Hi, my dear readers!
Just in time the next update is ready. And as you certainly guess, this chapter will be full of surprises. Smee has to handle the custom officers Ashford get onto the Jolly Roger. And after Hook has a very interesting talk with Peter's family's still living descendant, our little hero will learn something that will shake him to the core.
Have fun
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 65 – Rectification of the Past
The customs officials were restless, waiting on the pier for admittance to the ship and their inspection. Smee descended, pulling the beany from his head, determining to speak to the officials with respect. "G'day t' y', sirs," he said. "M' name is Bryan Smee."
The custom inspector touched the brim of his cap. "Julian Grove, Inspector of the Waterguard," he returned.
"Waterguard?" Smee asked.
Grove explained, "A new department of the Custom and Excise Office. We are responsible for managing ships and boats." One of his men handed him a piece of paper. "We were informed that you might have … well … goods aboard which should have been declared."
Smee frowned. "We've no goods, sir. We're no traders nor -"
"I don't speak of goods for market, Mr. Smee, but jewels and the like."
"Don't mince words, Inspector. You're seeking pirate treasure."
The strong bass voice came from behind the officer. The four uniformed men turned and Smee's eyes widened. Behind them stood Captain Chester Ward, commander of the steam ship beside the Jolly Roger; the one who had come to Kempton's and Victoria's aid the evening prior.
"Captain Ward! Nice to see you." Grove again touched the brim of his hat; a gesture Ward returned.
"The pleasure is mine," Chester replied correctly, then explained to the old Irishman. "Inspector Grove and I are old acquaintances – well before his new department opened," he explained.
Grove asked, "I thought you were leaving?"
Ward glanced at the Seawolf where the smoke showed the fires now stoked. "The boilers are not hot enough, so we'll leave in an hour." He nodded toward the Jolly Roger. "Ye're here for her?"
Grove sighed. "You know I'm not allowed to speak about operations."
"Hm," Ward rubbed his bearded chin. "Ye'r searchin' for treasure, aren't ye? Now, more than two days after 'er arrival. That be … unusual."
Again, the inspector took a deep breath. "Captain Ward, I'm just following orders and-"
"Ye got yer orders from the office, right. But why be they interested in tha' ship so sudden?"
Lifting his brows, Grove replied, "Because we got a call telling us that there were illegal items aboard."
"A call? Possibly from a Viscount Ashford?" the captain of the Seawolf interrupted.
Smee frowned deeply. "Is tha' true? Tha' villain Ashford's behind yer visit, sir?" His eyes had narrowed angrily.
The inspector blinked in surprise. "How would you both know that?" one of them asked.
Ward and Smee exchanged a glance, before the Sea Wolf commander growled, "Tha' lad really takes things t' th' wall!" He shook his head in disgust. "Inspector Grove, you and your office were abused for a young nobleman's privileged revenge on this ship's capt'n, because a young lady chose Capt'n Andrews and not himself."
Grove's eyes narrowed while his three companions began to whisper among themselves
Ward nodded. "I had a rather unpleasant discussion with this Viscount – Ashford! – only yesterday, when he and a few of his fellas chased down the capt'n and his son, a lady and a few young boys. It seems the viscount was usin' Andrews' son as leverage and Andrews got the boy away from him just in time, but – heavens! – the youth was in a bad shape. I gave Andrews a few aspirin for his son."
By now the four officials were staring, expressions growing stormy. "The viscount… kidnapped the captain's son?" Grove demanded; his composure beginning to slip. Using a child against his father – that was criminal!
"Tried to. His own cousin, a very nice young lady, confronted him with his misdeeds and he grew very … unpleasant toward her and her companion. Right here, on this very dock. He insulted the dock workers, offended my officers and me, and-"
"And you think this incident inspired him to call our office and lie about the ship's cargo?" one of Grove's men demanded.
"We've no cargo," Smee sighed, crossing his fingers in hope that the other captain would be able to talk the officials out of inspecting the Jolly Roger.
"I heard him screaming to Andrews that he would 'get him for that' and that he – Andrews – wouldn't be able, he said, 'to escape him forever.' He referred to the successful rescue of the captain's son. The lad clung to his father, quite battered. I'm sure if the child had been healthier, that Andrews would have given the viscount a fitting answer, but he was more worried about the boy. And when I saw how the viscount treated his cousin, and heard him threatening the lady's companion who had stood up for her like a real gentleman, I realized what a foul character that social climber was." He straightened. "I'd bet a full month's salary that the viscount lied to your office and sent you out as an agent of his revenge."
Smee thought it about time to add a few words. After all, he was the Jolly Roger's boatswain, for God's sake! Hook counted on him to keep the ship and the crew safe, and – by the eternal flow of the River Shannon! – he would do exactly that. "Yer lordship, like I said at the first, we're no traders nor have we goods aboard t' declare. Th' capt'n is the descendant of a nobleman 'oo turned pirate, an' found clues about th' ship in old logbooks he inherited. There were a few old coins an' so on aboard tha' he used t' restore her, t' set the ship afloat along wit' th' money he got fer sellin' 'is house an' ol' paintings he also inherited. Th' rest of th' money 'e got from friends, y'know, investors. Aye, there be a few investors in America who hope t' get ther money back some day w' interest. If ther were anythin' valuable t' declare, 'e sold it a'ready in 'Merica t' pay back 'is debts."
Grove had listened closely. Now he looked back at the Jolly Roger – a pirate ship that seemed right out of a book. It might have sailed under the Black Flag, its previous captain might have collected booty, but it was his experience that treasure never lasted long in a pile. The greed of man made sure of that. The stories of buried or hidden pirate treasures were simply that: Stories. And those who hunted those treasures were always disappointed.
On the other side, there was a jealous young nobleman, unaccustomed to losing, and ruthless enough not only to send London's custom house on a wild goose chase, but also to use a child against his father. This made far more sense than a hidden cache of jewels and treasure! "I'll speak with my superior about your testimony. If he comes to the same conclusion as I – that we were wrongly informed – this viscount will be charged. Ashford …" he paused. "Is he related to the owner of the Ashford Shipping Company?"
"As far as I know, 'e's th' son," Smee said slowly.
The inspector grimaced. "Hm, son by profession, it seems. And too vain to accept a young woman's decision." He shook his head in disgust. "Right, back to the office, gentlemen," he addressed his companions. "And if this popinjay has used us in his bid for revenge, I think we'll have to do some very detailed inspections of his father's ships." He again tapped his brim, wished Captain Ward a good journey, said farewell to Smee and took his leave; his three inferiors following.
The old Irishman looked at Chester. "Thankee fer yer help, Capt'n Ward," he said, offering his hand the other shook it.
"My pleasure," Chester smiled. "We sailors have to stick together. Bringing an honorable man into discredit for a payback requires other honorable men to step forward." He grinned. "The young lady in question definitely made the right decision in choosin' yer captain."
"Aye! Tha' she has!" Smee replied heartily. "May th' road rise t' meet ye!"
"Fair winds and following seas," Ward replied, and returned to his ship. Smee returned to the deck, relieved that no inspection had taken place. He shook his head, not wanting to imagine what Hook would have done if the custom's officials had searched the ship.
"Th' capt'n will be grateful that everthin' turned out well," he murmured. "At least 'e can enjoy 'is dinner w' th' Darlin's."
He couldn't yet know what was happening elsewhere in London.
*** PP *** PP ***
Daniel Kempton parked his motorcar in front of the house where he had rented a small flat. Stopping at a street market earlier, he'd bought two flower bouquets (one for Mrs. Darling, one for Wendy, both to be presented by Hook, he himself would give Mr. Darling two bottles of wine). He was about to take them into the flat when he heard a noise from the back of his vehicle. Opening the back, he only saw the empty suitcase the captain wanted to return to the Darlings. What was that from the suitcase? Knocking and muffled grumbling? What the name of St. Peter was that …?
"Let poor Bumblyn out! Sick and cold he is!" He caught those words, and Daniel's eyes widened. The Hobgoblin was in the suitcase? How … Then he remembered that the boy had removed the clothes from the case and closed it. Well, he'd obviously smuggled the bogey into the suitcase after the fruitless discussion between the sprite and the captain.
Kempton shook his head and snorted in amusement. That boy never gave up, did he? And he was completely loyal to his friends. Pretending to tie his shoe, the reporter murmured, "Stay quiet, little friend, I'll take you with me into my flat." Instantly the noises ceased.
Daniel tucked the bottles under the driver's bench, ensconced away from curious eyes, then entered his flat with the bouquets, and suitcase, kicking the door shut. In the tiny parlor, he placed everything on the old sofa and opened the case. Yet he was startled as the small figure all but shot out of the trunk and jumped down onto the floor. A spate of syllables spilled from the bogey's mouth that Daniel didn't understand but he certainly understood the mood behind the words. It was one of those endless Hobgoblin curses.
His diminutive visitor ran in circles, gripped his tail, looked around angrily and finally stopped in front of a pair of large shoes and long trousers. Glancing up he recognized the young man and chuntered on: "Enough this was! Once for all time! Bumblyn was thrown left, then right, then left again… Worse like on a ship it was! What did you do, bigun (stupid big man)? All sick poor Bumblyn is now with-"
"Captain Hook warned you! He said that we would be taking a sightseeing trip with the motorcar and that it your ride would be miserable," Daniel interrupted the harangue; biting the inside of his cheek and trying not to laugh. "Who smuggled you into the suitcase, by the way? Peter?"
"Back to the Wendy-lady Bumblyn must go and know this did Peter Pan," the bogey replied while kneading the red tuff at the end of his tail. "But-"
Daniel shook his head. "You were warned, little friend, so don't complain about the rough trip." He crouched down in front of the sprite, met those big round eyes over an even bigger nose, and smiled. "I have an idea. I'll give you some bread and marmalade and some tea while I change clothes. And then we'll pick up Captain Hook and Peter, and drive to the Darlings, so-"
"Not in that box Bumblyn will return!" the Hobgoblin snapped, before he shook his head wildly enough to make his beanie slip. Grabbing it, he insisted, "In the front Bumblyn will travel, where our direction he can see!"
The reporter sighed. "And risk allowing all of London to see you? Do you want that?" As Bumblyn opened and closed his mouth, Daniel continued, "Why don't you hide under the driver's seat? But you must be careful not to fall out of the motorcar. I might not see it and continue without you." He rose and went into the small kitchen of the flat, hearing the grumbling in his visitor's strange language.
Shaking his head, he took the pot with the tea that had cooled since the morning; sweetened, it would taste fine. He poured a cup for himself and a small glass for the bogey. Then he quickly prepared a sandwich and as he turned around, Bumblyn stood on the threshold, wide eyes fixed on the bread. "Come and eat something," Daniel invited him. "And I'll change clothes."
He hadn't finished before the little bogey had hopped up on the table, grinning. Daniel was looking forward to dinner with good friends and especially Victoria …
… both unaware of what lay ahead for everyone …
*** PP *** PP ***
Hook listened to the music with half an ear, pondering his options. Starting out, he had wanted to seek out any living relative of Peter's to learn more about the boy who didn't want to grow up. But the youth had already revealed so much to him that he knew most of Peter's activities since he'd left home. He was still angry about the fairies' deceptions, keeping the child with them; distracting him repeatedly until it had been, apparently, too late to return home.
Yet there was one thing he couldn't fathom: That Peter's mother could have forgotten her young son. A woman giving birth to a child and then forgetting about him? Impossible!
Even among the nobility, where children spent a large part of their childhoods with nurses and nannies instead of their own parents, a mother could never forget her son or daughter. If there was one thing on earth as certain as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west: A mother never forgot or gave up on her child! No sane woman, mind you. It certainly seemed that Peter's family was not crazy – at least according to what he had heard from Mrs. Chapman, who now interacted with Peter's grandniece socially, and Mrs. Chapman seemed to be a fine lady.
No, Peter hadn't been forgotten by his own mother. He was sure that the fairies had played another trick. They had given the boy the ability to fly – permanently – perhaps they had arranged for his mother not to be able to hear him the fateful night he tried to go home forever.
Hook's thoughts returned to the present as a new melody began to play – a waltz, sweet and fluid: By the Beautiful Blue Danube. Instantly, he was back in his cabin and Wendy stood in front of him, clad in her blue Elvish dress; great eyes shining, a broad smile on full lips, her slender body conforming with his while they waltzed through his cabin.
A long sigh escaped James, and he tucked the memory away to enjoy later. He knew he had to find out the truth about what happened that led to Peter's trauma, a shock strong enough to bring him to his knees a hundred years later. Wendy would require this from him. And, truthfully, he was curious. He might learn a truth that would give the boy some reassurance that his mother had not 'forgotten about him' but had been tricked just like her departed son. Fae could be 'good neighbors', as they were called in other parts of Great Britain, but also selfish, mischievous, even devious. Hadn't Tinker Bell, who really did love Peter, conspired with him against the one he was taken with only to have her own way? If the star fairy had been ready to betray the boy's trust for her own selfish motives, then how far would other fairies go to keep him for themselves – for their own entertainment? In Hook's eyes, Mab and the others had abused Peter's desire to remain a child in order to bind him to them and their hidden kingdom, not caring what this would mean for his future.
Frowning, Hook made up his mind. He would discover the truth! And he would tell Peter what he found, and then the boy really could decide, with no hidden reluctance or misgivings, what kind of future he wanted: Return to Neverland and continue as a part of the Fae's schemes, or stay here, enveloped in a family's loving embrace – something that had been denied to him for so very long.
Quietly, he leaned over to the gentleman on the bench next to get the time. He frowned. Half an hour left until he would meet Peter (hopefully the boy was punctual, but who could know?) and Daniel Kempton. If he wanted to follow through with his decision, he had to do it now. He rose and walked to the end of the Gardens – another gate made of wrought iron, but smaller and less elegant than the one they'd entered Lancaster Gate.
Looking both directions on the street, he saw a sign to his right, and knew that there was an entrance to another so-called 'underground station'. To his left, he saw larger homes in a more modern, yet classical style. Behind those, a smaller street emptied onto this one, his goal.
Walking down Bayswater Road along the black iron fence of the Gardens, the sound of the orchestra faded behind him. He soon reached the little street and brightened when he saw the road sign: Leinster Terrace. The corner house was just opposite him. A brick home in the Regency style (even if Hook didn't know its name), a white wall with a door bordered the garden at the right side along Leinster Terrace. A wrought iron fence ran on Bayswater's side, allowing an open view of a cherry tree and a few bushes.
Hook took another deep breath and crossed the street. Reaching the wooden door in the wall, he tried the handle and found it open. Passing onto the grounds of the corner house, he saw a small well, similar to the decorations in Kensington Gardens. The way to the door was lined with terracotta flower beds. Already choosing his words, James climbed the few steps to the door of dark honey-gold oak, and pulled the chain beside the door before removing his captain's cap.
There was a long moment's wait before a grumpy-looking girl in her twenties, clad in black dress with a white apron and white cap of lace on her head, opened the door. "Yes?" she asked after a second of surprise, and James addressed the girl.
"Good afternoon, Miss. I'm Captain James Andrews. Is Mrs. Bailey at home?"
She peered at him, curious, and opened her mouth to answer when from the inside of the house another woman's voice said, "Milly, who is there?"
"A … a Captain Andrews, Ma'am," she replied over her shoulder and withdrew as behind her, a figure appeared.
"Who?" The woman crossed into the light at the open door – and Hook looked into Peter Pan's eyes. Well, not exactly his. The woman's eyes were rounder, but they were of the same intense crystal blue he knew so well with the same long, dark lashes. He quickly scanned the lady's countenance. It bore some resemblance to Peter, too, but of course feminine and much older. Her sandy hair showed a generous spray of silver at the temples, and he guessed her to be in her early or middle sixties, but her figure was still slender, not tending to stoutness as so many of the other older ladies he'd seen. She wore a cream-colored dress with lace and exquisite embroidery, but its casual style and the loose top over it showed that this was a dress worn at home. He couldn't know that this was the appropriate style of an afternoon dress during tea-time – the only time of the day a woman was allowed to go without a corset, less formally dressed. Her hair was bound up in a simple knot and a few curls framed her kind, interesting face. She was through and through a lady, but James could also see Peter in her.
Realizing that he was staring – she soon lifted a brow at him – he cleared his throat and bowed gracefully; not realizing that a scrape like this was no longer required. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Bailey. Please excuse my unannounced visit, but Mrs. Chapman just south of here gave me your address in hopes that you can help me."
"Sophia sent you?" Cora Bailey asked, surprised, then she also observed him curiously. The most impressive thing she noticed about him were his intense blue eyes – and his tall slender profile. And was that long hair, bound at the neck – and an earring? Then she remembered where she had seen this face with the high cheekbones and the old fashioned beard: In The Times. Her glance moved quickly to his right arm where she got the proof. "You are the sea captain from the old Spanish galleon down in the harbor."
"Yes, Madam, Captain James Andrews at your service. And 'no' to your first question. Mrs. Chapman didn't send me, but she was able to give me your new address after I sought your family at the wrong house."
Cora stared at him. "Captain, my late husband and I have lived here for more than thirty years, and you seek us at my parents' old address?"
"I'm aware how odd it sounds, Madam, but I only had the old address of your family." He chose his next words carefully. "I am researching my ancestors and some … family history, and I think you can help me with an unsolved mystery."
Well, that piqued her curiosity. "How so?" she asked.
James assorted his features to a look of inquiry. "My questions might sound … odd to you, but I'm here to discover more about the little boy who vanished from his nursery in your family's old home over hundred years ago – a boy named Peter."
For a moment, she stared at him, eyes wide. And now she resembled Peter so much he had to swallow a grin. "You're here to ask about … my missing granduncle?" Collecting herself, she asked. "What has the vanishing of my granduncle to do with your family, Captain?"
"Nothing urgent – it's rather about a tale I stumbled upon during my research." Hook had devised a plausible excuse for his questions as he approached the house. "One of my great grandfathers was involved in the investigation of the missing boy."
"One of your ancestors was a Bow Street Runner?" Cora was quite intrigued.
Hook's thoughts were galloping now. Bow Street Runners – he had never heard this name before. But given the fact that Peter had fled home more than hundred years ago and the 'police' were founded later, as Kempton explained when they drove away from Westminster Palace bypassing the old building of Scotland Yard, he could have bet his last shirt that these 'runners' were the precursors of the police.
Hook smiled, nodding, and took the risk. "He was known for his determination in solving criminal riddles. He became one of the first policemen later – and he was involved in the case of your missing granduncle."
"Oh!" was all Mrs. Bailey said to that, then she sighed. "Well, my grandfather told me about everything when I was younger and complained about the bars on my nursery window. He told us of his older brother who vanished one night when he was very young. My great grandfather was a prominent lawyer and was working on some … delicate cases. My great grandparents first thought that Peter's disappearance was connected to one of those cases, but no ransom message arrived." Hook nodded, encouraging her to continue. "My great grandfather involved the Bow Street Runners and later even hired two thief takers – today these men would be called bounty hunters. But there were no results. My granduncle remained missing." She smiled almost sadly. "When I was little, there were tales I believed in – tales about a little boy in Kensington Gardens who rode on a goat, played on a pipe and protected infants who were forgotten in the Gardens."
"Peter Pan," Hook murmured before he could stop himself.
Cora's eyes widened. "You know of those stories, too?"
"I know them well," the captain said.
She laughed quietly. "Interesting. Over the last thirty or forty years, most children have lost interest in those stories. I hadn't heard that name for quite a while." She shook her head. "When I was quite small, I imagined that my missing relative was this Peter Pan, remaining in the Gardens and living with the fairies. I often searched for him while playing there, but I never met him."
'You have no clue how close you were,' Hook thought, but said aloud, "As I would have done. So you attached the story of your grandfather's missing brother to the name Peter Pan."
Mrs. Bailey nodded. "You're certainly right, Captain. My mother told me the stories of Peter Pan and the light of the fairy house. She had heard these tales from a friend who lived in the neighborhood where she grew up – somewhere up that way." She waved a hand towards the north-west. "Her name was Maimie – an odd name, so I remembered it. My grandfather was a lawyer like his father, and Maimie's father was a colleague, so that's how Maimie and my mother knew each other. As the story went, Maimie met Peter Pan when she was a very little girl and got locked in the Gardens on purpose one night. They became friends and Peter asked her to stay with him, but she wanted to return to her mother."
'Just like Wendy,' James sighed inwardly. 'So … reasonable, even when so little. How like a girl!' He tilted his head. "So this Maimie, she returned home?"
"Yes, to her brother and her parents, but she said she wrote letters to Peter Pan. In one of them, she painted a goat and dreamed later that this goat came alive and her friend rode on it. Afterwards, there were stories of the little boy riding on a goat and playing a pipe." She chuckled. "Children. Their stories are so fantastic."
"Aye," Hook agreed. "I could write a book about it." He was taken aback at how much the people around here had known about Peter Pan without ever believing the stories were true – and that the boy who refused to grow up left the Gardens to live far away on an island not found on any chart. He paused, grateful for what he'd already learned, then steered the topic to the detail he needed. "I can imagine that your great grandparents were very upset when they found their little son missing. His mother must have been grief stricken when no-one found him."
A sad memory caught between Cora's brows. "She never got over it. Well, that's what my grandmother always told me. My grandfather didn't often mention his missing brother, for it happened three years before he was born. But Grandmother said that her mother-in-law never gave up her hope that Peter would return someday – healthy, perhaps grown into a handsome man. My mother, who knew her mother-in-law well, said that the old lady died with her lost son's name on her lips, hoping to meet him in heaven." She sighed and gave her head a slow shake.
Hook was blinking rapidly, surprised to feel his throat tightening. It seemed this unique family history had been kept just for him, for this time. It was not (only) a mother's sorrow about losing her child that touched him, that the family still mourned his loss, but tragically that Peter had believed the whole time that his mother had 'forgotten all about him,' when in truth she had grieved his loss until her last breath. Blasted fairies! This was their fault!
"How long is she dead now?" he asked quietly.
"Oh, maybe fifty or sixty years," Cora answered, then she looked at him curiously. "Why the interest, Captain?"
James smoothed his features. "I always wondered what happened to the investigation of this riddle, never solved. When I learned of it, it … touched me. Children often die from illness, hunger, war. But rarely does an infant go missing without a trace or some foul reason. Perhaps this was why my ancestor tried to solve the case for so many years, then passed the story along to his family. I was curious about what truly happened, if there was a happy ending. But alas, happy endings must be only for fairy tales."
Cora Bailey looked at him thoughtfully and chuckled. "Yes, that is usually the outcome. And, you should know by now, Captain, there are no happy endings because nothing ever really ends."
"A discussion for a different meeting, Madam," Hook replied and replaced his cap. "Thank you for giving me your time. If you are interested in a closer look at my ship, you're welcome to visit."
They exchanged pleasantries, then the pirate captain turned to leave. As he closed the door in the garden wall behind him and crossed the street, his saw the boy down the road, waving at him. He sighed. Peter was convinced that his mother had forgotten about him, that his brother had taken his place, which was far from the truth. His mother had waited for him her whole life – and Hook didn't know how to break the news to him.
*** PP ***
Peter had passed to the end of the Gardens and gone beyond the railings. Seeing people sitting around, listening to music, he searched for Hook among the listeners. He knew the captain liked music – just as Peter did – but for once the boy found he couldn't enjoy the melodies. His thoughts were still with Mab. He hoped that he had used the right words to convince the fairy queen to help him convince her mother to allow Hook and his men (and Wendy) back to into Neverland.
Not seeing the captain, he went to the exit. Aurora landed on his shoulder as no humans were about. But the star fairy was missing. "Where is Tink?" he murmured.
The rose fairy chimed and the Peter rolled his eyes. "Mab talking with Tink? Let them talk as long as they want, as long as Mab sends that message to her mother." He stopped as a nurse with two children were approaching him and the gate. "Hide in my collar," he whispered, and Aurora instantly obeyed.
Leaving the Gardens, Peter looked right and left, but couldn't see the captain. "Where can he be?" he asked himself. Then he saw the pirate coming out the gate from a corner house and crossing the street to his side of the road. Peter waved at him and jogged toward him. "So here you are. I thought you'd be listening to the music …" Then he saw Hook's tight expression, the deep blue eyes looked at him with a mixture of … of pity? Anger? "What happened?" he asked, suddenly serious.
Hook took yet another very deep breath, and for once he had to search for the right words. "I … I met someone," he began slowly. "Someone from your family."
Peter frowned. "You did what?" As James nodded, the boy narrowed his eyes. "In that house you just came from?" he asked, glaring at it.
"Aye," Hook affirmed.
Peter's expression grew stormy. "Why are you poking around in my past? I told you everything about it, didn't I? I even showed you the really important places where I lived when I was little. Why are you looking for those … those traitors? They don't matter and I-"
"Peter," Hook interrupted him, but the boy stepped back angrily.
"You have no right to look for them! I don't care who they are or what they said to you! My parents are dead. My mother forgot me, and all the others -"
"Your mother missed you all her life until the moment she died," James interrupted, and watched how the boy froze where he stood. Using the brief opportunity the boy was giving him, he continued, "Your parents searched for you for a very long time. They even hired bounty hunters in case you'd been kidnapped, but no-one could ever find a trace of you. Your mother mourned you her whole life – and died with the hope of meeting you in heaven one day."
He heard the soft chiming of a fairy coming from Peter's coat and recognized Aurora. Hook was glad that Tinker Bell wasn't around, otherwise he certainly would have her in his face right now. He had revealed the proof of the dirty little trick her kin had played on the boy. They had allowed him to believe that his mother had turned her back on him – maybe they even came up with the story themselves to keep him with them, to erase his desire to return home once and for all! Bugger these tricksters!
He ignored the rose fairy; his entire attention on the teen. He saw the shock on the boy's face, and then the first words of denial. Knowing that he had to open Peter's eyes to the fact that the misunderstanding – or lie – he'd lived with his whole life, he added softly, firmly: "Your mother never forgot you, Peter. Even after your brother Lucas was born, she never stopped hoping that you would return one day."
"But she barred the win-" Peter began, his voice hoarse.
"The bars in front of the nursery window were installed to keep away the people your parents thought stole you away. They feared that the same could happen to your brother. How could they have known that you weren't stolen but flew away? Babies don't fly." Peter was breathing heavily, eyes wide, and he had paled, but James couldn't spare him the rest: He had to learn the truth. "They never forgot about you, Peter. Not one day. Neither your father nor your mother. They loved you until their deaths."
This was a blow like Peter had never experienced before. He felt like he'd just been thrown into a pool of icy water. He swayed on his feet and the afternoon had grown dark. Unsteady now, his eyes dampened. He felt sick and dizzy, and told himself Hook had to be making this up – that the man was lying to him. But the serious, sympathetic expression on the captain's face and the compassion in those blue eyes convinced him that James was telling the truth.
His mother had waited for him, even after another baby lay in the cradle, and he always believed she had forgotten him!
A sob escaped him. His whole life until now had been built on a misapprehension – or on a lie the fairies and even Solomon had whispered to him. But just this moment it didn't matter. The only thing he knew was that he had thought that his mother had replaced him, and it had hurt so much that he had tried to remove all feelings and memories of her forever. But without success. In the depths of his heart, he had never stopped yearning for her, as all little children do. And for what had he gone through this pain of feeling betrayed? Why had he denied himself the desire any child harbored: To be held and treasured in his mother's arms? For naught!
Pressing his lips into a thin line, he felt the lump growing in his throat, and vainly tried to stop the tears flooding his eyes, but despite all his efforts, they spilled over onto his pale cheeks. Aurora appeared from his collar and patted his cheek, but he didn't notice. Helplessly he looked up at Hook, who couldn't stand the boy's forlorn gaze, closed the distance and pulled him into an embrace, steadying him. Instantly the youth returned the hug, burying his face in the man's chest. He wept openly now: For his mother waiting for him all those years and dying without knowing what happened; for himself, robbed of his mother's (and father's) arms and love; and for his lost chance of living as a normal boy, for which he finally admitted he'd yearned whenever watching other children with their parents.
The rose fairy had quickly left the collar so as not to be squashed between man and boy, and flew down to man's waist, hoping that no-one saw her. Then she heard Kailen's soft call to her and with widening eyes she flew to Hook's coat pocket. Her pixie-husband looked with big, sad eyes at her and she nodded while she slipped into the pocket next to her mate. This new knowledge Peter gained would change a lot! She was sure that he would leave Neverland now and would remain with the captain and the Wendy-lady, growing up into a man. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. It could happen.
"I'm so sorry," James murmured; uttering words which would have been impossible a few years ago. Now everything had changed. Gently he combed his fingers through the lad's tousled hair, then kissed the top of his head. "I'm so sorry for you. You believed a lie – or you were tricked. I don't know exactly which is worse, but I'm sorry for you." He really meant it, because no child should be robbed of a family and a normal life because of a misunderstanding – a manipulation. Children were easily distracted, and the Fae had used this weakness for their own ends!
Eyes closed against the man's coat, Peter felt as if he'd fallen into a dark room, or was being pulled down under water. "Sh-she … she waited for m-me …" he stammered, unable to say more. "M-mummy waited for me the whole time – and I didn't know!"
"Indeed, she did." James whispered. "I spoke with your grandniece – the granddaughter of your younger brother, Lucas. Her parents and grandparents told her everything. Your parents were sure that you were kidnapped and tried to find you. Three years later your mother bore another baby, but she never – ever! – forgot you." The sobbing increased and Hook tightened his arms around him.
An older couple came from behind and passed them. The lady stopped, hearing the sobs. At first she looked startled then full of pity at the boy clinging to the tall man, sobbing. "Oh, the poor boy," she said.
Hook grimaced. "He just heard some bad news," he murmured.
"Come along, Elizabeth, I'm sure his father can comfort him best," the man said with a smile full of sympathy. Hook nodded at them – as it seemed everyone took him for Peter's father – then he turned his attention back to youth and sighed. He had to lift the boy's mood, and searched for a distraction. "Do you know what your grandniece also told me? That she knew about you – Peter Pan – because children used to tell stories about you when you were still living in Kensington Gardens. She knew about the fairy house and the goat. Her mother knew the girl who met you in the Gardens – Mimi?"
It was a few more seconds before the sobs slowed, then the name reached Peter and he lifted his head. The sight of his teary face made James' heart break, but he also saw the surprise in those wet eyes.
"Maimie? A woman who knew her?"
Hook nodded, grateful to be able to direct the lad's thoughts onto a different subject. "Yes. Mrs. Bailey's mother met her because she lived in the neighborhood and her father was a lawyer, just like your father was – and him and your brother, too. Mrs. Bailey even spoke about the goat you rode on – and the lights of the fairy houses."
Peter sniffled and wiped his face on the sleeve of his coat, before replying hoarsely, "Maimie wrote me letters and sent me pictures she drew herself. I couldn't read the letters, but Mab could and read them for me. Mab was the one who … who made the goat on the picture come to life because I so wanted a pet I could ride on."
Hook had his own idea why the fairy queen of Kensington Gardens did that for the boy … to keep him with them. After she had tricked him and possibly even manipulated his mother's senses? He was ready to believe this. "At least she helped you fulfill a different wish," he grumbled; wondering again why Peter remembered so much about his past when his memory barely held a week past.
"She … she did, but … she and the others also distracted me so that I returned home too late. I … I see that now." Peter whispered and snuffled. "One more reason to expect some repayment from Mab – convincing her mother that … Hook?"
The captain was no longer listening, but staring down the mostly empty road. There was only a man walking his dog to the Gardens that moment. The older couple was nowhere to be seen.
Peter felt the man's body tense, then Hook's eyes widened in alert, eyebrows bristling. Understanding the warning, the boy turned his head to look behind himself. He saw the familiar blue motorcar approaching, then he saw the driver: Kenly Fulsom. And behind him, Ashford and Wickham. Another motorcar stopped at the other side of the street and Peter recognized the vehicle as the one used to bring him to London; the Dane and Alister in the front seat.
"They … found us!" he gasped; his body tensing for action.
Hook swore. He knew why these men were here, but not how they knew about Peter's location. The witch! But the 'how' wasn't important; he had to get the boy to safety! He bent quickly and sharply ordered Peter, "They're after you. Go back to Mab – now!" and pointed over the fence. "Hurry, go, Peter!"
Dashing away his tears, he wildly shook his head. "No, I won't go without –"
"No time!. Climb up, dammit!" James snarled; seeing all five men parked and walking swiftly toward them – slow enough not to attract attention, but quick enough to make it clear that pirate and boy were trapped. "Think of what happened the last time you didn't obey!" the captain snapped while gripping the base of his hook with his good hand, building a kind of ladder for the teen.
Peter looked quickly about them; Ashford and his men were closing in, so with a shout of frustration and despair he gave in. He placed one foot into hand and hook, and gripped James's shoulders for support.
"SHALFORD! Don't you dare!" Ashford called, moving faster, discerning the captain's intention, but too late. The moment Peter pushed himself up, Hook all but hurled the boy over the fence that separated the Gardens from their pavement. He saw the lad landing on all fours on the other side of the iron fence, then strong hands took him from behind, twisting his arms painfully behind him. Flinging himself backward and losing his cap, Hook yelled, "Run, Peter! Run to Mab!" He knew that the fairies would keep their Prince of Neverland safe, no matter what.
"STOP THIS INSTANT, BOY!" Ashford shouted, coming to a halt in front of Hook. "STOP, OR-" His threat was never given as Hook landed an unguarded foot in Ashford's back, sending him sprawling.
"PETER, RUN!" James roared and saw with relief that the boy did as he was told. Wickham stopped in front of him and punched him, hard. But Hook only grinned as he saw the boy vanishing in the shrubbery. Peter had escaped, that was all that counted now.
Peter hated leaving Hook behind, but he knew it was the right move. He was vulnerable to capture if he remained near the scene; knowing that Ashford would use Hook to force him to surrender. If he wanted to keep James safe – after all Ashford still needed the captain as leverage and therefore alive! – he had to obey Hook's order. And for once Peter Pan actually obeyed.
Yet he wouldn't have gotten away quick enough if not for Aurora. Begging Kailen to stay safe and hidden, she raced out of Hook's coat pocket and attacked. She slammed Alister's nose just as Tink had done to Primely – and the result was the same. Oscar Alister screamed and let go of Hook, clutching a very painful, broken nose. Wickham tried to help, but the rose fairy was quicker and yanked his ear forcefully exactly where Kailen had bit it a few days ago. The wound bled again.
Furiously, Wickham tried to swat the fairy away while Anders kept a firm grip on Hook's arm careful of the claw; bending the captain's arm behind him to a point where it was about to break or dislocate if James resisted. Fulsom swung his cap at the fairy, but Aurora was too quick for the men. Ringing something, she shot away like a pink comet – over the fence and after Peter who had vanished into the depths of the Gardens.
Hook was still fighting his captor, knowing that this was possibly his only chance, but paused as Ashford closed the distance and pressed the hard end of a muzzle in his belly. "You shouldn't have done that!" Ashford hissed; his face grim, eyes flaring with hate.
"Neither should you, viscount! Cheat and pretender!" Hook growled; his deep blue eyes shone with fire, ignoring the pain in arm and shoulder.
"We'll see. The boys loves you – and love is such a strong leverage, don't you agree?" Ashford taunted.
"And who will ever love you, you coxcomb?" Hook sneered. "No one!"
"Ah, yes, the fair Miss Darling taught you love, didn't she?" Dalton hissed. "That thrice-cursed stupid girl chose a cripple over me – but she will learn her lesson just like you!" He glanced at Alister, (whose nose was bleeding profusely) and Fulsom. "Put him in the motorcar. Wickham, Anders, go after that boy and bring him back!" Alister grabbed Hook's right arm firmly, while using his other hand and his kerchief in a useless attempt to slow the bleeding. Ashford kept his gaze on the captain while giving his orders, "Use the Wolseley to transport the boy to Surrey, Mr. Anders. If he makes trouble, tell him that he only can save his pirate friend's life if he turns himself in to me."
"You won't find him in the Gardens," Hook said with a disturbing calmness. He was trying not to think about what Ashford could mean by Wendy 'learning a lesson.' "Your men should know by now what awaits them there."
"Nothing they can't handle," Dalton hissed. "The brat shall run to someone with the name Mab? I have learned that such is the name of a fairy queen. And there are many stories of Kensington Gardens being a sanctuary of fairies. Well, my men know how to deal with those little beasts!" Moving beside the captain, he jabbed the pistol's muzzle into his side, away from curious eyes. "Over there, get in the motorcar!" he instructed. Hook only looked at him scornfully, and the viscount scowled, "You should obey. I can kill you, bury you somewhere in the wilderness of Surrey."
"If you kill me, you will hang! I am known in London now, and too many people know of your hostility toward me – they even witnessed it. The police would put two and two together – and you would face the noose." The dark voice purred infuriatingly.
"Perhaps, but what about the boy – or your dear Wendy? Both mourned your supposed death so deeply, would you put them through that same hell again?" Ashford whispered with contempt in his voice. He smiled coldly as he saw the captain's eyes flare. "I see, you've become love's fool. My, my, how the mighty have fallen! Now: Move – and no tricks!"
"My men will find me," Hook promised. "And you don't want to face an entire crew of pirates."
"Your men are very busy just now, submitting to a customs inspection," Ashford sneered. Meeting Hook's startled gaze, he smiled wickedly. "Yes, I'm sure they'll turn everything topsy-turvy on your ship today!"
Hook pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing that he couldn't resist his foe. Watching Anders and Wickham walking quickly to the nearby gate, he was sure that Peter would reach Mab before the men found him. And, of course, that Smee was handling the situation at the ship – that is, if Ashford was speaking the truth.
Alister, still furious and in pain, shoved Hook forwards and forced him onto the back seat of the Austin; Ashford followed, pistol firmly in the captain's ribs. On the other side of the street, a nurse was walking with a little girl on her hand. She saw the gun – and promptly fled as she realized she was witnessing a kidnapping, right here in broad daylight in the middle of London!
Alister sat on the other side of Hook and the viscount, scarf to his nose. Fulsom started the motor and slipped behind the wheel. Then the motorcar began to progress west down the street, passing the corner house Number 100.
Eyes turning toward the house, Hook stiffened as he saw Mrs. Bailey standing at the window of her upper level, surprise and puzzlement showing on her face. Hook knew she had seen everything – or most of it. Staking everything on this one gamble, he mouthed the words 'Save the boy!' to her as they passed. Then the gate, the house and the lady vanished behind them, and he put a stony expression on his face. He may have fallen into his enemy's hands, but it was a long way to Surrey. A lot could happen in those hours – and he knew Peter Pan. The boy would alert the crew, they would launch a rescue, no matter what. They would find a way to Surrey, maybe with Mr. Kempton's or Mr. Darling's help. He only prayed that Mr. Darling would be able to keep Peter – and Wendy! – from playing the heroes and getting hurt. He knew that the confrontation at the manor would be very, very nasty, and he wanted to know that his sweet crabbiness (and his boy) were far away – and safe – in London.
And if he hadn't been so caught up in his roiling thoughts, he would have realized the subtle movement in his coat pocket. Kailen had rolled up into a tiny ball, listening carefully to everything, seething with anger and a new determination. The viscount had kidnapped the captain and was taking him to Surrey – to the manor! – where the dark witch and the dragonling were. And the special cauldron forged by pixie hands! Hadn't the Wendy-lady told them that a Brownie lived at the manor? And hadn't Dark Owl mentioned that his animal spirit had seen the 'greenish brothers' nearby? So, indeed, the manor hosted any number of Little People, too. Perhaps they would help. And his Aurora promised she would get help before she fled. Surely, the united efforts of fairies, a Brownie, a pixie and other Little People would be enough to put the viscount, the witch and the fairy-murderers in their place!
TBC…
Now it happened! Ashford got Hook into his clutches and his henchmen are after Peter, who just goes through an emotionally rollercoaster again. Not only that he had been utterly wrong about his mother's 'forgetfulness' the whole time, no, now he was forced to leave Hook behind, knowing that his pirate-friend is in serious danger…
I don't want to reveal too much about the next chapter, but it will be full of a few twists you certainly don't think about now. Peter has to escape Ashford's men to get help from his friends to rescue Hook – it sounds easier than it is done…
I hope, you liked the new chapter, including Cora Bailey and her tale. By the way, Oliver Bailey is mentioned in "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens", who saw the fairy lights as he returned home from his father's office that was located at Temple, a town quarter directly at the Thames as you maybe remember from the chapter as Smee and the boys travelled to the Darlings.
I would be very happy to get some feedback, so please don't forget to press the 'review'-button.
Have a nice rest of the weekend,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight