Where Dreams Are Born

She's floating in a dark sky. No, not floating, flying. Her night gown is dancing in the wind. She’s not cold, which is strange. And then she feels it, the incredible warmth of an embrace. Strong arms keeping her safe.
Her heart is soaring in the moonlight. Who is holding her ? She tries to untangle herself from him, to get a glimpse, but his hold is firm.

« To live in your arms would be an awfully big adventure». He whispers in her hair.

He gently parts her hair, and ever so tenderly, kisses her neck. Heat courses through her…Gasping at the sensation, she’s melting under his assault. She has to stop him, she tries getting words out when a hand snakes up her chemise…

Wendy wakes with a start. Mind still jumbled with sleep, breath coming short, she comes to her senses. The indecency of her own dream shocks her. In twenty three years, never had Wendy been more embarrassed, more so at the state of arousal she was finding herself in. Was she completely wanton ? She didn’t even know that ladies could feel the way she was feeling. A lady was definitely not supposed to have lewd dreams.

She gets out of her covers, and is surprised to find her room very cold. Shivering, she goes to the window. Maybe she did open it yesterday, after all, and forgot. But the window had remained closed.

Shaking herself she gets dressed. Today she would accomplish what she set out to do yesterday. Just has to call on Sir Clifford, or drop by his townhouse. Is it a bit forward and downright shameless ? Yes, and society will frown on it. If, Sir Clifford doesn’t propose that is. Nobody has to know if they do get engaged. The main issue is the staff, that’s practically how any bit of gossip came to life.

The upper class was keen on forgetting that their every move was scrutinized by employees. The little people that saw all, every slight and every dent in the shiny facade.
The Darling did employ a maid, for the kitchen and another, for the good maintain of the household. Although Wendy didn’t have a personal maid, Aunt Millicent made sure she knew how to prepare her hair and outfits, like she did have a maid. It was a small secret, one well kept by Aunt Millicent’s efforts. She had went as far as paying the staff, to say that the Darling family counted a maid per room, a chef and a valet. In that regard the family had an impeccable reputation. Mr Darling remained a working man that had risen above his station.

Introduction in High society, was not a small leap. It took all of Mrs Darling’s charming smile. Mr Darling had quickly learned to let his dear wife do the talking. His lack of words was, actually, his strong suit. He generally opted for a sober attitude, coupled with a beard that easily covered any embarrassment.

So it is critical, to get it right. A family’s good name was maintained through hard work. It was already nothing short of a miracle, to remain respectability with Wendy still unmarried.

Ready as ever, wearing a deep green velvet gown and hair pinned atop of her head, Wendy goes downstairs. She doesn’t bother to announce her departure, wanting to avoid questions and criticisms from her, ever so gracious, aunt.

If Millicent knew of Wendy going alone, in the streets, to call on a gentlemen, she would swoon, wake up and proceed to swoon again. It always appeared peculiar that an elderly woman, who never married, could get so enamored with the idea of marriage. Wendy never believed it came from some misplaced regret. Aunt Millicent never gave her the idea that she was unhappy or remorseful.

Which was frustrating, Wendy would be perfectly content to remain an old maid. Or so she thought. Her head had been full of adventures and fairytales when she was young. Something still a bit shameful for her. Her brothers had adored her for it, but truth was, she had to grow up.

Now she was anything but adventurous, finding solace in routines and social gatherings. She knew the inner workings of that world so much, that nothing ever surprised her. No amount of flavored compliments or suitors could fill the void she felt.

It was way out of her comfort zone, to just go out, unchaperoned, and literally beg her suitor’s attention. She ends up walking, as fast as her heels can carry her. As she is turning at the corner of her street she feels it again. That deep sensation of being watched. Proof of how imprudent she is. She tries to glance behind her, but doesn’t see anybody. Some maids are crossing the streets with her, gowns lifted to avoid the grime of the, almost, black snow on the pavement. Amidst the rush of women she feels more safe. Her attire is simple, and shouldn’t attract any unrequited attention.

Finally, freezing and a little out of breath, she sees the splendid townhouse of Sir Clifford. Made of white bricks and colones, counting no less than three floors, that house was telling it all. How grand and impressive the Barons of Clifford had been throughout time. Sure it wasn’t the case anymore but such pedigree was hard to come by.

Nervously, she treads through the small hairs in front of her eyes. She reaches for the doorbell and waits. The butler answers the door, enquiring about the identity of the young woman.

« I’m Miss Wendy Darling, I came to see Sir Clifford. »

« And is the Baron waiting for you ? He usually is not expecting visitors so early. » The old butler scrutinized her, one eye brow quizzically lifted.

Here came the big fat lie, she had rehearsed in her head all morning.

« He is expecting me, could you inform his lordship that Miss Darling is here ?»

Reluctantly, the old man lets her enter the grand hall. Leaving her to wait, Wendy shivers. How could she be more cold in the house than in the streets ?
Soon after came rushing down the stairs, and very red in the face Sir Clifford.

« Miss Darling, I didn’t expect… I meant to say… » he mumbled stopping on the last stair.

« Sir you left very early yesterday, I wanted to make sure you were alright. » Wendy quickly cuts him. Very bold words. Very unsupervised.

« Yes, I did leave early. How can I help you Miss Wendy ? » Surprised he recomposes himself and replies in a stern voice

There was her opening, she just had to reach.

« I was under the impression we had things left to discuss, Sir -planting her bluebell eyes into his- would you like to discuss it now ? » She pushed. He was silent, maybe her approach was all wrong, to direct.

At that point, it is important to keep in mind, Wendy was solely focused on the next word his suitor would utter. So she did not see the feet of said suitor, trip on the last stair. She did, however, hear his heavy fall. And then, got to see his face hit the marbled floor, with surprising force. More stupefying was how quickly he got up, before she could reach to help him. Nose bleeding through his mustache and side burns.

« Sir, oh Gosh, are you alright ? »

« I am fine, thank you, would you perhaps agree to meet… let’s say tomorrow. » he responded pinching his nose desperately.

« Maybe I could accompany you to the National Gallery ? » He struggled to ask, voice pitched.

She hurriedly agreed. Both of them thoroughly embarrassed and definitely not for good reasons. Wendy fought hard the laughter that was starting to build, inside her. She felt it was urgent to leave.

« Thank you Sir, I will see you tomorrow. » she curtsied.

Later in the streets, far from the massive house, she lets herself giggle. How crazy she must look. Yet she can’t stop it, almost tearing as she keeps walking. She’s not even disappointed, pure chaos seems to always follow Sir Clifford, and she’s enjoying it far too much. Worries lifted of her, she strolls, admiring the buzzing of the city.
In her good spirits, she collides with a man walking before her. Tripping in her hoop skirt, she almost fell on the pavement. Falling seemed like the theme of the day. Strong arms caught her before the pavement could.

« Oh dear, I’m so sorry Sir… » She stopped when graced with the face of her savior. Full lips, a straight nose and green eyes, created to indefinitely derail her life.

« Nothing to be sorry for Darling, seems you can’t help falling for me » he says flashing his most debonaire smile. Immediately pushing herself up, she puts a reasonable distance between them.

« You again ! »She accuses, taking a reasonable step back.

« Better get used to it, what are you doing alone in here ? »

« Why should I ever answer ? We haven’t been formally presented, you refuse to do so and torment me relentlessly! » She vented, tightening her mantle close to her.
His smile drops, with a frown and a glare he takes a step in front of her.

« Did you really forget everything ? » Gaze so intense she feels like a prey. He is the predator, the one that threatens her future.

« For the last time, I don’t know you, nor do I want to play your games ! » She exclaims full of frustration, for she can’t stop admiring his features. She can’t decide if she’d prefer punching that glorious smirk, or kiss it.

At that he closes the distance between them, in one quick step. He grabs her by the the arm, and pushes her in a small alley, out of view. She doesn’t have time to react, he’s already pushing her against the wall, his full height pressed against her. Hovering above her lips.

« I don’t believe you little Wendy. I think you can’t wait to play with me. » His voice but a faint brush above her.

Speechless for once, Wendy feels her body heat up, the hard planes of him against her; a novel experience she’s soaking in.

« Stop that, if somebody saw us… » She struggles to get out. His right hand glides over her neck sending shuddering waves through her.

« What would happen then ? Would you lose your marriage to that babbling idiot ? Would it be such a terrible thing ? » He purred in her ear.

Eyes wide, breath short, she can’t find an answer. He sets his eyes in hers, asking a silent question. One Wendy is afraid to understand. Surprising him, she strokes a strand of hair out of his eyes. He seems taken aback by the tenderness of it. That’s when she decides to strike, before he can realize it she steps as hard as she can on his left foot. And then runs.

She can hear him swear, and again laugh. She lifts her skirts and bolts. She has not run in an decade. But her body remembers the exhilaration of the exercise. She pushes through people, avoids collisions and runs. Her lungs start burning, but it’s a good feeling. Like coming alive to a world full of bright colors. She doesn’t lose speed to look behind her. If she had looked back, she would have seen him, standing still and admiring her, lips stretched into a childish grin.