Mr. Uray. He had been a figure of terror when she had begun as a doffer three years before, for he was the one who wielded the strap and liked to lay it on. But recently it had changed, her fear of him. He did not strap her now, or not so often, anyway. Now she only felt him watching her as she worked, watching and watching, so that she felt constrained and stiff and awkward as she moved to run the machinery. Because he was watching her she was keenly aware of the way her growing breasts fell forward within her dress when she leaned to loop the thread; because of his unblinking gaze she felt that even under her skirts the movement of her legs was visible. And yet at fourteen years she wasn't wise enough to put a name to his gaze. It took a friendly older girl to whisper to her, "Watch out for the overseer. You're too pretty."
Pretty? That was the one thing that had never occurred to her. Oh, she used a mirror and she wasn't blind, she knew she was unblemished and she was neither fat nor undernourished-looking -- thanks, she knew, to Robert and his ample income, which put fresh fruit and even occasional beef on the table. She was strong and she kept clean so she wouldn't stink and when she smiled people smiled back. But pretty? It was a new thought, and vaguely disquieting. Mr. Uray watched her because she was pretty. But if he knew that she could do sums far more quickly than he, and that she had poetry in her head that he hadn't sense enough to understand, would he stand and watch her then?
So she thought little about her face and body, and studied whatever Charlie brought to her to learn, and refused even to wonder what would come of it, what good this learning would ever do for her. She only knew that it was the hours on Sunday with Charlie drilling her on numbers or testing her on the nations of Europe and their commodities and shipping or chanting "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" -- it was those hours she lived for, and could not do without.
For the three years of Charlie's training with Old Hulme she lived for the crumbs from the table of education, knowing all the while that it would do her no good, knowing all the while that it would end; yet still the end could take her by surprise.
Perhaps Charlie understood something of that, for he broke the news to her gently when the years of his schooling were up. "Dinah, I'm sorry, but I can't teach you anything tonight."
She looked at him in surprise over the supper table where her bread and cheese lay untasted.
"Because," he said, "I had no schooling today. Old Hulme and Young Hulme together took me into the city, to the firm of Coswith, Royal and Clay, Solicitors."
"You've gone to work."
"He said it was time for me to have experience in the world. He's tested and tried me, but there's only one proving ground that matters. They're paying me nine and six a month."
Nine and six a month! No wonder Robert stood glowering in the corner. Nine pounds six shillings! It was a higher wage than Robert earned! Oh, Charlie would work for it. Charlie assured them. There every morning at seven, and not home until six, and he must bring his dinner for there'd be no hour to come home at noon. Dinah thought of what it would be like to come home at six, and with so much money. Why, Charlie was wealthy -- just like that. And Robert had doubted Charlie's education would come to anything.
"That's more than a bookkeeper should be getting," Dinah said.
"I'm not just a bookkeeper," Charlie answered. "Old Hulme had me examine the company's books. All these years I've thought that every bookkeeper trained as I've been trained, but there were mistakes all through the books, and they didn't even have a cross check to protect them against errors. I set it all to rights in front of them, the week's books, and Old Hulme was a marvel. He looks to be an old fool, but my new masters, they know better, I should guess. He says to them, 'Since he's worth any two of the bookkeepers you have now, you should put him in charge of them all.'"
"In charge of grown men?" Dinah asked. She heard Robert begin to pace the floor, though she didn't look at him or call attention to his discomfiture.
"That's what Mr. Royal said. 'How will I get grown men to take instruction from a boy of -- good Lord, thirteen!'"
"Now Charlie, watch how you take the Lord's name -- "
"Mother, I'm only saying what he said. And Old Hulme says, 'Simple. Just pay him more than you pay them.' He asked for ten a month, but they settled on nine and six."
At that Robert could bear no more, and he blurted out, "They're only doing it to keep Old Hulme happy, he's such a client of theirs!"
Dinah could see rage instantly flash into Charlie's eyes, and she quickly reached out and touched his arm, and said with a laugh, "Well, of course, that's the beauty of it -- Charlie had a teacher who could make sure his pupil got a good place at the end of his education!" The tension eased a bit. The telling and the excitement went on awhile, Dinah taking great care to bring Robert into the rejoicing. And finally, when it had gone on so long that Robert was beginning to be snide despite her efforts, Dinah said the one thing that she knew would silence him -- but happily.
"And best of all, Robert, your money won't be needed in this house -- you can spend it in another."
"Another! And what other house is that?"
Dinah laughed at him. "Why, yours and Mary Handy's!"
That did it; the conversation turned, with Dinah and Anna teasing him as he denied any thought of marriage. "And why not!" Anna said, laughing. "It's plain you don't think she's so ugly you won't talk to her -- "
"She's not ugly!"
"Well, then, why do you deny you want to marry her?"
"She's far too young.
At that Dinah laughed nastily. "She's only a year younger than I am, and you told me only last week that I should have been married a year ago!"
A bit more banter, and at last they separated, the women to their room, the men -- for Charlie had become at last a man today -- to theirs. But Robert did not stay long in his room; he came to Dinah after she was in bed and knelt by her and whispered, "Dinah, may I talk to you?"
"Mm," she agreed.
"Dinah. why does Charlie hate me so?"
"He doesn't," she said.
"Then tell me why it is I hate him?"
The words made her tremble inside. They were brothers, and here he could speak of hate. "You don't, either."
"I'll tell you this. I won't take Mary to wife as a favor from Charlie. you can be sure of that. His money won't get me married."
"Don't be a fool, Robert."
"I don't give a damn if I'm a fool -- "
She touched his lips to hush him, though she knew that Mother was undoubtedly awake and silently listening. "Robert. you're not the father in this house. For all these years you've kept us. and kept us well. And at last God has opened up a door for you to be free."
"I don't mind supporting the family."
"And neither will Charlie. Your money should be going into the home where you're the husband and father, not here. Charlie's giving you no gift. He's finally making up for all the years of food and shelter that we all owe to you."
"I don't want to be repaid."
"Don't quibble, Robert. Take Mary before she gets tired of waiting. Who cares if it's Charlie or the devil, just so you can be happy."
It was enough to make Robert content, and he left.
Dinah thought to sleep then, but it was not done, not yet. Mother began to whisper beside her in the darkness. "I have to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"I said nothing, because I didn't want to rob from Charlie's glory."
Dinah waited, still not sure if it was good news or bad.
"This morning, before Young Hulme left with Charlie and the old man, he called me into the parlor and dismissed me."
"Gave you the sack!"
"Oh, Dinah, he stood up when I came into the room as if I were a lady, and he said, 'No one knows better than I the sacrifice you've made all these years, to remain a servant when you were born to better things, all so your son could have his start in life. Madam,' he said to me, 'you've served this household well, but you're not a servant, and as
of this moment the days of your humiliation are over. I honor you.' He said that to me. 'I honor you.' I memorized the words all the way home, I can still hear him saying them."
Mother wept to be free, and Dinah embraced her, and finally Anna fell asleep.
Dinah lay there, weary but too unquiet in her heart to sleep. Charlie was joyful. and Robert was free, and Mother's servitude had ended, but where would it end for Dinah? She was not blind; she saw how they had all told their tales to her, how they all came to her to grieve and to rejoice, how she was the spindle that wound them all together into a single thread, even when they threatened to fray apart and break. She was at the center of them all, and held them all -- but who held her? Who would set her free'?
I am seventeen years old and know no course in life that interests me at all. My life is bound about by machinery on one side and my brothers on the other. There is no escape for me in either direction, for if I touch the one it will catch me up and kill me, and if I lean on the other, they will also take me and hold me and rule me and if that happens it will be worse than death for I would despise myself without relief.
The factory was nearly unbearable. Surrendering to her brothers' desire to care for her and control her -- that would be worse. And so she finally slept, praying silently for something, anything to happen that would set her upon the course her life should follow, the path that would lead to a destination worth arriving at.
After all, she was tired. If she had been more alert, she might have thought twice before praying such a thing. She well knew that God has a way of granting our most foolish prayers. And this prayer was no exception. God will rarely let slip an opportunity to play one of his uproarious practical jokes.
11
Mr. Uray Manchester, 1836
As luck would have it, Old Hulme died only four days before Robert's wedding. It was the perfect touch, to have Charlie grieving in the cottage while Robert fairly danced with excitement. They both tried to be decent, of course. Charlie would smile and laugh at times, and Robert at times would be somber. But there was no life in Charlie's laughter, and too much mirth behind Robert's sobriety. Even now when harmony should have been possible, Providence had assured that the division in the family would only widen.
The funeral was on Sunday, so Dinah went with Charlie. Robert and Anna had offered to go, too, but Dinah had quietly said, "Charlie learned from the old man's lips, and in a way so did I. We're the ones who have a part of him in us, and we'll go alone." When she spoke that way, her family rarely argued with her. It was better that way. It gave Robert a chance to bring Mary to the house for a time of merriment. And Dinah was also secretly glad that she did not have to be there when Mary came. Not that she didn't like Mary -- the girl was sweet, if a bit daft about Robert, and she had become something like a friend to Dinah. No, it was Mary's brother, who came with Robert and Mary as inevitably as a shadow, it was Matthew Handy that Dinah wanted to avoid.
What was wrong with Matthew? Nothing, really. As Dinah walked to the funeral, silently holding Charlie's hand, she tried to decide why she was so glad not to see Matthew. Certainly she had no reason to dislike him -- she didn't dislike him, really, she told herself. He was shy around her, he tended to stammer with her, or make boorish jokes that were laughed at only out of charity. She was not so naive that she didn't know he had eyes for her. Not like Mr. Uray, who was making life harder and harder for her at the factory; Matthew didn't measure her bosom or her buttocks with his gaze. Rather he worshiped. That was, in a way, harder to take. Lechery could be ignored. But adoration -- that laid upon her an obligation she did not know how to pay. At least, not in any coin she was willing to offer him. And then she condemned herself for her pride. Matthew was a good man, and it was a sin for her to despise him merely because he admired her.
At the cathedral Charlie broke down and cried, and Dinah realized for the first time how much his teacher had meant to him. It surprised her, for it reminded her that Charlie's fourteen years were so very few; he was still a child. She knew him well enough not to put her arm around him there in the church, where others would see. She let him wear his grief with dignity. After a while, Charlie went to the coffin and kissed the coffin. Dinah came with him, and heard him clearly say, "Two million four hundred thousand, at fourteen percent." It was such an odd thing to say, especially with his cheeks tear-stained, that Dinah almost laughed. But she did not. He would tell her soon enough what it meant.
Outside, on the way home, Charlie was full of speech. Memories of the teaching. Even the many times his hands were slapped he spoke of with affection. "And the Hulme and Kirkham Company." He sighed.
It was plainly an invitation for her to invite him. "Go on -- what was that?"
"I never told you because it was so silly, but -- when I first started with him, he gave me a thousand pounds in imaginary capital, and advised me in the investment of it. All imaginary, everything we did, but we followed the offers of stock and the sales of land, and I wrote down what I would have done with the money. At first he corrected me when I made a bad investment and told me why, and then after a time he let me learn from my own mistakes. But in the last year or so I made no mistakes. If the money had been real, Hulme and Kirkham would now have control of investments and properties worth two million four hundred thousand pounds, with an average return of fourteen percent. He would have been -- " And then he could not go on.
It struck Dinah as touching and yet perverse that Charlie's love for Old Hulme was so linked with an imaginary sum of money. It disturbed her vaguely to discover that Charlie measured his own worth in pounds and shillings and percentages of return. It was not that uncommon a measure of personal value, as much among the poor as among the rich. A man was how much he owned or earned, and the greatest division of all was between owners and earners. In his heart Charlie was an owner; in his life he could only earn. She had not, until now, realized how Charlie's life centered around money. It was the scholar and poet in him that she most loved, and yet he valued this aspect of himself least of all. She had seen in him the seeds of his own unhappiness and knew it, though she could not name her fears.
At home again Charlie said his courtesies to Mother and Robert and the Handys, who were obviously merry with beer in the front room; then he retreated to the bedroom. In short order Robert announced that it was time he and Matthew went to the pub to drink to his bachelorhood "and give a speech to my friends deploring virginity and enlisting their support in the abolition of it!" Anna feigned horror and hurried them out the door.
The talk among the women followed the inevitable path -- Dinah herself would later guide many such discussions the day before a wedding, though now she had a curious feeling of detachment, as if she were standing outside the window, looking and listening as Anna, Mary, and a stranger named Dinah discussed matters of marriage.
It began with talk of the wedding itself, congratulating themselves on all that they had planned and what a fine affair it was going to be and how it didn't matter that there wasn't enough money to really do it right.
Then the talk turned to what life after marriage was going to be. Here Anna turned it into something of a monologue. To Dinah it sounded as paradoxical as a sermon or the Gospel of St. John. You must keep your home impeccably clean for him, but never be so absorbed in housecleaning that you forget to listen to him when he talks. You must have meals ready for him when he needs them, but never let him see you tired or unbeautiful. You must always be there for him; you must never be in his way. You must obey him always; you must not wait to be commanded in anything. You must never argue with him; you must keep him from making mistakes that he will regret. You must never bring up problems and worries; you must have no secrets from him.
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