The
girl doll sat in her chair. Catherine held the toy brush with one hand
and steadied the doll with the other. "Time to brush your hair now,
dear," she said. The mother doll who she was impersonating was lying on
the rug, because Catherine had only two hands and only one toy chair.
The hair didn't need brushing of course; it was just pretend.
"Now
it's time to go to sleep. Into bed with you!" said the mother. So
Catherine lay the doll down in the toy bed and pulled the covers up.
She'd
loved the dolls she'd received as a present on her 7th birthday back in
May. But she was running out of different things to do with them. She
sighed, got up and walked to the window. Their front yard was an
expanse of lawn featuring two large maples, aflame in their fall
crimson on this October afternoon. Some of the panes let her see
clearly, while others were wavy and gave a shimmery effect as she moved
her head from side to side and looked at the crown of the nearer maple
against the clear blue sky. A horse pulled a carriage at a leisurely
pace down the street of their fashionable town near Boston.
Three
days each week, the maid Mrs. Dewing took her over to Anne's house
where she took lessons with Anne's governess Mrs. Watson. Sometimes
Elizabeth joined them as well. Anne was a year older, and Elizabeth
even older. Catherine had learned the alphabet and numbers, and was now
working on reading. The older girls were already reading, so Catherine
was struggling to keep up. But she was getting the hang of it.
Sometimes she thought she could see things faster than the older girls,
even though she was littler. She thought about taking out her primer
now to practice. She really should, at some point today -- but not yet.
She
went over to her bed and jumped up. It was high off the floor, with a
white canopy. It was also very soft, and it bounced under her sudden
weight.
Anne had said something interesting the day before when
Mrs. Watson stepped out for a while. She said she wanted to know where
babies came from. She'd asked her mother, who'd told her heatedly to
wait until she was much older to ask a question like that. Catherine
had wondered about it before, but now that Anne had mentioned it, she
was curious again. She thought she'd ask her own mother when they took
tea together later in the afternoon.
Anne's family was better
off than hers. They had a cook, a scullery maid, and a maid who did
cleaning. They had Anne's mother's personal maid, a butler, and Anne's
father's servant. They also had a coachman, and of course the governess
Mrs. Watson.
Catherine's household included the cook Mrs.
Washburn who also did what the scullery maid did, the maid Mrs. Dewing
who both cleaned and helped Catherine and her mother with clothes and
things, and the butler Charles who also served as gardener and drove
the carriage when her mother arranged for one.
Anne's family had
a stable out back with horses. Oh, and they had a gardener who also
took care of the horses. In part their family needed more help, since
Anne had three brothers and one sister, all older than her, while
Catherine was an only child.
Catherine didn't have a father.
He'd died when she was very little, and she barely remembered him. Anne
had a father. She said she only saw him at breakfast, dinner, and
shortly before bed. And she complained that he ignored her, focusing
all his attention on her big brothers. But still, she had one, and that
seemed important somehow.
The
sandwiches consumed and the usual chitchat out of the way, Catherine's
mother Sarah Lodge sat back, teacup in her hand. Mrs. Washburn had
served them as usual, but would not be back for some time.
Catherine worked up her courage and looked closely at her mother as she
said, "Mother, where do babies come from?"
She
saw her mother's eyes open wide and her body stiffen. But she didn't
think her mother would get mad at her -- her mother didn't do that.
"Hmmm,
yes, I suppose you'd want to know that," she mused. "I was about your
age when I asked about that." Turning to Catherine, she continued, "You
understand that's not the sort of thing you should talk about with
other people, dear?"
"Oh yes, I know that, mother." She almost
added, "It's not really important" -- but she didn't. Instead she
looked carefully at her mother.
"When I asked, my governess told
me I shouldn't. When I insisted, she said I should talk about it with
my mother if I was really set on it. My mother put me off once, but
when I asked again she told me that storks brought babies to the
households of men and women who wanted them."
"Storks bring babies?"
"No.
That's what she told me, though. Later I asked about women with large
stomachs, who were said to be expecting. So then I learned that babies
grew inside women's stomachs and came out of them somehow."
That
sounded a little familiar to Catherine; she'd heard about women who
were expecting and when their babies were due. She'd seen pregnant
women. So there were babies in their stomachs? How did they breathe?
Her
mother continued. "But then I wondered about fathers. Sometimes they
say a child looks like its father, and I asked how that could be. They
told me I really shouldn't ask things like that -- it was not suitable
for a young lady to know that."
Catherine saw her mother looking
off into space, thinking about something unpleasant. "Then it was the
night before my wedding to your father... and my mother became entirely
flustered telling me more. How it had to do with private things between
our legs and a man's penis." Her mother squirmed. "But what am I doing
telling you this?"
"What's a penis?"
"You know -- what men and boys urinate with?"
Catherine shook her head.
"You've never seen a boy urinating?"
Catherine
shook her head again. She'd once seen that man's back, with that little
arc of water coming out in front of him, but she hadn't seen where it
was coming from.
"Have you never seen a little boy naked? The little thing sticking out
his front?"
When Catherine looked at her blankly, her mother set down her teacup
and took her head in her hands.
"Well, of course you haven't played with boys... Have you seen male
horses urinate?"
Catherine
nodded. She had seen that, of course, the tube at their bellies that
got longer and hung down just before the pee came splashing out.
"Well, boys are kind of like that too."
Catherine gave a puzzled frown. Boys with tubes in their bellies?
Suddenly
her mother got a set expression on her face. "Not exactly like horses,
no... Oh this is ridiculous! I will not have my daughter growing up
knowing nothing of the facts of life! Come with me, Catherine," she
said.
Daughter followed mother down into the basement, a place
she seldom went and her mother even more rarely. There were storerooms
down there, the coal pile, a workshop, and Charles's room. The female
servants had rooms in the attic, but his was in the basement. She
rapped on the door.
"Charles? Charles?" said the lady of the house.
They heard a rustling and bumping from within.
"Oh, good you're here."
"Yes, ma'am?" he said through the door.
"I would like to see you at once."
"Oh, is something wrong?" came the muffled voice.
"No, nothing is wrong. I would just like you to open the door, at your
earliest convenience, so I may speak with you."
"One moment, ma'am," came the voice once more.
And
in less than a minute, the door opened and Charles emerged. He was
dressed in his work clothes, not his fancy uniform, and he looked
puzzled.
Charles was an old man. He had gray hair and his cheeks
sagged a little. His hands were weathered from years of rough work, his
face lined. He and Catherine had had little to do with each other,
though she had found he gave her friendly smiles from time to time.
"May we come in?"
"Um, well, ma'am, I'm afraid it's not very tidy in there," he said.
"Oh, I don't care if it's tidy, Catherine and I would like to confer
with you in your room."
"Yes, ma'am," said the butler. "Could I have just one minute more to
make things right?"
"No," said Catherine's mother with some firmness.
And
with that Charles stepped aside and let the two enter. Catherine's had
never been in Charles's room before herself, and wondered if her mother
had.
It was a small room, with one small bed, a dresser and a
nightstand. The bed was not made, sheets and blanket crumpled. There
were some articles of clothing, including what appeared to Catherine to
be undergarments, on the floor.
"Just let me..." said Charles,
reaching down for them, hesitating before putting them on the bed and
hastily smoothing out the sheet and blanket over them.
"There," he said. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, I'll try to do better."
"I really don't care about that," said her mother with a distracted
smile.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Could you please close and lock the door," she said.
"Yes,
ma'am," said the butler, presumably resigned to her mother being in one
of her odd moods. Catherine knew that a command to lock himself into
his tiny bedroom with the lady of the house and her daughter was highly
unusual. However, nothing prepared either of them for the next request.
"Charles, would you please drop your trousers and undergarments so that
Catherine can examine your penis."
"Ma'am?" said Charles, smiling.
"I said I would like you to show Miss Catherine your penis."
"But, ma'am, I would never... surely..."
"It
is rather unusual, I confess," said her mother. "Let me explain.
Catherine has never seen a boy or man naked. She has no idea how the
fair and strong sexes differ in their anatomy. You are the only male in
this household, so you are the only one who can enlighten my daughter
on this point."
"Um," said Charles. "It seems very unfitting.
Perhaps we could think about this some more and see if it seems like a
wise idea tomorrow?" he continued, reasonably.
"Yes, yes, that
would be the prudent thing, wouldn't it?" But after a pause, she
continued with some heat, "I know this isn't reasonable, but if I don't
do it now, I never will. Do you think it's easy for me to do this? It
is of course embarrassing, and against all custom -- this I know well!
But I will not have my daughter growing up wondering about the nature
of a man's body, not to get to her wedding night like I did, having no
idea what I would see..."
"Yes, ma'am, but it still is many years before young Catherine will
marry, I venture."
"Charles!" said Catherine's mother with passion. "Do you want to keep
your position? Do it! Now!"
"Yes,
ma'am," he said, and took a deep breath. He unfastened the buttons of
his trousers with an embarrassed look at mother and daughter. Within
moments the woolen pants fell to the man's knees, revealing a white
undergarment. This too he pulled down to his knees.
And for the
first time in her life, Catherine saw what was between a man's legs.
Her first observation was that there was stuff that stuck out, big
stuff the size of a hand. In more detail, the tube was most obvious,
and below it a couple of roundish things in some sort of fleshy bag.
And there was lots of hair.
Glancing at her mother's face, Catherine saw that it was a little pale,
her upper lip slightly curled in distaste.
Then
she spoke all in a rush. "Now, Catherine, here is what you are seeing.
That tube is the penis. When Charles urinates, the urine comes out the
end of the penis. Babies are made by a fluid that the male makes going
inside the female body. The testicles in that sac there make the seed,
and when it is time to make a baby, the penis extends, becoming long
and stiff, and then the man inserts it between the woman's legs, into
her vagina, and the seed is propelled out of the penis and into her
body. There it causes a baby to grow in her uterus, and after nine
months she pushes it out of her body through the same opening, her
vagina. And those are the facts of life I never learned until I was
much, much older than you."
As Catherine stared in fascination
between Charles's legs, she noticed changes. The roundish things in
their bag shifted a little. More noticeably, the tube was definitely
getting longer. That was peculiar.
"Ma'am, pardon, but is that quite enough?" said Charles.
Catherine's mother looked down between Charles's legs and Catherine saw
the hint of a smile.
"Please, ma'am?" said Charles with emphasis.
"Yes,
that will be fine, Charles," said her mother. As he rapidly pulled up
his undergarment and trousers, she continued, "I know that was a very
unusual request, and I thank you for doing as I asked. Please, let's
none of us speak of this to anyone else."
"Will there be anything else?" asked Charles with relief, at the door
and ready to unlock it.
"No,
nothing else." But when the door was open and her mother halfway out,
she said, "Yes, one more thing. Charles, I would like you to answer any
questions Catherine has about the male body, and show her its workings
if she requests. You should of course do nothing unless she asks, but
please, I don't want her to grow up wondering about these things and
never knowing. At the very least, I expect Catherine will want to watch
while you relieve your bladder. But only behind closed doors."
"Um, yes, ma'am," Charles said as mother and daughter headed upstairs.
Back
in the parlor, Catherine's mother sat down again, and Catherine
followed her lead. "So there, now you have seen between a man's legs,
and I've explained to you where babies come from. But please, don't
mention any of this to another soul, including Anne and Elizabeth. They
might tell their parents, and other people would not understand."
"Yes, mother," said Catherine.
"Do
feel free to ask Charles anything, or show you anything you are curious
about, in his room with the door locked. However, you also understand
that he must never do anything that you do not ask him to do, nor may
he ask you to keep any confidences from me. If there is anything that
troubles you, please do tell me."
"Yes, mother," said Catherine.
But she had the sense that she wasn't going to make her mother
uncomfortable talking about anything like this again for a long time.