Page 33 of The Unforgiven
Lately, Madeline had begun to wonder about relations between men and women. She suspected there was more to getting married than simply going to live in your husband’s house and sharing a room. She’d overheard Cissy chatting with one of the other household maids. They were giggling and talking in low voices, but Madeline had heard Cissy speak of kissing a man.
“Did you go with him?” Bette asked as she dusted the mantel.
“Not yet, but I will,” Cissy replied. “And soon. When he lays his hands on me, I forget everything in the whole world, Bette.”
“I felt like that with my man,” Bette said, sighing. “And now when he lays his hands on me, I want to whack him over the head with a cast-iron skillet.”
“Why does that happen, you think?” Cissy asked. “All that passion turns to hate.”
“Because the man who whispered sweet nothings in your ear and took his time to please you becomes selfish and indifferent, and his eyes follow other women when he thinks you ain’t looking. Not like they’s so fine, dem other girls, but they’s forbidden fruit, and you’s nothing but a core left from an apple he’s already eaten.”
Cissy giggled. “You do have a way with words, Bette, I’ll grant you that. You think I should wait?”
“I think you should be careful. If you get with child, you’ll lose your place. They’ll send you to the fields to pick cotton. Mrs. Besson won’t have you in da house.”
“Why’s that?”
“Don’t know. Don’t like to see slaves breeding, I reckon, but that don’t stop her from enjoying the benefits.”
“At least they don’t sell the babies on,” Cissy said.
“For now,” Bette replied. “If things get hard, they just might. Easy money to be had from selling babies, and no loss of labor.”
“You got a point there,” Cissy conceded. “I best mind myself. I don’t want no baby.”
“Then keep your legs crossed, my girl.”
Madeline hadn’t really understood what the women were talking about but found their conversation intriguing. She had thought you had to be married to have a baby, but it seemed you could have a child without the benefit of wedlock. So how did the baby come about? If Cissy wasn’t married and lived in the big house, sharing a room with Bette, how could she have a baby? Perhaps she could ask Amelia.
Madeline turned to see how far she’d come. Realizing she’d wandered a lot further than she’d planned, she decided to turn back. George would be finishing his business by now, and Madeline was getting hungry. She turned around and began to walk back at a brisk pace. She wasn’t enjoying her stroll anymore.
Madeline was only a short distance from where she’d promised to wait for George when she saw a familiar face. Miss Cole hurried along, a paper-wrapped package beneath her arm. She might have hurried past, had Madeline not called out to her.
“Madeline, is that you?” Paula Cole seemed shocked to see her, and a bit dazed.
“I’m just here for the day,” Madeline explained. “Cousin George brought me. He had some business in town.”
“And he let you wander around on your own?”
“Only for a short while,” Madeline replied, offended on behalf of George. She couldn’t help but notice the pallor of Miss Cole’s cheeks and her haggard appearance in the unforgivingbright morning light. She seemed to have aged years since the funeral. “Are you all right, Miss Cole? How are you getting on?”
Miss Cole tried to smile but faltered. “I’ve been better, Madeline, but I have employment and a roof over my head. I work at Mrs. Bonnard’s shop.”
“You look so pale,” Madeline said, hoping she didn’t sound rude.
“I hardly see the light of day,” Miss Cole replied. “All the seamstresses get up at dawn and sew for two hours, then have breakfast and go back to work until midday. We’re allowed half an hour for our midday meal and then it’s back to our stations till six. Then dinner. The doors are locked by eight. The only day we have off is Sunday, and even then we have to follow the rules. We must attend church, then see to our laundry and personal hygiene. No visitors are allowed.”
“But you’re out here now,” Madeline said.
“The boy who delivers the packages took ill, so Mrs. Bonnard sent me to bring this to a client. I only work on collars, buttons, and hems, so she can spare me for an hour. I’m grateful for the respite, but since I get paid per the number of items I complete, I won’t get paid for this time.”
“But that’s so unfair.”
Miss Cole gave Madeline a strange look, like she was about to say something, but changed her mind. “It was good to see you, Madeline. I hope you appreciate your good fortune.”
“I wish you well, Miss Cole,” Madeline called as Miss Cole walked away, her back ramrod straight and her shoulders tense.
Madeline looked after her for a time. She’d spent the first fifteen years of her life being coddled, but now her eyes were beginning to open to reality. Miss Cole was stuck in the back room of the shop all day long, with no time to herself or any opportunity to meet new people. She had a job and a roof over her head, butnot much more, and would likely remain trapped in this job until she either died or the shop closed its doors, in which case, she’d try to find a similar position. There were few opportunities for women, and as Miss Cole had no family to turn to, she had to do whatever it took to survive. Her life could have turned out very differently had Charles Besson lived. Had he remained at home that night, drank less at the card game, or left earlier, he might still be alive and all their lives would have gone on as before.
