15. The Cageling
The Cageling
W endy closed the door to the nursery, but her father’s booming voice penetrated the rafters and the walls. Whatever he initially thought of Peter, the illusion was gone.
Her walk of shame was not a discreet one. Peter brought her home in James’ shirt and coat, and her parents assumed the worst. The evidence of her poor choices was still fresh on her skin. And there was no hiding the blood on their clothes. James’s blood.
Peter tried to clean her up, but she flinched away from his touch, refusing to let him put a hand on her.
“Fine, you explain it to your parents then,” he’d snapped.
He didn’t care about helping her. He only cared about not getting caught.
In the end, Peter accused James of everything, painting himself as a hero.
But her father wasn’t that gullible. He knew pieces to the puzzle were missing.
When he demanded explanations, Peter teetered between playing the polite gentleman and showing his true colors—unaccountable and above criticism.
Wendy didn’t care what he said anymore. The memory of Peter stabbing his brother in the back and Bayne cutting off James’ hand would haunt Wendy forever. They left him there. Bleeding.
She fought as hard as she could to get back to him, but they drugged her in the end. If not for the clothes on her back, the scent of James on her skin, and her father screaming below, she might have believed it was only a dream.
But it wasn’t a dream. And now her life had become a nightmare.
Pressing her face to the cool wood of her bedroom door, she tried to drown out her father’s shouting as he took his fury out on Peter. She wondered what other lies he’d tell to skirt any blame.
The thought of lies made her think of James and how he only wanted the truth, no matter how ugly, unsavory, or raw. He might live the life of a pirate, but he was a far more honest man than his brother.
The rafters shook as her father raised his voice again. Peter responded to his shouting with some tale about how he had been by her side the entire time and done everything possible to keep her safe.
“Why not just tell the truth,” she whispered, thinking about how Peter had blown her off the moment she refused to sleep with him.
What did it matter anyway? It was over. She was home. She was never going to see James again.
Staggering back from the door, she collapsed on her bed and closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her heart as she tried in vain to connect with James in some spiritual way. But she felt nothing. It was as if he’d never existed at all.
The door clicked, and all thoughts of James scattered to the wind like unspeakable secrets.
“Wendy?” She wiped her eyes as her mother entered the room carrying a tray with a glass of water and a small white pill. “My poor child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re still my daughter.” She carried the tray to the bed. “Take this.”
“I don’t want to take anything.”
“It will help with the pain.”
Her eyes narrowed at her mother’s insistence. “What do you know about my pain?”
She continued to hold out the pill and glass of water. “I know you survived an unspeakable trauma, and you’re in need of rest.”
Wendy’s body only felt numb. The true pain was in her heart. “I’m not taking that.” She still felt fuzzy from whatever drug they’d given her to subdue her onto the plane—a flight she had no recollection of.
Her mother set the glass aside. “Peter told us?—”
“I don’t care what Peter said. He’s a liar and a monster.”
Her mother tsked. “You’re upset. Sometimes, when we’re hurting, we lash out at those closest to us, the ones who are only trying to help.”
“No, Mother. This isn’t about me lashing out or being too na?ve to understand what happened to me. I know what happened. I’m the only one who knows. But you don’t care about the truth. All you and Father care about is how this will look when others hear.”
“The Pangbournes are a high-profile family, dear. We must consider the best way to defuse the fallout.”
“Fuck the Pangbournes!”
“Wendy!” She actually looked back at the door as if her greatest concern was being overheard.
“What is this obsession you and Father have with the Pangbournes? Is it really just their money? My God, can you think of anything else?”
“Your father has put a lot of work into situating you with a promising future.”
“He’s engaged, Mother!” She rubbed her temples, unable to conceive how someone could be so blinded by a bank account. “He’s also arrogant, egotistical, and horribly entitled. Is that the type of man you and Father want to see me settled down with?”
“All men have ego, dear. Confidence is a good trait.”
“No. There’s ego, and then there’s narcissism. When Peter’s not the center of attention, he’s dangerous and cruel.”
“Perhaps you’re being a bit harsh. He did rescue you, Wendy.”
“I wasn’t a prisoner. I could have left. He was going to let me leave.”
Her mother gave her a look of doubt. “I understand how confusing these situations can become. You did what you had to do to survive, but you’re not in danger anymore. Perhaps there’s someone you could talk to. I’m sure the memories are overwhelming.”
“Sure. Whatever.” She wiped her nose and sniffled. No one would ever believe her that James had come around. As much as he wanted her to stay, she knew in her heart he would have let her leave. He said himself that he didn’t believe in captivity and had no desire to keep her caged.
“But you shouldn’t blame Peter, dear. From what I understand, he did everything in his power to help you.”
She took a calming breath. This back-and-forth was useless. Her parents only heard what they wanted to hear. “I will never let that man near me again.”
“You’re upset.”
“Yes, Mother. I’m upset. Now, please leave me alone. I just want everyone to leave me alone.” She rolled to her side, turning her back on her mother as she left the bedroom.
Eventually, her father stopped yelling, and the front door slammed. Wendy closed her eyes, counting down the seconds before her peace was disrupted again.
Three…
Two—
Her father tapped the door, not waiting for an invitation to barge in. “I want you washed and downstairs in one hour. Leave those clothes for the maid. We’ll see that they’re incinerated.”
Wendy sat up. “Father…”
He looked away with unrestrained fury. “It’s too far, Wendy. Too far.”
She wasn’t going to make an excuse, just an apology. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
His mouth firmed into a flat line. “Sorry won’t replace what you lost. You’ll realize that soon enough.”
She balled her hands into fists. “I didn’t lose anything. I’m still me.”
He shook his head. “People will hear about this. Your good reputation won’t hold, and once it’s gone, your options will dwindle.”
She was tired of having her value tied to her virtue, which invalidly dictated her choices. Men made far worse decisions and saw no consequences. She was through with the double standards. “I can make my own opportunities if I have to.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “You’ll have to. We’ll discuss more on the subject after you’ve cleaned yourself up.” With that final reminder, he shut the door.
When she changed out of her clothes, she didn’t give them to Liza. Instead, she folded them into a small ball and hid them inside the window seat. They were all she had left of James, and burning his belongings was simply too painful to bear.
Sitting through her father’s lecture had been an exercise in zoning out.
She thought about how she used to climb trees and run around the yard barefoot with her belly out, equally as free as her brothers.
Then one day, she was told to calm down, stand up straight, and suck in her stomach.
She’d been holding her breath ever since.
Her image had become a reflection of others, a responsibility, and a detached part of herself. Who she pretended to be and how she carried herself in public was all that mattered. No one cared what was on the inside.
She’d been burying the unsavory parts of herself for so long, it was no wonder James had a hard time drawing them out.
Since he’d freed her of her inhibitions, her old life no longer felt as natural as it once had because the person they molded her to be was not anywhere near the person she actually was inside.
As if trying to fit into clothes she’d long ago outgrown, coming home left her uncomfortable with her options and panicked to find other solutions. She was no longer that tame bird in a cage. She’d had a taste of freedom, enough to know she wanted more.
It took a whole week for her father to bear her presence without turning and walking away in disgust, but even then, he refused to meet her eyes. As suspected, rumors got out about her wild night in the Never Lands, and then came the judgmental stares and indiscreet whispers.
It took a lifetime for some to be welcomed by society, but one improper move and a girl could be canceled in a blink. Forever.
By the end of the month, Wendy had moved from a respectable daughter position into total pariah territory. Strangers avoided her. Acquaintances shunned her. Exaggerated stories deformed the truth so much that her excuses were irrelevant. No one cared about the truth. Only James.
The most infuriating thing, however, was how little this impacted Peter’s life. He wasn’t branded a jezebel or called a criminal. No one knew the horrible things he’d done. They had their sacrificial lamb, and that was all they needed, apparently. And slaughter her reputation they did.
When school was back in session, she held no excitement for her new classes. After the first week of the semester, she decided not to return.
“Wendy, you can’t simply give up,” her mother cajoled, but there was no plucky, can-do attitude that would change her mind.
“I’ve made my decision.”
“You’re being hasty.”
“I’m not. I know what I want and what I don’t want.”