by Zina Abbott
Jefferson grumbled with frustration. “Men must earn their living, and their wives and families are expected to go with them.”
“I know. That is one reason I have avoided marriage. I do not wish to be a farmer’s wife or a shopkeeper’s wife.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with either of those. You look down on us because we choose to farm?”
“Certainly not. Since it is what you want, it is what you should pursue. It simply is not what I want. Perhaps because yours and Sidney’s goals in life are so different from mine is why I increasingly feel so isolated from the rest of the family. If I try to bring up a topic of interest to me, it is either ignored or quickly dismissed. The conversation moves on to what is happening with the farm or, in recent years, your plans to move west. Any time I have brought up the possibility of me pursuing higher education, what I hear is I attended school until I was sixteen. That’s enough education. When I have mentioned seeking work better suited to my abilities and interests, I’m told there is plenty of work on the farm to keep me busy. Being busy and being interested are two different things. Because you have taken me in, I have sincerely striven to do my share, or more, of the work expected of me. However, I cannot shake the feeling that I am not being true to myself.”
“And I think your head is in the clouds and you need to come down to Earth. What direction do you think you want to go, Virginia? Single women are expected to live with their families. You cannot go somewhere and live alone unless you wish your reputation ruined.”
“That is your opinion concerning my living alone. What I think is, if I must for a short while, then I will. However, I do not intend for it to be permanent. I have other plans, but I had hoped for one more year before carrying them out.” Virginia reached into her possibles bag and pulled out the second letter she had picked up from the post office. As Jefferson reached over to turn the envelope so he could read the return address, she snatched it away from him. She turned her back as she opened the missive.
“Who’s it from, Virginia?”
“Oberlin College in Ohio. I’ve corresponded with them a few times explaining my situation. I applied for admission.”
“Ohio? You want to travel back to Ohio?”
Virginia faced her brother once more. “Yes, Jefferson. To Ohio. To attend college. To live in a civilized city where I will not need to worry about attacks by hostile people who resent me for living on land they think should belong to them. To avail myself of the opportunity to improve the skills I have, not the skills most people think I need to cultivate.”
Virginia waited while Jefferson turned to check in the back of the wagon. Seeing Hannah continue to sleep, he clicked his tongue and flipped the reins to start the horses moving again. They traveled in silence for several minutes while she waited for him to digest the information.
“What does your letter say?”
“I’ve been accepted.” Virginia felt her breathing grow ragged. She turned her head and studied her brother as she waited for his response. At least he had not lashed out in anger.
Jefferson shook his head as if bemused. “College. I know Ma talked about you going to the Columbia Female Academy. That was just a day’s ride away, but there wasn’t enough money for that. Ohio is even farther—several states to the north of here.”
Virginia felt much calmer now that she had told Jefferson she would not be going to Salina with the family. “I know. She was about the only one in the family who favored me continuing my education. However, you and Sidney both had growing families. I knew if I wanted to go, I needed to find a way to do so on my own. There aren’t too many colleges that accept female students. Almost all of them are affiliated with one church or another, so I took that into consideration. I applied first with Oberlin because, from everything I read, it appears to be quite progressive.”
“Progressive? Don’t tell me it’s one of those rampant abolitionist institutions.”
“It was founded by two Presbyterian ministers, so I don’t know their stance on that. What I do know is they accept students based on ability without regard to sex or race. My focus is on getting an education where being female will not be held against me.”
“Where would you live? I don’t want you living on your own.”
“It is not your decision, Jefferson. However, if you must know, the second page of the letter from the college lists boardinghouses that offer rooms suitable for female students. The rates appear reasonable. I will try to rent in one of them.”
Jefferson shook his head. “If it is that important to you, Virginia, I don’t want to deny you. The problem is, we don’t have enough money to pay for college for you, especially with the expenses of building new homes. As it is, once we get moved, we must hope it takes a year or so for the surveyor to get to us. We’ll need to get a crop or two sold to earn enough money to buy the land.”
“You don’t have to provide the money, Jefferson. I have been earning my own funds. My problem is that I do not yet have quite enough to see me through the first two years. I applied before I knew you actually found land you want and decided to move next year. I know I can continue to earn my living expenses once I get settled up there. However, I had wished for one more year of earning money while living at home in order to feel confident I won’t run short when it comes to tuition.”
“When do they want you to start?”
“The letter said, if I’m ready, I may start the winter term in the middle of January. If not, they will still take me in the fall term next September. Since we have been in Salina all summer, and I was unable to pick my mail up before now, I prefer September. That is the reason why, when everyone leaves for Salina, I need to secure employment and a room in town—either here or in Columbia—until I have earned enough funds to go.”
Jefferson shook his head. “Virginia, for someone so smart, you do not understand how things are. You will have a very difficult time finding employment. If you do, because you are a woman, it will not pay that well. You will be fortunate if you earn enough to pay for room and board. There will be no extra to put towards saving for college costs.”
“I know this, Jefferson. I have other means of earning money towards college in addition to working for someone local for my daily living.”
Jefferson reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What, Virginia? What do you do that will earn you enough money to attend a college all the way up in Ohio?”
“I will only tell you as long as you promise, on your word of honor, to not say anything to anyone, not even Carlotte.”
An incredulous expression on his face, Jefferson turned to study Virginia. “You expect me to keep information from Carlotte?”
Wearing a knowing smile, Virginia turned towards him until her gaze met his. “Yes. You keep information from her all the time. For one thing, I’m sure you have not shared all you know about the activities of the hostile Indian tribes against the settlers on the western fringes of Kansas Territory.”
Jefferson grumbled as his face pinked with embarrassment. “It’s for her own good. She’ll be able to handle the trials of moving better if she is not constantly worrying about the worst that can happen, especially when it probably won’t.”
“It is for my own good that I do not tell people how I am earning the money for college. I cannot take the risk that the wrong person will find out and then tell someone else—someone like Sidney, who will forget it is a confidence and blab it all over without thinking. Not only will I lose my means to earn money, but those who take exception to what I do could threaten me.”
“Threaten you! What are you doing that could threaten your safety? And you expect me to agree to allow you to continue doing so?”
“You have no say in the matter, Jefferson. I am of age. If you wish me to leave your home, I will. Beyond that, it is my decision.”
Virginia faced forward once more. To hold her body heat in, she tightened her grip on the blanket draped over her cloak. Although her wool petti
coats kept her legs warm, she wished the bricks beneath hers and Jefferson’s feet had not already lost most of their heat. While she waited for her brother’s response, she prepared herself mentally to accept his decision, whatever it might be.
“All right, I promise on my word of honor I will not say anything to anyone, including my wife. But listen to me, Virginia. Even though I am no longer legally your guardian, I cannot walk away from being your older brother. I still feel it my duty to look out for your best interests. I want to know what you are up to. Why are you depositing drafts at the bank—especially at the bank in Columbia instead of in Boonville? What are you hiding?”
Still feeling uneasy about saying too much, Virginia chose her words carefully. “I write for publication. Because I use a pen name, I conduct my business in a town where I am not known. That should be enough to satisfy your curiosity.”
Jefferson wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Write for publication? Don’t tell me you are one of those females who write romance novels so many women waste their time reading?”
Virginia tamped down a smile. How typical of a man to make that assumption. “So judgmental, Jefferson. No, I do not write romance novels. However, most of what I write does get published, and I get paid for it.”
Jefferson eyed her with suspicion. “I don’t believe you. I know enough to know publishers rarely, if ever, consider serious works written by women. And, although some may feel uncomfortable with the knowledge, or even criticize you if they should learn you write stories, I cannot see how that would threaten your safety.”
“I answered your questions, Jefferson. Considering your attitude, I have nothing more to say. Just remember your promise you gave me on your word of honor.”
.
.
.
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Chapter 8
~o0o~
Oberlin, Ohio – middle December, 1858
A very took his seat to the right of Mrs. Chilton who, after he helped seat his landlady and owner of the house, assumed her place at the head of the table. The seating arrangement served to distinguish Avery’s position as a professor from the remainder of the boarders who were students. He forced his mind to clear of his internal rants as he waited while Drusilla Chilton called on one of the students to bless the food.
Once the fellow boarder, a student at Oberlin, finished the prayer, he again focused his thoughts on the latest rejection letter he received that day from Mr. Porter. After earlier failed attempts, he submitted to other publishing houses with the hope they might be more discerning. After their rejections, Avery wrote a new article, double-checked it for spelling, grammar, and punctuation, and once again tried Mr. Porter. Why the publisher could not recognize well-crafted prose when he read it, Avery failed to understand. Instead, he continued to give column space to that author whose impassioned writing style bordered on sensationalism.
The sound of Mrs. Chilton clearing her throat caught Avery’s attention. He snapped upright in his chair and forced a smile he didn’t feel on his face as he turned his attention to his landlady. “My apologies, Mrs. Chilton, for being distracted with my own thoughts. You were saying?”
“I wasn’t, Mr. Wilson. However, Jonathon asked you a question.”
Hoping his embarrassment did not show in the form of heightened color on his face. Avery turned to the student who sat across the table and two seats down. His position at the far end of the table marked his seniority standing, as not only that of a first-year student at Oberlin College but also one of the most recent residents to join the boardinghouse. He noticed Mrs. Chilton extended the courtesy of addressing him formally, as was appropriate since he was a professor, not a student. She insisted the students address him the same. However, she not only allowed them to address each other by their given names, she did also.
However, Avery followed the practice he established in the secondary school where he previously taught of addressing his students formally by their surnames. He had hoped doing so would encourage them to behave with more maturity. It had been a vain hope then, but he considered it imperative at college level. Besides, he did not feel comfortable addressing his three female students by their given names. Avery ground his teeth at the thought of the three young women who took up classroom space and wasted their time as well as his by enrolling in the Collegiate Course of study instead of the Ladies’ Course. “My apologies, Mr. Daley. Please repeat your question.”
“I…uh, I’m sorry, sir. It is really none of my business. It’s just we have been discussing where we will be spending Christmas break. I wondered if you will be staying here or visiting family.”
Avery fought down his irritation. The student had been correct with his first statement. What he did was none of his business. If a fellow professor had asked the question, that would have been one thing—a discussion between equals. How inappropriate for a student at the college to ask such of thing of a professor. Living in the same boarding house as students had its drawbacks. Even though no more than a decade in age separated him from the youngest of them, their collective lack of experience and maturity revealed itself constantly.
Until I can afford to buy a home, I need find one to rent where I can live alone.
As much as Avery entertained the thought of leaving the boardinghouse, he knew financially he needed to stay where he was, at least until summer. He opened his mouth to chastise the student. A recollection of the lack of respect he had been subjected to during his first year of college flashed through his mind. He tempered his response.
“I have no plans to visit family, Mr. Daley. I will be staying in Oberlin this holiday.”
Avery’s attention turned to another young man, Martin Case, who snorted his derision. “I have no intentions of staying here that many weeks. I figure if I board the train as soon as I finish my last class, I can be gone long enough not to need to pay room and board for almost a month.”
“If you plan to do that, Martin, be sure to take all your belongings with you.”
Avery glanced at Mrs. Chilton who concentrated on cutting a bite of the pot roast on her plate. His gaze scanned the room and realized all the students now focused on her.
“Ah…why is that, Mrs. Chilton? I planned to do the same thing.”
“Because, Jonathon, and you also, Martin, I cannot run my boardinghouse on promises and thin air. I will not hold your bed unless it is paid for in advance. If you should decide to let it go, I will welcome you back in January as long as I have a vacancy. However, I already am looking at applications from those wishing rooms.”
“You’d give our rooms away?”
As far as Avery was concerned, Martin’s response bordered on insolence. If he behaved in that manner in one of his classes, he would be reprimanded. If such conduct continued, he’d drop the young man from the course. However, this was Drusilla Chilton’s affair, and he would not step in unless asked to or unless the young man’s behavior grew extreme.
“They are only your beds as long as you pay for them, Martin. If you release them for a month through non-payment, I can make no guarantees if they will still be available. If you leave without paying in advance for the weeks you will be gone, then those beds are available to those who sign up and pay for them. If you do return later, you will need to pay a new damages deposit and one month’s room and board to secure a bed—assuming one is still available.”
“And you would not see to it that Martin and I could share the same room?”
“That is correct, Jonathon. Assuming I still have beds available, whether or not you ended up in the same room would depend on how many others I rented to before your return, and which room they picked out.”
“Fine. Say we chose to not pay rent and take our chances. You would refund the deposit that was paid last summer, correct?”
In response to the baleful look his landlady offered Martin before she answered him, Avery swallowed rather than give in to the smile he felt pushing its way onto his face. He did not kno
w how much formal education Mrs. Chilton had received during her lifetime. However, her experience as a mother served her well.
“If, after deducting what is needed for any repairs for damage I find, there is any balance remaining, I will send it to the person who paid the deposit in the first place. In your case, Martin, I recall that was your father.”
Silence reigned over the table for several seconds.
Avery focused on the half-eaten food on his plate. If he had his preference, he would stir his cut-up roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans together. If he had dared when he was younger, in order to spite his father, he could have combined his food into one pile. However, he knew from his father’s harsh training on manners, mixing food in that manner was considered impolite, especially in public.
The fork holding his next bite of potatoes dipped in gravy halted halfway to his mouth at Mrs. Chilton’s next announcement.
“I have already corresponded with and received a letter from one young lady. She sent her deposit and first month’s room and board. That means, gentlemen—those of you still with me in January—you will be expected to be on your best behavior at all times, especially at the table.”
Irritation took root in Avery’s chest and began to expand. He wondered if this new girl enrolled in the Ladies’ Course or the Collegiate Course. The three female students in his two collegiate classes—beginning grammar and nineteenth-century literature—performed well. Their handwriting tended to be neater than most of his male students, so he found their papers easier to read. However, he still considered it a waste of time for women to use up four years of their life, not to mention valuable seats in his lecture hall, to gain an education designed to help a man gain a solid, well-paying career. Most young women ended up being married and occupied with domestic duties.
The comment by James Oglethorpe, a third-year student, recaptured Avery’s attention.