Dancing the Maypole Read Online Free PDF Page B

made
you seem a little…” His mother pursed her lips as if trying to
convince herself. “…inexperienced and naïve, but those are not
sins.”
    “They made me
look a f-f-fumbling lovelorn loser.”
    “Pierre…you
will find her. Ouvre the heart…”
    “My heart is
open in every broadsheet!” shouted Peter. “It will soon be thrown
into the fire by every sensible woman who can read English. My life
is ruined!”
    “Oh Pierre,
always you see the rain clouds…this could be the thing divine.
Perhaps it will aid you to meet une femme who will see that you are
a good man.”
    “I am not a
good man. I want to kill my children!”
    “Pierre, there
were the days I could have hit you on the head. C’est normal!”
    “I promised
Papa I’d be a g-g-good man. How can I expect my sons to be good men
if I fail?”
    His mother
sighed in exasperation, “Your Papa did not expect you to be a
saint; saints are dead. He wanted you to make the good choices and
be happy. C’est tout!”
    “How can I be
happy? My empty bed is k-k-killing me. I need a wife!”
    “Je comprends.
When your Papa died, I…it was horrible. My heart, it did not want
to live or love again, but the years pass, and there comes the need
to be loved. You will find her.”
    Peter exhaled
in despair. “I did find her.”
    “Vraiment? But
that is fantastique! Who is she?”
    “Miss Helene
Carteret; I was courting her with hope, but thanks to my helpful
children the sweet creature now thinks me an ancient social
embarrassment.”
    Peter didn’t
see his mother’s look of horror as she made the sign of the cross.
“Pierre, Mademoiselle Carteret et une belle fille, mais…”
    “But what?
She’s a good woman.”
    “That may be,
but she has only one year more than Cecil who is a beautiful young
man.”
    Peter turned
revealing red outraged eyes, “Are you saying I’m too old for
her?”
    “Your boys need
a mother. Direct the heart to une femme closer to your age. I know
une femme who dreams of meeting you…”
    “Three of my
sons are men. The other two think they’re men. My sons need
wives.”
    “Exactement!
Your sons they have the age of men. Miss Helene Carteret is too
young; your sons, they may…forget she is…the stepmother.”
    Peter’s black
eyes glinted with rage. “How c-c-can you think one of my sons would
seduce my wife?”
    His mother
pursed her lips in frustration. Knowing her son’s hatred of gossip,
she couldn’t tell him that Miss Carteret was a fortune-hunting
wanton; that his sons would be the ones in danger. “Non, they would
not set out to seduce your wife, but they are without experience.
If Cosmo were to spend hours a day with une belle femme who smiled
at him with kind eyes he would lose his heart. It could end in a
tragedy Shakespeare.”
    “Non!” Peter
shook his hands at the ceiling in speechless rage. “I’ve taught my
sons to be good men.”
    “Oui, but they
may not choose to be good Pierre.”
    “Have you no
faith in my children?”
    His mother
slowly shook her head. “Robert may look like you, but he is nothing
like you Pierre. He is more like your brother Jean.”
    “You insult my
son! Robert isn’t anything like John.”
    “Pierre, you
need une femme who will love them like a mother because she is too
old to be the lover.”
    “The woman I
marry will love my sons as if they were her own, and my sons will
love her as if they were her sons.”
    “Pierre, a
woman who has twenty-four years cannot mother a man who has
twenty-three.”
    “Shall I remind
you how many years there are b-b-between you and William? He’s four
years older than me Mamma. Four!”
    “Oui, but his
children are young and I am not. Miss Carteret is trop jeune for a
man with grown sons.”
    Peter glared at
his mother, “Is that what you came to tell me? That I’m too old for
happiness?”
    “Non, there is
une femme who is in love with you. Why, I do not know…”
    Peter’s face
contorted with disbelief, “You don’t know