Rated R – Sexual Content
My Darling Love
Chapter 15 – Peter of the Past
"To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change."
-Charles Horton Cooley
It had been four years since Uncle Peter had married a widow Mary's age, and four years since George and Mary had heard from him. Now retired and wealthy, he took his wife around the world traveling, before settling in Paris, France. This was, after all, the most romantic city in the world. Every year, no matter where they were on the globe, George always extended his Christmas invitation to his oldest brother.
Peter never accepted, but sent well wishes in the form of the finest champagne to George, Mary and Grandpa Joe, and gifts to the children and to the family's pet, Nana. Wendy got a fancy dress with matching hat and gloves; the boys got suits, complete with a tie and cuff links. He always sent the children expensive toys, too, a tea set or a doll for Wendy and toy ships and trains for Michael and John. Nana received a bone bigger in size than Michael. Of all the presents to be opened on Christmas Eve, Peter's were the ones they searched for first under the tree. Once opened, the children would dance about and carry on about their "favorite uncle in the whole wide world," and his good taste in knowing "exactly what I wanted."
Quite unexpectedly, a telegram arrived addressed to George one spring afternoon. Mary never opened George's mail, feeling it wrong to read his private correspondence, even after thirteen years of marriage. She waited until he returned from work and greeted him at the door with it, along with a few other incidental bills.
As was his custom, George opened it at his desk in the parlor. The children of the Darling Home were thirteen, eleven and almost nine, and running around madly with Nana in hot pursuit. Each one bumped into their father's chair as he sat, and then preceded to pound away on the piano keys purposely to annoy George, who was deep in thought, scavenging through drawers and pulling out ledgers. Even with all the noise, he paid them no mind. Neither did Aunt Millicent, who held Mary's ear in the kitchen, nor Grandpa Joe, who was explaining how to plant the proper rose bush to the neighbor as they stood in the front hall.
Nana barked, and then began to howl. "Be quiet Nana!" the children shouted repeatedly, trying to get a rise out of George. They always found this trick very funny when he finally lost his patience and began to shout. They found this quite hilarious, in fact, a practical joke Uncle Peter had taught them when they were younger. "Stomp about, children," he would tell them, "until your father tells you to stop. When he does, sit quietly with your hands folded, and tell him you are not making any noise." And so they delighted in doing it constantly to him, leaving George flushed red while shaking his head in utter confusion.
They were sure their father was about to lose his temper, so they lined up in front of him stomping their feet loudly still chanting for Nana to be quiet, for she barked and jumped about them endlessly.
George stood up -- without his frown or flushed face -- and happily shouted, "WE ARE TAKING A HOLIDAY!" By "we" he meant Mary and himself, not the children. But Wendy, John and Michael were unaware of this, and began dancing around him. They never went anywhere except school and to the park, but they all dreamed of a fancy vacation to an exotic foreign land, like the ones in their storybooks. George, finally annoyed by the noise, pushed past the children to Mary, and showed her his oldest brother's letter. "He says we should leave a week from Thursday. We will arrive on Friday and can stay all week, and if we like, even longer."
The children still didn't know whom "we" meant but they knew what a week was, so now they were even happier and encircled their parents in celebration. "A week without school!" they chimed in, and Nana barked her excitement.
"I don't know George, can we afford it?" Mary asked in a raised voice so her husband could hear her over the children.
"It says he will pay the expenses!" he shouted back over the growing volume of happy songs and questions of destination from the children.
"What about your work, George? Children, please be quiet." Mary queried and demanded as she and George leaned their heads together and read the telegram. The children did not be quiet and raced out into the backyard after Nana, who had taken flight with Mary's request.
"I should expect a holiday from the bank," George declared. "The last time I had a day off was Wendy, John and Michael got the measles." That was indeed over five years ago. Mary and George gazed at one another approvingly, and smiled to Grandpa Joe who wisely waited for a clearer definition of "we."
"Mary and I are to holiday with my brother and his wife in Paris."
Grandpa Joe approved as well, not being one to travel. He nodded in dismay towards the children chasing one another, bickering over who was to stay behind and look after Nana. "I'll tell them George." Mary offered, also saddened that her children were not invited.
"Tell them what Mary?" George asked, rereading the telegram one last time, clearly he did not understand what it meant to his children, even being their father.
In the morning, the children still unaware they were not invited on the holiday, George gave notice to the Bank Manager that a week from Thursday he would be on holiday. "Good George, I'll mark you off in the ledger with pay." A holiday with pay and George got to start his vacation early on the Wednesday before they left!
He was very pleased with himself when he returned home, and even more pleased (if that were possible) when the tickets for their transportation to Paris arrived the same day, paid in full by his eldest brother Peter. "Right on time, just like Peter said. You know, Mary, making peace with my brother was the best thing I could have done in my life. There is no bond greater the one a man shares than with his brother."
As Mary washed the dishes, cheered by George's fine mood, her smile faded. "And what of your wife? Is that bond not great?" Mary queried, turning to look at him as he glanced through his paper.
"What Mary? What did you say?"
Mary turned back around without a word and continued scrubbing.
Wendy, John and Michael listened at the top of the stairs, wanting to know every detail of their vacation. Aunt Millicent and Grandpa Joe sat with George and Mary over tea to discuss who would take the children. "Well, they can stay here in their home with me." Grandpa Joe stated frankly.
Aunt Millicent demanded they stay with her, "Oh no, Joseph, the children will need a woman around, especially Wendy. There are things only a woman understands about a young girl that age." Aunt Millicent was dying to get her claws into the Darling's oldest child, their only daughter. Her parents knew this and therefore Grandpa Joe won. In the end, the children would stay home, and Aunt Millicent would stay in George and Mary's room for the week.
The children were dismayed that there was to be a holiday of fun and adventure without them. "Mother wouldn't really go without us, would she, Wendy?" Michael asked, shocked by the notion that his mother might just have a life of her own her outside of her children. They had bragged to their friends at school that -- not only were they to be off for an entire week -- but they were going to the most amazing place in the entire globe, although they were not sure where that was.
Just like her mother, Wendy would not give up on anything she wanted without a fight. The next night, after they were in bed and Mary sat beside her and talked for an hour about everything alive and important to a young girl of thirteen, Wendy asked, "Why is it that only you and father going?"
Mary knew the children were disappointed to be left behind, so she gave the best relief she could. She stayed in the nursery until their minds were rested and released of all their worries and defeats.
"But we so looked forward to going, Mother," Michael complained.
"I told everyone at school already mother, what will they think?" John added.
"I know, my dearest, I know. But it is to be a grown up's holiday. Uncle Peter and his wife have no children, and what would you do with only adults around but be bored? They would expect you to be quiet and behave even more so than Aunt Millicent does. You would always have to be dressed in your finest and never get dirty. You would not be allowed to play or run about. We could not bring Nana with us, and she would be alone here. With no one to walk her or play with her, she would miss you children and spend the entire time wailing for your return. And think of all you will miss in school. Every day you learn something new, and every day you are away would only mean more extra homework when you return, and I know how you children hate your homework," Mary soothed them.
"Will you miss us?" Wendy asked.
"Oh course, Wendy! I will miss you all, and think about you constantly while I am away. I will also miss my warm bed and my afternoon tea, I will miss cooking and serving you your supper. I will miss not giving you your baths and putting you to bed. I will miss this house; I will miss everything that happens while I am away. You know, children, I probably won't have any fun at all."
Mary should never have voiced her last sentence, because the children remembered it. They felt sorry that George was dragging her to Paris when it seemed, at least to them, she didn't want to go. They agreed to be good children and listen to Grandpa Joe and say prayers at night. "Think of all the fun you will have without your mother telling you to wash you hands, and your father telling you to be quiet. Grandpa Joe will mock Aunt Millicent and let you have the run of the house. Oh, I'm sure you will be up past your bedtimes and he'll spoil you with loads of candies and sweets," Mary encouraged them, making them giggle. "Your father and I will bring back something special for each of you," Mary told them as she kissed their heads and turned out the light.
The Thursday of their departure came, and Mary hugged and kissed the children as if she would never see them again. She held each one by their face and memorized every detail with tears in her eyes. "Now remember, you promised to be good and not give Grandpa Joe anything to fret over. Remember, I will be thinking about you all the time, and I love you. Say your prayers before bed and do your homework. Eat your breakfast, lunch and supper, and please not too much candy. Brush your teeth, I love you."
Aside from her stay at the hospital, she had never been away from them. George, less demonstrative, shook Michael and John's hands formally, and titled them "the men of the house." He nodded uncomfortably to Wendy, not sure what to do. Both Mary and George patted Nana on the head. With their good-byes to Aunt Millicent and Grandpa Joe completed, they were off in the cab with Mary looking back longingly as she waved.
The children stayed outside and waved to their mother as the cab drove away. Wendy did not go inside until it had turned out of sight. Her mother was only gone a minute and already her heart was aching from Mary's absence. Wendy dreaded going back into the house.
She loved Grandpa Joe, but Aunt Millicent she could do without, for Aunt Millicent watched Wendy in the most peculiar way, as if waiting for something to happen that never did. The boys could be boys and she couldn't care less, but where Wendy was concerned, she must be the proper lady at all times. "Sit up straight, Wendy. Fix your dress, Wendy. Where are your gloves, Wendy?" she would command, or worse, suggest, "Have your mother pull your hair up and off your face. Tell your mother that you are to speak only when spoken to. Tell your mother that young girls should not dress up as boys and climb trees." Aunt Millicent would tell her mother herself and Mary would always reply, "She's just a young child."
"Mr. Baker and Mrs. Baker would never stand for that kind of behavior from their daughter, even when she was a young child," Aunt Millicent would add with a smug expression.
Mary would counter, "Well, George and I are the new Mr. and Mrs. Darling, not Mr. and Mrs. Baker." Wendy did not know who Mr. and Mrs. Baker were, and she was clueless as to the identity of the old Mr. and Mrs. Darling, but whatever her mother said worked, for no more words were spoken to Mary about how Wendy should behave.
The week seemed to last forever, the children waiting for George and Mary to return. They did have their fun, though. Grandpa Joe let them stay up late on the weekend, and made them pancakes with lots of butter and sweet sugary syrup every morning for breakfast. He took them to church on Sunday, and then out and about London after services. They had a jolly good time window-shopping. He took them to the sweet shop and let them stuff their pockets with whatever candy was to their liking, asking them, "Please do not eat it all today, and please, for my sake, brush your teeth good and right before you go to bed." Every night, even those when the children had school the next day, he would let them put on big productions of their stories, and made Aunt Millicent watch and clap at the end.
As the years passed, Wendy had developed a larger cast of characters she made up from her own experiences. Her favorite was Peter Pan; she named him Peter because that was her favorite uncle's name. He was a boy who never grew up, because that is what Mary would say to George when he would criticize how poorly his eldest brother handled his finances. "George, Peter will never grow up. He does not want to be burdened with the responsibilities that come with being an adult."
No matter how much merriment they made during the day, at night when they went to bed, the yearning for their mother would return. Aunt Millicent tucked them in and said "Good night, children," without a kiss or a hug or even a story. So Wendy told the stories and the boys went to bed.
By the time Mary and George were to return home, John and Michael mockingly called Wendy "mother" and in return she made them drink a tablespoon of bath water and called it medicine. "You have a cough, John, you need to take your medicine." He would fight, and she would insist, reassuring him that she knew best, and so he would. Wendy would then re-tuck them in after Millicent was gone and spend an hour asking the same questions her mother had when she was home. "What did you learn in school today Michael? And John was your arithmetic homework correct? What was the your favorite game that you played today? Did you notice any clouds in the sky when you walked home from school? Tell me what you want to dream about tonight as you drift off to sleep? Well Michael, is that not what you dreamed last night?"
The Friday their parents were to return, the children raced home from school only to find they would not be returning until Sunday. "Why Sunday? They were to return today!" Michael pouted.
They marked the day on their calendar, and every evening, the children would take turns marking the days away with an enormous red "X". Grandpa Joe said it was because their parents could not get back any sooner, even though they begged for a ticket and were just as sad as the children, if not more, because they had no fun without them. "Your mother even made your father get down on his hands and knees and plead with the train conductor for passage home! Oh yes, children, they had their bags to the station."
Grandpa Joe had folded the telegram George had sent and placed in his pocket out of sight. With the children asleep, he let Aunt Millicent read it before casting it into the fire. "Just as I suspected," she commented.
Dear Grandpa Joe,
We are having such a wonderful time here and will not be home until Sunday.
George
When George wrote the telegram, he did not mention the children or anything about begging for a ticket on his hands and knees. He wanted to add that he and Mary sent their love, but that cost extra. They were truly having a wonderful time, though. Peter, his wife, Mary and George went all around Paris, dining on the finest foods in the best restaurants, taking in the sights, drinking expensive champagne and smoking cigarettes with Peter apparently footing the bill. "No George, you are not to pay one check while here on my invitation. To the honeymoon you and your lovely wife never had!" Peter toasted Mary and George at their first meal together, and for a short time, it was a honeymoon.
Although it did not start out that way. Mary had never seen George so anxious to do anything in his life, even make love to her for the first time. As their ship docked, he literally dragged Mary, who was tripping over her feet, to greet his brother waiting for them with a carriage. "Brothers reunited!" they shouted to each other as they embraced, with Mary, already feeling like the unnecessary third wheel to their brotherly bond, looked on.
"Oh Mary, still as gorgeous as ever," Peter complimented as he hugged her just as tightly as he had her husband. Peter held her by the shoulders and gazed at her figure, "Why Mary, I think this is the first time I've ever seen you not fat in the waist with George's baby. My brother must be slacking off." Peter tapped George who was smiling ear to ear at his wife, enjoying the subtle joke.
Mary did not find it funny. "You've seen me plenty of times without a baby in my belly, Peter, and as far as my husband goes, I am the one who can no longer bear children," Mary retorted lifting her own suitcase and offering it to the carriage driver.
Peter strangely held his grin to her, and then patted George again, offering, "Let's get you both settled in a room." George and Mary sat in the back of the carriage with Peter resting with the driver, giving him direction, when George spoke up to his wife and condemned, "You were very rude with my brother, Mary. Please watch your tongue as we are his guests."
Instead of staying at Peter's castle, a real castle with a highest tower, he had them stay at an extravagant hotel with a balcony and a fireplace large enough to stand in. Peter's friends were just as rich as he, and loved that George was well educated in stocks and bonds. They made small talk about investments while sipping scotch.
The ladies complimented Mary on her hairstyle and slim figure, "You had three children? That simply cannot be possible!"
They partied and danced until dawn, and retired to their king-size bed with satin sheets to make love and sleep. Not since they were newlyweds had they bathed together, and then only out of necessity. The flat had been small, in the seedy part of town, and there was only enough hot water to fill one bath every other day, so they made do. But in Paris, just for old time's sake, they ran the bath full of bubbles and spent the entire afternoon soaking together until their skin puckered up like raisins. And although they were together, they were often separated by groups and away from one another at dinner. George spent countless hours "catching up" with Peter, or so he said, and Peter's wife and her society friends entertained Mary. Every night when they went to bed, George would exclaim, "I am so happy to be this close to my brother Peter, there is no bond more important to a man then the one he shares with his brother."
They lived the life of luxury that week, and George didn't want to go home. Mary did not have to clean or cook, for when they left for the day, the maid would come in and make the bed. When they returned, there were mints on their pillows, fresh sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bath. It was the honeymoon they never had, the honeymoon Mary would have had if she had married the bigger fish. But it didn't matter because she had George and he was the most handsome man now in all of England and in all of France.
George was reserved and quiet at home, but in Paris he took to laughing hard and engaging in sordid conversations. He got drunk every night they were away, and insisted they stay at whatever party they were attending until it was over. Mary watched her husband from across another room, feeling miles away from him, as he fell over in hysterics laughing with men that would have made him tremble in his shoes if he ever was to encounter them in his normal life as bank clerk.
Something was changing in him, another side of his personality that Mary was not even aware of came forth, and dominated the parts of George that Mary most cherished. Her only comfort came in knowing this world would only last a week, whereas the world she loved with her George in it, would last a lifetime.
As the days progressed, George altered increasingly. Mary was shocked when he suggested they make love quickly in the greenhouse of his brother's manor when no one was around. He led her in and pushed her up against the window, lifting her dress and unfastening her undergarment. He unzipped his trousers and began entering her feverishly. She was unsure if it was the position he held her in, standing with one leg up, or the fear that they would be caught, but she climaxed just as fast as he did. Later in the day, again when no one was around, they ventured into a washroom alone. He took her from behind, leaning her over the vanity, and for the first time, she liked it that way. And that was the only part of the new George she liked, the part of him that had become uninhibited in his pursuit of her, and spontaneous in his desires.
The only other thing Mary did enjoy about her visit was the delectable cuisine of Paris, and Mary swore if she stayed there another week, she would get fat. They ate croissants with sweet butter and coffee for breakfast, and rich foods full of flavor for lunch. Dinner in itself was a grand affair with multiple courses of fresh seafood and steaks, fruits and cheeses, garden vegetables, stews and soups, breads of all shapes and sizes, and wine with everything. Every meal came with desserts, sweet and sugary, that made them sleepy afterwards. So the Darlings ate, drank and made very merry on their holiday.
They slept naked and intertwined with no worries of the children snooping or sneaking in. Theirs was now a torrid love affair full of passion and new exploration. Mary kissed every inch of George's body, including his toes and he did exactly the same. Once they realized how satisfying and enjoyable a "quickie" could be, they did it as often as possible. Mary was afraid George would have a heart attack from all their contact, but he seemed more ready than she at times. When the hour grew late and he had enough to drink, George became very frisky, and would go so far as to touch her breasts or bite her neck in front of their new friends. She would slap him away if they were in front of others, but as soon as they were alone, she would become just as aggressive. A little tipsy herself, she once ripped his shirt off, frustrated with the buttons.
For only a week, George declared Mary must forget they were parents with responsibilities at home. He wanted to pretend they were newly married with the world at their feet, and a fresh life before them.
The day they were to return, George informed her they would be spending extra days in Paris to prolong his fun. Mary mentioned the children, and asked him to imagine what they were doing, wondering if they were being well behaved and doing their homework.
George, sitting beside her inebriated and jolly with his drink and new friends joked, "I think when we go home, you should spread your legs, Mary, and let them climb up back inside of you, that way you will always be assured of their safety." He slurred it, so it was not as clear as it is written, but just the same she heard every word and rewarded his mockery with a slap in the face before stalking out of the room.
George chased after her, harshly grabbing her by the arm, drunker than she had even seen him in her life and angry at her insult. "Let go of me, George, you are hurting me," Mary commanded, and Peter, the valiant knight, rode up on his white horse and saved the day, taking George back inside to the party while directing Mary to the washroom to "freshen up."
She freshened up, and soon rode back to the hotel in a carriage with George unconscious beside her. "I think I shall be sick, Mary," George mumbled as she helped in into the room, and he did, all over the floor.
The next day was no better. While enjoying the warm Paris weather, Mary sat with a group of ladies in Peter's garden. To call it a garden did not do it justice. The property was full of rolling green hills and a splendid array of flowers in bloom. There they sat on their wicker chairs when a woman, older than Mary in age and appearance, inquired after George. "That man over there, who he is?"
All the ladies turned to see at whom she was pointing, and it was Mary's beloved. "That's my husband, George Darling, he's Peter's brother." Mary smiled graciously; expecting compliments about his handsome face, but received instead a verbal punch in the nose that almost sent her from her chair.
"Oh really, your husband you say? I'm surprised. I would have guessed him a fairy. Does he fancy men as well as you?"
Mary was speechless. She was naïve about certain things, but she knew what it meant when someone said "fairy" and was referring to man in the same sentence. "I beg your pardon! How dare you say such a thing? We've been happily married for thirteen years!" Mary was furious at her insult, standing tall and dominant, as if readying for battle against the rude woman still sitting as she shouted. Mary glared at the woman, and stepped back crossing her arms, waiting for her reply. But not another word was spoken, because the men gathered round to see the "cat fight brewing between the ladies."
George questioned Mary later about the episode, she told him the "horribly stupid hag with the pitiful wig insulted my dress."
Peter's wife heard what was said, and apologized to Mary, assuring her that not a word would be mentioned to George, and that woman would never be welcome again in their home. It didn't matter. That experience and all the others made Mary demand George take her home that very night.
It was only the afternoon, and George wanted to stay not only for the delightful dinner his brother had planned but also for the party after. "We shall stay until Sunday, Mary, and that is my final word. If we could stay another week we would, and that would be final too."
Luckily for Mary, that was not the final word. George had a different experience that made him want to flee Paris for home, and not one that an apology and a promise could erase.
On that very same day, later in the evening, alone with his eldest brother Peter in his private study, George reviewed what was left of his mother's estate. She had died earlier that year in Chicago while staying with her sister. She was already in the ground four months before George found out she had died, and her money was all but spent on the his and Mary's holiday. "I knew if I sent you the money, you would put it into savings rather than enjoy it with Mary," Peter told him. "George, don't be mad now, I was doing you a favor!"
That was not the problem. The problem came when Peter complimented Mary on her miraculous recovery. It was to be his next sentiment that made George nearly choke on his tea. "Mary has always been such an attractive woman, I've often wondered how you managed to keep her all these years. I used to think it was because you couldn't keep it in your pants, and that's how you put her in the wrong way, by getting her pregnant. But now I see it was to make sure you got her. You lucky dog, I'll bet she's an animal in bed. Sure you can handle her still? You know, I wouldn't mind having a go at her myself, and I can tell, George, by the way she looks at me, she probably feels the same."
George's carefree attitude suddenly disappeared. Only the day before, he had bragged about Mary's skill in fellatio over scotch and cigars. He now grew very uncomfortable and loosened his tie. His brother took no notice of his disposition and continued, "I could take Mary for the evening, and you could take my wife for the evening. You, George, can finish what you started with my wife earlier today. Oh yes, she told me all about your little tryst. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. As a matter of fact, I think she will be quite willing. They say variety is the spice of life, and it's about time Mary got some variety, don't you think? And really, brother, what's fair is fair."
George didn't need to know which one he meant when Peter said, "She wouldn't mind," whether it was Mary or Peter's wife. There was no way he would allow or want Mary to lie down with another man. Peter left him with, "Let me know."
George didn't say who said what, or how the topic was brought up, but for his own piece of mind, he whispered to an already hostile Mary at dinner, "Would you like another man to take you to bed?"
Her expression of horror was all he needed to see to know she'd never thought about any other man that way. When she screeched, "GEORGE, ARE YOU INSANE?" she answered his query completely. She also answered Peter's request without speaking to him directly, because he heard her yell at the other end of the table, as did all the other guests.
Later, in bed, for her own piece of mind, she asked him her own questions. "No, Mary, I could never imagine living my life with anyone but you." They agreed that, for them, sex was not just the physical act of two people; it was a part of their marriage that was private and reserved just for each other.
And so, they were relieved to go home on Sunday, and go back to being responsible grown ups. George thanked his brother for his hospitality and shook his hand before leaving. Mary pecked Peter's cheek kindly and embraced his wife as they departed back to London (never knowing it was Peter who had made the suggestion in the first place).
George and Mary maintained silence on the boat home as well as the while they waited for a cab to take them home. "I think I will write to my brother and thank him for showing us around Paris and introducing us to his lovely friends. Would you like me to add any words of your own, Mary, maybe to his wife?" George asked on their way back to their home.
"No, George, I think I will leave Peter in the past, if you don't mind."
George really didn't mind. But just the same, Peter was, after all, the only brother with whom George still had any contact. For that, he felt it best to hold his tongue, knowing he was not going home to endless rounds of good food, fine wine and fun. "Do not think ill of him or his wife, Mary, they are, after all, my family."
Mary got out of the cab, and carried her own bag to the door. "No, George, I am your family. Your children are your family."
George nodded his head and offered a weak smile to appease her, and then he saw something in her eyes that brought him back to the old George. Her face was different, she was seeing him through new eyes and he hated the reflection that was cast back at him in the London light.
He stepped forward to her and raised her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over it. "I'm sorry if I offended you when we were away. I just never remember ever being so carefree. I know you are my family, and I know the children are my family. I missed them, too, even Nana and your father. I think Peter is not the only thing we shall leave in the past, Mary. I think we should leave Paris in the past as well."
Mary smiled and kissed his cheek, but not before gazing upon his face as their lips met, checking his identity, to be sure it was, in fact, her George that returned. It was, and so they kissed, with George cracking a joke that truly made Mary laugh, "There is one thing I did not miss while we were away..." He paused to gain her attention, "Your aunt Millicent."