Panic

Interlude One

Interlude One

            John Darling stood in front of Miss Primrose’s Finishing School for Girls.  He’d been in town on a business, and he thought it might be a good idea to stop in to visit his younger sister.  All he wanted was to do was see her happy.  Primrose’s, though she had protested at first, might be that place for her.

            He walked up the stairs and knocked on the mahogany door.  After a few moments, a maid came to answer the door.  “Sir,” she said, bobbing a curtsey.  “May I take your coat and hat?”

            He stepped inside and gave them to her.  The door shut behind him and he got a better look at his surroundings.  Marble staircases, velvet drapes, Indian rugs, and tile floors completed the stereotypical picture of a finishing school.

            “May I take you to the parlour, sir?” the maid asked. 

            John turned his attention towards her.  “Uh, yes, please,” he said, and he followed her down a maze of hallways until she led him into a formal looking parlour. 

            “Miss Primrose will be with you in a few minutes,” she said.  “I shall inform her of your arrival.”

            “Thank you,” John said, and then he heard a giggle from outside the door.  The maid blushed and hurried out.  A girl, around Wendy’s age, stuck her head in the door.

            “You don’t have to thank the servants,” she said, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear.

            John felt very uncomfortable, but tried for a smile none the less.  “Um, well, I’ve been taught-” he began, before he was interrupted.

            “Oh for goodness sakes, Celina, leave the gentleman alone,” a second girl hissed.  “If he wants to thank the servants, he is more than welcome to.”

            “Good Lord, Theodora, why can’t you just leave your nose on your face, where it belongs?” Celina asked the unseen girl.

            “Excuse me,” John said.  “But do either of you know Wendy Darling?”

            The second girl looked in, her face light with eagerness.  “Yes, we do,” she said.

            “But she’s already being courted by Mr. Pan,” Celina said, sounding proud.

            “Celina!” the second girl hissed, sounding scandalized.

            John crinkled his brow, confused.  “No, that’s impossible,” he said.  “She’s only seventeen, she shouldn’t be courting anyone.  Nor should anyone be courting her.”

            “Well, her brother sent her some magnificent gowns, and she picked up every male in the room like she was a fisherman and they were the fish,” Celina said.

            John’s mouth fell open.  “Can I see her?” he asked finally.

            “I’m sorry, who are you again?” Celina asked.

            “Darling,” John said.  “John Darling.  I’m her eldest brother.”

            Celina gapped at him.  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize,” she said, dropping a curtsey.  “I would never have spoken with such-”

            “Shut it, Celina,” Theodora said.  She rolled her eyes at John.  “Sorry about Celina.  She’s probably the school’s worst pupil.”

            “Not so!” Celina exclaimed.

            “Never mind that now,” Theodora said.  “Surely, Mr. Darling, you realize that she went home for the holiday.”

            “No, she sent us a letter,” John insisted.  “She is most certainly staying here for the holidays.  She was quite adamant about it as well, if I do say so myself.”

            “I’m sorry Mr. Darling, you are very much mistaken,” Theodora said.  “She went home, taking only a few gowns with her.”

            “Well, she’s not at my home, and she isn’t here,” John said, rising to his feet.  “It’s time we call Scotland Yard.”

            “Scotland Yard?” Celina asked.  “Ooh, how exciting.”

            “Shut up Celina,” Theodora said as John started towards the door.  “Our best friend is missing.”

            “Excuse me, ladies,” John said, brushing past the two girls in the doorway.

            “Let us know when you find her,” Theodora said, sounding concerned.

            “Indeed,” John said, but he was already halfway down the hall.

            He managed to find his way to the door, and left without his coat and hat.  He’d come back for them at a later date.  As he made his way to Scotland Yard, he remembered what Celina had said about Wendy’s suitor of sorts: Mr. Pan.

            John had not thought of Peter in years, and was not inclined to do so now.  He told himself that Pan was quite a common name, and continued on his way to the Scotland Yard offices.