy knows that Ciar is very, very angry.
"Do not worry, my light," he purrs, the velvet in his voice gone. "She will never harm you again."
Aunt Beatrice complains of increasingly horrific nightmares for the next three days. On the forth day, Daddy summons the constabulary, because Aunt Beatrice is behaving like a madwoman, huddled in the corner of the sitting room and screaming that monsters, commanded by a man with glowing eyes, are trying to kill her.
They take her away in a straight-waistcoat, and Wendy wonders if Ciar does this to everyone he doesn't like.