Hi, my dear readers!
A little bit later than usual, sorry, but finally he comes the update. There is a lot going on now, not only aboard the Jolly Roger or in the manor, but also on the quay of the docks and Aunt Millicent's living place. And because I already gave some hints in the last 'epilogue' and I don't want to reveal more, I send you now to London of 1909.
Thank you for the feedback,
Have fun!
Chapter 51 – The Next Steps
Dalton Ashford furiously pounded his fist against the elegant, unoffending wallpaper. He and the others had searched the manor room by room, including the cellars and dungeons, the garden, the stable. Fulsom was sent to the garage. But Wendy Darling remained undiscovered. As they compared notes, he found he had been the last one to see her – last night when he checked on her. Olivia reported she had knocked at the door twice that morning but, receiving no answer, she left.
"Something isn't right here," Brynna murmured. She had just returned from the cellars; checking on the healing potion and the opening potion, adding heated stones around the egg. She was shocked to discover the youth potion was no longer liquid, but had curdled into a sludge. Unusable. Now, back in the guest wing, she was listening to Dalton's frustrated rant that his 'future bride' was still missing. "I locked Miss Darling in last evening," she told him, "but you told me that the door was unlocked when you checked last night?"
"Yes!" he snarled.
She took a deep breath. "There are strange things going on here!"
"MILORD!" Fulsom's shout from below called them to the staircase.
"What is it?" Dalton asked from the balustrade, frowning.
"Your motorcar, Milord, it's missing!" Kenley reported, cap in hand.
Dalton and Brynna paused. "No, it can't be!" she told the lad. "Neither the viscount nor I used the motorcar over the last two days."
"The garage is empty," Fulsom replied, coming into the house. "When I arrived this morning, I saw tire tracks on the muddy driveway when I parked Madame Lunette's motorcar beside the lorry, but I thought nothing of it."
Lunette sighed. "You know what this means?" she asked Dalton.
"Yes – Wendy used the motorcar." Cheeks reddening again in fury, the viscount stomped down the stairs. "How could she? The gates were locked – just like her room." He glanced at Fulsom. "The gates were locked when you arrived, correct?
"Yes, Milord," Kenly nodded. "Otherwise I would have mentioned it."
"Two locked doors, both opened. So … Wendy must have had keys," Dalton mused. "But the keys were missing since last night when you … um …" he made a twirling gesture with his hand, "well, you know."
The housekeeper frowned. "I took the keys with me to the cellars then …" She stopped; eyes narrowing. "Who found me?"
"Professor Hutchings was kneeling beside you outside when we found you." Ashford frowned. "You think he took the keys and …"
"… and let Miss Darling out later, when everybody was asleep again?" With narrowed eyes Brynna nodded slowly. "He disapproves of much that has taken place since you and the others returned from Neverland. He even accused you of murder. He played nice with the boy, he misses meals and-"
"- And eats in secret in the kitchen – at least that's what he told me last night when I confronted him in your … special room. He said that was why he was up and found you before we did," Dalton mused. "He probably found the keys you dropped and, of course, used them to unlock the door of Wendy's guestroom."
"But she'd needed the ignition key," Fulsom added for consideration. "And only two people have it – I myself was in London, and you, sir."
Dalton turned and ran up the stairs, Lunette and Fulsom on his heels. Reaching his private rooms, he yanked open his left dresser drawer. He cursed again. "The key is gone." He opened the right drawer. "And Wendy's diaries are missing, too." He turned around, face flushed. "How could they know about the whereabouts of the ignition key and the books? Those are missing, just like Wendy. And she's probably been gone for hours! She must have had a helper, here, within these walls!" He strode out of his rooms and down the hall. "Come with me!" he ordered.
A quick dash to the professor's door, some banging on it, and Dalton walked in without awaiting a response. Hutchings had paused while dressing. "Wha'… Who… Wha's goin' on?" he gasped. Then he saw the viscount, the black-haired young woman behind him and Fulsom.
"Exactly what I wanted to ask you, Professor," Ashford snarled. "Wendy is missing, so is my motorcar and the house keys – keys Brynna kept with her last night. And you were the first who found her. What have you been up to!?"
Archibald had known that he would be suspected sooner or later when Miss Darling was found missing. And he already had imagined a few scenarios and answers. "What are ye implyin', Milord?" he asked sharply.
"Don't be coy! You found the keys, you freed Miss Darling -"
"Freed 'er? Was she yer prisoner then, jus' like th' boy?" Hutchings snapped and moved toward his host; forcing the younger man to step back.
"Miss Darling was still upset because of the captain's death and so," Dalton said evasively, "to keep her safe … Brynna locked her up overnight, yes, that's true! And now the girl is somewhere out there with my motorcar -"
"Milord, th' girl wa'n't 'upset', lad, she was mournin'! Tha's no reason to lock someone up. Is this yer family's home or an asylum that ye think ye have t' lock other people up who're in distress? Beware, Milord, ye're already walkin' on thin ice. Enforced confinement is crrrriminal!" Hutchings addressed the boy/man from a moral high ground Dalton was unfamiliar with.
Both stared at each other – the elder professor, clad in tweed trousers and worn shirt, unshaven, with tousled grey hair, and the young, arrogant, fashionable viscount, whose hopes and dreams were fading by the hour. Finally Dalton lowered his gaze. Dammit, when had the old fool grown so stern, so keen? Eyes lowered, he saw the slippers. The slippers! They were filthy.
Ashford picked them up. "They're quite dirty, wouldn't you say?" He raised them accusingly toward Hutchings.
Archibald lifted a brow. "Aye, o' course. I was out in th' drivin' rain tryin' to help our Brynna," he threw her a look of disgust, "who so foolishly made a bargain with someone to th' death of her own soul. Wha' do y' expect m' shoes t' look like after such an adventure?"
"I can't recall that they were like this when I spoke with you down in Brynna's room," the viscount spat.
"An' did ya even bother t' look?" Hutchings replied with growing irritation on his face. "As I recall, ye were much taken aback by th' mess she'd made in tha' lab'r'tory."
Once again, Ashford held up the slippers. "This is mud from the driveway!"
"Or anywhere outside th' house on a night like las' night," the scholar retorted. "I know I'm in yer bad favor since I pointed out tha' ye murdered a man -"
"I didn't," Dalton said coldly. "The wretch lives. He's already in London."
"Wha'?" Hutchings did his best to appear first surprised, then relieved.
"He arrived yesterday, with his crew and his ship. There is an article on the front page of The Times about him," Lunette said carefully; trying to read the man's real feelings, but – to her astonishment – she couldn't use her new abilities against him.
"In The Times? Well, tha' tells ya he's still alive. All th' better for ye, Milord. Then ye haven't loaded another sin on yer poor condemned soul," Archibald exclaimed, rising now to his full height.
"Nothing's any better – not for him, not for Wendy and certainly not for me!" The grey eyes glared at him, dropping the slippers. Dalton turned to leave. "I can't prove that you had a part in Wendy's leaving the manor, but woe to you should she have an accident. She is in no right mind to drive the distance to London. I don't even think she knows how to drive. If something would happen to her, then -"
"- then 'twill be yer own fault, Milord," Archibald finished flatly for him. "Ye brought misery and grief over th' one ye claimed t' love. Ye cared nothin' for her feelin's, ye only desired victory by killin' th' man she loves – an attempt that seems t' 'ave failed, thank th' Lord. But she doesn't know it. So, if somethin' 'appens to 'er, you, Milord, w'll know whom t' blame." He had to keep up the pretense that he only just learned that James Hook still lived. And the girl was hilarious with joy because the captain of her heart wasn't dead.
Dalton stared at the other under lowered brows, then left without another word. All of his carefully laid plans had gone pear-shaped … so far. And even his latest to eliminate his rival was teetering! But he wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up. His reputation was at stake; his financial situation could eat him alive. No, he had to turn the tables, and new ideas were already forming in his twisted but clever mind…
*** PP *** PP ***
Smee walked Mrs. Darling and Slightly to the motorcar. Frowning, he glanced at the half dozen or so men with notebooks (obviously not dock workers), others had more of those odd wooden boxes on three long legs. After Mrs. Darling and Slightly departed, Smee found himself surrounded by these men. To his confusion they asked him about 'the young lady' and 'how does she know Captain Andrews.' But contrary to general belief, Smee was no fool.
"I'm th' bosun, tha's all," he said, or "Nothin' t' say!" or "Leave me alone."
Suddenly a large, broad-shouldered man pushed through the crowd. "Give th' man some room!" he boomed.
The reporter wasn't finished. "I'm from the Daily Mirror and our readers have a right to know-"
He couldn't finish because the stranger snapped. "Yer readers have a right t' mind their own bloody bizness, ye fobdoodle. Th' man is th' ship's bosun an' a confidant ter th' officers – especially th' capt'n. So stop harassin' 'im!"
Smee looked up at him. The man looked to be in his late fifties, red hair and short beard sprinkled with silver. His face was weathered, but the light blue eyes were sparkling. He wore simple tweed trousers, a fitted jacket with a short wool coat. A linen shirt with a simple necktie and a beret with a yarn ball completed his outfit. He belonged to the working class, Smee realized, yet his stance and actions set him apart from other employees. He was too bold. And most importantly: The man was Irish.
"Ah, come on, Mr. O'Sullivan," another reporter began, "there's a love story here, and our readers-".
O'Sullivan turned to him. "Then 'tis a private thing and not fer th' general public!" He bullied them off and turned to Smee. Offering him his right hand, large as a plate, he told him, "Céadmíle fáilte," (a hundred thousand welcomes) "I'm Cody O'Sullivan, owner of The Trout downriver." He waved his large arm toward the Thames.
"Go raibh maith agat," (thank you very much) "Ach, where all them nice old houses be?" Smee asked, shaking the hand.
"Aye! I saw yer ship arrivin' yesterday an' watched ye, yer capt'n and th' boy." His glance wandered to the Jolly Roger. "A real beauty ye 'ave here," he said with a large smile, before he turned his attention back to the bos'un. "An' ye're th' bo'sun?"
"Aye, Bryan Smee's m' name," the older man replied, assessing his rescuer. "An' where in Eire y' be from?"
"Waterford. An' ye?"
"Dingle," Smee replied, surprised how easily he remembered that name. "But me Da moved t' Cork when I's li'l. Fer work. He become a seaman – as did m'self."
"An' then ye land in America an' took up with a man on an old pirate ship he rebuilt." He began to laugh. "Life is so unexpected." He nodded inland. "Might I invite ye fer a drink?"
To Smee, that sounded heavenly – having a real drink in a real pub, but … "Ach, we … uh … haven't changed 'r' money nor—"
"I'm invitin' ye!" O'Sullivan grinned. "No money needed, man! We sons of Eire have t' stick toget'er agin this kinda rabble."
Well, it couldn't hurt to make a few connections. It seemed they would be here in England from now on, with their way back to Neverland closed. And Hook certainly had other things on his mind, and wouldn't require him for a bit, so …
"A'right. Thankee, mate," Smee beamed, turned towards the gangway and shouted upwards, "Akeele? I'm off wit' me fellow countryman here – over t'ere ter The Trout." He pointed towards the south. "If t'e capt'n needs somet'in', I'm back in an hour or so!" He didn't listen what Akeele answered, but followed O'Sullivan, who waved a few very persistent reporters off. A handful of dockworkers grinned at his new friend, greetings and jokes were exchanged. Obviously O'Sullivan was well-known here. Smee, happy to meet another Irishman, stayed at his side; not looking back once.
*** PP ***
Aboard the Jolly Roger, in the captain's quarters, Victoria watched her friend, who sat shoulder to shoulder with the captain, fingers laced with his. It was obvious that Wendy needed the physical contact to remind herself that the man at her side was still alive. Vicky tried not to stare at the ship's commander, making sure he was unharmed. The knowledge that her own cousin had shot Hook made her nauseous. Reading about something in a book versus being confronted with it was a different pair of shoes. If she, Victoria, was so relieved that James Hook was still alive, how much more was Wendy feeling?
Victoria sighed soundlessly. She knew that the two wished privacy, and with every minute ticking away their time was decreasing. And the cabin was still full of folk. An idea was forming in her mind and as Daniel rose and said that he would return to the editorial department, to ask his colleague about this Mr. Primely, Victoria made up her mind. "I'll accompany you," she said and rose. Instantly all males did the same, Wendy followed.
Daniel looked at her. "I thought you promised Mrs. Darling to stay here?"
"I didn't," Vicky smiled impishly. "I suggested it, but didn't promise."
Hook and Wendy both chuckled. It was obvious the two girls were thick as thieves … so much alike! John looked at Dark Owl whose dark eyes sparkled with surprise. Nibs only smirked. He liked it when rules weren't followed to the letter.
"I think I can make myself useful," Vicky continued, glancing at Hook and Wendy. "Uh, may I speak openly with him?" she asked her friend wryly.
"Of course," Wendy answered, winking at James. He was immediately wary. You can't be too careful with these girls. Mischievousness seemed foremost in their very feminine minds.
Victoria addressed the captain directly. "Wendy always admired your clothes, and I must agree. What you wear is quite flattering, but, sorry to say, they're very much out of fashion these days."
"You don't say," Hook commented. "Styles have changed over the last two hundred years? I'm shocked."
Daniel looked surprised. "A dry sense of humor," he noted.
"Very dry. Sometimes black, but I love it," Wendy looked with shining eyes at her hero captain; still holding his hand, needing proof that he was truly here.
"Of course!" the other girl nodded, then turned to the captain again. Egad, those eyes were piercing … She cleared her throat. "The Times reported that your modern clothes were lost in the flames, an appropriate excuse for dressing in your period 'costumes.' I'd like to propose that a shopping trip is in order."
Hook grimaced. Women and their shopping – another thing that hadn't changed. Yet, even if he desired a change of style, there was a certain problem. "There is a difficulty called money. As Master John and Master Nibs have explained to me, the old coins are no longer acceptable-"
"A problem quickly solved," Vicky interrupted. "I don't know if the Spanish doubloons you have … acquired … are acceptable at a bank. But you must have some English money. It could be exchanged for banknotes and current coin-of-the-realm." She saw Daniel staring first at her, then at Hook. It somehow had slipped his mind that the commander was a pirate. And as the captain replied, "I've golden guineas," the younger man gulped.
Of course he had booty aboard – booty stolen long ago. The situation was confusing, because Daniel felt no repugnance when he considered the captain's former 'career'. Instead, he rather felt … excited? … facing a real pirate of the 'golden' era. These men had been murderers and pillagers, yes, but also adventurers, often the forerunners of new settlements. It depended on their personal characters. But one thing he knew: Modern seafaring wouldn't be the same without the men who explored the Seven Seas more extensively than most of their Navy officers.
John rose to speak. "Lady Ashford, he can't simply walk into a bank, lay a few guineas on the counter and demand current money. He'll have to identify himself. And given the fact that half of London knows his fabricated history about the 'pirate's descendant with the old galleon,' some people might get the wrong idea – like demanding that he return what his 'ancestor' once stole."
"Well, he can always point to the paper as his verification," Nibs deadpanned. "He wouldn't need the passport he doesn't have – after all, his photo in The Times speaks for itself."
Daniel's eyes widened. "You have no passport, Captain? But …" he paused, "oh, of course you don't have one – you nor any of your crew," he murmured.
Hook's thumb absent-mindedly drew gentle circles on the back of Wendy's hand. "It seems this so-called 'pass port' must be important."
"And how do we get you one?" Kempton asked calmly. "You can't prove that you're from the United States."
"Perhaps … someone with unique artistic abilities … can … take remedial action," Nibs thought aloud.
"Hush!" John hissed, but Nibs only gave him a grin.
The two girls looked at the lad, realizing what Nibs was referring to. "Do you know someone who could help Captain Hook and his crew in such a way?" Victoria asked Daniel.
He stared in shock at her. "What sort of people do you think I associate with with?" he asked, almost scandalized.
"Dear Daniel, I know reporters – good ones – have sources, people in certain circles with their eyes and ears open. I've even heard that some of these people live in something like 'communities' where they can avoid the police. It's also said that sometimes good reporters use them as sources, otherwise the readers would only have one-sided reports, but we know that every story has two sides. So, if you do happen to know someone who maybe knows someone who could provide the captain and his crew with … um … very good faked passports, you would earn our undying gratitude."
Daniel stared at her, then began to laugh. "Victoria, I just saw another side of you!" he laughed.
The redhead smiled much like the pixie on the table in front of her who looked exactly like the prankster he was. "Is that bad?" she asked, now wide-eyed.
Kempton chuckled. "Cheeky monkey."
Hook had watched them closely and turned to Wendy. "Are these two lovers?" he asked quietly.
"Not as close as we are, but … well … they're an item," came her answer.
John and Nibs cleared their throats, looking sheepish. She looked at them questioningly. "We know, well, you know," John said, resorting to primary school implications.
"You know that we …" Wendy began, then turned to Victoria and Daniel and blushed.
Vicky's eyes almost popped out of her head in realization, as she looked between Hook and her friend, then she pointed a nonchalant a finger at the other girl. "You, deary, have a lot to explain!"
"Uh … not now?" Wendy all but pleaded. She was happy to see her best friend again, and also to have her brothers and cousin here, but at the moment she only wanted one thing: To be alone with James.
First, Victoria frowned, then she nodded in understanding. "Oh, right, time is running short for you two. All right, everyone, out!" she said forcefully and clapped her hands. "You, young gentlemen, can certainly help the crew with … whatever; you, Daniel, drive to your editorial department and on the way you can drop me off at the Bank of England. Aunt Cathy and Uncle Hendrik have an account there and one for me, too." She turned towards Hook and Wendy, who were obviously amused by her actions. "Please loan a me a few of your guineas, Captain, and I will exchange for current money. I'll bring it back to you when Daniel picks me up again. I think the whole procedure will take … uh … two hours?" She glanced at Daniel, who only shrugged resignedly.
"I can see straight through you," he said, earning him another broad smile.
"Very good, then you know we should leave as soon as possible. I'm sure those two here have a lot to catch up on." She glanced down on the three little sprites. "And maybe you should leave, too. Give these two some privacy, all right?" Kailen and Aurora only looked at each other significantly, while Tinker Bell rolled her eyes and grimaced. Then Victoria looked over to the desk, where Bumblyn was lying beside the plate and snored. The Klabautermann had vanished the moment Mrs. Darling and Slightly had left the cabin together with Smee, murmuring something about 'duties to the ship'. Walking to the desk, she carefully picked the Hobgoblin up, who only grumbled something unintelligible, curled up against her and continued so snore. For a moment Victoria was awestruck. She was holding a real Hobgoblin. "Can you take care of him?" she asked Dark Owl, who gently took the bogey into his arms.
"Well-known this Little Helper is to my people. I'll bring him to my hammock where he can sleep as long as he wants." He glanced at Wendy. "It's good for Iron-Hand that Brave Feather could flee. Two injured souls are mending into one. Dark Owl will make sure that they're not disturbed." He went to the door and gave John a pointed look. "Is Three Strengths coming?"
John began to rub his temples. "We still have daylight and everyone seems hellbent to give those two time to … to …"
"To let them talk in private, yes," Nibs said, pulling John after him. "Come along, brother, they don't need a chaperone. It's too late for that anyway."
Wendy smiled, shaking her head, while Daniel flushed and glanced away. "I didn't hear that," he sighed.
Hook remained silent through this exchange, trying to grasp the implications of it all. While on the outside everyone seemed to use the cloak of silence whenever the topic of their physical intimacy came up, it was nevertheless present, now referred to by inuendo and jibes. And a young lady of the aristocracy and the boys were far more casual about it than a decent young man from the middle class. Well, that hadn't changed. Then Vicky approached him, holding out her hand, waiting for the coins, not even nervous about him being a pirate. He couldn't deny it: She was impressing him.
"Would you entrust me with some of your booty, Captain, to change it into something you and your crew can use?"
"Do I have a choice?" he sighed; surrendering to the inevitable.
She rubbed her chin, looking quizzical as if pondering his question; then she beamed, "No!"
"I thought as much," he gestured toward the door. "I'll bring it to you outside," he said. He would never reveal the hidden door to the staircase that led down into the secret treasure room.
Victoria only nodded. "All right, keep your secrets," she agreed, Daniel helping her into her cloak. Buttoning it up, she addressed Wendy with a conspiratorial grin, "Behave yourself. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"What? You wouldn't kiss Daniel when you were alone?" Wendy teased and winked at her, noticing Daniel blushing again. Oh my, he was more innocent than she! Both girls giggled, hugged, then Victoria headed to the door. "See you, but not too soon," she called over her shoulder and they vanished.
Hook took a deep breath. His cabin was empty. Finally! No, he didn't mind the morning's visitors – he even found Victoria's banter enjoyable – but he wasn't used to having so many people around him and he needed time to come to adjust to the new turns his life was taking.
Turns of his life. His life here had just started.
"Wait here," he said quietly to Wendy, went to the bookshelf, opened the secret passage, and vanished, only to return quickly with a small pouch. "Let's see how far this goes," he sighed and left his cabin to deliver the coins to Vicky. Wendy watched. She knew he was uncomfortable, but his efforts to fit in were endearing.
Looking at the two fairies talking together, she tossed her head toward the window. Kailen smiled, nodded at Wendy, and addressed his wife and her friend, "Leaving we should. Time for alone here."
Tink and Aurora nodded, waved at Wendy and took the air, Kailen following. They vanished somewhere outside. Returning, James took a very deep breath. "Alone at last," he sighed and looked at his darling kitten. There she stood, clad in skirt, lace blouse, boots and jacket, hair bound in a loose braid. He'd never seen her in street clothes, except for the yellow dress he'd given her earlier. She looked like a woman, but her shining eyes and her sweet smile were still those of the little girl who had captured his heart years ago.
Unable to resist her and his longing to feel her, he took her at once into his arms. His lips found hers in a deep kiss – fed by the desperate need to convince himself that she was truly here. Here, on his ship, in his arms again!
Wendy pressed as close to him as possible and returned his kiss with all the longing and pain in her heart and soul that hadn't quite left. He had escaped death! He'd left Neverland and had come to London – for her! Nothing else mattered, only him in her arms. She delighted in his familiar taste, his hot breath on her cheek, his strong arms around her and the steady pounding of his heart she felt on her breasts.
The need for air forced them apart. "You're alive," she whispered, capturing his lips with hers again for a moment. "When I heard you died, I thought my heart was ripped out and I died with you."
Her words warmed and hurt him. They revealed how much he meant to her. But he also felt regret as he understood her hurt. Leaning his forehead against hers and looking deep into her wide, brimming eyes, he murmured, "I so regret that you had to go through that. But there was no way to let you know I survived."
Her hands slid over his warm back, her fingers entwined in his long curls. "I know. Neverland and the Mainland are separate worlds after all. The true wonder is that you're here now."
He smiled. "Never underestimate James Hook – or the power of fairies. It was they who carried the Jolly Roger away from the island, through the stars and down to the North Sea." He stole another kiss. "I would have traveled through hell to get to you," he murmured, before he kissed her again – deeper and fiercer. Wendy gave back as good as she got, determined to have all of him now.
Pulses quickening, blood hot beneath their skin, body and soul yearning for each other, they forgot everything around them.
"Two hours left?" James asked hoarsely.
"Barely," Wendy replied.
"Then we must not waste a second," he whispered and lifted her on his arms, taking her to his bed. They would make use of every single minute!
*** PP *** PP ***
Daniel accompanied Victoria to the Bank of England. Laws were changing, and women had achieved more independence, but modesty still demanded that a young, unmarried girl of the upper class be escorted by an older woman, a servant or a male member of her family if available. In this case Victoria did have a male companion – she wasn't alone as she stepped into the bank where George Darling worked.
They only changed five of the fifty guineas into pounds. The clerk told her that a guinea was only worth one pound and one shilling, its value had been fixed many years before. But given the fact that these were very old coins he suggested that she should try to sell them to coin collectors. There were a few decent antique dealers near Bond Street who certainly would pay her a higher price. He even wrote down a few addresses for her.
[Author's note: you might certainly wonder why the complication with the golden guineas. Originally, every one of them had been worth "1 pound sterling" (or 20 shillings), but after the price of gold increased, the coins became more valuable during the second half of the 18h century. To stabilize English money, one golden guinea was fixed at 21 shillings. The guinea went out of circulation after being used to pay Earl Wellington's army during the Napoleonic Wars, and the advent of banknotes. A few years later, the guinea was replaced by the sovereign, another golden coin with the value of 1 pound, made of less gold than the guinea, but even this coin wasn't used in 1909 anymore.]
Victoria was very grateful for the clerk's suggestion of selling them to collectors.
Some minutes later, the young lady and the reporter were back on the street and headed to Daniel's motorcar. "Bond Street, eh?" Kempton asked. "The Times is on the way. Let's stop there first so I might ask Simpkins to do some research, then we'll seek out your coin dealers." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Shall I drive you home afterward?"
Victoria bit her lower lip. "I … I can't return home today."
This confession caught him by surprise. "And why not?" They hadn't said much after they left St. Katherine Docks, both too lost in thought about what they'd learned - and seen - over the last hour.
"I told my uncle and aunt that Dalton called me over to the manor to keep Wendy company," Vicky explained.
"And that's the reason for the little valise?" he asked, indicating the baggage stowed in the back. The vehicle was older and offered only comfortable room for two persons in the front. As Victoria nodded, he snorted in amusement. "Victoria Ashford, you lied to your aunt and uncle? You won't even lie at backgammon or spades!" He saw her shrugging ruefully. and took a deep breath. "What kind of crazy adventure have you pulled me into, dear one? Fairies, pixies, bogeys, dragons, real pirates, a trigger-happy cousin with a gang of ruthless hunters, a … curse, a-a-a nanny turning into a witch, a flying boy …" He shook his head. As he glanced over at her sheepish smile, he grinned again. "I think I've stumbled into a fairytale, but … what the heck! You got me out of the office!"
"You aren't angry that … that I got you involved?" Victoria asked quite meekly.
"Angry? Darling, I – Daniel Eric Kempton – am in the middle of a real adventure! I wouldn't miss it for a stack of gold." He cocked his head. "Uh, right, the gold. Let's get this done before Wendy's captain is loosed in London clad like Charles II – or this flying boy grows up before we find him." He winked at Vicky, who quickly climbed into the motorcar; grinning broadly.
*** PP ***PP ***
"Robert! Thank the Lord and all His angels, you're unharmed!" Millicent Darling had barely opened her door before she closed Slightly in a maternal hug, holding him tightly enough to make him groan.
"Mother, please, I need to breathe!" he laughed, returning the embrace. His adoptive mother could be very stern and even old-fashioned in her opinions and clothes, but she had a warm heart. She'd been there for him from the first minute; had clothed, fed, and loved him; had made certain that he attended reputable schools – like Harrows just now. And often enough she spoiled him. He couldn't have wished for a better mother after leaving Neverland.
Millicent retreated indoors, pulling him with her. Mary followed, closing the door behind her, and turned to watch. Millicent cupped his face in both hands, her eyes were damp with happiness. "I'm so glad to have you back, my son," she whispered and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're so thin!" When he'd first arrived, she'd had to bend down to kiss him, now he had nearly reached her height. And seeing the size of his hands and feet, it was clear that he wasn't done growing. "Please, don't leave again – not to that awful island," she pleaded.
Slightly took a deep breath. "I think I'm now too old for Neverland," he replied, a little sadly. "This visit was my last one, but now Peter needs help, and -"
"- and your cousin, too," Millicent interrupted him, looking at Mary. "You told me about her call last night, but -"
"There's more news," Mary smiled. "Wendy fled the manor."
"What?" Millicent's eyes widened. "She fled the manor? Tell me!"
"She … uh … borrowed the viscount's motorcar, drove to Guildford and took a train to London. Just now she is …" Mrs. Darling hesitated, then said as calmly as possible. "Just now she is aboard the Jolly Roger and is waiting for me to pick her up, so -"
"The Jolly Roger? Isn't that the ship of …" Millicent paused, looking scandalized.
" … of Captain Hook, aye," her son finished. "As Aunt Mary told you on the phone this morning, the bullet the viscount shot at him didn't kill –"
"I still can't believe that this nice, decent, well-bred viscount could be such a … a rascal," Millicent stated, still shocked. "That he tried to murder another man! Then kept Wendy captive is … is unbelievable. He was so charming and -"
"Mother, beneath that behavior and handsome face, he is a villain worse than Hook ever was, and -" He didn't finish as Millicent addressed her sister-in-law.
"You left Wendy on that ship – with all those men? Alone?" she cried incredulously.
Mary sighed. "She isn't alone, Millie. Victoria Ashford is staying with her –"
"Two young girls alone on a ship full of … of pirates?" she seemed to swell up with outrage.
Grimacing, Mrs. Darling continued, "The girls are safe there, Millie. It is nearly certain that Captain Hook was forced into piracy, and embraced this life for a time, but I have come to the conclusion that he is a man of honor."
" 'Whose eyes turn red when he guts you'," Millicent quoted. "Let's hope that he doesn't try it here in London!"
He's already gutted Wendy but in an entirely different manner, Slightly thought with his own black humor; covering a smirk. Yet Aunt Mary seemed to read his mind, because she shot him a warning glare. She had attempted to pry information from him concerning Wendy and the captain, but Slightly had refused to answer. And he wouldn't give them away now to her own aunt, who would certainly faint if she learned the whole truth.
"Captain Hook risked his life several times to keep Wendy safe," Mrs. Darling justified now, "and the last time he was almost killed. He left his home and came to London to rescue her and Peter Pan, facing a world that has totally changed, because he left it two hundred years ago, yet he's trying to fit in. Does that sound like he is ill-willed?"
"It rather sounds like a man in love," Millicent replied. It was meant as an offhand remark, but when she saw the surprise and smirk on Robert's face, and the way Mary tensed, it dawned on her that she had hit the nail on the head. "Has this man fallen for our Wendy?" she asked breathlessly.
"Is that so hard to believe?" Mary sighed. "Those two were bound to each other before they ever met. It wasn't a question of 'if' but 'when' her admiration and his devotion become more."
Again, Millicent gaped at her. "Mary! You … you can't be serious!"
Mary blinked. "I'm absolutely serious. He loves our Wendy. You should have seen him before she showed up at -"
"I don't doubt this man has some feelings for Wendy. I'm just shocked at your seeming approval of this … this insanity! Our Wendy is a decent young lady raised to be married into the upper class and this man is a pirate! A criminal! What -"
"He is the last surviving son of a marquess," Slightly interrupted, cutting off her rant. "Doesn't that rank belong to the peers?"
And a third time, Mary thought amusedly as she saw the other woman – again – speechless. "It's true," she said. "He is the last living son of the Marquess Shalford, and as such was raised in the manners of the peerage. Do you really think a man of his status would forget himself and treat a young lady – the girl he loves – with anything other than utmost decency?"
Millicent moistened her lips. The pirate was a marquess? It had to be a joke. And hadn't this man already proven himself ruthless? "As I remember Wendy's tales, he captured her and made her walk the plank – blindfolded!"
Robert groaned. "As I live and breathe," (one of Millicent's exclamations) "will one silly decision haunt him his whole life?"
"He wanted to kill our Wendy," Millicent pointed out, turning to him.
"No, he wanted to lure Peter into a trap, Mother! He wouldn't really have sacrificed her," Robert assessed. Of this, he was certain. Deep down Slightly knew that Hook wouldn't have let her drown. Slightly had been far too young then to understand the strange passions a man could feel, but even then he could see that Wendy had caught the captain's interest. And his interest only grew during their second stay. He could remember how often those two had bickered and pulled each other's legs …
Millicent was not convinced. "But to frighten a little girl like that only to-"
"He was half mad then, driven to a breaking point," Slightly interjected, surprised at his own insight and boldness. He looked firmly at his mother. "I always thought Peter's pranks and jokes were fun when I was a little boy, and most of the time they were just that: Pranks. But there were other times – occasions where Hook or the others got seriously harmed. And I don't mean just losing his right hand. There were a few occasions during which he was wounded. And then to be stranded in Neverland, losing a right hand was salt on the wound of everything he went through before, like losing his family and being accused of something he didn't do. He was forced into piracy, Mother. And then held captive in Neverland, with no way back, forced to endure things he loathed while time passed and passed and passed. And in truth he only wanted to return home to avenge his family or – at least – search for those still alive, like his sisters and mother."
Millicent frowned. Slightly turned to face her, standing tall, meeting her eyes.
"I don't make excuses for him, because I was really frightened of him when I was younger, but I know better now," her son continued. "He went through hell before he came to Neverland, where for him hell continued – endlessly. Now that I've thought about it, I should apologize to him for all we did to him, but, like he told us, it's in the past. He drew a line through it all. Opening old wounds would do more harm than good. What really counts now is that he has changed – really changed! And all of us, including Peter, gave him a second chance. And seeing that he never did anything to you, Mother, I know you'll give him a second chance, too. You're a fair woman, and you stand up for what's right. Everyone can lose their way, but when he turns and chooses right over wrong, he (or she) deserves our respect. After all, forgiveness is the essence of Christianity, and I know what a good person you are, Mother."
Mary smiled inwardly. Robert had made strong arguments – and the last one took the wind out of the older woman's sails.
Millicent watched her son closely, and saw with some astonishment how he'd changed. Before returning to Neverland last week he had been a boy, but she could tell he had matured. His voice was still looking for its new range. Yet the man he was becoming now looked out of his boyish face with clear eyes. Robert stood up for what he believed, and at this moment he was intently shielding this man. A man who had frightened him as a child, but now needed protection against prejudice and verbal assault. And learning new things about Robert as she was, she knew that he wouldn't have forgiven the man if he hadn't changed.
Looking at Mary, she took a deep breath. "The son of a marquess you say?" As the younger woman nodded, she grimaced. "Well." She straightened, pulling Robert to her for a quick hug. "I'm willing to hear his story." She gestured to her dining room. "Take a seat, I'll make us some tea."
Mary's gaze flicked to the grandfather clock in the corner. "I'm supposed to pick up Wendy -"
"You told me that this man was raised as a nobleman and therefore Wendy's dignity is in no danger." She swept the two of them before her to the dining room. "And she has a chaperone with her, an hour more won't matter."
Slightly chuckled. Squeezing her hand, he said, "I'll go and change. Be right back." In his room, he packed some clothes. He knew that circumstances would not allow him to remain in his home, but to return to the Jolly Roger and later to the Darling household – hopefully after Peter was rescued! And even then, the adventure wouldn't be over …
TBC…
Well, not only Nibs and John have matured, Slightly did the same, yet his connection to Neverland and Peter is still strong, as his mother and aunt had to learn. He and Nibs will have a few more tasks laying ahead, but the same goes also for John. And don't forget Michael and the rest of the former Lost Boys, but their time will come later. And while Victoria and Daniel try to get 'modern' money for Hook and Smee enjoys his time with a country fellow man, James and Wendy will have some time for themselves.
Especially in the next chapter, when James decides to make a very important, fundamental step he never thought he would dare to do. And I'm already sure you're all going to LOVE it.
But there will be more. Peter has his first day in the orphanage, and – of course – being the Pan he has problems to obey and even more, he can't stand aside and watch how smaller children are bullied. And promptly he will be again in trouble, even if he first has the upper hand and gets happy news.
I hope, you liked the new chapter, and I would be really very glad to get some more reviews. It makes so much fun to write this story and I know that there are a lot of readers, who enjoy this fiction, so please let me know what you think about the new chapter.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight