Chapter Four

October 14, 1912

Rose sank slowly into her seat at her sewing machine, aware that a few of the other workers were staring at her. For months, she had been attempting to conceal her pregnancy through the use of baggy clothes and corsets, trying to make herself appear plump rather than pregnant, but it was no longer working. That morning, she had simply been unable to tie her corset, no matter how hard she had tried, and in spite of her loose, empire-waist dress, her swollen middle was still visible. There was no hiding the fact that she was pregnant now.

She turned quickly to her work, pretending that she hadn't noticed the curious, sometimes hostile, stares. Byrd stared at her, his eyes narrowed, before turning away. She knew that he was angry, but he wouldn't do anything—not yet. He didn't yet have an excuse, but if he found one…

She shuddered inwardly at the thought. She needed this job, needed the income, small though it was, that it brought. With no husband, no one to help her, she needed to save as much as possible so that she could afford to care for her child—and afford to find someone else to care for it while she worked.

Rose's condition, however, was a subject of interest to more than one person. Though most had children or siblings of their own, the fact that Rose was visibly pregnant and still working was of great interest to many. Mr. Wiseman could be very strict about what he considered to be the moral fiber of his employees, and more than one person had heard Byrd refer to Rose as Miss Dawson. The fact that Rose wore no wedding ring was also of interest, though there were married women at the factory who wore no ring because they couldn't afford one, or because it interfered with their work.

Still, it wasn't long before one of the other women, one who had often been jealous of the praise that Rose received for her work, asked her about her condition. Rose had hoped to avoid the subject, but the woman cornered her at lunch, hoping to knock Rose off her pedestal.

"Is this your first child?" she asked, her voice sweet, but something about the tone of it set Rose's teeth on edge. She didn't trust her, couldn't help but feel that her sudden solicitousness meant that she was up to no good.

Rose edged away from her. "Yes," she replied shortly, not elaborating.

The woman waited for a moment, looking at Rose critically, but when no more information was forthcoming, she tried again.

"Why is that you don't wear a wedding ring?" she asked, her voice as sweet as before.

Rose froze, trying to think of an answer. She had never paid much attention to whether other women wore wedding rings or not, and she couldn't think of a good reason why she wasn't wearing one.

The woman looked at Rose knowingly, a slight smirk on her face. "I see. Well, it's been nice talking to you."

She moved away quickly, joining her own friends. Rose face flamed as she turned away, concentrating on her lunch. She could hear the whispers as they discussed her, hear the titters as they thought about her predicament.

Rose still held out hope that the women would be content to gossip amongst themselves, rather than spreading the word to the hated foreman, but not long after they returned to work, she caught sight of the woman who had been interrogating her talking to the foreman and pointing to her.

Rose lowered her head, trying to concentrate on her work. She watched them out of the corner of her eye, and was surprised when Byrd glared at her, then left the room. Relieved, she continued with her work.

Rose's relief was short-lived. A few minutes later, Byrd returned, Wiseman in tow. The owner's face was stormy as he walked towards her, shutting down her machine and gesturing imperiously to her.

The room quieted as Rose got to her feet, knowing what was coming. Most of the women still worked, or at least pretended to, but some had stopped, staring at her, including the woman who had reported her to Byrd. Byrd gave the women who had stopped working severe looks as he followed Rose and Wiseman from the room.

Once they had reached his office, Wiseman tore into Rose. "I can see that Mr. Byrd wasn't lying when he said that you were with child, but can you explain to me why you wear no wedding ring? Is it true that you are unwed?"

"Mr. Wiseman, I—"

"Is it true?" Wiseman had no patience with Rose's attempt to explain.

"Yes, it's true." Rose ducked her head miserably, blinking back the tears that were trying to well up in her eyes. Unless Wiseman showed an unusual amount of compassion, she would be out of a job. With no prospects for another job and a baby on the way, what would she do? "Mr. Wiseman, please…"

Wiseman gave her a disgusted look. "Mr. Byrd, escort her from the building. I don't want to see her here again."

"Yes, sir. Come along, Miss Dawson." Byrd smirked as he held the door open for her, looking falsely solicitous as he escorted her from the office.

Just before they reached the end of the corridor, Byrd turned and pushed her against the wall, an unpleasant smile on his face.

"You make me sick," he hissed, staring at her as though she were an insect that he would like to crush. "Sleeping around, and then thinking that you can get decent people to accept you and your bastard."

Rose flinched at the word bastard. She tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed her arm, refusing to let her leave.

"I think you'd better let me go," she told him, yanking her arm from his grasp. "Mr. Wiseman told you to escort me from the building, not attack me in the hallway."

"Mr. Wiseman knows all about you."

Rose had been about to walk away, but now she turned quickly to face him. "Mr. Wiseman knows nothing of my life—and neither do you. You, Mr. Byrd, are only angry because I spurned your advances and accepted the advances of another man."

Byrd's face turned red. He grabbed at her, trying to pull her back, but Rose was ready for him. To his shock, she spat in his face, then turned and stalked from the building, leaving him staring after her.

XXXXX

Rose didn't stop until she was several blocks from the factory. Sinking down onto a bench, she buried her face in her hands in despair. She had no job now, no way to support herself and her coming child. The chances of her finding another job were slim at best.

For a moment, she considered returning to her old life in Philadelphia. It took her only another moment to reject the idea. She didn't want to go back. In spite of the difficult turns her life had taken, she had no desire to return to the stultifying world she had occupied before. At least here she was free, free to do as she pleased, free to pursue whatever dreams she wanted—even if those dreams seemed far away at the moment.

She didn't even know if her mother would take her back, and certainly she would be ostracized by society if she did return. She was unwed and pregnant, the baby's father a vagabond steerage passenger she had met on the ill-fated ship. She might not even be allowed to keep the baby, but might instead see it torn from her arms and given away to a couple who would raise it in a proper home.

She couldn't bear the thought of giving up her baby. Straightening her back, Rose stood, wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks, and set about trying to find another job.