Mathieu was cooking dinner with his papa, Francis, when his life fell apart. He had been instructed to chop the peppers for the salad.
"Now, be careful with that knife." Francis reached over and adjusted his hands. "Never cut toward yourself and be careful to stay at least an a half-inch from your fingers at all times."
"Oui, papa" Mathieu smiled at him. Francis smiled back, trying to keep the sadness out of his eyes. He had to make sure that Mathieu enjoyed the time he had left here as much as possible. Francis turned back to the stove where the pot was boiling. He knew that soon he would have to say goodbye to his beloved Mathieu.
They finished cooking and then sat down to eat the dinner. Francis gave advice as much as possible so that his child would remember etiquette when he left. Their fare wasn't much. Some potatoes and other assorted vegetables placed into a stew with an unidentified meat. Francis wished with all his heart that he could have raised Mathieu in the opulence that he had grown up in. But Francis knew there was no changing the past.
After they had finished eating and done the dishes, they was a knocking at the door. Mathieu went to go get it. The caller was their landlord, Arthur Kirkland.
"Oh, H-hello, Lord Kirkland." He bowed his head, as owed a man of his station. Francis was suddenly glad that he had taught Mathieu proper courtesy. After greeting the man, he walked back toward Francis, thinking that his papa would protect him. How wrong he was, Francis thought sadly. Francis had completely ignored the socially correct greeting and had stayed seated. He turned to Mathieu.
"Why don't you go choose a bedtime story? I'll be in their in a minute."
"Oui, papa."
"English, Mathieu, we have a visitor."
"Yes, papa." He turned and walked into the bedroom. They both watched him go. Francis couldn't help but think cynically that Mathieu would never get that bedtime story.
Arthur compared the boy to Alfred, his son. They were a lot alike, just not in personality.
"Have you made a decision yet? I gave you a month." There was no friendliness in his statement, just business.
"Restate the terms again."
"The boy will come with me, to be treated exactly like my son excluding title and inheritance and you will pay no rent on this apartment until the boy is eighteen." Eleven years of free rent was hard to turn down. Especially since Francis wouldn't be able to afford the rent next month anyway. And that doesn't include food.
"Fine. I'll take your offer." Arthur smirked. He had won, as usual. He pulled out his pocket watch luxuriously.
"I'll give you five minutes to say farewell." Give me, like he controls everything, he thought furiously. He didn't want to admit that Arthur did. Francis wasn't normally a violent man, but he had to mentally restrain himself from punching the arrogance off of his face.
Francis stood and left the room. Mathieu was kneeling at the pile of books at the corner.
"What about Aesop's Tales, papa?" He looked up at him, book in hand. He stopped when he saw the tears in his eyes. "Papa, what's wrong?"
"Matthew, you're going to leave here."
"Why, papa?" Francis didn't respond. "Was I bad?"
"No, Mathieu, you were the best son in the whole world. But I want you to be happy and I can't take care of you anymore."
"I don't want to leave you, papa." Mathieu was now crying as well, beads of salt water trickled down his face. "I'm happy here."
"You have to go, Mathieu. I just want you to remember one thing." He hugged his son hard, knowing he would never see him again. "I love you so much and just want whats best for you."
"I love you too, papa."
Hey, you guys. Okay so here's the new story. I know I probably should be continuing the old ones but I keep getting ideas. This story is posted from England! I just moved here from Florida so theirs a large change. Plus I get deja vu wherever I go.
Hoped you like the story. The time period is somewhere in the seventeenth or eighteenth century.
PLEASE REVIEW
