“What happened to her, Papa?”
He looked away from his daughter, but not before she saw tears in his eyes. “She died of pneumonia. Too many afternoons in a cold classroom with no fire to warm her.”
Wendy looked down, thankful that Booth had a warm place to sleep. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
“So was I, my love. So was I. But, life marches cruelly on, even if you don’t think it will. I am sorry for her death, but I am also thankful that I met your mother. While she wasn’t a perfect match for me, my union with her brought us both to prosperity, both in income and many other ways. Without your mother, I wouldn’t have you, or John, or Michael. And what would my life be like without my children? It is something I daren’t think about. It is unfathomable.”
He tipped her face up to his, and Wendy saw a hardness in his eyes. “Booth is a good boy, a young man that I like very much, and by the sounds of this letter, he is very much in love with you.”
Wendy blushed. “Yes, Papa.”
“And you—do you love him as well?”
Wendy nodded, thinking of Booth’s incredible mind and the way he seemed to understand her with just a glance. “I do, Papa.”
His mouth gave a painful twist. Wendy’s stomach dropped.
“Ah, my poor girl.” He stood up abruptly. “Cry for him tonight. Mourn that love. And tomorrow, never see him again.”
Wendy let out a loud cry. “No!”
“You know it must be this way, dearest girl. I’m sorry for it, but this match cannot be. It would be disastrous for our family. Your mother and I have worked too hard to see this family brought low by a marriage to a bookseller’s son. You are never to see that boy again.”
“No! NO!”
Her father unlocked the door. “I will leave you to your grief. I will not share this with your mother, because God knows we would never hear the end of it. She would ship you off to boarding school by tomorrow, and I rather enjoy your company. I insist on just one sane woman residing somewhere in this house. But see him again, and I will tell her without hesitancy. This relationship is highly inappropriate for a woman of your standing.” He gave a tired sigh. “Your mother and I will be leaving soon for this blasted ball. Please be ready to put your brothers to bed in about an hour.” He looked down at his daughter, silently crying into her hands. “Tonight is the last night that our star is visible. Perhaps you and the boys could look for it later. John can usually find it. He’s good that way.”
Wendy turned away from her father, not wanting to see his face. He planted a quick kiss on her head before walking out of the drawing room. “I’m so sorry, my dear. You must believe that we have your best interest at heart. I know how the fire of young love can consume, and I ache for what you must be going through. Still, it’s time to be a grown-up, Wendy.”
“Please go away,” Wendy murmured softly.
“Indeed I will. Goodnight, my child.”
Wendy was left staring at the floor in the silent drawing room, feeling all her hope siphoned into this still vault of puffy furniture and equestrian art.
A few minutes later, when her mother crept into the nursery with Nana at her heels, Wendy could barely look at her. Mary Darling hustled around the room, her elegant black dress draped with white fox fur and her ears dripping with diamonds.
“Oh, clothes everywhere, soup on the floor, what have you been doing in here?”
“Nothing, Mother.” Wendy was staring out the window, her eyes trained on the dark summer night. The light afternoon rain had tapered off, and the resulting sky was as clear and sharp as glass. Starlight beamed through the window, casting light on her ruddy, tear-stained features.
“Oh my dear, have you been crying?”
Wendy sniffled. “No, mother. My nose has been running. I have a cold.”
“Well, it’s a good night to turn in early then.” John and Michael shuffled into the nursery, rifling through their dressers for night-shirts. After dressing, John picked a book off the bookshelf, put on his father’s top hat, and settled himself in the rocking chair.
“Oh, John, I do wish you would leave that silly hat off.”
“Oh, Mother, I do wish you would be quiet and let me read,” he imitated her in a mocking tone.
“John!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled without meaning it, and he turned away. With a whine, Nana settled herself near John, his long fingers affectionately rubbing her chin. Michael climbed into his bed, already sleepy. Wendy handed him Giles, and he turned over in his bed.
“Are you sad still, Wendy bird? About the boy?”
Mrs. Darling’s eyes widened. “He means about the pirates,” Wendy said quickly, making her way over to the reading seat near the door.