Flowers in the Blood (40 page)

I told him about the notes I had sent to Gabriel Judah in the tiffin-carriers. He told me about pranks he had played. Then he recounted his adventures in Singapore.

“Why did you leave?”

“Without any money of my own, I realized I would have to follow the orders of my dictatorial uncle the rest of his life. They only wanted an errand boy. How horrid it was to be an outsider in that tight clan! My cousins could do no wrong. They blamed everything that went awry on me. Is there anything worse than being an outcast in your own family, particularly when you have done nothing to deserve your treatment?”

“No, I agree with you.” I explained how I had felt after my mother's death, how I had been treated by the Sassoons, and especially Aunt Bellore, and then how dreadful it had been when I returned from Darjeeling.

Soon it was apparent there was nothing we could not say to each other. After dozens of final kisses we parted reluctantly.

That evening, I confronted Silas' unanswered letters. Even though our parents had not set a wedding date, Edwin and I had promised ourselves to each other. I had to crumple three attempts before my announcement satisfied me.

7
November 1891

Dear Silas
,

I hope it will please you to learn that my parents have found a most suitable young man from Cochin, who has shown an interest in marrying me as soon as they can conclude arrangements. His name is Edwin Salem and fortunately bears no resemblance to Edwin Drood!

I have come to think of you as my spiritual brother, and as a brother I believe you would approve of Mr. Salem, who is well-educated and extremely kind. Even more important, he has spent the last week in Calcutta and we find our sensibilities mesh in uncanny ways. Sadly, though, I realize that it might prove difficult to convince a new husband of the unique regard we have held for each other through complicated times. Thus, I can see no option but to break off correspondence once my parents have settled my marriage plans. I hope you will agree to the necessity for this sad surgery.

I assure you that my good fortune pleases me and hope this will relieve you of any sense of responsibility on my behalf. Even if we never write or meet again, I shall think of you often and with fondness.

Your friend,
Dinah

At the end of the week Zilpah felt secure enough about our intentions to have the Salems join the family at the synagogue. From where I sat on the balcony, I could not see Edwin clearly until Aunt Rebecca leaned back. Even then all I could glimpse was his back gently swaying and sometimes his hand reaching back to smooth his hair. For the first time I resented not being able to worship with the men. For the first time I understood the reason for the separation, for who could keep one's mind on religious matters if one's beloved were by one's side?

Outside, Edwin joined his mother. There were a few pleasantries before they drove off.

“Aren't they coming home with us?” I asked Zilpah.

She steered me toward our carriage. “They have other plans for the afternoon.”

“I have hardly spoken to Edwin today.”

“The Sabbath is a day for rest and contemplation” was all Zilpah would say.

Sunday the Salems came for tiffin with the whole family. My brothers and sisters each had to have their time with Edwin, so I was consigned to sit with his mother and Zilpah. We hardly had a second alone together. By the end of the day I suffered a pounding headache that only his kisses could have relieved.

On Monday the plan was for Edwin and me to spend the morning with Grandmother Helene and then to arrive toward the finale of Zilpah's tea party to introduce his mother to the Sassoon women.

Throughout our private tiffin—Grandmother Helene had insisted she preferred taking hers in her room—Edwin had pouted. “Must we leave so early? I don't like being cheated out of two whole hours alone with you.”

“Edwin, after our wedding, you will be clamoring for two hours
away
from me.”

“Never!”

“Most men enjoy leaving the house. Many enjoy returning as well, but husbands and wives were never meant to be together day and night.”

“That is nonsense. After the past two miserable days, I do not want to be apart from you ever again.”

“What will we do each day? Spend it in bed?” I clapped my hand over my mouth. “I didn't mean
that
, I meant
sleeping.”

“I know exactly what you meant.” He winked. “But, no, I want you to be at my side all the time. If you could assist your father, you could certainly assist me.”

“With what?” I knew Edwin had something to do with the exportation of spices and his uncle had some connection to the Sassoons, but the financial side of this alliance had been obscured by the sheer force of our mutual attraction. The issue of the importance of my dowry had loomed large in relation to Silas. With Edwin it had seemed inconsequential—until that moment. Was Edwin expecting to live on the income from my capital? If we invested it properly, I supposed we could manage in Cochin. Even so, we could never approach the lavishness of Theatre Road or even maintain a modest establishment like Grandmother Helene's without a significant contribution on his part.

He did not respond, but stared off with a moody expression I found both infuriating and intoxicating. I kissed his cheek to bring him back. “I could help you with what?” I reminded him.

“With everything, with anything, what does it matter so long as we are together?” He gave me one long fervent kiss. “There is a much more serious issue that cannot wait.”

As I studied his face, I could see the intense glimmer in his eye. Something was troubling him deeply. “What is it, Edwin?”

“I cannot tolerate this situation.” His voice had a nasty edge.

“What is the matter?” My voice cracked.

He glanced around with the wild expression of a caged animal. “We must arrange for the wedding immediately.”

“We only met each other one week ago yesterday.”

He looked at his watch. “One hundred and ninety-four hours ago to be precise.”

“Is that all it has been?”

“Yes. And I feel as though I have wasted every minute of my life until now, and I refuse to discard much more, following the insane rules of proper behavior.” He had let go of me entirely and was striding about the room like a troubled toddler looking for walls to kick, toys to smash.

“What can we do about it?”

“We can marry, that's what we can do about it.”

“I am certain our parents will make the arrangements.”

“But when?” he shouted. “When?”

“Edwin!” I admonished him, with a gesture that someone might overhear us. “We can't wed with one day's notice.”

His face darkened, and for a second I worried that he was directing his anger at me, but then he rushed to my side and held me around the waist. “Why shouldn't it be tomorrow? When you told me about your last wedding, you said you never wanted to go through that rigmarole again.”

Placing my hands behind his slender neck, I looked into his flashing eyes, awestruck that this perfect man was so anxious to be joined to me. “No, I surely don't want any more big tamashas, torrential downpours, or dead doves . . .”

Edwin, who noticed every nuance, had heard a drop in my voice. “There is something else, isn't there?”

“I am not free to marry you until the twentieth of November.”

“Why? The date of the month? You already know that does not matter to me.”

“No. There is another reason. When I left Silas, Hakham Sholomo, the man who prepared the
get
, did not entirely trust our story. In case I might have conceived a child, he said the divorce would not be final for eleven months.”

“That is ridiculous! What baby ever took eleven months?”

“I suppose he added in a safety margin,” I said lightly.

Edwin was not amused. “Did he mean eleven months on the Jewish calendar or the European?”

“Would it make a difference?”

“If they go by the Jewish calendar, it might be sooner.”

“Will our parents agree to rush into this?” I asked with a new wariness. Why was Edwin so anxious to seal the bargain? I wanted him with all my heart, but a few weeks did not matter.

“Why shouldn't they?” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Moving too quickly can hurt reputations, or so they tell me.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “People hurry to get married when they have concerns about a baby. Nobody would think that was our problem when we have known each other little more than a week.” He stroked my brow, then pressed my eyelids with kisses so exquisite I melted in his arms.

“Don't you want to marry quickly?” he asked with a warble in his voice that touched me deeply. He clasped the sleeves of my dress and crushed me to him.

“Edwin,” I chided without pushing him away, “don't muss me. We'll have to greet my aunts soon.”

“I shall place our case before them. I shall ask them to help me wed you tomorrow.”

“Oh, please, not my aunts. Speak directly to Papa, but not to my aunts.” I was so overcome with the idea of him confronting Aunt Bellore that I began to weep.

“Don't . . . I was joking . . . don't . . .” Caressing away my tears, Edwin became so engrossed he missed the opening of the door and Grandmother Helene's quiet entrance.

 

Tension greeted our arrival at Theatre Road. Zilpah's face was set into her tightest mask. Mrs. Salem stood to greet Grandmother Helene and to thank her for once again chaperoning us. “You have been so kind to the children,” she said stiffly.

“It has been my pleasure. If I am any judge, you have made a fine match. In fact, they are most anxious to do their duty,” she added with a hint of gaiety.

As Mrs. Salem's expression soured, I felt that Grandmother Helene might have gone too far, but before I could ascertain the damage, Zilpah steered me away. “Let your aunts meet Edwin on their own for a few minutes.”

“But—” Zilpah's grip tightened and I found myself in the servants' corridor, the place where I once had eavesdropped on conversations in the hall.

“Dinah, there is a small difficulty—”

“What do you mean?” I asked evenly, though my legs began to wobble.

“Mrs. Salem has been speaking with your Aunt Bellore, and—”

“No! Aunt Bellore would not try to ruin this for me!”

Zilpah was shaking her head, but I could not tell if it was in agreement or to mollify me. My eyes blurred. “All she did was listen to Edwin's mother's concerns about your marriage to Silas, about whether or not . . . well, you know what I mean.”

I leaned against the wall and waited for Zilpah to tell me the worst.

“Earlier today I reminded Bellore there was no way any of us would ever know what went on between you and Silas, but you could not have remained with a man who could never love any woman. Then I asked her to assist us in arranging this marriage for you because you were becoming very attached to Mr. Salem.”

“You should never have told her that. Now she will do something to make certain I cannot have him.”

“That's unfair. She said she wanted to help us out in any way she could.”

“And you believed her?”

“Now, Dinah, Bellore is not going to hurt you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she agreed with me. She said the way to put these rumors to rest once and for all—and at the same time to satisfy Mrs. Salem— would be to have you examined.”

“What are you talking about?”

Zilpah looked away and whispered, “To have someone check to see if you are intact.”

“Can they tell by looking?”

“Perhaps, or by feeling.”

“Who would do this?”

“A doctor, I suppose.”

“What if Mrs. Salem did not want to take the doctor's word? What if she thought the rich Sassoons bribed the doctor to lie for me?”

“I understand why you would not want to submit to this. Nobody will force you.”

I was silent for several moments as my thoughts clarified. “Edwin and I would like to have a quiet ceremony here at the house.”

“That could be arranged,
if
Mrs.
Salem agrees to the match. I can see why you would not want to go back to the same synagogue where—”

“No, that is not what I meant. We want to get married right away.”

“But, Dinah—”

I cut her off again. “I will not permit a doctor to check me. If I am to satisfy Mrs. Salem, she must do it herself. She may look to her heart's content,
if
I may marry her son before the next Sabbath begins.”

“This week?” Zilpah asked, shocked. “How could we make the preparations that rapidly?”

“We do not want any fuss. We only want a mekkadesh, a ring, and a huppah.”

She peered at me as though she were trying to diagnose my illness. “I do not know what Benu will say about this.”

“Men like to get things over with as quickly as possible. Edwin wants the same. In fact, he's the one who cannot wait. You'll have to convince his mother, that's all.”

“Dinah, aren't you afraid of the examination?”

“No. Not if it will settle the question.”

“Aren't you concerned about what Edwin's mother might find?”