If the dress fits

Wendy wakes up the next morning with heavy lids. The events of the night weight painfully on her, as much as the angry bruises do on her throat. Another big day awaits the future Baroness, one she has to prepare for. The first problem is covering those marks that show unmistakably the imprint of hands at the base of her neck. She stumbles out of her covers and walks to her mirror. The sight gracing her is not one she would associate with a future Baroness. Her hair, almost matted by her restless sleep, hangs heavy on her back. Her face isn’t the healthy one she had on her engagement night. Huffing her slumber away, she decides on her attire for the day. A tingle surprises her out of her thoughts. Tink flies to her, her own face a little puffy from the sleepless night she spent up, standing watch. It’s something entirely different for Wendy to find another presence in her room.
She smiles at the fairy that lands softly on her right shoulder.

« Good morning Tink. You look awful »

The fairy pouts at this, yet with less energy then she would normally use. Wendy goes through her wardrobe with a sleepy eyed Tink. The sight of clothing seems to revive her enough. She tingles with enthusiasm when Wendy reaches for her burgundy gown. The gown has a high collar reaching just above her marks making it the obvious choice.

« I’m sorry about last night Wendy. » Tink hovers in front of her, her little hands twisting nervously over her skirt.

« It’s not your fault, Tink. But I want you to tell me everything. You’re hiding something, aren't you ? »

« It’s not really my place to tell you. You should speak with him. »

« I’m not talking to him and that is final. He played me. He could’ve ended the charade and tell me who he was. » she stomps to through the room, brushing her hair with what Tink could qualify as pure violence.

« I know you feel hurt. And I can see, to an extent, why. But please at least meet with him. » she begs, helping to pin into place some wild lock atop of Wendy’s head.

« I have to be ready for today, the Baron has a wedding fitting planned for us today. I shall not disappoint him. » she says, ignoring the fairy’s plight.

Wendy shuts down any train of thought that could redeem Peter. Were his kisses agreeable ? Absolutely but she could still think with her head. A nice long kiss and some… whatever it was they did, wasn’t enough to make her forget the essential. And to make it worst, this impromptu situation was ruining her plans. She had to secure a husband, it was just the way of things and her family’s situation called for it. Brooding silently she prepares herself with Tink’s help.

Downstairs, the Darling household awakes with the sun. A very pleased Aunt Millicent starts her morning rounds about the house. Nothing could deter her as her plans are set in motion. The Baron is happy with his future baroness, her very own niece. Later today she’ll chaperon the wedding dress fitting. As she hums, to the servitude’s surprise, through the sitting room, her gaze lands on a conspicuous vision. Her nephew, Micheal, is seated in an unfashionable manner on the sofa. Hair a mess, eyes saggy, a vision of horror. She bids him good morning a little louder then she’d wanted. But really what was he thinking, in such a state of disarray.

Micheal was indeed ignoring his tenacious Aunt, or at least it was the game he had planned to play.

« Dear Aunt, ignoring you is impossible. Good morning, if you insist, that it is a good morning. »
The retort didn’t seem to quite land with Millicent.

« Do you wish to pick a fight with me, dear nephew ? Why, pray tell, is it not a good morning ? » She says sitting down in front of him, throwing him her most fearsome look, the one that used to make him cower back to Wendy as a babe.

« Why would I dear Aunt ? I can’t imagine my appearance could diminish your, visible, happiness. » he quipped back, with all the courage he could muster.

Squinting her eyes, she peers at him expectantly. That’s her big play right there, she’s the predator waiting for her prey to start running. Micheal both hates and admires her for it.

« Of course I am happy, my niece is engaged to a Baron. Are you unhappy with it Micheal ? »
The trap is set for her prey.

« It is not about me. And you know it ! In fact it isn’t about you either. It’s about Wendy. She doesn’t love him, nor does the Baron love her. »

« What about Wendy ? Your sister is fulfilling her duty to this family, remarkably I should say. Don’t be vulgar. » The words come out harsh, clipped and rehearsed as it always does with her.

« I hope you won’t regret this. She’ll resent you. » he says rising from the couch, straightening his blouse.

« How dare you. Micheal ! Get back here ! » her cries echo in the empty sitting room. He won’t let her belittle him anymore.

The dressmaker chosen for the wedding, the very « en vogue » Madame Elizabeth Handley-Seymour, is a startegic choice. Madame Elizabeth had started removing hoop skirts altogether, creating a fresh silhouette, a slander figure matching the youthfulness of high society up and coming young ladies. Yet her designs were not accepted by the majority so to make due she had to align with her predecessors, crinolines and corsets be damned. Her parlor was a chic lavender place, fabrics neatly packed in the back rooms. Gigantic mirrors placed in front of the client so she could get the best view of her work.

Fretting around Wendy, two seamstresses and her Aunt push her against different fabrics, making her head swim. They hadn’t gotten to the undressing part yet, leaving her neck still covered by her high collar dress.

« No. No. This shade is wrong Madame. My niece, the future Baroness, will not appear in ivory white. What type of message is that sending ? » Aunt Millicent vents, holding said fabric like a cursed object.

« For the last time Miss, I tend to the needs of the bride and nobody else’s. She liked that fabric. Miss Wendy, do you want to change it ? »

What she wants ? Wendy is at a loss for words. Ivory or white, Baron or boy of her dreams… It’s all too difficult. She feels hot, like the big mirrors are closing in on her, bringing her image so close it might crush her. The lady in the mirror is so silent. She smiles only if asked to.

« Miss Wendy ? » the concerned voice of Madame Elizabeth brings her back to reality.

« Yes, Madame, I love the ivory. » she responds, Millicent huffing not so discreetly somewhere in the background.

« Then my dear we will proceed with the fitting, I have just the dress for you. It’s with another fabric but it will do for me to take the measurements. » she says guiding her behind the colorful screen. A maid helps her undress, taking apart her burgundy gown . Her neck will be exposed, in a stroke of genius she scratches her head making her pin fall. Her hair cascades over her shoulders.

« Oh, I’m sorry, could I have my hair down during the fitting ? » she asks shyly.

« Absolutely my dear, your head must be painful from holding so much hair… » Madame hands her the wedding gown, the model is audacious, a low neckline reminiscent of victorian gowns. She steps into it easily enough, like she had been made to slide into this wedded role. Her stomach churns with anxiety, her palms sweat an awful lot. She tries to straighten her spine, fit into all this. Her eyes lock with Madame Elizabeth.

« Oh dear, I almost forgot the most important part. Why don’t you wait for me ? I’ll order for a nice tea… Miss Millicent would you kindly come with me ? We have to pick the right veil don’t we ? » she frets back to Aunt Millicent, giving an encouraging smile to Wendy.

She’s alone behind the screen. Finally alone. A strong emotion burns her. She has to seat down or she’ll fall over. Curled on the floor, knees hugged under her arms, she tries to calm her breathing. Before she can prevent it, bold tears fall from her eyes. They fall on the white satin. She’s not even sobbing. Wendy hasn’t cried in a long time, she realizes. She’s forgotten how to release it. Her vision blurs, tears welling up.

« Wendy ? » a warm voice above her.

Strong hands, reaching her, soothing her. Peter.

« Breath ! please ! »

She’s forgotten how. A sob escapes her.

« That’s it, just cry… » his voice guides her, coaxes her out of it. He rubs her back, wipes her tears away from her face. And then he embraces her, gently resting her head on his shoulder. She’s limp against him, he melts her worries away. He lets her weep against him for a while. His scent overpowers her, bringing her back to an easy breathing.

« What happened Wendy ? » his voice rumbles against her. « Is it me ? I won’t push you anymore, I don’t want you to be sad. »

« If this is what you want, I won’t pursue you. I promise. » he says, framing her face with is hands.
As he holds her face close to his, she notices how long his eyelashes are.
« Are you feeling better ? » his worried look wakes her from her comfortable daze.

« Yes, I’m sorry » she clears her throat. « Thank you… » she disentangles herself awkwardly from him.

« Anytime sweetheart. »

As she gets up, the dress falls slightly down reveling more then desired.

« Oh God! » she turns around covering her breasts hastily, embarrassment taking over.

« I didn’t see anything ! I swear it ! »

She slightly turns to get a glimpse of him blushing as much as she is. The sight making her smile against her better judgment.

« But.. I can actually see your back. » In fact, the back is not pinned. Something she had easily forgotten.

She gasps, fumbles in her dress turning back to face him, tightly gripping her neck line.

« You are beautiful. » his gaze rakes over her, taking in her spilled long hair and the flowing white material hugging her.

Wendy feels winded, the compliment too raw.

«Thank you… It’s not proper for you to be here. Why are you here ?»

« I guess I shouldn’t. I just wanted to tell you how I felt. Tink told me about the attack last night, I was worried for you… »

The voices of Madame Elizabeth and Aunt Millicent were getting closer to the parlor, interrupting Peter.

« They are coming back, you have to go Peter. » she pushed him towards the nearest window.

« I will, I just need to talk to you. Tonight ? At your balcony ? » his green eyes begging her on the most delicious way. « Please. » he whispered close.

« Alright. But please just go, now ! » she agrees quickly. Peter Pan slips away as easily as he had slipped in, just in time as Aunt Millicent barges behind the screen, a heavy veil in her hand.

Anticipation fills Wendy. Tonight can’t come sooner.