Dancing the Maypole by Cari Hislop Read Free Book Online

that
advertisement, the young ladies wouldn’t even look at me. I wanted
to kill my sons. I lost my t-temper and my wits. I don’t know why I
slung your d-d-daughter over my shoulder. I’ve never d-done that
before.”
    Monsieur pursed
his lips in amusement. “Les big femmes, they enjoy being slung sur
l’épaule like un morceau de viande.”
    “I was there!
Isabel did not enjoy being treated like a piece of meat.”
    “Bof! It was
the dream come true! Isabel dreams of a life romantique et
absurde…voila! Lord Adderbury he sweeps her off the feet.”
Monsieur’s smile reached his eyes. “C’est fantastique!”
    Peter cringed
as the man waved for him to continue, “My actions were inexcusable,
b-b-but I b-beg your forgiveness and I pray you will allow me an
opportunity to inform Mademoiselle that I am d-d-deeply
ashamed…”
    “Little-man,
Lord Adderbury iz eating grass, non?”
    “He deserves to
eat lead.”
    “Bah! He will
marry Isabel and you will be polite like a French King.”
    Hearing the
words, Peter felt a rising panic tinged with hope. A deadly look in
the seated man’s eyes made it clear a refusal to marry the maypole
would be taken as a grave insult and the day would end with several
balls of lead imbedded into vital parts of Peter’s body. “I am not
worthy of the honour…”
    “Papa! You
can’t let that cow marry Isabel. He’s…il est grand, and
stupide!”
    “It is not hiz
fault that he iz big.”
    “If you’ll
allow me to speak with Mademoiselle…”
    Monsieur de
Bourbon stood up with a satisfied smile and raised his arms like a
triumphant conductor. “Oui! You will justifie the scène to ma
petite fille and then réparer sa coeur brisé with the offer of
marriage, non? She will refuse you at the first, but she wants to
be a wife. She will sleep in your bed and give you les enfants. She
will look up at you and make you feel like a big man.”
    Peter felt
stunned. He wanted to reply that he was a big man, but he couldn’t
speak. The man wanted him to marry his daughter? The thought of
holding Isabel de Bourbon seemed to fill the emptiness in his chest
with a warm, furry muff that tickled. He’d live…and he’d hold
Isabel de Bourbon. Peter choked on hysterical laughter and stood
up. “It would be an honour Monsieur…”
    “Bon! You will
win the heart of ma petite fille and carry her chez toi. Voila!
Viens! I will take you to Isabel.”
    “Isabel will
scratch out his eyes.” Isabel’s brother scowled at Peter, “The cow
may try to have her arrested.”
    “Bah! Tell
Madame to prepare the bandages. Vite!” Monsieur waited until his
son reached the door before continuing, “My son has thirty years.
He needs a wife, but non, il tiens les petite adultères. It’s
enough to make a man cry. My son will buy the pox and there will be
no more de Bourbons. You are very blessed to have five sons; one
will have un enfant mâle.”
    Peter meekly
followed Monsieur through a hidden door, “If you had my sons you
wouldn’t feel b-blessed.”
    “Ah oui, tu
veut une petite fille!” Peter scowled as he was reminded that the
whole world now knew he wanted a daughter. “Isabel will give you
une petite fille.” After climbing stairs and another ten minutes
walking past endless doors, Monsieur stopped and knocked. “Isabel?
C’est ton Père!”
    Soft sobs
announced the room was occupied. “Je veux mourir!” The words made
Peter feel sick to his stomach. She wanted to die because of
him.
    Monsieur opened
the door and stuck his head into the room. “Bof! You do not want to
die. You want to marry a big man non?”
    The sobs became
wails of grief. “I hate men! I’m going to take the veil and die a
nun.”
    “I am un homme.
You do not hate your petite Papa!”
    “Non.”
    “Bon! You want
to marry and be happy non?”
    There was long
pause. “No-one wants to marry an old maypole.” The tear filled
words shot through the open door and pierced Peter’s chest. His
shirt was drenched