Chapter Two

It was midnight when the Darling family finally settled into the carriage that would bring them home. Mrs. Darling, an exhausted Micheal falling asleep across her lap, reached tenderly for her daughters hand.

"You were lovely, dear. I didn't doubt you for a second."

At thirty-six, Mary Darling still looked very much the girl, her dark hair pulled up in a simple, elegant bun. She had a soft, gentle voice that had soothed her children through many a thunderstorm and wounded pride, and a calm, kindly disposition that attracted people to her.

Wendy laughed lightly, smiling at her mother gratefully. "I did all the doubting for myself. That moment...all those eyes." She shuddered.

Her mother answered with a reminiscent laugh of her own, absently stroking Micheal's curly head.

"You shouldn't have. I did the same thing, only I was worse. I bolted, and didn't stop till I'd reached the coat room and hid myself in a closet."

Wendy's hand flew to her mouth unwittingly. "Mother, you didn't!"

Her mother smiled girlishly, her features transforming as she remembered. "Oh, I most certainly did. My parents were scandalized. I had to go back and do it again."

"How awful." Wendy sympathized, flushing at the very idea.

"Yes, it was." Her mother agreed. Across the carriage, Mr. Darling chuckled. He had an open, intelligent face, his emotions clearly visible in the gray eyes that looked out from behind his square, silver rimmed glasses. A look of amusement flashed across them now as he leaned toward them, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"And that Wendy, is how I met your mother. She was the Girl Who Entered Twice. How could I not notice her?"

Mrs. Darling gave him an affectionate smack on the arm. "Don't be ridiculous. Meredith White was much prettier."

"Meredith White," Mr. Darling said seriously, "had and still has the largest nose I have ever seen. I prefer dainty noses, thank-you."

Mrs. Darling threw up her gloved hands with an expression of mock despair, and laughed.

"Don't listen to your father, Wendy. Dainty nose or not, I had to walk that carpet again, and it was mortifying. I understand your hesitancy completely."

Wendy sighed. "Well I am glad it's over, but now there's the social season..." She stopped, trying not to imagine what sort of activities she'd be forced to partake in.

Mr. Darling gave a chuckle. "The season, my dear, is nothing to worry about. There are plenty of young women your age starting with you. You'll think your life dreadfully dull now when you look back later."

Wendy nodded, but inside, she disagreed entirely. There was nothing dull about her life. She lived in the stories she wove, and so escaped the sheltered world she knew. Her parents loved her, but they were protective, often overly so. Her only means were books, and she devoured them, one after the other. She visited her fathers study regularly, usually at night, when she could snatch the stories she really wanted to read- not the prim girlish tales and pretty poems he often laid on her dresser.

Her parents understood her love of stories, but they were hardly aware of her utter passion for tales of mystery and intrigue, especially those of blood-thirsty pirates and untold sums of gold.

She had often wondered if they'd ever truly caught on to her and her siblings visits to Neverland, and had finally decided they never would. The first time they'd returned, both parents had been anxious, worried of their whereabouts. They'd told them of course, and stories of Neverland had been met with much gentle laughter and secret smiles exchanged between the two. A child's game their faces had said, Wendy's stories taking flight. Yet as the days passed, the adults memory of the event had seemed to dull and fade, and then disappear entirely. The second time they'd left, only Mrs. Darling had asked a question. The third, they hadn't notice at all.

It was a strange, mysterious thing and Wendy still puzzled over it, convinced it contained some clue of Peter's return or lack of it.

There was a slight jolt as the carriage finally rattled to a stop, startling Wendy from her reverie. Before anyone could move, John sat forward, his face fearful.

"Do you think...would she...I haven't got a dainty nose, have I?" He blurted.

"I think Lucy Knight likes your nose just fine." Mrs. Darling said kindly, an unusually playful look in her soft brown eyes. John's face went red, and he uttered several sputtering syllables before exiting the carriage hastily.

"Lucy's caught herself a beau." Mr. Darling remarked observationally.

"Good heavens, I hope not." Mrs. Darling said, suddenly worried. "He's just twelve."

"These things start early, my dear," Mr. Darling soothed. "Nothing to fuss about."

Micheal snored loudly, and they both laughed. Wendy however, remained strangely quiet.

The following morning began uneventfully, and Wendy was requested to take Micheal to Kensington Gardens. He was restless from the rainy weather they'd had the previous week, and longing to "romp about" as Mrs. Darling put it. After a stern warning from Mr. Darling to keep a sharp eye on the mischievous Micheal, they set out, Micheal flatly refusing to hold Wendy's hand as they crossed the busy street.

"I'm a man, Wendy." He'd said indignantly after she'd reached for his hand. She'd looked at him then, acknowledging he'd grown a good deal, but not nearly as much as John, who stood level with her now.

"Very well Sir Micheal. I won't tell you of Celeste's escape tonight. You may go straight to bed."

He looked up quickly at that, his face regretful. "Alright, alright. You can hold my arm. I swear I won't get run over."

"Don't swear anything." Wendy corrected. "It's impolite."

Micheal muttered something distinctly along the line of girls, and grudgingly let her pull him safely across the street. The minute they reached the grass, he tugged his arm from her grasp, and bolted towards the playground, were a juvenile game of rugby was currently in session.

Wendy stared longingly at the swing set, and then noticed Elaine Audley walking around the green with another girl, their parasols tilted so as to deflect the sun. She'd have to be proper then. It would not do to be seen by an Audley when engaging in any sort of childish activity. Inwardly sighing, Wendy walked toward the nearest bench and sat down.

Posture erect, hands folded properly in her lap and legs swept lady-like to the side, she thought about forgotten kingdoms. She'd been reading about them in an old, rather dirty book she'd discovered in the study. It was a fascinating concept, and she felt the wisp of a story sparkle inside her, a vague idea beginning to define itself in her mind.

She was soon lost in her imaginings, and watched Micheal play through faraway eyes. The suddenness of two shadows falling across her woke her abruptly from her daydream. She looked up to see Elaine and the companion, both gloved and dressed in white lace.

"Wendy," Elaine said prettily. "How nice to see you here. It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

Wendy could sense a sort of impending trap in her words, but was too interested in returning to her fantasy to pay much notice.

"Yes," She agreed."It is."

"I was just telling Nancy about the debutante ball," Elaine continued. "It was splendid, wasn't it? Your entrance was so very amusing."

Wendy nodded absently.

Elaine gave Nancy an almost smug look, and continued. "As endearing as you were, I've another reason for wishing to speak to you. I'm sure you remember the social my parents give every spring. It is, of course, Audley tradition. I've asked Jack to be my escort." She paused here, and when this did not elicit any sort of jealous response from Wendy, continued somewhat impatiently.

"He has asked that you may come as well."

Wendy was brought fully to the present at that, uttering a startled "Pardon?". She was well aware the Darlings have never been called upon to attend a private Audley social, since relations between Mr. Darling and Elaine's father were rather strained. The reason for this remained a mystery.

Elaine repeated Jack's request, her face pinched. "Thank-you." Wendy replied finally, quite at loss for what to say.

Elaine looked further annoyed."You may also bring an escort of course, or your...brothers." She wrinkled her nose at this as Michael appeared, his trousers muddied. She was clearly revolted at his current state, and sensing this, he impishly stuck his tongue out at her.

"Michael!" Wendy cried, horrified.

"It's quite alright, Wendy." Elaine replied frostily. "He is a Darling. It can't be helped." With this, she took Nancy's arm, and swept haughtily away.

"She's horrid." Michael said contemptuously. "I hope nobody marries her and she gets as fat and ugly as Aunt Agnes."

"Michael," Wendy said shocked. "You mustn't ever do such a thing again! You will apologize to her immediately. What's more, you will tell father what you've done."

"I won't, either." Michael said stubbornly. "You get more stuck up and bossy every day. You're going to be just like her."

This hurt Wendy more than she would show, and she stood up and began to walk quickly toward the street without saying a word. She knew her behavior could often be seen as prudish, but it was what they expected of her- Lady Catherine, Headmistress, even Mrs. Darling. To be a lady was to be dignified and appropriate, and above all, proper. Her response to Micheal's insolent act had been very proper. So why then, did she feel so defensive?

Because he was right. She was getting worse. Only the adults seemed to think she was getting better.

What had Mrs. Nelson said last week at afternoon tea?

My, Wendy, you're such a lady. Nearly a grown up!

Wendy sighed, frustrated. Elaine was a horrid girl, and secretly, she wished Michael's ghastly wish would come true. Only she could never say such a thing, or act as if she did. It was all terribly confusing, and very unfair. Not for this first time, she wished for the freedom of having being born a boy. They could romp and yell and sail and see the pyramids and climb mountains and state their opinions and no one minded in the least.

She stopped her rapid walking, and waited patiently for Michael. He appeared, looking slightly remorseful, his hands tucked sheepishly into his dirty trousers.

"Aw Wendy, I didn't mean it like that. You just get grown up a lot. I liked it better when-"

Here he stopped, uncertain as to whether he should continue.

"When...?" Wendy asked gently.

"When...when I was small. When we played pirates. When Peter was here!" He burst out. " You let me do anything." He finished.

Wendy was taken aback. "Not...anything."

Michael grinned. " Almost."

"That was so long ago, you can't really remember-"

"I do remember." Michael interrupted defiantly. "I do! I remember it all. Peter makes everything different. He makes...he makes you different."

Wendy was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Peter's not here Michael. Now let's go home, Mother will be waiting."

They arrived to find the house in a flurry of activity. An unusually distracted Mrs. Darling met them at the door.

"Wendy, Michael. Thank goodness you're back." She turned to give a quick order to the maid about changing the table linens, then set about straightening all the nearby picture frames.

"What is it Mother?" asked Michael curiously.

"Your Aunt Louise decided to visit much earlier than expected." Mrs. Darling replied worriedly.

"Is she here right now?" Wendy asked, surprised.

"Yes. Upstairs, unpacking. I'm trying to get the house in order before she rejoins us."

"Is she nice?" asked Michael, who'd been too small to remember her last visit.

Mrs. Darling laughed. "Have a look at what she brought for you. It's been put on your bed."

Michael immediately took off towards his room.

"You can go take your seat at the table already Wendy dear, we'll be eating in a minute." Said Mrs. Darling.

Wendy went and sat down, noticing their best china had been put out. Something wet licked her leg, and she knowingly lifted up the tablecloth.

"Nana! No frolicking under the table." The large dog barked affectionately in response, it's white bonnet lopsided. Wendy laughed. "Alright. You may stay. But you mustn't lick the guest."

"That's quite alright, I've got three mischievous pups of my own at home," a cheerful voice said. Wendy looked up to see a small, dimpled woman dressed entirely in red beaming at her. Her wildly curly hair was piled to a staggering height, and held in place by several precariously placed jeweled pins. Her very presence seemed to fill the room and brighten it.

"Aunt Louise." Wendy said shyly, faintly remembering the smiling face.

"The very one. Heavens above child, you've shot up like a weed." She paused momentarily. "That's rather a nasty example, isn't it? On the contrary, you look the very opposite of a weed. Your hair's up now is it? Yes, I suppose sixteen is when that rubbish starts. I did so like those bows your wore in your curls." She tsked sadly, and plopped herself into a chair.

Wendy stared. She had never seen a lady plop herself into anything.

Mr. Darling and a slightly flustered Mrs. Darling entered the room, followed by both John and a glowing Michael. Mr. Darling gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek, and took a seat next to her.

"I was just speaking with Miss Wendy here," Aunt Louise said, ignoring the serving maid and helping herself to her own biscuits. "She has grown, hasn't she? And look at those eyes. She's a dreamer I expect, they've got that starry look. And John, he's half a man already! Mark my words, there'll be a beard soon. Gracious, time runs like the wind. I must be getting old."

"You, old?" Mr. Darling chuckled. "Hardly."

Aunt Louise harrumphed something, and then turned to John. "How do you like it?"

"Very well. Thank you." John said grinning. Wendy spotted a thick, shiny encyclopedia of sorts tucked under his chair.

"And you?" She asked, turning to Michael. He nodded so enthusiastically, he nearly upset his soup bowl. She turned back to Wendy, her sharp green eyes amused. "I suppose you're wondering what your gift is, Wendy." She said.

"No really, it's alright-" Wendy began, flushing.

Aunt Louise waved her off. "You didn't think I forgot you, did you? Nonsense! Your gift simply can't be wrapped. Now, am I right to say you've never been outside London?" Aunt Louise asked, somewhat disapprovingly.

"Well, yes-" Wendy began.

"A disgrace," Aunt Louise huffed. "A girl like you ought to be seeing the world. Which, my dear, is why I have decided to take you to Scotland with me this summer."

For a moment, the room was entirely silent. George Darling exchanged a startled, worried look with his wife as Nana whined anxiously under the table.

"Scotland?" Wendy breathed finally, hardly daring to believe it.

"Indeed." Aunt Louise replied jovially. "Did you know the men wear skirts there? Now there's a story for you girl, they've never seen the likes of it here. And the fields! Greener than envy."

"What about bagpipes?" John asked curiously. " Do they really play those?"

"Entirely too often if you ask me, but they're lovely when you're not trying to sleep."

"How many times have you been?" Wendy asked, faint with excitement.

"Three times my girl, twice for a funeral and once for a wedding. I was good friends with a girl named Mildred when I was your age, and she was a Scot through and through, so miserable here in London the poor dear had to move back. She's got just heaps of relatives there, and there's always one dying or getting married. It's only a matter of time really, before I'm sent for again." Aunt Louise chortled.

"But...would that be alright, me accompanying you?" Wendy asked uncertainly.

"Nonsense! If they like a batty old woman, they'll certainly like you."

"You're not batty." Michael disagreed.

"I certainly am." Aunt Louise said sternly. "And don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise, young man."

It was late when they finally retired from the dining room. Aunt Louise was an engaging story teller, with a lifetimes worth of marvelous tales from her travels. Through it all, Wendy had sat in a sort of silent awe, wondering if the future she had once imagined for herself might not be so impossible after all. If Aunt Louise could travel, plop herself into chairs, and disregard marriage and children as was expected then surely, possibly...couldn't she?

Of course she wanted children someday, but not now. Not here. It frightened her to think that becoming a wife was her only option, the only respectable thing she could ever do. To whom would she tell her stories? At what time could she day dream? Read her books? Write her poems?

Never, it seemed. Only endless rounds of tea parties and socials, with few other proper feminine pursuits, play acting as a pirate certainly not among them. Wendy flushed. Of course she would never admit she still loved to play act, or that being a pirate remained a secret, childish wish. What would her parents think?

She sighed, absently looking at the moonbeams streaked across the wooden floor. It was still the same beloved nursery, not a bookcase nor dresser moved. Of course John had taken his bed when he'd gone across the hall, but Micheal had asked them to leave his there. He still liked to sneak into it some nights when he wanted a story, or simply to sleep in the safety of the nursery, which possessed it's own special magic to ensure a deep, dream-filled slumber.

When the house was finally quiet, Wendy slid silently from her bed and pulled a shawl around her shoulders. The little gas lamp with the roses painted on it's porcelain base stood on her dresser, and she hooked her finger into it's holder and walked toward the nursery window, the floor creaking beneath her feet.

She set it carefully on the ledge and crawled up beside it, curling herself into the little seat as she'd done so many times before. When she'd wrapped herself into the shawl, and only the hem of her nightgown peeped out, she released a quiet breath and leaned her head against the glass. London was a faint glow beneath her, the smoke drifting silently from it's chimney's as the city slept.

Like me, Wendy thought. I should be sleeping.

But she couldn't.

Not until...not until...

Her eyes fell shut, the night sky before her sparkling with promise. If she could have seen the shimmer of the stars just then, heard the faint laughter in the breeze, she would have known her wish had been granted. But Wendy Darling only stirred in her sleep, and dreamed on, blissfully unaware of the magic to come.