by Zina Abbott
Virginia swallowed. “Yes. I noticed the same thing. I'm pleased to know that you enjoyed reading the article. You are welcome to read my issues anytime you want. Just ask.”
“Virginia, I want you to know that I do respect the privacy of my residents. However, I do enter the rooms at least once per week to change the sheets and make sure the basic dusting and sweeping is done so my rooms stay clean. When I was in your room the other day, I noticed you had a writing project on your desk. Well, I must confess it was in your drawer which you left cracked open a few inches. However, your excellent penmanship caught my eye. I pulled the drawer out so that I could better appreciate the full page. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was not schoolwork associated with any of your courses, but it was an essay of a political nature...something about the legislature of Arkansas passing a bill requiring free blacks to choose either slavery or exile. I noticed that you made some very compelling arguments as to why it was a violation the individual rights of those persons who had either been manumitted or had bought their freedom.”
Virginia stared at Drusilla Chilton, unsure of what to say. That drawer had not been cracked open. She made a point to keep her writing for the journal out of sight. For four years she managed to keep her work secret and away from prying eyes in a home with several members of her family. For the first time since her mother died, she had a room to herself—a room where she should have been able to carry on her writing activities without concern for being discovered.
Yet, Virginia realized, Drusilla Chilton's curiosity had lead the woman to finding the rough draft of the article that she had recently submitted to the Heartland Monthly.
I should have hidden it better. I should have burned it after I sent the final copy off.
The woman eyed her with suspicion. “Tell me something, Virginia. Is there a possibility that I will see that article printed in a magazine or political journal?
Virginia closed her eyes. “Mrs. Chilton...”
“Come now, Virginia. I thought we were on a first-name basis.”
“Yes, of course. Drusilla, may we please discuss this somewhere else?” Virginia glanced around the room to see if anybody sat close by. Who might be listening in on their conversation? “Perhaps when I finish here, we might speak alone in my room.”
“That will be acceptable, Virginia. Like I say, I do not like to invade the privacy of my residence. However, I do wish to know who is living under my roof.” Drusilla arose from her chair. “I will see you at home, dear. Please try to return early enough so that we may discuss this before it is time to prepare for supper.”
Virginia tried to continue working on her article, but her concentration was broken. Her stomach tied in knots, she focused more on how she was going to deal with having another person know her identity and yet be able to keep it a secret. Then again, Virginia realized, she did not know if Drusilla suspected she was actually V. A. Wellington. For all she knew, Virginia wrote articles in the hopes of having them published under her own name.
Virginia managed to take notes on one last newspaper article with details of the conclusions reached by the Arkansas legislature. She put the newspapers back where she found them and cleared off her table.
Her notebook and pencils she tucked inside her possibles bag she carried everywhere on campus and around town. She knew it was not considered a stylish accessory, and she had received more than one curious or disparaging look. She ignored them. The bag was practical, and it suited her.
Upon arriving at the boardinghouse, Virginia entered through the rear door that led to the kitchen. She nodded to Mrs. Mabry, the woman Drusilla referred to as Cook. Because Virginia had kitchen privileges, she had made the acquaintance of the woman who provided the meals everyone in the boardinghouse enjoyed.
Virginia entered her room and pulled her possibles bag off her shoulder and over her head. She placed it on her desk. She stared at the offending drawer, unhappy with the knowledge her landlady had deliberately snooped. Virginia knew her tendency to be very precise about closing doors, closing drawers, and hanging things just so. There was no drawer that had been left cracked open two or three inches. Mrs. Chilton, whom she felt rather friendly towards until this afternoon, had violated her trust.
Virginia returned to the kitchen to discover Drusilla in the process of heating a small kettle of water.
A welcoming smile on her face, Drusilla turned toward Virginia. “How lovely to see you again, Virginia. I’m making some tea. As soon as everything is ready, I’ll find the magazine I borrowed from you. Perhaps you can join me in my private sitting room. We can discuss some of the articles.”
Virginia understood Drusilla’s words were a form of code for Mrs. Mabry's benefit. “That will be acceptable. Some tea would be lovely. “Are any of the other residents home at this time?
“No, dear. I've just come from upstairs. It is just we ladies in the house.”
Virginia breathed a sigh of relief. At least no one would be aware the two of them talked in private. The last thing she needed was someone speculating about the nature of their conversation.
Virginia sat on the edge of her chair in the sitting room. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap while she waited for Drusilla to fetch the tea. She looked up and arose from her chair when Drusilla arrived carrying a tray with the teapot and cups and saucers. “Let me take that from you.”
“No, dear, I have it. We'll just set it right here on this little table between these two chairs and have us a cozy little chat.
Virginia waited while her landlady poured them each a cup of tea and dripped some cream into her cup before she handed it to her. Virginia accepted the tea with shaking fingers, picked up the spoon, and stirred her drink. She prayed she did not drop the cup on Mrs. Chilton's beautiful blue and gold Aubusson carpet.
After Drusilla fixed her tea and took her first sip, she turned to Virginia with a smile. “Virginia, I will not say I am sorry I opened your drawer and saw that paper. However, I do beg your forgiveness. You must understand, my dear, I only want what is best for you.”
“I do value my privacy, Drusilla. I feel quite uneasy learning I cannot leave my belongings in my room without others going through them.”
“Well, I do not generally make a habit of such behavior. You see, there was something about the conversation the night Martin brought up the Lincoln and Douglas debate article that seemed a little off. Besides being curious as to why a student who appears to be focusing on English and history is so knowledgeable about current political events, I was totally taken aback by Mr. Wilson's response. Then, after reading that same article myself, I could not set aside the feeling that I needed to look into the matter more closely.”
“I don't know why you came to that conclusion. Is it really that uncommon for students who are immersed in furthering their education to take an interest in current topics? After all, I have become aware Oberlin attracts students and faculty alike who are strong advocates of abolitionism. It would not surprise me to learn that there are local people who help those who are attempting to escape slavery. I have not sought them out, and I do not believe it would be wise for me to become involved in anything of that nature. However, the topic does interest me. I do have opinions about the matter. I know there are many who believe that with me being a female, it is entirely unseemly for me to show an interest in such matters, let alone discuss them.
“Stop!” Drusilla shook her head in denial. “Where have you been the last two months, Virginia? You do know many come to Oberlin precisely because they do have such a strong interest in these matters. Have you never heard of Lucy Stone? Several women in Oberlin seek an education centered on human rights of enslaved people, rights of women to vote and to own property, and rights to have an equal standing with men before the law. You are not alone in such desires, my dear.”
“That is good to know, Drusilla.”
“Not only are you not alone in being concerned about current situations in our nation, but
you express yourself in writing quite well. I know. I received an excellent education for my time, even though I never got past the level of a female academy. At least the focus was on educating young ladies as far as was considered socially acceptable as opposed to a finishing school to prepare young ladies to attract and catch a husband. Also, I have been known to help struggling students correct their grammar so that they might submit a paper passable to their instructor. I know good writing when I see it. What's more when I read the piece I found in your desk, it struck me as being in a similar writing style to what I read in that article in the Heartland Monthly.”
“That is quite a compliment, Drusilla. Thank you.”
Drusilla flipped her hand to brush off Virginia’s claim. “I did not say that just to flatter your ego, Virginia. You see, something else that puzzles me greatly was Mr. Wilson's response to that article. He has been with me since August. In all those months, in spite of some of the very rude and completely inappropriate conduct and speech of the other young men rooming in my home, he has never lashed out or responded with anything sort of emotional outburst. His words may have been sharp and to the point, but they were still well-mannered and appropriate to the situation. However, I noticed that even though he did not seem to enjoy the discussion about the article Martin and the others were speaking of, he did not become agitated and disagreeable until the young man drew you into the conversation.”
“I don't know why that would be, Drusilla. Perhaps, even though he teaches at a very progressive college that believes in equal education for men and women, and also black people, he is not personally convinced himself.”
Drusilla leaned back in her chair. She tapped her chin as she considered. “No, I think it is more than that. Although he does not speak of it with the rest of the residents, Mr. Wilson also has an interest in current politics and the social conditions that face this nation.” Drusilla paused and leaned forward with this conspiratorial grin. “You see, my dear, your desk has not been the only one that I have snooped in. I have found some very interesting things in desk drawers. I’ve found flasks filled with liquor, pipe tobacco, and personal supplies which, I will not burden you with the details other than to say, they have led me to believe that some of these young men engage in unacceptable behavior with certain unsavory ladies.”
“Drusilla, I’m not sure I wish to know these things.”
“Oh, I don’t intend to share details of which students are involved. We were discussing Mr. Wilson. In his room, I have found school papers on various topics and with varying degrees of proficiency. Of course, with Mr. Wilson not being a student, but rather an instructor, and with his impeccable manners, I did not suspect him of hiding what I personally consider contraband within his room. However, there have been occasions when I have entered his room to change his sheets and tidy up that I have found his writings clearly visible on top of his desk. He did not attempt to hide them. And I did not need to read too far to realize that he was writing a treatise on political topics. The last one I read appeared to be regarding abolition.”
“Drusilla, I’m not sure Mr. Wilson would appreciate you sharing this information with me. I'm sure he considers it something of a private nature.” Virginia knew she said the proper words. In her heart, she thrilled at learning one more clue to understanding the real Avery Wilson.
“That may be. I know I can count on your discretion.”
“Of course, you may. I’m not sure I enjoy being privy to information that others might consider their private business, but I will say nothing.”
What kind information about me is she sharing with others and trusting in their discretion?
“Thank you, dear. Let us return to the topic at hand. Will you please trust me? Tell me, why are you researching and writing on current political topics when they have nothing to do with your course of study? You may not wish to openly engage yourself in the activities of some of these movements. However, I wondered, are you writing about them only for your own pleasure and benefit? Or, are you writing about them to share your thoughts and beliefs with others? Do you hope to persuade people to stand for what you believe is right?”
Virginia turned away. How much she did she dare to tell her snoopy landlady? She preferred to not to say anything at all. Unfortunately, she suspected if she did not offer enough to satisfy the woman's curiosity, she would not leave the matter alone. “Drusilla, it is true that I am researching and writing articles about current political topics for the purpose of attempting to get them published. I came to Oberlin with enough money to see me through my first year and a half, possibly two years of tuition and living expenses. I greatly appreciate the opportunity to work in your home, for that will add to my funds. Even though Mr. Wilson finds many grammatical and punctuation errors in my writing, I believe that I can write reasonably well. I had hoped to earn additional income through my writing to cover my expenses here at Oberlin until I graduate.”
Drusilla studied Virginia with a knowing look. “Now, you know, Virginia, many of our women students from Oberlin have written articles and been published. However, they tend to be published by specialty journals geared to a female audience. I suspect from what I read both on the page I found the other day, and what I read today, you are writing for a more general audience. Have you found a publisher who will accept entries from female writers?”
Virginia swallowed. She hated the deception, but she had to protect yourself. “I... I plan on using a pen name. I am aware that most men will not take seriously an article of the nature that I write about if they know it is written by a woman. I am more concerned with persuading people to consider correct principles rather than my name being on the lips of many far and wide.”
Virginia watched Drusilla take a sip of her tea. She forced herself to stay calm as over the rim of her cup, the woman continued to study her. “Was that all, Drusilla? It has been a pleasure talking to you, and I hope I have resolved your concerns regarding my activities.” Virginia raised her cup to her lips. The thought crossed her mind that Drusilla Chilton certainly knew how to make a good cup of tea.
“There is still the matter of Mr. Wilson.”
Virginia nearly choked on her tea. Her lips parted, Virginia stared at her landlady. Her thoughts already strayed to the matter of Mr. Wilson far more often than they should. She struggled to understand why she felt so drawn to a man who obviously did not care for her and did not think she performed well on her schoolwork. “What about Mr. Wilson? I promise, I will repeat nothing you have shared with me in confidence about his writing.”
Drusilla brushed the comment aside with a wave her hand. “That does not concern me. What does is that Mr. Wilson appears to take particular exception to the author of that article you gave me to read—what was his name, dear? Mister Wellington or something? Do you have any idea why that would be?”
Virginia shook her head. “No. Do you know if he has submitted his work to that particular publication? Perhaps he is distressed because he has submitted his articles, and he has yet to see his name in print.”
Drusilla narrowed her eyes. “How do you know he has not seen his name in print?”
“I'm sorry. I meant I have not seen his name in print in the Heartland Monthly. I have been subscribing to that journal for years, and I recognize many of the authors who submit frequently. I do not recall his name being among them.”
“Hmm. Maybe you are correct. He has corresponded with several publishers.”
Virginia’s forehead creased with worry. “Drusilla, I don’t think you should be telling me about Mr. Wilson’s personal correspondence. I’m sure he would not wish for his private business to be discussed with others.” What Virginia feared even more was her landlady might share her secrets with others.
“Oh, I never promised to him to keep anything of that nature confidential like I did with you. However, please believe me. I am only interested in his best interests, also.” Drusilla smiled conspiratorially. “I pick up the mail for the
residence, as you know. Sometimes a return address does catch my eye. I do not recall him receiving anything from the Heartland Monthly other than the magazine itself. However, he receives mail from all over. Some from New York, once from Chicago, some from St Louis. Of course, my main concern is that he is not applying for a new position at other colleges. I would like him to stay at Oberlin. I think he has an excellent opportunity to gain full professorship here if he does.”
As soon as Virginia heard the last city Drusilla listed, her brain stopped processing the words that followed. St. Louis. Mr. Porter, who published the Heartland Monthly, kept his office in St. Louis, Missouri. Could there be any connection?
“You do know the man is besotted with you do you, do you not?”
Virginia nearly dropped her cup. As it was, a small portion of her tea spilled onto the saucer. “Surely, you must be mistaken. He has given me no indication whatsoever that he thinks well of me. In fact, I'm certain he entirely disapproves of me. I know I certainly cannot please him in class.”
Drusilla waved her hand side-to-side. “That is neither here nor there. I have been around and seen many things in my lifetime, Virginia. You two are like a magnet and steel resisting the pull towards each other. You really ought to resolve your feelings towards each other.” Drusilla reached for Virginia's now-empty tea cup and placed it next to hers. She stood and picked up the tray. As she prepared to leave the room, she gave Virginia one final smile. “Virginia, I want you to know I appreciate the work you perform in my kitchen. I cannot tell you enough how much I value the time you spend at my side as I take care of my errands. I wish you to help you succeed, my dear, not only with your writing, but with everything in your life. If that means a little nudge in the right direction, I’m afraid I’m inclined to nudge.”