Hi, my dear readers!

I'm sorry that it took longer this time to get the new update ready, but you know the old problem called 'time'. My dear beta-reader, who did another excellent job on my writing, and I were very busy and I'm glad that we managed it to have the new chapter ready to put in online today.

Like the title already says (and what was hinted in the last chapter), Hook (and Peter) are going to learn / visit 'modern' London now. Our captain does the very necessary shopping (guess how this will go), then he and Peter got a sightseeing trip and George Darling goes all 'Sherlock Holm'sy' on Dalton Ashford.

Have fun

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 62 – Coming To Know London

Somehow Mr. Darling managed to reach St. Catherine Docks in just a half hour. The gangway of the ship was extended, a smaller motorcar was parked nearby. As he left the Adler and stepped on the gangway, he was challenged by a very large, dark skinned man with dreadlocks, but a shorter greybeard waved him off. Round face, spectacles, twinkling eyes – for once Mr. Darling could put a name to the face.

"Mr. Smee?" he said as he reached the deck.

"Aye, Bryan Smee at yer service, sir. Mr. Darlin'?" the bosun replied. George nodded. Smee accepted the proffered hand and grinned, shaking the other's hand enthusiastically, "What ye did t' th'capt'n last night is THE topic aboard, sir! Some o' th' lads were sure ye had a slate loose in th' attic, but I tol' em, nah, tha's our gel's father! Y' showed yer pluck, tha's a fact. Ye kin call yerself lucky tha' ye're Miss Wendy's da, though. I dinna thin' th' capt'n would ever allow anyone t' get away alive after punchin' 'im."

George swallowed a gasp, finally realizing he'd taken his life in his hands the night before, smiled tightly, and freed his hand from the enthusiastic welcome.

Smee nodded approvingly, then he gestured to the satchel. "Clothes fer Pan?" Looking around, they saw the captain and the young reporter – Kempton – leaving the cabin. The younger man dressed in his usual day clothes. They descended to meet Wendy's father and the bosun.

"Good morning, Mr. Darling," Hook greeted his visitor with touch of good humor while offering him his left hand.

George replied, greeted Daniel, then continued. "I apologize for being late, but … it was after three before we got to bed. Out of a poorly timed consideration, my wife had switched off the alarm clock." He shrugged; inwardly begging Mary's forgiveness for using her for an excuse.

"Ah!" James nodded with a half-smile. "The ladies love to mother us. And speaking of ladies, I hope you weren't hard on your daughter."

Now George gave the half-smile. "I talked with her, but don't worry, Captain. Her head is still on her shoulders. She also reminded me that her resistance to propriety spared us both a trip to the manor to save our 'damsel in distress'."

Hook barked a laugh. "Hah, that sounds exactly like our sweet wildcat! She was actually indignant when I complained how my quarters were almost destroyed by her battle with six harpies … they left such a mess." He shook his head, then laughed, "How is your hand doing?"

George silently vowed to himself to read her "great novel in three parts about her adventures." "Recovering," he replied. Then he peered sourly at the captain's chin. "How is it that you … uh… show no trace?"

"It seems Peter's fairy treated us both with the fairy ointment last night. By morning everything had healed." He touched his jaw. "Good stuff, that fairy medicine." He saw Kempton smile, and glanced at the bag George carried. "Clothes for Peter?" he guessed.

"Yes, from my wife." Mr. Darling nodded towards the quarter deck. "Still asleep?"

"He took his breakfast, but sleeps again," James replied. "Sleep was troublesome for him. Nightmares, too much to think about, you understand. He seemed to relax after I tucked him into the larger bed. The boy is so proud of his independence, but it seems lately he reached his limit." Taking the case, he added, "Thank you for the clothes," and passed them to Smee. "Give this to Peter when he wakes." Then he turned his attention back to George. "What time should we expect your carriage for the dinner and tour?"

"I will try to be here around four o'clock so that you and the boy can see more of London in the daylight, but …"

Daniel interrupted. "Captain Hook informed me what happened last evening, and that you invited him and Peter to your home for dinner. I also know you will need to spend time on Ashford's finances. Perhaps you, Mr. Darling, could use your time more effectively looking into the viscount's dubious financial methods, taking the time you need. And I'll do the sightseeing tour with Captain Hook and Peter after our clothing purchase. Then we'll traverse to your home, and I'll pick up Victoria to return her to her aunt and uncle in Mayfair. What say you?"

The two other men exchanged glances, then James replied, "If this is acceptable for you," he added, gesturing to the father.

"Or course, yes! Under one condition. You, Mr. Kempton, and the Lady Victoria are invited to dinner. And afterward, you two can drive to the Bellinghams."

Daniel smiled at him and tipped his bowler. "Thank you, Mr. Darling, most generous of you."

"All right, then let us get this shopping over with," Hook said with sigh.

"Not a fan?" George asked, not surprised.

"It's not that I'm against a few new clothes. Alas, I've lost so many shirts, breeches and even coats during all the mischief in Neverland that I have barely enough to change into. But today's style is more … simple." He grimaced. "No offense, gentlemen, but in my time the clothes were more, um … expressive."

"Good description," Daniel deadpanned. "But, believe me, the new style is more comfortable, easier to care for and put on."

Hook looked at him dubiously, then turned to Smee. "Keep an eye on Pan." Then he remembered another pair of mystical eyes and ears that could keep watch. He cleared his throat and called out, "Esteban! A moment, please!"

To George's continuing wonder, no crew member came running, but a distinct 'pop' sounded. He stepped back in shock as a miniature pirate appeared next to the captain. "You called, Capitaño?" the creature rasped, then glanced with green-blue eyes – the colors of the sea – at the other mortals. "Morning, writer," he greeted Daniel before he grinned broadly at Mr. Darling. "And Mr. Pugilist. Really, how you punched Blue-Eyes here will go down in the ship's annals."

While Hook rolled his eyes, Mr. Darling could only gasp in shock at the mini-pirate smoking a pipe, a hammer fixed on his belt. "Wha -"

"May I introduce Esteban, my ship's Klabautermann," James replied formally, but he frowned over a new problem. "Esteban, Dark Owl saw eyes in my cabin last night and felt a foreign presence aboard. Did you -"

", the witch looked in on the boy, but our Indian's animal spirit chased her away." Esteban pointed his pipe at Hook. "You two be careful. She -"

"- is the reason why I called you. Dark Owl will guard Peter in my absence and I'm sure the three little nuisances will do the same. However, Señor Esteban, I would breathe easier knowing that you are watching over the ship. I'm sure the witch – Lunette – has other tricks up her sleeve. As a sprite, you can sense it."

"Si, me and Bumblyn." The Klabautermann grinned. "You should know, he is finally awake and huuuungry." He rolled his eyes.

"Of course he is," Hook sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "All right. Smee, tell Cookson to feed Bumblyn bread, cheese and honey. That should be enough for the morning." He looked down at the Klabautermann. "And you, Esteban, watch over the ship and -" Esteban had already disappeared with a 'pop', his hat lingering in the air, then a hand came from nowhere, grabbed it and vanished, too. With a dry smirk, James could have bet his last shirt that the sprite had done this to impress the astonished Mr. Darling. "Don't mind him, he's a prankster," he said to Wendy's father.

"A … a … Klabautermann," George murmured. "Wendy and the boys spoke of him but … I never thought …"

"He was real?" Hook laughed wryly. "Aye, when you're in Neverland you begin to understand what you've overlooked in the 'real' world your whole life." He turned to the gangway. "Mr. Herb, as soon as these men and I have left the ship, pull up the gangway – and no one comes aboard except for the Darlings, Mr. Kempton, Lady Victoria or me." He hesitated. "Have I forgotten anyone?" As Daniel shook his head, clearly amused, James nodded and descended, George and Daniel following.

None of them could know that the turbulent day before had only been a foretaste of what was to come …

*** PP ***

Entering the Bank of England, George went to the office of the forensic accountant, Ben Taylor. After a knock on the door, he greeted his colleague who had become a friend over the last years. Shaking hands, Ben said, "I'm glad that you're already here, George. It seems you stirred up the hornet's nest. You've a good nose for fraud, I'll give you that." Wendy's father sat down by Ben's desk.

"Bad?" he asked carefully.

"Worse! The viscount took out loans from all the London banks I've checked so far, declaring them as investments for his father, acting as his legal substitute. He used false offers of building contracts, supposedly to enlarge their office building, but after I contacted the contractors, I learned that no contracts had been made. He also spoke with our bank for an investment at the docks, but his plans were never cleared with the new Harbor Authority. Now, they're still busy unpacking at the new offices, but I spoke with one of the supervisors. The Ashford Company never made an application for an extension of her dock. I also made a few more telephone calls yesterday and am still waiting for answers, but I'm almost sure that the results will be the same."

"In other words, Ashford the younger wangled a few credits in the name of his father's company, abusing the earl's reputation?"

"To put it straight: Yes." Ben grimaced. "All right, if we want to press charges against him, we require a few original documents, like the faked offers from the other companies – or at least a statement from them that no contract was made with the Ashford Company, yet -"

George tapped his friend's arm. "Give me the names and addresses of those companies, I'll get those written statements."

"Hm, how much time do you have? One is in Greenwich, one at the Isle of Dogs and -"

"I have all day," Mr. Darling said calmly. "Sir Edward gave me the entire day to use for the investigation."

Taylor whistled. "Then it really must be important! One moment, I'll write them down for you."

George nodded and leaned back. If he got paper and signatures regarding Ashford's deeds, he had the leverage to get the ruthless nobleman away from Wendy, Hook, Peter Pan and his own family!

*** PP *** PP ***

"You want to do what?"

Wendy stared at Victoria, while the two girls, Mrs. Darling and Liza strolled through old Covent Garden Market. It was a quick trip from the tube down Kingsway and another stop, then a short walk to the most popular markets of London, originating sometime in the middle ages. The now a few decades old hall, with its high, bowed glass roof held by green iron columns, was indeed beautiful – and it guaranteed dry feet even in England's abysmally rainy weather.

"I told you, I can find the records on the Shalfords and the Ashfords. Many reports and documents from the last centuries can be found in the House of Commons Library of Westminster Palace, and my aunt has access to it …" Vicky held up a few articles of clothing with a critically appraising eye, talking to Wendy, "… as do I. And then we can check the case records concerning the accusation and the trial of your captain's father and brother." She frowned at the piece in her hands. "What do you think? Will this go with my new dress for tea?"

Wendy frowned, too. "Vicky, be realistic. Don't you think that those documents were likely destroyed in the fire of 1834? I read that the House of Lords' Library burned along with a good part of the palace. And no, that color is all wrong for you." They stopped at a stall that sold fruits – among them strawberries from Spain.

"Not true. Many of the documents and books were saved before the fire reached them," Vicky explained. "Just let me try. I've always wanted to poke around a bunch of dusty old books in a dusty old library. We might find evidence that the accusation was completely invented, and that would give your James the chance to force justice and re-open the case against his family. Let's get some of those," she pointed at the bright red berries.

"A pound of the strawberries please," Wendy said to the shopkeeper, then glanced back at her friend. "You do realize that this would be a black mark against your own family?"

"Part of my family – a quarter, to be precise. And if the manor rightfully belongs to your captain, then he should have it." Victoria winked at her. "After all, you two want your happily ever after somewhere else than on the ship, don't you?"

"You think that James and I … should live there?"

"Why not?" Vicky shrugged. "Uncle Marlow took my father's company and I doubt there will be anything in his estate for my future husband – or at least he will demand to keep more than fifty percent of the voting shares, which would retain him as the owner. It's only right that he loses the manor." She took the sack from the seller while Wendy paid for the fruits. So expensive! But for James and Peter she was willing to pay the price. "And, by the way, my uncle mostly stays in Devonshire because of his fragile health," Victoria continued. "And if it's revealed that Dalton is 'on the fiddle,' he might have to … well … visit a home with barred windows. So there would be no one living in the manor – and a house must have residents. Ooh, I'll take some chestnuts, too."

Wendy giggled, tucking away her purse. "And you can have your revenge from your uncle stealing your father's company," she concluded, stating the obvious.

"Me? Revenge?" Victoria looked at her innocently, paying for the chestnuts. "Whatever must you think of me, my dear friend?"

Elbowing the other girl, Wendy grinned, "Come on, you want to kill those two birds with one lawsuit -" Wendy heard her mother calling for her and Vicky. Mary and Liza were at another stall waving at them. "Right, I think we have to help with all those bags," Wendy whispered. "And I think that's a splendid idea about the records. But let's get on it when the dragon egg is safe and Peter is back in Neverland. Those two things are most important."

Victoria nodded and smiled impishly … as did Wendy …

*** PP *** PP ***

Dalton sat at his desk in the townhouse, frown showing his concentration. At the other end of line was the Ashford's solicitor, trying to explain why he hadn't been able to confirm or deny the legitimate arrival of five orphan boys five years before.

"To put it another way, Milord, if you don't have at least the state in which this children's home was located and the name of the lady who owned it, I see no chance of getting any solid information. And, please don't forget, American offices are structured differently than ours. I don't think that they keep detailed records of everything – they're not Germans, you know."

Dalton rolled his eyes. "Then let us approach this from a different direction. The Darlings got their adopted sons approximately five years ago. If this anonymous aunt died, and the boys came to London, there must be some records – entry clearances, registration at the customs office, etc. And I'm sure our authorities keep those records for years."

"You're right, Milord, but do you have at least a date when those boys came to England? A city where they landed? There are many ships every week that come from the colonies. Some make stops in Ireland or Canada, and record a whole other point of origin, and they land everywhere: London, Bristol, Plymouth, Portsm -"

"I don't need the geography lesson. I am painfully aware that far too many foreigners arrive daily on our island," the viscount growled. "Just try to find out when the boys arrived – if they arrived officially at all."

"Why shouldn't they -"

Again Dalton interrupted the hard-pressed solicitor. "Because I think the entire story of a dead aunt and her accompanying orphans and fortune is a lie."

There was a pause in the line. Then the advocate slowly asked, "And why is this of interest to you, Milord?"

Ashford had thought carefully over his response, and he answered, "Because I want to confirm the background of the family whose daughter I am courting, and whose daughter I wish to marry. If her dowry comes from fraudulent means, I'll keep my distance."

"Understood," the lawyer sighed. "I will continue to look into it, Milord."

"You do that," the viscount answered. They said their goodbyes, and he made another call to Surrey. He learned there was no news. The egg was still an egg, the potion was ready and only needed the dragon blood, and the boy was still on Shalford's ship. Lunette promised him that she would inform him instantly should something change. More frustrated than ever, Dalton slammed down the receiver, and chewed his thumbnail.

*** PP *** PP ***

Hook stared at his image in the haberdasher's tall mirror, not recognizing anything of what he saw. The man who looked back at him had his features, his moustache and goatee, the same intense eyes, blue as forget-me-nots, but there ended the similarity. Gone were the ruffled shirt, the breeches and the long waistcoat with its heavy embroidery. The man in the mirror wore a simple white shirt with a stiff collar, accentuated by a small black tie. The rest of the clothes were dark blue: The short waistcoat, the long (!) trousers and the formal coat – well, that was at least knee-length! Two double rows of golden buttons closed it, the sleeves displayed three gold stripes and another of gold rhombuses – the sign of an independent sea captain. He still wore his own boots, but even they would go when shoes were required. This all was, well, acceptable, but the 'hat' was really taking the biscuit. He had seen these 'caps' a few times since he had arrived in modern London, but having one placed on his own head was … shocking. Worst of all, in WHITE! Well, only the top was white, but still …

"Here's another one for you, Captain," the eager salesman said, and offered him the third or fourth cap – at least this one was dark blue and black.

Hook took the ridiculous thing in his left hand. "And what is this called … uh … here in London?" He was trying not to appear ignorant in front of the salesman, who was sincerely attempting to satisfy his unusual customer's wishes.

"A 'peaked cap', Captain," the man answered, surprised.

"So, the same as in America," Daniel Kempton commented, and Hook got the hint: Stop asking the obvious.

Sighing, James changed the cap and even if he still thought that these 'captain's caps' were much too simple and SMALL, the dark color looked less … silly.

"And for these colder days, I would suggest something to wear beneath the coat," the salesman said and vanished once again in the depths of the shop, on Cable Street that sold only clothes and other items for 'personal requirements' for merchant captains and their officers. Ordinary sailor wear was sold two doors away.

"He hopes to be quid in," Hook grumbled, an old name for a big business deal.

Daniel grinned. That was true! Hook needed everything new – from the personal underclothes ("Men wear that?"), to stockings ("They feel too short"), nightwear ("That couldn't have changed! Gowns for men!"), shirts and ties ("There is no decoration at all!") to long trousers ("Short trousers only on boys now?"). Even the knee-length captain's coat got his come-uppance: "Drab and unadorned, and far too narrow. How shall I fence in such a coat?" To Daniel's great relief, Hook's comments were always done in a hushed voice and only when the salesman was off to gather other choices.

"Try to accept it, Captain. This is today's fashion," the young reporter shrugged, but James could see the smile behind his eyes. This Kempton was highly amused. Blast it all!

"Here you go, sir!" The salesman came back and carried two or three … uh … shirts made of wool? "These turtleneck pullovers are made of the finest wool coming from the Highland sheep in Scotland. I also can offer you some woven with silk, but these are sturdier and easier to clean." He placed them on the counter. "And here is one for the very cold days." He laid another one of these (turtleneck-what-was-the-rest-of-the-name?) beside the other ones and unfolded it. It was made of thick bleached wool knitted into interesting patterns. The collar was straight, too. "If you want, I can also offer you one of these Arans with an open collar that can be buttoned up so that you can wear a shirt and a tie beneath it. Many of our captains wear them now during their free time – at least here in London."

Hook only nodded slowly. "I apologize for … my confusion regarding these items. I'm from the Carolinas and the Caribbean. Heavy clothes are anathema there."

The man nodded considerately. "Of course, Captain. Different climes demand different clothes. I'll get you another Aran."

James nodded and while the salesman dashed off again, Hook glanced at Kempton, eyebrows raised. "Alas, what is an Aran?"

"Aran pullovers are mostly known in Ireland, but similar pullovers are also knitted in Scotland. The patterns have different meanings; mostly they represent protection, or the work at sea. Or they represent important crafts which are typical for the area of the country where they were produced."

"Hm, then I should get one for Smee," James mumbled.

Daniel smiled. "I'm sure he would be very grateful. These pullovers are loved by seamen all over. Simple seafarers and fishers use the so-called fishermen's pullover, made of blue wool with a simple straight pattern, but the Arans are better quality. And they're all quite comfortable and keep you warm under your coat. I recommend two of them and two of the lighter ones."

James grimaced. "In other words, two complete sets of everything – two trousers, two waistcoats, two coats, two caps, a few stockings…" He sighed. "And shirts! At least five or six. When you're dealing with Wendy Darling and Peter Pan you have to assume you will lose one or two of your shirts per adventure."

Daniel chuckled. "Don't you think that your adventures are over?"

"Far from it," James snorted. "At least as long as Pan is here."

And he would be right.

*** PP ***

While Hook was paying for his multiple purchases, Peter had gone back to bed after breakfast, trying to figure a way to trick Mr. Kempton into taking Hook and himself to Kensington Gardens. Tink tried to speak with him a few times, but he waved her off and turned the cold shoulder at her so that she finally gave up. He spoke with Dark Owl, who arrived a few minutes after Hook's departure, but in the middle of their chat, the boy fell asleep; watched over by the young Indian. He twice felt the presence of that witch fighting with his animal spirit, which soon chased the searching eyes away.

James and Daniel arrived around midday, accompanied by two crewmembers carrying multiple bags containing the captain's booty. Their arrival aroused Peter out of his slumber. Still groggy he looked at the four men. Mullins and Mason were well known to him, Daniel was familiar by now, too, but the fourth man … Peter wasn't aware that his jaw dropped as he stared at the tall man with the familiar face clad in dark blue.

Those piercing blue eyes looked at him with some mockery, as the familiar dark voice teased, "Trying to catch flies, Pan?" The hook indicated the table. "Put the bags over there!"

The bogeys also stared at Hook, while the young Indian seemed to fight a grin, asking bluntly, "Does Iron-Hands feel as strange in his new clothes as Dark Owl does in these?"

James snorted. "As you say," he admitted while shrugging off the overcoat, made of a foreign material that kept one dry. Daniel had explained to him how 'rubber' was made, yet Hook had still to wrap his mind around the fact that there existed something that was truly waterproof. Laying the overcoat over the next chair, he asked Peter, "What is it, m'boy? Cat got your tongue?"

"H-Hook?" the youth asked surprised, while his eyes raked over the captain's unusual appearance. Throwing the covers aside and rising, Peter approached to the man. "By the fairies' wings, you look … different!" he said.

"So does a certain boy in a man's shirt and stockings," Hook shot back, shaking his head.

Peter walked around Hook and continued to appraise the new look. "Uh … I mean … I've seen these clothes before, but …" He scratched his head as he paused in front of James. "The colors look good. And your coat is kind of like your old one, but … I liked your old hats better." The other men grinned; they held their tongues, knowing better than to blurt out what they thought.

"Then we agree," James sighed and took up the cap. "But a captain's hat has changed considerably compared to my day. And I will bow to today's fashion – at least for now."

Peter reached out and carefully touched the long black curls now bound at the back of his neck. "But you will keep your long hair, won't you?" he asked concerned. "It's … it's you."

Looking down at him, Hook had to smile. "Fear not, boy. I will keep my hair as it is. And, by the way, thanks to Mr. Kempton's diligent colleague who wrote the article about my men and me in his newspaper, the whole of London thinks I'm from America and the Caribbeans. A foreign appearance is therefore expected."

There was a knock and Smee entered; Cookson following with a tray and three plates. "Lunch fer ye, Pan an' Mr. Kempton, Capt'n," the bosun said.

While Cookson busied himself setting up the table and stealing looks at his transformed captain, Smee took out the new clothes. He'd already seen the new look as the captain came aboard, yet he was curious about the pullovers. When Kempton told him that the thick ones were of Irish origin, he smiled happily. Hook, who had put aside the new captain's coat and stood there in shirt, waistcoat and tie, gestured for Peter to sit down and have lunch. When Cookson left with Mullins, Mason and Dark Owl, James approached Smee, giving him one of the bags.

"This is for you. I know we'll have to redress the entire crew, but before that, at least my bosun should wear something … appropriate."

Smee looked wide-eyed at Hook. Before this, his captain sometimes shared his cigars with him, or some rum or wine. Hook also didn't complain (much) when Smee served himself tea from his samovar. Under certain circumstances, Hook even invited him to dine with him. But never before had Brian received a present from his captain.

Fighting down the sudden lump in his throat, Smee opened the bag and gasped as he saw the knitted sweater in its natural color. Unfolding it, he gazed admiringly at the beautiful, warm garment.

"I hope it's your size. If not, it can be exchanged, as the salesman in the shop told me," Hook said quietly. He cleared his throat and looked away, as he saw those old eyes watering, and prayed that Smee would maintain control and wouldn't -

Well, he should have known better. Irish people are emotional, and Smee was never one for standing on etiquette. Hook made a noise of 'Hmpf' as his bosun threw his arms around him as if they were brothers, and squeezed him tightly enough to make his ribs creak. "T'ank ye, Capt'n! T'ank ye! Tha's th' foinest present I ever got!"

Hook stared straight ahead, feeling the eyes of the others on him. And promptly Peter guffawed, Daniel chuckled, and the fairies commented something about 'how sweet,' Kailen cheered in his typically pixie fashion. The captain closed the eyes and groaned. Alas, his reputation! Grins all around, he thought I should have waited until I'm alone with the man! As the grizzled Irishman released him, Hook cleared his throat and straightened his new clothes. "Mr. Smee, please! Some decorum!" he hissed.

The bosun only smiled, cheeks pinked with pleasure. "Tha' was overdue, sir!" Pressing the pullover close, as if a most valuable treasure, he went to the door. "I'll try it on, sir!" he called and vanished – the rest of the rest clothes lying about, still not put away.

Hook closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. "Why me!" he sighed and went to the table. "Mr. Kempton, please, sit. Peter, come eat your lunch. Afterward, you will make your presentable."

"You mean, I have to change into the clothes Wendy's father brought?" he translated and dropped into the chair in front of his lunch.

"Aye, but first you have to wash and to comb that mop on your head," James said, taking his own seat.

Peter stared at him. "Wash? Again? I just had a bath last night! I'm still clean! Look!" He held out his hands now devoid of the normal grime of Neverland.

"You were tossing around in bed for eighteen hours, so a bath is definitely indicated." As the boy opened his mouth with a scowl, Hook added firmly, "No protest, Pan! You'll wash, comb your hair, and put on regular clothes – otherwise you will stay here." As Peter was about to take up some of the food in his hand, Hook barked, "And use fork and knife, for God's sake. When we're at the Darlings', I don't want you making us look like brutes."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I do know table manners! I attended the fairies' balls since I was little."

"I heard they lick up the spilled sweets from the tablecloths," the captain taunted. "I do hope you don't want to demonstrate to the Darlings those kind of 'fairy manners'."

Sticking his tongue out to Hook, Peter took fork and knife, and began to eat properly, ignoring the mockeries of the two fairies, as well as Hook's evident surprise.

*** PP ***

Almost an hour later Peter was washed, combed, and clad in proper attire (belonging to Nibs and John) but quite unhappy with the results. Everything was so uncomfortable! And even if the materials were soft and the shoes didn't pinch his toes, being fully clothed was unpleasant. He was used to the complete freedom of movement his Neverland attire provided, but he knew that he would have to wear others until he was back in Neverland. And, if he wasn't able to change Niam's decision concerning Hook … well, he would follow through with his threat: he would say goodbye to his leafy garments forever.

Tink 'stuck her finger' in this open wound when she reminded him of the freedom he would lose if he remained in the Mainland. But Peter was still determined to go through with his plan and shook his head. "I'll speak with Mab and she'll have to contact her mother. She has to!" he hissed. He felt for his pipe at the belt beneath the waistcoat. His knife was hidden in the pocket of his short tweed pants. His fairy only rolled her eyes. Her boy was so hardheaded! Yet she loved him for his strong will that had 'saved the day' on many occasions. But sometimes he really peeved her with his bull-headed determination.

Returning into the main room of the cabin, Peter walked in on a heated discussion between Bumblyn and the captain. The bogey wanted to go with them, but Hook demanded otherwise.

"But Bumblyn to the Wendy lady must go! Her friend he is and she needs –"

"You would eat the Darlings out of house and home. Also, Mr. Kempton is taking Peter and myself on a sightseeing tour through the town, Bumblyn. A town full of people, motorcars and new machines. You won't like it and you must not be seen. So stay here, in this cabin or below deck, the end!" James turned to see Peter emerging from the dressing room. "Hm! Will wonders never cease! Peter Pan, clad in common clothes. And even that mop on your head is almost tamed."

Peter had a retort on the tip of his tongue but stopped himself, rolling his eyes while peering into the suitcase. As he pulled out the coat that had belonged to Nibs, Bumblyn appeared beside him; looking pleadingly at him. Seeing that Hook was distracted by Mr. Kempton, he quickly plopped the Hobgoblin into the suitcase; knowing that Hook wanted to return the luggage to the Darlings. So Bumblyn would be reunited with his Wendy lady. As he slipped on his coat, Tink and Aurora hid in the boy's collar, while Kailen had already slipped in the pocket of Hook's new waterproof coat; unnoticed by the buccaneer. Taking the suitcase, Peter called: "I'm ready!"

"Finally!"

They left the captain's quarters and Peter saw Smee standing by the gangway, wearing his new sweater. It fit him well, looking warm and cozy. The boy sighed. He would have preferred such a pullover instead of the shirt and waistcoat he wore, but Hook had made it clear that proper boy's clothes were appropriate when invited to dinner. After parting orders, Hook left the ship; Daniel allowed Peter to put the suitcase in the small trunk of his motorcar, then he gestured to their seats and began to start the vehicle. Slipping behind the wheel and pulling the choke, it finally started chugging – with Peter between the two men, two fairies in the boy's collar, one pixie in the captain's pocket and a nervous Hobgoblin in the trunk. Packed away again, Bumblyn thought resignedly.

Daniel used the route Mrs. Darling had used the day prior. They soon were in the middle of London's chaotic traffic, yet the many motorcars, buses, bicycles and carriages no longer captured the attention of the Neverland passengers, now traveling at a reasonable speed. The enormous buildings, constructed in different neoclassic styles; the white, beige or red-brick facades; the many shops; the many types of men and women; the noises … everything was foreign to them. Even Peter, who had been in London many times before, had never seen the town like this – always flying over it at night and returning to Neverland before the sun rose.

They drove toward St. Paul's Cathedral, which Hook knew from his time. As a boy, the church was under construction after burning down during the Great Fire in 1666, rebuilt in the Baroque style; famous for its white color, the high columns and the large dome. James had visited it two times after it had been blessed and opened in 1708, and he was glad to see that monumental building within London hadn't changed.

Peter was likewise taken with the sight of the vast construction, but for another reason than Hook. He had often chased Tink around the top spire, or woven between the high columns of the building, only seeing the church from above and never paying attention to it, but here – from the ground – he finally saw how large and beautiful the building was. To put it plainly: The Prince of Neverland was awestruck.

Soon, pirate captain and boy were awestruck again, this time by Westminster Palace. To give his two passengers the best view of the government's seat, Daniel crossed the Thames via Waterloo Bridge, drove along the south side of the river, passing more beautiful homes and impressive office buildings, then to Westminster Bridge, the best view of the palace.

Daniel knew the impact of the sight: The enormous Palace of Westminster in the Gothic Revival Style, with its high Clock Tower to the right (people now called it by the name of its largest bell: Big Ben); the smaller Central Tower and and the highest one, the Victoria Tower to the left of St. Mary's Church. The two towers of Westminster Abbey behind the Great Hall seemed to reach out for the blue skies. The complex lay there in the welcome golden light of the afternoon sun, speaking of eras long ago and eras still to come.

"Alas, what a difference!" Hook breathed as his eyes greedily absorbed the view of the sand-tone, gothic façade. He still remembered the old Westminster Hall that had been smaller and was now only a part of the complex. During his time the largest building had been St. Stephen's Chapel, then just a large church, serving also as meeting hall for the lords. Now nothing from then remained.

"Was St. Stephen's damaged in this fire last century, too?" James asked Daniel, who nodded.

"Yes, but not completely. Most of the Abbey and the parliament burned, only the large hall was saved – and the church house of St. Stephen's. Today it's the public entrance for the House of Commons," he explained.

"Hey, there's my lookout!" Peter cried, pointing at the Clock Tower with its very large clock face and massive works, the sound of its bells known world-wide.

"Your what?" Daniel asked while slowly following behind a hackney he didn't dare pass on the bridge.

"I land on that pointy branch sometimes," the boy explained, grinning at the young man's expression. "Sometimes I even felt it move."

Kempton narrowed his eyes. "So perhaps the necessity of the adjustments over the last decades was because of you?" Peter only shrugged; clearly pleased with his 'contribution.' Daniel saw it and laughed. "And there's the most extraordinary explanation for the clock gaining and losing time!" They reached the end of the bridge and the enormous clock seemed even larger now as they drove past it. He sighed. "The story of the year, and I can't write a word of it!"

"No, but at least you get to enjoy our company," the boy snickered.

Hook shook his head. "And people wonder why I have a nearly irresistible urge to lay the blighter over my knee."

"But you didn't," Peter said, smiling impishly. They turned left, putting Westminster Palace behind them. Other large buildings appeared in rows to the left and the right. They passed the old headquarters of Scotland Yard to their right, Parliamentary quarters, stables of the Horse Guards, then drove along Whitehall Road. Reaching Trafalgar Square, the traffic again grew busy, yet Daniel circled twice around the plaza, showing off its monuments like the Nelson column that was of the same height as his ship, the HMS Victory. Nibs, Slightly and John had told Hook about this statue. They saw the fountains, the lions, the other statues and more. The plaza was impressive because of the buildings that surrounded it, like the National Gallery, designed as a Greek temple; the church; and that end of the Westminster complex.

Yet none of this had prepared the captain for what came next.

Daniel left the circle of the square and drove toward a tunnel beneath a large building that was still under construction and adjoined another complex. "This will be called the Admiralty Arch when it is finished, hopefully in two or three years," Daniel explained. "It's a kind of entrance to the royal residence, designed like a triumphal arch, and will serve the First Sea Lord as his residence." They drove through one of the three tunnels and entered one of the most well-known lanes of the world: The Mall.

Large trees lined the broad street on both sides, people in fashionable garb perambulated along the pavements with its exotic gas lanterns, lawns spread behind the trees to the left at the beginning of St. James' Park. And straight ahead: The center of England's power: Buckingham Palace.

James remembered the building from visits with his father, when it was still called Buckingham House, but, like so many other landmarks, the 'house' had grown. The old main building was now the west wing, the newer east wing was in the front, still awaiting the balcony where the royal family would later make public appearances. Queen Victoria had ordered the new façade a few decades ago, as this building became the seat of English monarchs. The palace was magnificent but not overstated. As they neared the palace, Hook saw the reddish-brown building to his right: St. James Palace. James recognized it instantly. This building was still the same, as were the royal guards at the double portal. Only the uniforms had changed. Now the men wore long black trousers, a deep red coat and a high headpiece made of black fur. Certainly unpleasant on warm days, James thought, remembering his new 'peaked cap.'

Daniel slowed as they reached the plaza in front of the gates where the guards stood watch. In the middle of the plaza, a monument was under construction. It must have been very important, given that it was placed in front of the royal seat. "That's the Victoria Memorial," he explained as he caught the captain's inquiring glance. "Victoria was the mother of the current King Edward VII. She was very popular and admired by her people and by other monarchs. Her regency lasted sixty-four years."

"And she lived here?" Peter asked, indicating the palace.

"Most of the time. But after Prince Albert, her husband's, death, she left Buckingham Palace and moved to Windsor Castle. She loved her husband very much and the palace held too many memories for her. Later, before she died, she returned to Buckingham Palace because of complaints that the palace wasn't being used and cost too much to maintain. Victoria feared that the palace would be let go, along with her memories of her happy hours with Albert. So she returned, but still spent time away from here."

"A strong lady with a sensitive heart, it seems," Hook murmured.

"Oh yes, she was very warmhearted but also very stern. She fought for what she wanted. She launched a lot of reforms and tried to make life easier for poor people. One of the last laws she passed was the protection of children, to be treated as children, and not as small grownups."

Peter frowned thoughtfully. "Wendy told me about that. So, this queen wanted to protect children?" As Daniel nodded, he beamed, "Then she was a good queen!"

"Of course, she was English," Hook snorted, yet (he couldn't deny it) he was a impressed. During his time, monarchs were totalitarian and rarely thought of the people who supported them with their taxes, who fought their wars, who served their every need, or who never entered their palaces. If this queen was as they described, it was no wonder that the people loved her. It occurred to him that the name 'Victoria' belonged to those women who were ready to break old traditions and make their own choices – just like Wendy's friend. Victors indeed!

They circled around the monument twice and then Kempton took Buckingham Palace Road toward the southwest. They passed large, beautiful residences, and then a station with two large glass domes and beautiful façades. "Victoria Station," Daniel told them, and James chuckled, thinking that the people of London must have really loved their late queen!

They drove along a long group of brick buildings, whose appearance loudly declared 'barracks.' "The Chelsea Barracks," Daniel continued as the perfect guide, explaining the large area that even housed a chapel. Finally they passed another large building complex that Hook thought was another palace with a large park adjacent. But Daniel told him it was a hospital.

Hook understood that this London was very different from the London he once knew. As rundown and filthy as it had been in the east, so it was beautiful and breathtaking in the west. In his time, this had been the downtown; as you traveled east, the poorer the living areas had become, yet the whole town had extended in a way he had trouble grasping. And when he understood how the homes were laid out, how wide and clean the streets were and how well the people here were clad, he knew that this era different from what he had known.

While he pondered this, Daniel drove northwest through South Kensington to show them the Natural History Museum and the Imperial Institute, both of them located on the way to Kensington Gardens. As they turned down a narrower street, Hook felt Peter suddenly stiffen beside him. Curious, he looked down and saw his tight look, hands curled into fists, even a little pale. He was about to ask if the youth felt sick when Peter suddenly shouted: "Stop!"

Mr. Kempton quickly obeyed, pulling to the side of the road, and glanced at his young passenger, who now looked wide-eyed at a home on their left, red brick with sandstone accoutrements. An oriel window protruded from the left side of the first floor with a small balcony, and under the roof, one level above, a door framed by two tall windows opened onto a small balcony. The front door was recessed, with a large arched roof above it, protecting the entrance from the weather. The property was surrounded by wrought iron. Trees and bushes cast shadows, giving the house a rather homely appearance.

But what Hook saw on Peter's face was not appreciation, but alarm. The blue eyes were nearly black as his pupils dilated. He was white, his lips pressed into a thin line. Placing his hand carefully on the youth's shoulder, James felt Peter's whole body stiff and vibrating. This house held no good memories for him. And since the Prince of Neverland had a notoriously bad memory, then something must have happened here that shook him badly.

Looking back at the house and then again at the boy, he understood. "Peter, was this your parents' house?" he asked quietly. The boy gulped, glancing at him, then returning his gaze to stare at the house, shivering. "Peter?" James prompted softly, and finally the boy nodded.

"Y-yes," he whispered. Looking upward, "There … there was only a window … but no … balcony. B-but this is …" He swallowed and moistened his dry lips; his heart beating too quickly while his eyes stung.

"How long since you've been here?" Daniel asked carefully.

"I … I don't know," Peter whispered.

Hook frowned. So, here was the house where Peter Pan began – so long ago. Here it had begun. But when? How old was Peter? Was the family still living here? Were his parents possibly still alive? One way to find out. "I'm going," he said and climbed out of the motorcar.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked hastily, grabbing for him, but this time the captain was quicker.

"Give me a few moments," he said, stepped onto the pavement and went through the wrought iron gate in the fence; ignoring the boy calling his back.

Maybe now he would solve the riddle that was Peter Pan!

TBC…

Well, I think the latter is a surprise. By accident they drive along the street where Peter's former parental house is located. I chose J. M. Barrie's first living place in Kensington for this scene. If you want to have a look at the house Peter's creator lived at, search the web for Glouchester Road, London, Barrie's house. Then you get a few photos of it. And what will come out of the whole thing that Peter sees his parent's home again and what Hook will find out, you're going to read in the next chapter.

I also loved to write the sightseeing trip around London downtown and London's west. Who ever has visited the town, certainly agrees with me that this part is indeed beautiful. Those, who have never been to London, just plan a trip to it (if it isn't too far away from your place, of course). Yes, today the town is even more hectically than it was at 1909, but it still has a certain charm. And the areas of Westminster, Mayfair and Kensington still hold some old magic. I hope, I was able to 'paint' a few pictures of it into your minds while reading the last part of the chapter.

In the next chapter, you will learn more about Peter Pan's past. I will stay close to 'Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens' and 'The Little White Bird', and Hook is going to realize why his harsh taunting during the epic fight in the riggings had hurt the boy so much that they brought him down. Furthermore there is an incident at the manor that will change a lot and Dalton begins to pull out the big guns.

I hope, you liked the new chapter, including Hook's 'shopping trip' (the poor man, all those pompous and glorious clothes he loves have changed into something 'barely acceptable', *grin*) and the sightseeing trip. Please leave some feedback, my beta-reader and I are 'starving' here.

Have a nice weekend and Happy Whitsun,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight