Hi, my dear readers!
Thank you so much for the reviews. I know you would love the reunion(s), and I'm glad that you liked the circumstances our pirate-captain and the storyteller saw each other again. And, believe me, this reunion will leave marks on them (and therefore for all the people around them).
But first George Darling becomes for once a firm and strict man, and is more than ready to support Viscount Ashford's suggestion to 'rescue' Wendy and the boys; making a fateful decision. If he only knew that neither his sons (and adopted nephew) nor his daughter is in any need of rescue. Rather the opposite, even if his 'little girl' is following the path to adulthood quicker than thought.
The chapter will be sweet and funny, but also will make you want to palm your forehead.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 9 – A Fateful Decision
As George Darling exited the motorcar he'd purchased two years earlier, his whole world was still fine. He'd had a busy day at the bank and finished his work quickly in order to go home earlier today. He knew that Viscount Dalton Ashford would arrive around three o'clock in the afternoon and he wanted a few words with the young man before the viscount took out Wendy for a stroll or to a café.
The other motor-car parked in front of the corner-house at Number 14 caught his attention, and as he walked towards the front door, he noticed the driver leaning against an Austin Landaulette – the one with the closed passenger compartment. This vehicle was simply too expensive for those outside the upper classes. Mr. Darling rarely had the chance to inspect such a fine motor-car, he stopped beside it and looked it over.
The driver watched the man, who wore a dark fur-trimmed winter-coat, a bowler in the same color, leather-gloves and a white scarf made of soft wool. Meeting the man's blue eyes behind silver-framed spectacles, he tipped his cap. "Afternoon, Sir." This man almost looked familiar to him.
Mr. Darling, always polite, returned the greeting. This driver was rather young, certainly not much older than Wendy. The boy had ginger hair, a rude freckled face with a permanent smirk. The small hazel eyes looked at the man mockingly. George Darling was absolutely sure that he'd met this young man, but couldn't place him.
"This is a fine motor-car," he said. "Does it belong to the Viscount Ashford?"
The driver lifted both ginger brows. "Yes, do you know him?"
"Yes, he came to attend my daughter. When did he arrive?"
"We put into the lane about ten minutes ago, Sir," the driver answered and looked at the man again, who was also examining him. And then it hit him, his eyes widened. Hell-bells, this was…
George frowned as he saw recognition on the driver's face. Obviously they had indeed met before. And he was certain that the driver wore another uniform, too, only… smaller? "Excuse me, but do we know each other?" Mr. Darling asked bluntly. He had never been the type for equivocating.
"Yes, I think so," the driver answered. "Can it be, Sir, that you work at the Bank of England?"
"Yes, I do – for some years now," George answered. "Have you been the driver for one of our bosses before Viscount Ashford became your employee?"
The young man shook his head. "No, this is my first real job." He touched the brim of his cap again. "Kenley Fulsom," he introduced himself.
"Fulsom?" The name was known to Mr. Darling. "Are you related to Mrs. Fulsom, the teacher…"
"The teacher at the primary school your daughter once attended," the driver confirmed. "Mrs. Fulsom is my grandmother. I worked as messenger boy after school to for a coupl'a' coins, and one time she sent me out to deliver a letter to you about something you daughter had done." He grimaced. "She chased me through half of London, as I recall, and then, when I reached the bank, your dog -"
"…caused all of us to meet abruptly on the floor," George finished, remembering the flurry of paperwork that followed the misadventure. Now, more than five years later, the episode sounded amusing, which is the way of minor catastrophes, though at the time then it had been devastatingly humiliating. "Well, the fault was with the dog, and perhaps the slippery floors in the bank. You were only following instructions," he murmured.
"I know, Sir." Fulsom put his cap back on the red hair. "If your daughter still has the same temperament," he nodded towards the house, "then His Lordship will have his hands full." He blushed to match his hair as he realized the impropriety of his comment.
"My daughter has the same temperament," George smiled at the boy's assessment, "but she has grown into a fine, well-educated young lady – thanks to Roedean." It was a subtle dig at Mrs. Fulsom's materials and the manner she handled the young girls. Tipping at his bowler at the boy, George turned away. "Excuse me, I would like to speak with Viscount Ashford," he said.
"Good day, Sir," Kenley replied, and watched the man enter the house. "I'll eat me hat if all goes smoothly – not where that imp in pigtails is involved," he murmured.
He couldn't know how right he was…
As Mr. Darling entered his house, he knew instantly that something wasn't right. First, it was much too quiet except for voices from the living room. There was no clattering of pans, or tempting smells from the kitchen, no boys rushing about. Only Nana trotted towards him, tail between her legs, ears hanging down and whining (never a good sign.) Pushing her nose against his gloved hand in greeting, he patted her gently, frowning.
"What's the matter, old girl?" he asked quietly. "Where is everyone?"
The dog only whimpered and pressed herself against his leg.
Then there was a movement at the door that led to the dining, and he recognized his sister, who glanced at him, saying, "I'll return shortly." But her countenance told him that something was very off. She approached him swiftly.
"You're home early, George," she said quietly, firmly taking his elbow and directing him away from the parlour. Odd.
"I'm done with work for today," he replied, slipping his overcoat and bowler onto the coatrack. "Where is everyone?" he asked. "The boys are very quiet."
Millicent took a deep breath, laying a calming hand on his arm. "George, Mary and I have to tell you something. Viscount Ashford is in the living room…"
"I knew that already," he smiled at his sister's obvious agitation.
"… and it's better for all of us if he never knows what really happened."
He looked at her sharply "And what exactly 'really happened'?"
Millicent cleared her throat, then whispered into his ear.
In the living room, Viscount Ashford was still talking to Mrs. Darling, when George's loud reaction reached them: "THEY FLEW BACK TO NEVERLAND?"
Viscount Dalton Ashford went rigid as he heard the words, and one thing he had heard clearly: Neverland.
His gaze found Mrs. Darling's, whose face had gone white. It was several beats before she cleared her throat and smiled nervously, "Oh, my husband is home. Please excuse me." She rose. Dalton did the same, ready to accompany her.
Neverland… Mr. Darling had shouted, 'They flew back to Neverland'.
Was this the real reason for Wendy's sudden illness and the boys' absence? They returned to the Faery-realm on their mystical island? If so, then … then this all could play right into his hands!
He now had a legitimate reason to enter the Faery-realm, he could save the girl and win her heart! Or, at least her parents' everlasting gratitude, which might be enough to demand her hand in marriage if she didn't fall for him. Additionally, he could acquire a souvenir, that dragon-egg, and hopefully some of their infamous treasure. He had only to play his cards carefully to bring him closer to ultimate victory in this crazy gamble.
He could make out angry whispers beyond the door, when Mary opened the door and said in a raised voice, "Excuse me, Milord, I only want to say 'hello' to my husband." She moved into the corridor and saw then that Ashford was on her heels. Shooting George and his sister a panicked scowl, they were instantly aware of their indiscretion, seeing her and the viscount. George immediately spoke up with the first thing that came to mind:
"No, Millie, under no circumstances I will allow that. Mary is right. Never in that land will you travel – much less take Wendy with you. You'd be appalled to hear what I've learned about Egypt." His voice sounded hollow, but he appeared to be rebuking his sister.
Millicent had caught on quickly. She instantly adopted the same deception. "But George, it would be good for Wendy to learn more about that country, with all of their fascinating artefacts. She was quite taken with them the last time we visited the British Museum. So certainly, after she finishes school -"
Mr. Darling had straightened his jacket, glancing at Mary and Ashford, and interrupted her. "Millie, lets discuss this later. We have a guest." He first kissed his wife on the forehead, "Good day, my dear." Then he offered Dalton his hand. "Milord, once again welcome in my modest home. I trust you're well?"
"I am, Mr. Darling, thank you for asking," Ashford replied. But before he could say more, George addressed his wife.
"You weren't able to inform the Viscount that Wendy is ill? The whole way here for naught – I'm sorry, Milord." It was the first excuse he and his wife had come up the two first times Wendy and the boys had been in Neverland, and now – in too much of a hurry for a good explanation – he came up with the same whitewash.
Dalton took a deep breath, glancing between the three of them. He noticed Mr. Darling tensing up and exchanging a quick, uncertain gaze with his wife, while the sister wore an innocent expression but avoided looking at him.
Yes, he was certain what really was going on here. Clearing his own throat, he said slowly, "I think, Ladies, Sir, that it is about time to skip all this pretence and let us talk about the truth. Wendy isn't ill. She isn't even here, and neither are her brothers. She is back at Neverland, I believe it is called." At least he thought this was the name, after all Mr. Darling had shouted it a moment ago.
'Shocked' was one way to describe the three faces around him, 'stunned' and 'speechless' would also work. He nodded. "I thought so. I knew that this would happen again. Once in contact with the Little People – with fairies and pixies no less – one is bound to their world. Exploring the wonder of their existence, learning about a world outside of our own and visiting there is a powerful temptation. Wendy is a highly intelligent young woman with a romantic heart and an adventurous spirit. She learned how to use the fairy-dust. Of a certainty, she wouldn't resist seeing the land of eternal youth again – the land of her childhood."
"You knew?" was all Mary could breathe.
Dalton nodded slowly. "Yes, I knew. And I think, I can help you – and even more, I can help Wendy. She is in great danger there."
*** PP *** PP ***
The Darling-children were certainly not 'in great danger.' The festivities had continued after Hook had greeted the chief and the shaman and had congratulated the three young warriors and had gotten dinner. Before the battle against the dark warlock, the Indians and the pirates had been enemies, but they had allied against him – an alliance that had continued, and gave both groups advantages. In earlier times, a sight like at this evening would have been unthinkable, but now they sat together, talked, ate and four of Hook's men even danced afterward (at least what they called 'dancing', to the hilarity of the tribe around the fire.)
Hook and the older men of the tribe had some interesting topics to discuss – among them the presence of the dragons – but Hook's attention was often distracted by a certain storyteller, who chatted with the Indian girls (translated by Tiger-Lily), or sat with Bumblyn beside Peter who often played his pipe, or danced around the fire together with a few of her brothers or the women. And few times their eyes met – hers asking, curious, his attentive and (without knowing it) fervid. She always had been able to catch his eye, but now it was like a moth to a flame.
He also noticed the gazes of the older Indian boys and young warriors, obviously drawn to the white girl. Wendy wasn't aware of them, which told Hook enough about her continuing innocence, but it also made him wary. If one of them tried anything 'improper', the truce between Indians and pirates would been tested.
Fortunately, none of the younger Native males made a move to get into closer contact with Wendy, which might have been rooted in their respect for Peter. Yet they continued to stare often at the soon-to-be-lady, who was completely oblivious to their glances.
But Hook was not alone in guarding the girl. John didn't know what caused him more concern: The lingering glances of the young warriors or those of Captain Hook. Even more troubling were the innocent smiles Wendy gave the pirate. Good God, didn't she know she was flirting? It was forgivable as a young girl, but now she was a beautiful young woman. You didn't need to be genius to recognize the effect she had on the captain. He was displaying formidable control, but the fire in his eyes spoke volumes.
Wendy was oblivious to the many eyes following her. This was Neverland after all, the place of her girlish adventures, facing things that would terrify grownups. She enjoyed the dancing, the joking with Peter and the boys, the chats with the other girls – conversation that didn't involve dresses, the next ball or the theatre – and joking with Bumblyn.
As the evening went on, and the unusual band of musicians took a break, Tiger-Lily signalled Wendy to accompany her with a few other girls to the edge of the camp. Wendy was relieved as she learned from the Indian princess that after nightfall, nobody left the camp alone, even when certain natural requirements must be attended to. As they walked back between the tents, the girls suddenly stopped, and then Wendy knew why. Only meters away stood James Hook; his everso blue eyes swept over the group, found Wendy and she saw him relaxing. Was he guarding her? How sweet and… Stop, the man was a fearsome pirate-captain. So the word 'sweet' didn't match his reputation. Chivalrous was more fitting.
Tiger-Lily saw that Iron Hand had obviously waited for them, saw his gaze locked on Brave Feather, and waved to her friends to come with her. Even younger than Wendy, Tiger-Lily was mature enough to recognize the special connection between her white friend and the 'thief of the sea' – and that this connection had somehow advanced to something more… 'grown up'.
Hook "tugged his forelock" in her direction as she passed him – she recognized the courtesy the white men displayed towards their women – and returned it with a flicker of a smile, then she glanced around, found 'Three Powers# talking with 'Little White Eagle' and went to him. John had changed, too. He was taller now, his shoulders broader, his voice almost deep – and she liked it a lot!
Peter grinned at Tiger-Lily as she approached. "Everythi'ng all right?" he asked out of habit.
"Yes," the Indian princess nodded.
"Where is Wendy?" John wanted to know, while his gaze darted towards the tents.
"She's with the others," Tiger-Lily waved a hand, avoiding a direct answer. There were many differences between their cultures, but one thing they had in common: Brothers watched out for their sisters, and John was no exception. Yet Tiger-Lily wanted to give Brave Feather a little time alone with Iron-Hand. Both certainly had a lot to talk about their long separation, and Tiger-Lily didn't want John – or Peter – to interrupt them.
So she involved the two boys in a conversation about the dragons – a topic both were eager to discuss. Peter out of curiosity and spirit of adventure, John was more interested in the dragon's way of living and character. And as he told them that there were scientists – men who tried to solve natural riddles – who had collected bones and tracks in stone of dragon-like creatures in the Mainland some years before (what ever a range of time that was in Neverland), Tiger-Lily and Peter were very curious, too. The other boys quickly joined the discussion, even Great Little Big Panther drew nearer and listened carefully as John expounded on one of his favourite topics …
*** PP ***
Wendy had watched Tiger-Lily and the other girls walking by the captain and caught her Indian friend's conspiratorial wink that quickly darted to Hook and back to her. Wendy smiled back, gratefully.
She approached the man who had seen the little display between the two girls and smirked inwardly. Cardamom and soda, the little redskin was clever. As he turned his attention back to Wendy, she was already next to him; smiling softly. For a long moment neither said anything, then Hook grumbled almost gently, "I had to greet our hosts, so we were interrupted earlier. How are you?"
Wendy's smile widened. "Better now," she answered truthfully.
"'Better now'?" Hook frowned slightly. "You were ill, Pan said."
"Ill?" Wendy looked surprised, then remembered, "Ah, during the first Christmas-holidays after we returned home, I caught a nasty cold, so I couldn't go with him. Thank God to oranges and aspirin, that is long over now." She bit her lower lip – a sight that affected Hook more than he wanted. "No, I'm better now because I'm back in Neverland. It's … I came home," she admitted.
"Was it so bad?" he wanted to know; already assuming the answer.
"In the beginning, yes. Our parents were … excessively worried by our last adventure here and made plans so that Peter wouldn't have a chance to bring us back," the girl explained.
"By sending you to a 'boring school', like Pan said," Hook sighed.
Wendy had to giggle. "I don't think he ever will get it that it is a 'boarding' school and not a 'boring' school." She looked back to the clearing where the others still talked, danced and ate. "I'd forgotten how boyish he is."
'Yes, while you grew into the shining beauty I expected,' Hook thought. Aloud he replied, "Since when have there been boarding schools for girls in our merrie ol' England?"
Looking up into the blue eyes, Wendy knew that she had to be careful. She knew that he had no clue how long he had been in Neverland, and she didn't want to spoil their pleasant evening by blurting out the whole truth. "For quite a time now," she answered. "The Roedean School, I attend, was founded fourteen years ago for girls."
Fourteen years ago – and the rules which allowed the founding of a boarding school for girls would have taken a few years to develop. So, he and his men had to be away from the Mainland for at least twenty years or so. But it only felt like two years. "And your brothers?" he asked, hoping for news of Eton. He had loved his time there.
"John, Slightly and Nibs attend Harrow, Curly and Tootles will go to Harrow, too, after the summer holidays. And Michael and the twins the next year."
"Harrow?" Hook nodded slowly. "I recall it was founded somewhere in the middle of the 16th century – by Queen Elizabeth no less."
"Yes, it's a rather traditional school and not as far away as Eton or the other classical boarding schools for boys," Wendy agreed, then she sighed. "It was easier for the boys to adjust to the school than for me. I never wanted to leave London. I knew Peter would never find me. I wouldn't be able to return to Neverland to keep my promise-" She paused, eyes wide. "Oh, I almost forgot." She reached for the golden bracelet and was about to pull it off for the first time in five years. His warm rough hand covered her fingers and stopped her.
"Keep it," he said quietly.
Wendy looked up at him. "But … it was my pledge."
"You kept your promise and returned – even if it took longer than we all wanted, but this wasn't your fault." He looked down onto her arm, where his hand lay over hers – his tanned, hers almost white. "Keep it. It really doesn't suit me," he added with a dark twinkle.
Wendy had to laugh, imagining him wearing the golden bracelet. "No, it would not," she agreed, then said quietly, "Thank you, Captain. I love it and I didn't take it off once – which did not suit Aunt Millicent. She thought it too decorative for a 'little girl' like me. But I wore it at school the entire time. It … it reminded me of you and Neverland, and helped me to go on. I often felt tied down, and the bracelet was a link to the life I hoped I would have again."
She frowned at the sad memories, but then she realized that his hand was still over hers. And once again she thought that it was quite warm. Was he feverish? Glancing at his face again she saw flush in them. No, he had no fever. Then why was his hand so warm? This wasn't the first time that a man's hand had lingered over hers – she had known several suitors – but never had she been so conscious of the heat that radiated from a simple touch.
Hook had taken a deep breath as he listened to her words, more moved than he was willing to admit. The bracelet had reminded her … of him? He was, for once in a very long time, the source of something good? She'd fought with her aunt to keep it on her arm at school? He felt his heart quickening, and warmth wash over him – another wave of joy. Alas, only a few words with this little rascal and the grim pirate in him was gone.
"And this is your life now," he murmured. "How long will you stay this time?" Did he really ask that question? Aloud?
Wendy straightened and set her jaw. "As long as I want. Back in London, they won't see me so quickly again." This made him chuckle.
"I remember a young girl who always was very responsible," he teased, enjoying her rebellious words. This was his Red-Handed Jill!
"And look where it got me," Wendy grimaced. "Sent away to a boarding school, attending social functions until I could scream, listening to the endless brainless chatter of other 'well-schooled' girls, forced to laugh at the jokes of whatever bangled fop wanted my attention. Worst of all, a suitor I've absolutely no affection for!"
That caught his attention. "A suitor?" he asked. Who dared to court his storyteller? Perhaps that was the silhouette he had seen in his dreams?
"Yes, my best friend's cousin, Dalton; pleasant, good-looking, wealthy … a boring, average boy. And I swear, he is hiding something though. I feel it," she added; eyes fiery.
So, she wasn't interested in this young man – good! Yet Hook knew that girls had no real say in the matter of whom they would marry And then he remembered the dreams he'd had recently. "How long has he been a suitor?"
"Since the evening before yesterday. He accompanied Vicky and me to a ball, sat at the table with my parents, danced with me until I was ready to fall over, and then, before I could form a clear thought, bang-" she clapped her hands "-he asks my for father's permission to court me and Father, of course, said yes." She grimaced. "They just don't understand that I'm not ready for this whole … thing."
"Thing?" he asked.
She made a frustrated gesture. "You know – courting, going out socially, thinking of marriage… And this with a man I only met four days ago." She shook her head in defiance.
This was something else she'd missed: How she could talk to Hook about everything, without falsehoods or disguise. She'd missed his understanding of her moods, her words.
The captain nodded slowly; oddly relieved that she wasn't interested in this young man. She certainly was old enough to be courted, yet she clung to the remains of her childhood with an unusual vehemence. And that brought up another question. "Wendy, how old are you?" As he saw the surprise on her face, he continued, "I know the question is improper—"
"But pirates can be improper when necessary." She snickered. "Very handy." She sighed. "I'm seventeen – I will be eighteen in five months."
He stared at her in shock. 'Seventeen? But she was a child when departing!' Yes, she was definitely old enough to be courted, but that wasn't the reason for his astonished outburst in soul. He blinked, remembering his audience with Niam yesterday. Hadn't she admitted that time ran more quickly in the Mainland than here? This was obviously the case, seeing Wendy now standing in front of him as a young lady. How much time had passed since the battle with the warlock? One way to find out. "And how … how old were you the last time you were here?"
Wendy pursed shortly her lips. 'Here we go,' she thought. "Almost thirteen." She watched him closely, seeing the mental wheels turning.
He let his head drop, and sighed deeply. "So she was right."
"Who?"
"Niam. I spoke with her yesterday after Esteban hinted that time runs differently here and in the world outside of Neverland." He snorted. "Dammit, how long is my crew on this blasted island?"
'You don't want to know,' Wendy thought, looking for another idea to distract him. At that moment, the music started again. That was the distraction she needed. She slipped a hand under Hook's right arm and smiled. "I know it's improper for a lady to ask the gentleman to dance, but since you're a pirate, may I?"
He paused, she wanted to dance with him? – Then he smirked. So typical of this clawed kitten, all good manners flew out of the window at impulse. Poking her playfully on the nose, he grinned, "All you have to do is ask."
"So, Captain, may I?" she asked, and pulled him after her. "Come on, the pixies are playing a Reel. At least it's one I know."
"Don't they teach you how to dance at that 'boring' school?" Hook asked; glad to leave Neverland's riddles for later.
"Of course they do, but I don't think you know the waltz – and I don't know the Minuet or Gavotte. So Reel it is."
Shaking his head, Hook followed her. When had been the last time he felt so… sprightly? "What is the waltz?" he asked, returning to the clearing.
"A beautiful dance in three-four time, you hold your partner in your arms," Wendy explained. "I'll teach you another time."
Hold your partner in your arms? – Well, that sounded …a bit … immoral. "Are you certain that's how it's done?" he asked smiling widely. "Are you sure it's socially acceptable?" His voice had turned into a purr while he leaned his head toward her.
Wendy felt heat rising, his breath sweeping her temple, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of blushing. "Yes, it's quite popular right now. Why?" They had reached the open meeting grounds and proceeded to the grassy opening, paying no attention to the many eyes following them.
Hook hid another grin. Oh Lord, was she flirting with him? "Because, my dear, it is improper for a lady to press herself against a man in public." He had intentionally chosen this wording to see how matured she really was. He was successful, here came the blush! So he upped the ante. "Yet … I wouldn't mind."
Wendy's entire countenance warmed again. She knew that he was challenging her. Well, two could play this game. She chuckled, "I thought not, but to spare your embarrassment in front of the others, I will show you another time how a waltz is done. A Reel is something you certainly know – and me too." They were near the fire now and turned towards each other, while around them the other dancers began.
"I look forward to learning the waltz … soon," he replied, eyeing her pink cheeks candidly. Holding your partner in your arms – well, it sounded promising as long as it was she who danced it with him. But for now, they had the folk-dance of a Reel to master, and it was more fun than he thought a dance could be.
Wendy's heart was lighter than it had been for many months as she moved to the quick, merry music with a very special villain around the bonfire, whirling around each other, coming together only to part again. One time his strong arm caught her as she collided with two other girls in the reel. She laughed openly at her own misstep while Hook held her close for a moment. The tickling in her belly rose and fell, and she felt more alive than ever before – especially when she saw his genuine smile and the jaunty gleam in his eye that made him appear so much younger.
Hook hadn't danced for … well, an eternity (he couldn't know how close he came), and he savoured the activity. And this not only because the magic of the music and those who made it had finally captured him – but Wendy's presence caused the walls he had built around his heart to melt like wall of ice next to a bonfire. To move with his storyteller to enchanted music, seeing her face lit by the fire, catching her smiles and come-hither glances, feeling her soft curves here and there beneath his left hand was more than he had ever hoped for – and he enjoyed it to an alarming level. Which didn't bother him a bit.
But it did others – like Smee. He saw his commander disappear into the shadow, now he danced with the storyteller – grinning and obviously happy. 'God 'a' mercy on us,' Smee thought and groaned inwardly. 'I knew he would be head over heels if he saw her as a grownup.' His glance took in the lost boys and – except for John – they all were engaged in a discussion with the shaman and two older warriors. He saw how John was frowning at his sister's activity, then Smee met his eyes across the fire. Slowly shaking his head, Smee signalled John to remain where he was. The boy nodded, but he was anything but happy seeing his sister dancing with the captain. This could mean trouble.
None of them could imagine the real reason for the chaos to come …
*** PP *** PP ***
The only other sound in the room was the loud ticking grandfather clock in the corner as Mr. and Mrs. Darling – and Aunt Millicent – told Viscount Ashford all that happened and what they knew about Neverland. Dalton told them he knew about the existence of the Little People and the island; about his cousin Victoria and her friendship with Wendy; about his former nanny, Brynna Lunette, who understood Faery-realms and possessed knowledge modern science could not explain.
"So, you really saw this island in a crystal ball?" Millicent asked. The mere thought of magic made her uneasy.
"Yes, Brynna showed me. There was a tall volcano, a bay where large ship anchored and ruins of a castle, several woods and…" He hesitated.
"And?" George prompted after a few seconds.
"And very dangerous creatures which make me fear for Wendy's life," the young man said quietly, looking worried.
"What kind of creatures?" Mary whispered.
Dalton took a deep breath. "Dragons."
Nana lifted her head from her paws and growled as if she had understood him.
Seeing the Darlings' shock, he added hoarsely. "You know the legends, don't you, about virgins and dragons…"
George gripped the arm rests while his mouth went dry. Not that long ago he would have waved any thoughts of dragons away, thinking them pure fantasy. But now … if fairies, pixies, goblins, trolls and even a unicorns exist, why not dragons? They had to be far more dangerous than the other creatures. "You think…"
"Wendy isn't the little girl anymore she was when she visited those shores the last time," Dalton murmured. "She's a young lady now – a very young lady, yes, but a woman, nonetheless. And I fear that she is unaware of the danger she is in. This happens when you're in contact with fairies too often. You become so entwined in that world that you're blind to the danger it holds for you. Fairies, pixies – they are small, but they can be deadly. And there are more creatures…"
"Like those trolls and goblins Robert spoke of," Millicent breathed.
Trolls and goblins? That made Ashford sit up. "So, there are more dark creatures – deadly beasts. Children see dangers in another light, they have no real feeling for them. Everything unusual is fantastic – and I think Wendy still sees through a child's eyes when it comes to Neverland." He was making most of this up, but he had to get them on his side.
"And what can we possibly do?" Mr. Darling's voice was still hoarse. "We have no way of traveling to such a place—"
"You don't but I do," Ashford told him, looking from one to the next. The hook was set. Time to reel them in. "Brynna told me that she can open a way to Neverland – a kind of portal which would allow me to visit the island. I had no reason to do so, but now I do. A very important one: Your Wendy." He leaned forward and spoke intently. "If you entrust me with your daughter's safety, I will try to get to Neverland and bring her back at all costs. Her and the boys, of course."
"You would do this?" Mary asked, not knowing what to think.
Dalton nodded slowly. "Of course. I am quite fond of Wendy. And the mere thought of her being in danger makes me … nauseous. I know some men who could accompany me if I can speak with Brynna and ask her to open the portal. Then we could go to Neverland, find Wendy and her brothers and bring them all home."
"You would take others with you?" Mary asked. She needed to know, feeling somehow in her soul that this wasn't right. Neverland was the land of children; grownups shouldn't be there. And where did these thoughts come from? She should be happy that this man was ready to go after Wendy and the boys to rescue them, yet there seemed to be something deep within her, an instinct that said this was wrong.
"A small army would be better," Millicent said wryly. "There are not only dragons but also pirates – and they are not to be trifled with."
Dalton lifted a brow. "Are they really pirates or only sordid seamen Wendy mistook for pirates?"
"Oh, they are real pirates, indeed," Aunt Millicent affirmed. "Their leader is a dangerous man who has a hook in place of his right hand. Wendy said his eyes turn red just before he guts you. Guts you by plunging his hook into you! Does that sound like a merchant seaman?"
Ashford sat back. "No, not really."
Millicent looked at Mary. "Why don't you show the viscount the book Wendy wrote about her adventures in Neverland? I'm sure there's more information there that will help the rescue."
Scandalized, Mary frowned at her sister-in-law. "Millie, it's Wendy's diary were talking about. It's very private!"
"You mean it's the second book of three she wants to write! She said she wanted to write a book in three parts of the adventures she hadn't had yet. Now she's already had two of them – meaning two books. Books, Mary, not diaries." Millicent sat up haughtily, and Nana whined at her, managing to look accusatory.
"But…" Mary was interrupted by her astonished husband.
"Wendy writes books?" This was news to him. "Why don't I know about it?"
"Because Wendy always spoke of them as her diaries, and a girl's diary is a very private thing," Mary responded calmly.
"I don't care if it is a diary or a book," her husband said firmly. "If they can help Viscount Ashford to save our children, so be it. Please get them now." Nana made a mixture of growling and whimper in her throat, staring at her master.
Mary took a deep breath. "George, really, we would lose all of her confidence. She would never trust us again. Wendy is very private when it comes to those two diaries and-"
"That's quite normal," Dalton interrupted softly. "People who are too often in contact with fairies become habituated to them and their world, ready to keep all of their secrets. Personally, I think that the fairies manipulate their minds to keep such secrets safe. And normally I would respect their desire for secrecy. But we're talking about your daughter's life here – and maybe the boys' as well. Think of the dragons and-"
"Mary, get the books!" George ordered.
Mary was shocked by his tone, and gave him an indignant glare. He gave her firm one in return. "Please," he added out of respect, but allowing no resistance. He was the master of the house and his word counted.
"As you wish, but please note my objections," she replied, expecting an argument with her husband later. "Wendy has her reasons why she keeps these diaries a secret, and we should respect them."
"Wendy is anything but reasonable when it comes to this flying boy," George argued. "And I won't sit here and do nothing while our daughter and the boys are in mortal danger – not, if there is something I can do about it for once besides lingering beside an open nursery window!"
Rarely had Mary seen her husband so iron-willed and stern as now. Sighing, she left the room and returned a minute later with two notebooks in her hand. Reluctantly she offered them to Ashford, who browsed through them. The drawings in the first book were … nice but childlike; those in the second were full of details, nearly photographic. He looked at the boy wearing leaves; a pretty boy with an impish grin. Well, he was the type of boy girls liked. The drawings of the magical creatures were most interesting – Brynna would be interested – and the young men with the long hair, pointed ears and primitive clothing screamed 'Elves', or 'Tuatha Dé Danann.' And then he turned the page to the man with long black curls, piercing eyes and an even face. He knew at once this was the ominous leader of the pirates with the metal claw instead of a right hand. Somehow the face looked familiar, but Dalton didn't know why.
"May I take these with me? I can read through the texts while preparing the expedition. It will help us to know what to expect," he said slowly.
"No…" Mary began, but George's "Of course!" drowned her out. Nana woofed a protest but lay down again at George's hand gesture. Mary shook her head and closed her eyes. With all her heart she knew that this was a big mistake – one that would lead to more trouble, and possibly endanger the boy's world and himself.
And there was a persistent niggling suspicion that her daughter wasn't really in as much danger as the viscount insisted. At least not from the dragons…
*** PP *** PP ***
The festivities lasted into the night. Most of the Little People said good-night, including Kailen and Aurora, and vanished. A few slept in a hollow where they dropped. Wendy had already tucked Michael, the twins and the two youngest boys of Peter's new gang to bed, but now – it was after midnight – she was tired, too. She smiled as she saw Peter yawning, and John accompanying Tiger-Lily to her parents' tepee.
Nudging an already dozing Curly and Runner, she looked over to the buccaneers. They were tired, too – except for Hook, who still talked with the chief in hushed voices.
Wendy had to smile again. She had danced with the pirate-captain, not once but several times. Reels, Chelsea Reach and other old-fashioned but fun folkdances that she didn't know, but simply followed Hook's lead; creating her own steps here and there, which made him laugh openly. She had also danced with Peter, but he was still reluctant when they got too close, and so the dances with the captain were those she enjoyed the most.
'This is how it should be,' she thought. 'Dances should be fun, not boring duties.' And if she had thought about it longer, she would have remembered the butterflies in her while dancing with her very own villain.
"Are you coming?"
Peter's voice startled her and she looked away from the dying bonfire she had been staring into. Looking past him, she saw that the other boys, including Bumblyn, had all vanished; John just returned from the large tepee that belonged to Tiger-Lily's parents. "Are the boys already in bed?" she asked.
"Pretty much," Peter grinned. "They need a mother to tuck them in, you know."
"Including you," Wendy teased, and Peter laughed, earning a grimace from Tinker Bell, who hovered over his right shoulder.
"Come on, let's say good-night to the chief and Great Big Little Panther, and then sleep." They approached the chief, Hook and Smee. The latter was talking with the Leprechaun, who sat beside him, fiddle on his tiny lap. They were reminiscing about their home country. The other six pirates sat offside and seemed to be dozing off.
While the Indian elders only glanced up, Hook rose – exhibiting his formal manners, rarely used. Peter thanked the chief for the invitation, said 'good night,' and even grumbled a 'sleep well' into Hook's direction; remembering the truce they once had agreed upon.
"And you as well," he replied. No one could say that he had bad form. Then he took Wendy's hand and pressed his lips to it. "Good night, my dear, and thank you for the dances."
There was something … extra … in the way he did it that made Peter Pan wary – for the free-spirited girl's cheeks grew a lovely pink, but she held her ground and smiled, "The pleasure was mine, Captain. Thank you and good night." At that moment, the little girl who eschewed dignity and followed her heart asked, "Where will you sleep? Certainly at not the Black Castle, not this late, and rowing around Mermaid's Lagoon in the dark is dreadfully risky."
Peter frowned. Why did she care so for the pirate?
James saw her concern and felt a wave of new warmth. So typical of his storyteller – ready to mother everyone! But Chief Rain-in-the-Face spoke up, "Brave Feather is right. The way through the jungles and forests is dangerous at night – like the waters near the sea women's domain. We have no tepee for guests free, but if Iron-Hand likes, he and his men may sleep in our council hogan. It provides enough space and you're safe from the wild animals at night."
The even features of the pirate-captain broke into a genuine smile. "I thank you for your offer, Chief, an offer my men and I accept gratefully."
Peter couldn't a parting jab. "Then do us all a favour and keep the snoring down!"
A returning jab. "Afeared for your beauty-sleep, Pan? I thought you weren't vain."
"Vain?" Peter smirked openly now. "Isn't that your middle name?"
The man laughed mockingly. "It's not vanity to bathe and wash off the jungle … and the smell." He cocked his head. "A bit of cleaning up would not be out of place for you, you know," Hook taunted. "Just try it. I'm almost certain you will survive a bath with soap. Almost."
Shoving one fist onto his side, Peter grinned back, "Well, I'm not the one who screams like a little girl from a faceful of cold water."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Wendy asked him.
Peter jerked his head at the buccaneer. "Just like I said. He-"
"I'll be happy to return the courtesy in the morning, Pan – but not only with cold water," Hook sneered.
Peter's eyes began to flash. "Just try it, Codfish."
Wendy lifted both hands. "Stop it – both of you." They looked at her – boy and man had forgotten how stern the girl could become –and she added, "Must I remind you that you both agreed on a truce?"
"But…" they both said at once, pointing at each other accusingly, but Wendy cut them off, doing her best Aunt Millicent imitation. "I know you do this mutual baiting thing, but can we skip it for once? We're all guests of Chief Rain-in-the-Face, and you two bicker like… like…"
"Don't say it," Hook warned.
She gave him her sweetest smile, "Like an old married couple."
Both gaped at her. Smee bit back a grin, the Leprechaun began to snigger and even the older Indian men snorted with amusement. The Chief chuckled privately as he turned his head.
"A wise man knows when to hear wise counsel. Our women see the world through different eyes, and four eyes are often better than two," Great Big Little Panther contributed, clearly enjoying himself.
"Yes, the wisdom of a child," Hook grumbled.
Looking at Peter, she said, "Let us go to the others. Good night, gentlemen," she told them, looking around, gave Hook a last nod, ignoring his scowl, and departed with her dignity intact.
"That's why I call her 'Miss Crabby'," Hook grunted, ire subsiding and (horrors!) amusement overtaking him.
Peter scratched his tousled head. "Sometimes I just don't get her," he agreed.
"You have to be careful when dealing with females, m'boy." Hook sighed. "They can be sweet as honey and wrap you around their little fingers before you know it. The term weaker sex has proven to be completely nonsense."
"You speak from experience?" the chief jibed.
"I was spared this for many years," Hook deadpanned.
"Yet you wanted her to return, same as me," Peter threw in for consideration. He was curious about the pirate's motivation.
"A dangerous trick of human nature, Pan. We men pride ourselves on our independence and capabilities, and are ready to toss it all aside for a pretty face."
Peter considered this, then he grinned, "Then it's good that I'll never be a man," he exclaimed. "G'night, all." He took the air and landed in front of the guest-tepee; Tink followed him.
Hook watched the boy depart and snorted, then he became aware of the other men's amused gazes. "What?" he asked briskly.
"I would think twice before I lose m' freedom ter a pretty face," Smee said.
"It be too late for that," the Leprechaun threw in; grinning.
Smee nodded, then told his captain, "But as far as I can tell, the li'l wench has ye already well caught!"
"Rubbish!" Hook scoffed, yet he fooled none of them. That little enchantress was about to capture him – again! – and the others knew it. By Triton's scaley blue fishtail, his reputation…!
TBC…
Well, his reputation isn't the only thing that is soon at stake (*snicker*). And, by the way, as if his men hadn't looked through him completely by now. Really, James Hook, you should know your crew better – but at least they have some fun watching their usually so harsh captain soften more and more because of a particular girl they all (except for Cookson) have come to respect.
In the next chapter, you will meet two new characters, who are on the side of Ashford: The specialist concerning dragons and the hunter – two very much different persons, yet with one agenda. Furthermore Wend will meet her first dragon, what makes Hook panicking. Wasn't there a certain legend about dragons and virgins being sacrificed to them? I only want to reveal one detail: Never before Hook has run that quickly…
I hope, you liked the new 'chapi', including the whole dancing-scene. I thought, Hook can't know about waltz but dances were a big part of festive even during his time, so – of course – he had to know how to dance. And if someone can persuade to forget his grim 'pirate-captain-behaviour' for once, then it's Wendy. I also thought, a little bickering between Peter and Hook had to be, including our storyteller's sweet lecturing.
Like always, I hope to get some reviews, so please leave some.
'til next time,
Yours Lywhn / Starflight