Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(14)
Wendy tried her hardest not to look at her mother’s face, for she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears.
“You look lovely, Mother,” she said in a flat voice, her face buried in the opening pages of North and South.
“Thank you, my dear. Do try and cheer up.” Her mother took a step toward the nursery door, and suddenly Michael bolted up from a dead sleep with a scream, his eyes wide and confused. The entire Darling family jumped at the sound. He let out another long scream and then began pawing at his blankets.
“Mama, don’t leave!” he screamed.
“What do you mean, my dear? We have the Midsummer Night’s Ball at the Brown’s mansion tonight.”
Michael let out a whimper and clutched Giles with desperation. “I have a bad feeling about tonight. Don’t go, Mummy; stay.”
“Oh, you must have had a quick dream when you were falling asleep, like when you dream of tripping down the stairs! A little nightmare. Don’t worry. Liza and John and Wendy and Nana will be here to protect you. Everyone is here to keep you safe, especially Wendy.”
Michael gave a quiet sob, his eyes clouding over with something unseen. “Please, please stay. I don’t like tonight. It’s dark! I’ll never see you again!”
Mrs. Darling looked at her youngest with adoration. “Oh, Michael, what a thing to say! John must have been whispering things in your ear! There’s nothing to be afraid of, my dear. The window is locked up tight, and Liza will be awake until we return.”
Michael continued to cry. “Something bad is waiting in the dark, Mummy!”
“Oh, sweet boy! What a dream you must have had.” Mrs. Darling looked over with concern at her youngest son. Her face alarmed Wendy—the last thing she wanted was for her mother to stay or for her father to come into the room. The thought of his face telling her to never see Booth again made her stomach turn.
“Mother, we will be fine. Michael can sleep with me tonight.”
Michael sat up in his bed, rubbing his red eyes. “Really, Wendy? Really?”
She nodded. He bounced across the room and buried himself in Wendy’s bed, his warm and pudgy body curling against her chest.
“I still wish they would stay, Wendy.”
“I know, little one.”
Wendy’s mother gave her children one last, loving gaze.
“It’s settled then. Be good tonight, children. If you need anything, call Liza up from the servants’ quarters. We shan’t be later than midnight. Don’t forget to say your prayers.” She shut the door behind her, praying to herself and dimming the lanterns as she walked: “Holy Father, watch over my children tonight. Keep them safe from all harm and danger and the evil foe. Let the stars above guard their sleeping forms, and the Holy Virgin grant her mercy from afar.”
With the door to the nursery shut tight, the room was plunged into quite twilight. Michael gave a whimper but soon fell asleep nestled up against Wendy’s hip. John, too, eventually made his way from the rocking chair over to his bed, Nana at his heels. He collapsed into bed, Nana plopping herself next to him with a happy sigh. He wrapped one arm around the giant dog, turned down his lantern, and fell asleep, soon filling the room with his loud snoring. Wendy, however, lay wide awake, her eyes focused on the ceiling, her mind churning, weighing love and family and loyalty. She watched as the loudly ticking clock hit nine, and then ten.
At ten on the dot, Liza poked her head in and looked in on the children, as she always did when their parents were gone. Wendy knew that she would now don her nightgown and retire for good to the cozy servants’ quarters. She heard the loud click of Liza locking the nursery door from the outside, securing the children inside. When her parents returned, they would check the door, and finding it still locked, retire to bed. No use in waking sleeping children. At the sound of Liza’s footsteps fading in the distance, Wendy let herself breathe out for the first time in what seemed like hours. Moving ever so gently, she pulled herself away from Michael’s sticky forehead and rested him against a pillow where her form had been. He didn’t stir, a happy sleep smile stretching across his face. Wendy crouched behind her bed and looked over at John’s bed. He didn’t move.
She tiptoed over to the wardrobe, the mirrors reflecting back a flushed girl with terrified eyes that burned like coals. She pulled out a fitted black ankle-length coat and quickly buttoned it up over her blue nightgown. The wool pressed snug against her chin, the buttons tangling in her ponytail. She crossed to the window, stopping at the bookcase to grab Booth’s note, and looked back at the quiet nursery before hopping up on the window ledge. Wendy Darling had never done something like this, but she had known Booth’s lips on hers. She had failed him once already today, and she wasn’t about to repeat the pattern, her father be damned.
When she had sat in that drawing room, she saw her future without Booth, a still room without love, her years wasted to the ticking of a quiet clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, as she wished for her youth. No. Within an hour, she would be entwined in his strong arms, and that was all that mattered. They would figure out a plan. They would tell her parents and hold fast to each other until a compromise was made. This was her life, not theirs. She chose Booth and her family. Her slim fingers trembling, she straightened herself in front of the window and reached for the latch.
“How exactly do you plan on getting down?” She spun around. John was standing behind her, his glasses sitting crooked on his long nose.