She never wrote to me, but wrote often to my wife, who disliked her for some reason which I knew not; but was obliged to reply because there was a chance always of her coming back again at some time to London. Mrs. Y***s***e it always seemed to me meant to keep me informed of herself through her letters to my wife, for she described everything, their new home, their mode of living, their expenses, the baby, his looks, and so forth, as if my wife had been the person next to herself the most interested in the child. Once she said his eyes were exactly like mine; but the letters at last grew shorter and shorter, and a longer time apart. Then her husband died.
[I may add here after a lapse of seventeen years the sequel of this amour, as far as I know it now. Years rolled on, I was a widower, and went South, called at Montpellier, and made enquiry. She had remained there some time as a widow. An Italian nobleman had married her, and they left for Italy, — I never heard where. She may be living now, so may my child, I should like to know, — but what good would come of it if I did? She and the child had better remain as they do in my memory, — a tender regret, full of respect for her. Her name sounded like Castagni, — but that was not her name.]
Chapter VII
A big maid-servant. • A peep up from below. • Home late, dusty and stupid. • Chastity suspected. • Consequences. • Dismissed. • My sympathy. • The soldier lover. • Going to supper. • At the Cafй de l'E*r**e. • In the cab returning. • Wet feet. • On the seat. • Mutual grasping and gropings.
I have forgotten to say that I had been again much better off, but by extravagance had to draw in, and now lived in a larger house, but kept only three servants. During the latter part of the time of my liaison with Mrs. Y***s***e we had for a month or so but one servant. A charwoman came to do rough work; but why this temporary arrangement took place need not be told.
She was a big country woman quite five feet ten high, and speaking with a strong provincial accent. When she was alone in the house I used to cross the streets to see her kneel, and clean the door-steps. She had such a big arm, and her bum looked so huge that I wondered how much was flesh, and how much petticoats. She cleaned the windows on the ground-floor, which in the house I then inhabited were got at by an iron balcony with open bars beneath. Seeing her cleaning them one day I went stealthily to the kitchen, and then into the area, and peeping cautiously up her pet- ticoats, saw her legs to her knees. They were big and suited to her buttocks; but though the sight pleased me much, I never thought of having her, for I avoided women in my own house and neighbourhood. She was plain-faced, sleepy, and stupid-looking; the only thing about her nice, was bright rosy flesh. She looked solid all over. Her hair was a darkish chestnut colour, her eyes darkish, and one day she lifted a table as heavy as herself. There was not the slightest amorousness in her face or manner, and she dressed like a well-to-do country woman. Give her lots of nice, good, white underclothing; it was better than a sham outside, I heard she had said. She was about twenty-two years old, but she looked older.
About two months after she came (and just then when without other servants), on arriving home one Sunday night at about ten o'clock, I found she had been allowed to go out as usual, but had not returned. An-other hour crept on. Savage, I thought of locking her out. About half-past eleven she returned. I let her in, and asked why she was so late. She looked dazed, muddled, had a very red face, muttered she was sorry, she had fallen down and hurt herself, and without waiting to answer me properly went downstairs. My wife went after her, and when she came up, told me she thought she was in drink, and that her dress and bon-net were covered with dust. “She had been up to some tricks with a man,” said she.
Next day I heard she had told as an excuse, that as she was walking along a lane up which she turned to piddle, a man laid hold of her, and had taken liberties with her; that in the scuffle she had fallen down, had screamed, tried to catch him, had failed, and a lot more to similar effect. One or two days later I was told the woman had been dismissed. That I quite expected, for it was the mistress' custom to coax out the facts from poor devils in a kind way, and then to kick them out mercilessly; any suspicion of unchastity was enough for that. Middle-aged married women are always hard upon the young in matters of copulation.
“What is she going for? A few days ago she was so beautifully clean, strong, and serviceable that none were like her!” “Oh! she has got a sweetheart, and is up to no good with him I'm sure.” “How do you know?” “She told me so.” “It's hard to dismiss on suspicion only, a poor girl who came up to us from the country.” “You always take the part of those creatures.” “I know nothing for or against her, nor you.” “She is no better than she ought to be. — I have noticed a soldier idling about here for some time past.” “As you like, — it's your business — but she came to us with an excellent character.”
I pitied the woman, but more than that from the time I heard that a man had assaulted her, a slightly lecherous feeling had come over me towards her. I wondered what he had done, — had he felt her? — had he fucked her? — had she ever been fucked before, even if the man had recently done it to her? I began looking closely at her, getting in the way on some pretext or another, and always wondering if this and that had been done. I looked at the broad backside, so broad that a prick must look a trifle by the side of it. “Have the male balls banged up against it?” I thought. When I heard of her being turned adrift I thought I would just like to have her once or so, and that her leaving us gave me a chance. Curiosity was I believe at the bottom of my desire for her, — it was her huge fleshy form, and that spanking arse. Oh! to look at it naked, and feel it, if I did nothing more.
Finding the charwoman was not coming one day, and that the big servant would be a short time alone in the house, home I went; and on some pretext went down to the kitchen.
“So you are going to leave us.” “Yes sir.” “Why?” “I'm sure I don't know, — Missus says I don't suit, — yet only a few days ago she said I suited well.” Here she broke into tears. I spoke kindly to her, said she would get another place soon, — she must take care not to go up dark lanes again with a man, nor go home late and dirty. She could not help it, — it was no fault of hers. What liberties did he take with her? I asked. The woman coloured up, and turning her head away, said he did what was very improper. “Did he put his hands up your petticoats?” “What was very improper,” she repeated. “But how did you get so dirty?” They struggled, and she slipped. “I wish I'd been him, — I'm sure when he felt, he got his hand close up, — I'd give a sovereign to have mine there.” That remark threw her into a distressing state of confusion.
I talked on decently, alluding to what I thought had taken place, and wishing I had been the man; but got nothing from her excepting that the man had taken liberties with her, — yes most improper liberties.
I told her I was sorry she was going, and thought she was hardly used, but I could not help it, — how was she off for money?
Very badly off, — she had come straight from the country to better herself, and had bought nice, good, underlinen, knowing she was coming to a gentleman's house, and now before she could turn herself round she was sent off. She had had to pay for each coach to London, and when she had her wages, and paid for a cab to lodgings, she would not have twenty shillings left. What was she to do if she could not get another place? Here the big woman blubbered, left off cleaning, sat down on a chair, and hid her face.