last resort, to be attempted only when all matrimonial prospects were exhausted. Look at Martha Johnson—all the way across the country in Idaho, and what was her honeymoon, according to her aunt, but doing all the dishes her new husband and his brother had dirtied over four or six months, and carrying in and firing all the water herself—there were no servants in Idaho, even uncooperative ones, but she was married, safe and sound. As long as her mother could talk like this, Margaret knew, she wouldn’t have to teach.
Margaret and Lavinia looked on the bright side every day. There was an apple tree (reliably pollinated by the tree next door, so that it bore every year), a pear tree, a rhubarb patch, a raspberry patch, and a strawberry bed. Their old horse Aurelius lived in the barn (replaced on the farm by a much younger and more elegant pair of black Morgan horses from up in Audrain County). A hired man who worked for all the families in the neighborhood took care of Aurelius in the mornings and the evenings, and Margaret gave him apples during the day. They sometimes took him out for a drive to the farm, where Lavinia and Beatrice consulted about Lawrence and the baby, Elliot.
Robert and Beatrice were thoroughly generous with them—every wagon from the farm into town brought them a ham or a sack of potatoes or a peck of apples that they didn’t need. They had an account at every shop. This abundance became a burden to Lavinia—there was only so much apple butter that could be eaten, only so many articles of clothing they could wear, only so many shawls they could use to go out to the barn, only so many quilts they could pile up. And so they became very charitable: If a quilt had the least little fraying or a shawl had fallen into disfavor, they donated it to the church, just to unburden the cupboards a bit. They made rugs for the church, ripping up dresses that were only two or three years old. Every poor family in town became a judge of their pies and jams. If someone fell sick, Lavinia was the first to bring a hot dish to the family, or to offer to take a spell of nursing. Lavinia had been industrious for so many years that her industry had become redundant.
Margaret avoided these activities as best she could. She would wake up, read for an hour or so, eat a leisurely dinner, take a walk, read another chapter. But even though she set this example, still, they baked on Monday, washed on Tuesday, ironed on Wednesday, mended on Thursday, scrubbed on Friday, and blacked the stove on Saturday. They delivered pies and breads to every social event in town. There wasn’t enough work for both of them. Maybe she should take up embroidery? Tatting? Crochet? Watercolor? Music? Lavinia racked her brain. Poetry? A lady was perfectly capable of writing elegant poems containing uplifting sentiments for the local newspaper if she wished. Over in Pettis County, there was a married woman who wrote a regular feature—every two weeks—about etiquette, and in Pike County, there was an old woman, much older than Lavinia, who published her memories of the early days from time to time. Gardening? Margaret helped mulch and bed at the end of the autumn, and started a few plants for the spring. By the end of the winter, Lavinia felt she had exhausted her ideas. Margaret teased her. She would say, “Ship me to Alaska.” (Gold had been discovered in Alaska.) “It might take me a year to get there and a year to get back. Ship me to Cuba. Ship me to China.” Lavinia would say only, “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Several times a week, she sent Margaret to help Beatrice at the farm.
Unbeknownst to Lavinia, who would not have approved, Beatrice had taken up cardplaying, and was having afternoon parties, not in any way dissimilar to those Mrs. Larimer had once had. The first time Margaret was present at one of these, she watched a few hands and helped Marcie, Beatrice’s new hired girl, serve the cakes and tea. They were playing poker.
She would have expected Beatrice to be a cautious player, as befitted someone who was fresh to the game and who also seemed to be preening herself on her matronly respectability, but her sister wasn’t careful at all—she had been doing more at Mrs. Larimer’s than playing