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The Darling's Story	By : redhandedjill Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 1584 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Darling's Story
- 2-George's Respect
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- 2
Chapter 2: George's respect

"Oh please mother!" Mary pleaded loudly in the sitting room of the Parrish home. "I beg of you. No more suitors!"

"This is only the fourth in less than two months!" Mrs. Parrish explained delicately. She had done her best to find a suitor for her daughter, and many had been willing. But none were to her liking, for Mary was looking for someone special.

After her night at the window, Mary had been determined on searching for her perfect mate. But she still hadn't come close to finding him. She'd thought the young man at the post office would be a nice catch, but found that he was incredibly slow witted and could never remember her name.

Mary had known all along though, that she was looking for something quite specific and spectacular, and when she found this dream man, it would be like a thunderbolt. She would know instantly.

But she hadn't found him. She hadn't come close, and since she had taken so long, her mother had already found her several eligible bachelors, all of which Mary had found completely wrong.

"He is very well off." Her mother was continuing after a moment, placing the teacups on their designated saucers with a satisfied smile. "And highly respected."

"I don't care about money!" Mary claimed, "Or status!"

"You will very much," Mrs. Parrish replied setting up the cakes for the soon arrival of their guest, "when you are sleeping in the gutters, begging for money to buy bread for your starving family!"

Mary knew that her mother had a penchant for the dramatic, and surely this was one of those occasions. But she was so desperate for some reprieve of these endless suitors, that she could not stop the frustrated tears from then falling onto her lap.

Mrs. Parrish began to panic then, telling her daughter to stop her crying immediately, because Mr. Fritz would be arriving soon, and he wouldn't be interested in some sniveling little child.

Mr. Parrish then came into the room slowly, the newspaper in his hand. He surveyed the sad look of his daughter and politely asked his frazzled wife to leave them a moment alone. She obliged grumbling, feeling awful for yelling at her daughter.

Mr. Parrish was a kind, quiet and gentle man. Much like his daughter Mary, whom he thought the world of. He sat beside his daughter, silent a moment, watching her tears silently fall.

"Now now." He said after a moment, hating to see her cry so hard. "All these tears over a bit of tea?"

"Oh father." Mary said sniffling slightly, "This is awful. Why must I submit to this torture?"

"Now Mary." Her father responded good-naturedly. "Meeting a few gentleman for tea and a friendly chat is hardly torture."

"It is for me." Mary insisted, growing desperate. "Every time one of the men leaves, Mother insists on asking me what I think of them."

"And?"

"And every time I must tell her the truth!" Mary replied, for she was a very truthful girl. "And every time I tell her the truth, she gets furious and tells me to go to bed."

"Mr. Jennings?" Her father inquired after a moment, knowing he was one of Mary's past suitors. "What is the truth of this gentleman?"

"A gambler!" Mary insisted, "Surely only after me for my dowry!"

"Mr. Bannister?"

"Almost sixty!" Mary insisted horrified, "I could count all three of the silver hairs on his head! He only wants a wife for status, he was horribly cold to me for his entire visit."

"And, Mr. Patterson?" Her father almost pleaded, "He is young and not a gambler to my knowledge."

"Oh father." Mary said sadly, "He may seem perfect to you and Mother, but I assure you, I could never marry him. He is so utterly vain! The entire time he had tea with us, I had to hear about all his grand achievements. He didn't even ask me what books I enjoyed."

"Mary." Mr. Parrish said with a sad look, "Marriage cannot always be perfect."

"I know father." Mary reluctantly admitted. "But such vanity is something I could not live with."

Mr. Parrish smirked slightly then at his daughter's cloudy face, before leaning in and whispering a conspiratorial, "Then I've raised you right."

Mary smiled and was about to comment when Mrs. Parrish rushed back into the sitting room, placing more sweets upon the table, claming that Mr. Fritz enjoyed them dearly.

Just then, the maid Rose came to the door, telling them all that Mr. Fritz was waiting at the door. She looked a bit concerned as she spoke, but Mrs. Parrish did not notice. She was patting her hair, making sure everything looked right and telling her husband and daughter to straighten up.

"He may be a prince yet!" Mary's mother hissed before rushing to the greet Mr. Fritz at the door. Mary breathed deeply, finding that her stomach was churning and twisting quite wickedly.

"You never know my dear." Mr. Parrish comforted gently, agreeing with his wife. "He may be quite the handsome and kind gentleman."

At that moment, the door to the sitting room swung open to reveal a large man of about fifty, stinking of liquor and wobbling back and forth, with a stricken looking Mrs. Parrish in tow.

"Where is my deeeeear Mav-vy?" The portly, ruddy-faced man hiccupped before falling into an alcohol-induced slumber on the sitting room floor, leaving all the Parrish's looking on in wonder. Mrs. Parrish looked more horrified than them all.

It took all their power for Mary and her father not to laugh.

* * *
Those of you reading this tale may be wondering, what has become of poor George? Poor George indeed, for life for the young man was just as bad as it was for Mary Parrish.

George Darling rushed down the stairs of his London home in the early morning, mumbling to himself about several things and pulling on his trousers hurriedly. He was mumbling about being late, and for not going to bed at a reasonable hour the night before.

He rushed into the kitchen to see his mother glancing over the expenses, which was one of her many jobs around their modest home. Mr. Gerald Darling had passed on little over five years ago of heart failure, and George's oldest brother had developed cancer and passed on not long after. The entire atmosphere of the Darling home was a sad and solemn one most of the time.

There were still three boys, all young men. Charlie was married, Jack was engaged and living on his own in Europe, while George still lived at home with his mother. He found it only fair that he share in the rent and board, even though his mother often protested. He knew he was needed at home, no matter what she said.

"Oh George!" Said his gentle mother with a sad smile. "Must you rush so?!"

"I'm sorry, Mother." George said with a sheepish smile, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and buttoning the rest of his jacket. "I'm afraid I've slept in again. Mr. Prichard will not be pleased if I'm late once more this week."

"Writing late again?" Mrs. Darling said knowingly, giving her youngest son a soft kiss on his forehead. George was an avid reader and writer, and although he wasn't the best writer, he loved it dearly and so Mrs. Darling forever encouraged it.

Mrs. Darling did all she could for her last remaining son at home, gave him the best she could. He always had clean and nice looking clothes, had his glasses always immediately repaired if broken. George was indeed special to her.

"Here Mother." George said with a wan smile as he reached into his pocket suddenly. "I helped the Montgomery's with organizing their bills yesterday, and they were most grateful."

With that, several coins fell onto the table, with Mrs. Darling looking up to her son with a soft smile. Mrs. Darling hated to take money from her son, but the look of pride on his face was important, and so she took the coins, though it wounded her dignity.

"Oh Georgy, Thank you." She said fondly, ruffling his hair absently (a habit George did not enjoy in the least, but never spoke out again.) before going back to the expenses.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" George inquired as he grabbed some dry toast on the table, munching it quietly. "I heard you coughing quite a bit last night."

"Only a little cough, I'm sure it's just because of the weather." Mrs. Darling said casually, her large eyes coming to rest on her son's. "George, my sweet, may I ask you something of the...rather, personal nature?"

"I'm afraid I'm in quite a rush this morning, Mother." George answered before slowly viewing his mother's look of minor distress. "But.... I’m sure I can nip in the back door without having Mr. Prichard catch on."

"Oh good." Mrs. Darling looked remarkably relieved. George pulled up a chair next to her, seeing that she looked a bit perturbed.

"George?" She began rather unceremoniously, "Have you met a nice young lady?"

"Mother?" George nearly gaped, for his mother had never talked to him about such a thing. "What makes you ask that?"

"Well, George...As you can plainly see, I am not getting any younger." She joked quietly, looking somber. "And I do so wish to see you with a wife that you adore before I pass."

"Mother!" George said again, growing uneasy. "You are just forty. You shall be on this earth a long time yet."

"Oh George." She said in that faint way she had, before she patted his hand gently. "I just wish for you to be happy."

"I know."

"Tell me something then." His mother urged, her blue eyes shining. "Tell me if you haven't been avoiding marriage because of me."

At this, George grew quite uncomfortable. Half of it this was because of his mother, but half was because he'd never found the right girl to ask to marry. Most of them were so snobbish, or completely spiritless. All found him to be an utter dullard or a weakling because he'd never one any of the six fights he'd had in his whole life.

But George was a sweet boy, who loved his mother dearly. And so he answered with what he thought was an entirely appropriate response to her question.

"I haven't married, because I haven't found the right girl."

"I sincerely hope that is the true reason." Mrs. Darling said with a sad nod. At this George stood, explaining that he mustn't be too late. With that he gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the door. Just as he was about to rush out, he heard his mother's voice from the kitchen.

"But George do keep your eyes open for the right girl! She may be right under your nose!"

* * *

It was early June when Mary's mother informed her daughter that she would be spending three weeks with her Aunt Jane that summer, and that she should pack immediately.

Mary did not question the motives of her mother, and instead, happily packed for a small vacation that she was sure to enjoy with one of her favorite people in the entire world.

These past several months had not been happy ones, for her mother insisted on introducing her to every eligible man in all of London. Mary would claim how she did not fancy any of them, and before her Mother could change her mind, the men were married to woman of less discriminating tastes.

"That daughter of mine!" Mrs. Parrish exclaimed to her neighbor Sarah Peters one day, "I have never met a young lady so picky!"

"Young women these days are not like from when we were young." Sarah had agreed, hoisting one of her twins up and balancing it on her hip roughly. "There much less practical. Romance is far too in fashion these days, seems practicality has become outdated!"

But Mary did not care for practicality these days, she wished for reprieve from this marriage madness. She was begging to feel horrid towards all these men that she rejected, some sweet and young, other's cold or older. None however had hit her like a thunderbolt.

She packed all her nicest dresses in case she and Aunt Jane went to a show, or out for dinner somewhere nice. She packed several of her favorite books to read on the days Aunt Jane was busy baking and didn't need Mary in the kitchen.

With a smile, Mary brought her suitcase down the stairs of their home the next morning, and out onto the front of the house where her parents were waiting for their cab. They always insisted on taking her to Aunt Jane's themselves for a short visit, and to see she arrived safely. This is the curse of being an only child you see, parents seem to fret for even more, since you have all their attention.

Sometimes Mary had wished for a little sister, someone to take on walks, or tell stories to. A little girl to laugh with, to dress up and take to Kensington Gardens in the spring. But obviously this was never meant to be.

Mary felt the summer sun on her bare arms, and for a moment closed her eyes and lifted her face into the sun, feeling the warmth of it on her face, making her feel as if she were glowing. She pretended that she was at the beach (somewhere her parents rarely took her) and could almost hear the -

"Mary!" Her mother called shrilly, breaking her of these thoughts. "The cab is here. Do hurry up!"

Mary rushed over, her large suitcase knocking against her calves as she rushed over, tripping only once, much to her mother's obvious disapproval. It seemed ever since this marriage problem, her mother was never pleased with her.

"A lady does not run so." Her mother whispered, for the cab driver, Mary's father and a nosy neighbor were nearby. "A lady simply hurries."

"Yes mother." Mary agreed softly, climbing into the cab with a small sigh of discontent, watching as the driver placed her suitcase in the back of the cab. Sometimes her mother's 'rules' seemed just absurd. What if her house was on fire? Was she not to run out of the flaming building? Must she simply 'hurry'?

Of course these thoughts were ridiculous, for of course she would run out of a burning building. Her mother was surely just embarrassed in front of the neighbor. She tried not to make a face at the sour faced woman shooting disapproving glares in on her.

Minutes later, the cab was rushing off with Mary and her parents sitting in steady silence. Mary decided rather than sit around trying to think of something to say, she would instead pretend to be asleep.

After a few minutes of her closed eyes had passed, the silence was broken at the insistence of her mother, whispering something to her husband, and she sounded quite on edge.

"...It's ridiculous at her age." Mary caught her mother finishing, not before adding a huffy: "What will the neighbors think?"

"Now now Margaret." Geoffrey said kindly, patting her hand gently. "She's starved for some company."

"She has Mary going over for three weeks now!"

Mary tensed, pretending to still be asleep. They were talking of Aunt Jane surely. Starved for company? But her Aunt Jane never appeared to be so. She was always merry and laughing.

"But this sort of grand affair is ridiculous!" Mrs. Parrish was going on, sounding to Mary, almost as if she were jealous of her sister in law. "She'll seem too showy."

"That is highly doubtful." Mr. Parrish whispered back, defending his sister. "People adore festivities."

"Shush now." Mrs. Parrish said sharply, "You'll wake Mary."

After a few more minutes of silence passed, Mary pretended to have just woken up. She gave a sleepy smile to her parents, adding to the show a dramatic yawn.

"Oh, are we there yet?"

"Soon darling." Her father assured her, the rocky movement of the cab startling them a moment. It soon passed, and the tired voice of Mrs. Parrish reached out to Mary in the stuffy cab.

"Perhaps you should attempt another nap."

"I'll try, Mother." Mary answered boredly, for she had no intention of pretending to sleep further. Instead she began looking out the window and wishing nothing more than to already have arrived at her Aunt's home.

It would seem that fate were aroused, for it was in that one almost unobservable moment as she glanced out the window, Mary's dark eyes fell upon a young, nervous looking man in spectacles, making his way down the street.
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The Darling's Story