Saints (12 page)

In the dark, returning from the private house to the cottage, Dinah paused for a moment in the courtyard. The air was smoky, so there were no stars; it was not for contemplation that she waited. It was something else. She wanted something, wanted it very specifically, and yet could not think what it was.

In the darkness she heard Charlie pass her, heading for the private house. She said nothing to him; he did not see her. She tried to think what had made her so unsatisfied. Was it all the talk of love? Was she longing for a man’s touch on her body? The moment she thought of it, she remembered Mr. Uray, whose touches were becoming less subtle and far more frequent. Because they were done with the pretense of discipline, to call her to her work when her attention wandered, she had been able to ignore them. But now she knew what the pokes and pinches really were; now she understood why the other girls were getting colder to her. Mr. Uray had long looked at her in the wrong way; she was so used to ignoring it that she hadn’t realized that the other girls might think more of it than she did. They must pity her for it, and yet feel so ashamed they couldn’t speak of it. Or no—could some of them even be jealous, wishing the overseer would try to touch
them?
Welcome to him, I’m sure, Dinah thought, laughing silently. If that’s what Mr. Uray thinks is love, pinches that leave a bruise, he can take his love to someone else and welcome to it. What did not occur to her was the truth: that the other girls believed that in her very silence, in her very ignoring of Mr. Uray’s provocation, in the fact that she had not quit her job long ago, they believed that she was encouraging him. They believed that she was getting special favors from him; some were even sure that he was paying her extra on the side. The only thing that was really debated was whether he had actually had her yet. The majority still held that Dinah was a virgin who was playing with fire, not a harlot who was already well scorched. Of course none of them spoke of it to her, as her reputation slowly deteriorated though she was innocent of any of the sins assumed for her.

Charlie saw her on his way back to the cottage. It turned out he had come out less to use the privy than to find her. “I heard,” he told her.

She looked at him calmly.

“I mean—what you and mother said.” He was resolute—embarrassed to speak, but determined not to stop. “I couldn’t help hearing. I just wanted you to know that I agree with you. And when I marry, I’ll be as careful to please my wife as to be pleased by her. I’m not like father. I’m not like him at all.”

It touched her that he was so eager to have her good opinion. “Of course you aren’t. And when you marry, Charlie, you’ll be a good husband. But not too soon, please.”

He laughed. “I guess not. I’m only a boy.” But the way he said it, she knew that he thought of his youthfulness only as a disguise for a fully grown man inside.

“You’re taller.”

“You noticed.”

“You’ll be as tall as Robert soon.”

“I’ll be taller. He’s built wide, like an ox.”

Ah, yes. Robert was animal-like, in Charlie’s view. While
he
would be a man. Let be, let be. “Better go in now, Charlie. There’s the wedding so early tomorrow, and then a day’s work afterward. Only Robert and Mary get the whole day.”

“Oh, they’ll be working far into the night.”

“Enough of that, Charlie. I’m only your sister, but you should still think of me as a lady.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Go on in. I’ll come soon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your sins are forgiven.”

They laughed, and Charlie left her. She stood in the darkness and touched her lips, wondering what it would feel like to have a man do that. And then she felt a terrible, trembling fear that no man ever would, that like Matthew all men would be afraid of her, would adore her but never want to be one with her, to be part of her, as the parson said.

The wedding came and went in the weak light of smoke-blocked dawn, at the chapel a few blocks away on Canal Street. Mary was pretty and Robert was handsome in their rented finery—and Charlie was fiercely proud of the fact that his gift to them had been a rented coach for their trip from the chapel at Canal Street to their new home at Ravald Street. There had been some argument on that, Anna insisting that Charlie should spend his gift money on something that would last, and Charlie equally adamant that he wanted his brother “to have the best.” Privately Dinah was sure Charlie’s motive was not so selfless: Robert would know whose carriage it was when he took his bride away, and though he had the manners not to refuse the gift, he hadn’t the charity to forgive it.

Dinah’s gift had been the rent of Mary’s dress. It was the only secret Dinah knew for a fact that Mary had ever kept; between the two women, Mary was profusely grateful, but she had readily consented to Dinah’s request that she tell no one who paid for the dress, so that Mary’s family wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of having it be known they were too poor to rent the gown themselves.

At the moment of the vows, Mother squeezed Dinah’s hand tighter, is if to say, “Someday you.” Dinah did not squeeze back. Instead she thought of her mother’s marriage, and silently resolved that if she ever married a man who wanted to leave her, she would make him leave her in daylight, not lie there in the dark passively while he took her money and walked out the door; she would kill him first before she would let him be so cowardly. Then she realized that God might construe her thought as a wish for the death of her own father. Forgive me, she said to God. The prayer was not answered. Never was.

It was November when Mr. Uray tired of his subtle pinching and poking and decided that the time had come to win the beautiful young operator who obviously didn’t mind his advances but never did anything to come halfway with him.

He began his direct approach by slipping two extra shillings into her hand on payday. The idea was not his own. The women who worked in the factory had told the men there about their speculation that Dinah was getting extra pay; the rumor had reached men on the same level as Mr. Uray, and they had teased him about keeping his own private payroll for work done after hours. Mr. Uray liked the idea of the other men thinking him something of a rake; he did not contradict them. And now he had decided that the strategy of extra payment might raise those skirts.

He was wrong. Dinah immediately noticed the extra coins and stepped back to drop them on the table in front of Mr. Uray. Uray looked dumbly at the money. “You must have miscounted,” Dinah said softly, and then she hurried out the door. Mr. Uray was furious, sure that he saw ridicule in the faces of the other men and women as they passed to get their money. Now they would know that the rumors weren’t true, and he had not had Dinah after all. It was humiliating, and he would not bear it.

All Sunday he fretted about it, burning with shame that Dinah was too proud to take his money, that she would dare to humiliate him in front of everyone. It did not occur to him that she had never heard the rumors about the extra money and that she could not have known that anyone would think that his overpayment was anything but an accident. He knew better. The way she moved more slowly and liquidly when she knew he was watching her; the way she breathed faster when she saw him coming toward her; the way when he pinched her she blushed and said nothing, but only worked faster, pretending that she hadn’t noticed it—it was obvious to him that she desired him, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. And why not? He wasn’t young, but some women prized the wisdom of a mature man over the flightiness of youth. He knew well enough from his discreet inquiries that she had no man, that she never kept company with any of the fellows at the factory. The poor wench was obviously dying with desire for him, but she was too proud for his money. All right, then. She might think the money would turn her into a whore—he should have thought of that, she was better than that sort. He would not try again to appeal to her purse; now he would appeal directly to her heart. But since her heart was so well-concealed behind bodice, blouse, and bosom, he decided that the best persuasion would be to give her a taste of what his love could be like. It wasn’t money she wanted, it was the ecstasy of love, and Mr. Uray was the man to give it to her.

Monday morning was icy, and the women all came to work bundled in whatever warm things they owned; raggedy clothes, mostly, though a few had had the spare coins to buy something still in fair condition. But Mr. Uray was adamant about the washing. The master insisted on cleanliness, because he was concerned for his employees’ health. He was an enlightened man and took some pride in the fact. So his overseers did his bidding and whatever the weather, warm or cold, the sinks like horse troughs were filled with hot water and the soap and towels were set in their bowls. Men and women alike had to wash arms to the shoulder and faces to the neck and feet to the knee. But enlightenment was not carried to extremes. Real estate costing what it did, there was no sense in having men and women wash in separate rooms. Poor people had no modesty anyway—that was plain from the holey, scanty clothes they so often wore. So never mind what clothing might have to be removed. Men and women would wash each morning and each night, wash to the neck, to the shoulder, to the knee, and quickly, too. And of course it was Mr. Uray’s job to watch closely and be sure that all washed as thoroughly as they should. Dinah Kirkham had such a graceful leg.

All day Mr. Uray thought of nothing but Dinah. Though he was often tempted, by both habit and desire, to come and catch her idling and pinch her to alertness, today he restrained himself. He deliberately did not watch her, did not speak to her, did not so much as notice she existed. He imagined her worry, for of course she would think he was angry about her having refused his money. Of course she would be afraid that he no longer cared for her, that her chance with the overseer was lost. Well, let her fret, let her fret. He murmured it to himself as an incantation. It did not occur to him that, far from fretting, she was gratefully thinking that he had at last realized that she detested him and had therefore ceased his crude advances. After all, he thought, there were so many rumors that she was his paramour, and how could such rumors persist if there wasn’t at least some underlying truth to them?

Work ended. Dinah was tired. She filed with the other women into the washing room. Men from other parts of the factory were also coming in, and the children. Men and boys rolled their trousers up and took off their shirts, some shyly, some wearily, but most with their backs to the women as the women turned their backs to the men. To wash their legs, however, the women had to lift their skirts and pull down their hose, and if most of the men did not look, some had no compunction, and stared frankly at the calves and ankles that could not be hidden. Mr. Uray solemnly did his duty and watched them all.

Afterward Dinah would wonder if, in her weariness, she had been careless of her modesty, if perhaps she had done something to provoke Mr. Uray beyond his endurance. But she did not think of such a thing when, as she reached the door to be checked off the list of those who had done a full day’s work, he looked at her sternly and said, “You must wait.”

Now she realized that his ignoring her today was not courtesy but anger—she would be punished. It made her afraid. Would he dismiss her? He didn’t even need a pretext. But worst of all was that he might be angry enough to pass the word among the overseers in other factories that Dinah Kirkham was a troublesome woman, and then she’d never get another job. It filled her with terror, the thought of being able to find no work, even though she knew that Charlie made plenty of money and that she could stay home or even go to school if she wanted to. She needed her job, and Mr. Uray had the power to take all work away from her—it had been done to other girls, she knew. So when the last of the other women filed past Mr. Uray, pausing only to cast a dark glance at her—of pity, she thought—she was trembling and eager to apologize, to humiliate herself if it would placate Uray and keep her employed.

“To my office,” he said coldly. He gestured for her to go ahead, and he followed her to his tiny cubicle. She knew that her hand trembled on the railing up the steep stair to Mr. Uray’s door. Later she would wonder if that trembling, if the slowness and uncertainty of her step had led him to believe she was anticipating what he meant to do.

She said nothing when he came in after her and closed the door. He did not lock it, of course, for the master did not allow any of his employees to have locks on their doors. What did any of them have a right to hide from
him
? But the door was nevertheless locked as surely as if there had been a latch to throw. No one would come into Mr. Uray’s closed room, and Dinah knew she would not leave the office without his consent, unless she chose to leave it without her job.

She waited for him to speak, but he did not speak. Instead he removed his coat. She was surprised. A gentleman did not appear in public in his shirtsleeves, and Mr. Uray had pretensions to gentility. When he removed his waistcoat, however, she began to be afraid. Not that she completely understood yet. She only feared that he meant to beat her so severely that he had to free his arms for the labor.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” she said, her voice shaking. She hoped to forestall his violence; he was sure, however, that she was only trying to encourage him to overlook her pride and take her as a man should take such a beautiful woman.

“I’m a married man, a happily married man, but as Adam himself learned to his sorrow, women are a temptation a man cannot resist, God forgive us both.” And he threw his arms around her, backed her to a wall, and began to kiss her.

She struggled, and his lips only occasionally found hers, but he also did not let go of her, and her arms were helplessly pinned to her sides as he kissed her neck and groped behind her, pulling up her skirts and reaching into her drawers to knead the soft skin he found there.

In the silence Dinah frantically tried to think of what she could do. What she could say that would make him let her leave this room without dismissing her from her job, how she could persuade him that he had misunderstood her somehow, that begging your pardon I must get home to my mother. “My brothers are meeting me outside.”