Virginia's Vocation

by Zina Abbott

  Before they left Boonville, Virginia contacted her publisher, Mr. Porter, and advised him of her new address in Elyria. As a result of taking into consideration Jefferson’s barrage of concerns for her safety should anyone learn she wrote as V. A. Wellington, she also confessed in writing to Mr. Porter that V. A. Wellington was a pen name. She asked him to use a different name on all future correspondence and bank drafts.

  She failed to tell him the new name, V. Baker, was also a pseudonym.

  Virginia hated the necessity of hiding her true identity. However, she lived in a society that considered it unacceptable for a woman to write about serious subjects considered suitable only for a male reading audience. She must carry through with the subterfuge if she wished her articles to be published.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Chapter 11

  ~o0o~

  T hat evening, Virginia discovered Drusilla Chilton intended to assign her to a chair next to the head of the table on the left. She brought in a spare chair and asked Jefferson to sit at the foot of the table.

  Only after the two Atwell siblings stood behind their chairs did she ring the bell calling the other residents to supper.

  Virginia gripped the top of the ladder-back chair as she listened to the thunder of footsteps race down the stairs. The first male face she saw, upon seeing her, abruptly halted in the doorway to the dining room. As three others crowded behind him, heads turned from her to study Jefferson, who nodded in greeting.

  Drusilla walked in and placed a large tureen close to where she would sit at the head of the table. That meant it was right in front of Virginia. From the scents wafting from it, Virginia guessed it contained chicken.

  “Gentlemen, our newest resident, escorted by her brother, has joined us. I will make introductions as soon as Mr. Wilson arrives. Until then, since Cook had a family emergency, I have supper to put on the table.” She returned to the kitchen.

  Wilson. Wilson.

  Virginia left her the list of courses to which she had been assigned earlier that day in her room. However, she recalled a Mr. Wilson taught two of her classes—one a second semester grammar class and one on Classical Greek Literature. The secretary had required a writing exercise from her to determine her suitability to be placed in the grammar class without first attending the beginning course taught in the autumn. Unlike her ability with grammar, she did not have a great familiarity with the classics. She looked forward to learning more.

  Virginia listened to the measured footsteps coming down the stairs. Her curiosity grew as they approached the dining room. She caught her first sight of the man responsible for them as he slid past the jam of bodies crowding the doorway and crossed the room until he stood behind the chair opposite hers. He appeared to be several years older than the others but definitely younger than Jefferson. She guessed the gentlemen to be the teacher Drusilla had mentioned, the Mr. Wilson she said they were waiting on.

  His brown suit with its matching waistcoat complemented his chiseled features and brown hair a few shades darker than hers. His complexion appeared to be paler than that of her family. Then again, it could be due either to living in a more northerly clime, or because his occupation did not require him to work long hours out of doors. A glance at the other young men led her to suspect the second possibility was more likely.

  His gray eyes that studied her conveyed no warmth. With a sinking feeling, Virginia forced a slight upturn of her lips and nodded a greeting. Until they were formally introduced, it would be impolite for her to initiate a conversation. However, he did not need to speak for her to know he did not welcome her presence.

  So much for thinking Oberlin was open and accepting of female students. She also did not favor living in the same residence with an instructor whose opinion of her course work might be influenced by his observation of her presence away from campus.

  She turned towards the other residents whom she realized were, for the most part, younger than she was. She watched them jostle each other and mumble while they debated who should sit where. Virginia recognized this group held to a pecking order in the seating arrangements. Mrs. Chilton had disrupted the existing one by seating her next to the head of the table.

  Drusilla entered once again with a bowl of corn in one hand and a basket of sliced bread in the other. She placed then farther down the table to join the pickles and butter dish that were already there. She stood behind her chair and waited until everyone’s attention focused on her. “Gentlemen, as has been my practice in the past, I have asked our female resident to sit closest to me. Figure out your new seating arrangement and stand behind your chair.”

  As soon as the others found a chair to stand behind, leaving one chair next to Jefferson vacant, Drusilla began introductions. “Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Miss Virginia Atwell, a new Oberlin student who will be living here.”

  Virginia smiled and murmured a greeting as she made eye contact with each of the five men other than Jefferson in the room. A few greeted her and then turned away. The two on the other side of the table studied her. One wore a grin; the other viewed her with suspicion. The instructor studied her as if taking her measure. How she wished Mrs. Chilton had not seated her across from the man who would decide her grade in two of her classes.

  Mrs. Chilton’s voice interrupted her musings. “Visiting with us tonight is her brother, Jefferson Atwell. He accompanied Miss Atwell on her journey here and will be departing tomorrow, if I understand correctly.”

  Virginia heard Jefferson at the other end of the table also greet each one. Virginia noticed as soon as introductions were complete, the man across from her stepped over to help their landlady in her chair. Once he sat down, it signaled the others to take their seats. As she prepared to sit, Mr. Wilson motioned to the man next to her to help her with her chair.

  Virginia realized staying in this boardinghouse might take some getting used to. The Atwells certainly did not practice such formal behavior at home.

  Once seated, Drusilla lifted her head and smiled. “Now, gentlemen…” She turned to Virginia. “And Miss Atwell, with Cook not here to help serve, if you will please pass me your plates one at a time, I will dish up your main meal. Afterwards, please pass around the rest of the food until everyone is served.” She turned to Virginia first and held out her hand.

  Virginia, already feeling awkward over the seating arrangement, handed over her plate. She was not accustomed to being served first. She was used to sitting in the middle of the bench on the other side of little Magpie from Carlotte. Between the two of them, they helped the chattering little girl cut her meat and mind her table manners instead of playing with her food.

  As she sat her plate down in front of her, she glanced up and caught Mr. Wilson’s miffed expression before he turned away. She realized if she had not been there, his plate would have been served first. Although her landlady, no doubt, intended the preferential treatment she showed Virginia to be a sign of welcome or an acknowledgement of her gender, Virginia did not like it. She already suspected fitting in would prove difficult. She did not need Mrs. Chilton to throw fat on the fire by giving those who had lived here longer a reason to resent her more than they already did.

  As soon as everyone was served and began to eat, Virginia heard one of the students seated next to her brother—Jonathon, if she remembered his name correctly—addressed Jefferson.

  “Mr. Atwell, Mrs. Chilton says your family is from Missouri. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Mr. Daley, is it? We are most recently from Missouri. If I sound like I’m from a Southern state, that accounts for it. However, I grew up in Pennsylvania.”

  “What is your stand on slavery, Virginia?”

  Virginia turned toward Martin Case, also seated next to Jefferson, but across the table from her. She suspected he tended to be outspoken and a bit rebellious in nature. She ignored her brother’s expression of warning and opened her mouth to speak. Her landlady cut
her off.

  “You gentlemen will please address Miss Atwell as Miss Atwell, not her given name. I was a little lax last term by allowing the use of first names at the table. In your rooms is another matter, but I wish to resume my former practice of each of you to address each other formally while we are together.”

  Martin and Jonathon turned to James Oglethorpe, who shrugged. “She did. It was that way until the other two women who lived here graduated.”

  Virginia glanced over at Mr. Wilson who now wore an expression of satisfaction. Evidently, this change pleased him. Whether her views on slavery also pleased him remained to be seen.

  “Then, Miss Atwell—what is your stand on slavery?”

  Martin again. Virginia suspected they knew she came from a slave state and had already prepared to approve or disapprove of her based on her response. “I abhor slavery, Mr. Case. It is my hope I will feel more comfortable in the North where most people also do not favor the practice.” She knew she should not challenge him, especially this early in their acquaintance. However, she could not resist. “And what is your stand on slavery, Mr. Case?”

  “I hate it. We all do.”

  “Thank you. I’m pleased we are in agreement on that issue.”

  Virginia noticed the students turn to look at each other before they resumed eating. She glanced again at Mr. Wilson who, once again, studied her, this time with a thoughtful expression. She wondered if Martin included him in the “all” who hated slavery, or if he only referred to the students.

  “What brings you to Oberlin, Miss Atwell? Are you taking the Ladies’ Course or studying to be a teacher?”

  Virginia turned to James Oglethorpe who sat next to Mr. Wilson. She suspected Mrs. Chilton had displaced him from sitting next to the head of the table when she assigned the chair to Virginia. “I am taking the Collegiate Course, Mr. Oglethorpe. I have not yet decided on my major, but my intent is to improve…” Virginia hesitated. She dared not say anything about writing skills, for that drew attention too close to home. “I wish to improve my overall education, particularly in English and history.”

  Why had Mr. Wilson responded by looking down and studying the food on his plate? Again, she sensed his disapproval. Perhaps he was of the opinion women who came to Oberlin should only attend the Ladies’ Course which, she suspected, served as a glorified finishing school like Mrs. Chilton had referred to earlier. If that was the case, Virginia reasoned she might find it challenging to get good grades in her classes he taught.

  “Miss Atwell, you know the winter term began yesterday, don’t you? You’ll be starting two days late.”

  Jonathon, this time. As Virginia leaned slightly forward, Thomas leaned back so she could see the student who addressed her. “I know. It was unavoidable due to the bad weather we ran into. Heavy snows stopped the train several times as we traveled from Iowa through Ohio. We often waited for hours while they cleared the tracks. Then there was the Mississippi River to cross. I shall have to ask my instructors if it is possible for me to turn any assignments I missed in late.”

  “I do not allow assignments to be turned in late in my classes.”

  Virginia turned toward Mr. Wilson, whose gaze bored into hers. The first time the man spoke to her other than to acknowledge an introduction, and it has to be this? For two of her classes, he would be her instructor. He may not yet be aware yet she would attend the grammar class, but he probably already knew they had placed her in Classical Greek Literature.

  Why did he have to be so handsome and so petty at the same time? Virginia refused to break eye contact. Neither did she intend to reveal her annoyance to him. “Of course, Mr. Wilson. I’m sure each teacher has his or her policies regarding such situations. I will need to learn what they are on an individual basis.”

  After supper and dessert, Mrs. Chilton, with Mr. Wilson’s assistance, rose from her chair. “Gentlemen, I would appreciate it if you would please bring your dishes to the kitchen.”

  “Can’t do that, Mrs. Chilton. You were the one who said we were not allowed to enter the kitchen.”

  Martin’s disrespectful response annoyed Virginia. She prepared to rise to her feet.

  Mr. Wilson motioned to Thomas seated next to her, who belatedly jumped to his feet and pulled her chair back for her. “Mrs. Chilton told that would be the case now I am in residence. Therefore, gentlemen, if you will please bring your dishes to the door of the kitchen, I will be happy to take them from you and carry them to the counter.” Without looking at anyone else at the table, she picked up her dirty dishes.

  “That’s fine for you. This is women’s work. I don’t see why we should be expected to do it.”

  Virginia turned to face Martin. “That is not how it worked at our house. Everyone pitched in after supper, whether indoors or out.”

  Martin turned to Jefferson. “Is that how you do it in the South? The men do women’s work?”

  Jefferson held Virginia’s gaze for several seconds before he shifted in his chair to face the young man. “We live on a farm. Usually, the men go out to finish barn chores. One of my sons generally stays in to help scrape plates so he can take the slop bucket out to the pigs and tend to them. We all have things to do before we can sit down a few minutes at the end of the day.”

  “Unless you gentlemen have barn chores to see to, I’ll meet you by the kitchen.” Virginia carried her dishes to the counter by the sink. By the time she returned to the doorway, most of the men stood in line, prepared to hand her their used plates, glasses, and silverware. She carried all the dishes as quickly as possible to the nearest flat surface to speed the process.

  After the four students, Virginia reached for the dishes carried by Mr. Wilson. In one hand, he held his dinner plate on which he had balanced his dessert plate, silverware, and glass. The other hand held the bowl of cut corn with the bread basket tucked in the crook of his arm. His gaze met hers. Did she detect a glimmer of respect?

  “Good night, Miss Atwell. Welcome to Oberlin. I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow.”

  Jefferson waited until after Avery Wilson started up the stairs before, with a shake of his head, he handed his dishes over. “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Virginia. I need to leave for the train station, but I almost wish I could stay around to make sure that one insolent young man does not forget his manners completely. I’ll bring that big dish over to you.”

  “Thank you. It’s called a tureen. And, Jefferson?” Virginia smiled. “I appreciate all you have done to help me. I feel confident everything will work out fine.”

  After seeing Jefferson off, Virginia followed Drusilla back to the kitchen. “I’ll be happy to help with the dishes.”

  Drusilla brushed off the offer. “Oh, I just put the dishes in to soak and let Cook wash them up in the morning.”

  Virginia checked the large kettle on the stove and discovered it filled almost to the top with steaming water. “You have enough hot water to wash and rinse. I’ll do the dishes up tonight so your cook does not need to face them first thing in the morning.” She turned to her landlady for permission. The woman studied her as if taking her measure.

  “Miss Atwell, are your finances for college already available for you, or are you one of the students planning to work part-time for your tuition?”

  “I had hoped to find some work I could do outside of class and study time. I don’t have anything in mind yet.”

  “Would you consider working for me in the kitchen on Sundays when my cook has the day off once she sets out brunch? Also, I could use a couple of hours a day of domestic help. You see, one of my two ladies that graduated last year worked two hours a day for me doing dishes for the breakfast and supper meals. Since I had no female students, I have been imposing on my cook to take over those tasks. I had planned to wait until the end of the week for you to settle in before I asked, but now seems like a good time.”

  “Yes, I’ll be happy to take on those jobs.”

  “I might like
a lady’s companion part-time to accompany me places and help me with personal things.”

  Virginia hesitated. Outside of class and study times, she needed free afternoons for her research and article-writing. There were also her days she needed to be able to travel to Elyria. “I’m happy to accept the work in the kitchen. However, as far as the lady’s companion position, it would depend on how many hours you have in mind and the days. I attend two classes first thing in the morning five days a week. The rest of my classes are shortly after on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

  “Then you will be available to work afternoons on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.”

  “Not Thursdays. Also, part of Saturdays I need to take care of laundry and other personal tasks. I could be available to work as a companion most Tuesday and Saturday afternoons, if that will be agreeable for you.” Virginia waited while the woman studied her.

  “Tuesday and Saturday afternoons will be agreeable. You can help me with my shopping and other errands those days.” She hesitated and stared intently at Virginia. “What do you do on Thursdays?”

  Virginia worried her lip with her teeth. “I need to reserve that for special projects—to make sure I do not get behind.” Drusilla did not need to know the “behind” referred to her writing business. “If there is a week you wish me to change to a Tuesday instead of Thursday, I’m sure we can work that out.”

  “Then let’s plan on Tuesdays after the noon meal, and maybe a few Saturdays.”

  Virginia suspected the wage Drusilla offered was less than what a man would earn doing comparable work, but she found it satisfactory. After all, she decided she liked Drusilla Chilton. She did not consider spending time with her landlady and helping her run errands or perform personal tasks burdensome employment.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Chapter 12

  ~o0o~