Chapter 25 – A Schoolmistress’s Daily Life
“Josh, how does it look?” Jade finished tying the fabric and slipped the head covering on, ensuring every strand of hair was tucked away. It wasn’t quite a bonnet - the one she owned was meant for winter, and in any case, it wouldn’t accommodate her bun. Her hair was pinned up with a long wooden stick, the sort used in ancient East Asia, not the short metal clips common here.
She had tried learning how other women kept their hair tidy using ribbons and strings, but the process felt needlessly troublesome. Compared to her usual method of scooping her hair into a bun and securing it under a few seconds, it was exhausting.
Since abandoning the hairpin wasn’t an option, the bonnet had been ruled out entirely. In the end, she designed something closer to a pull-on head covering, with fabric draping over the back of her head. She even added an extra panel along the side, so it could cover her neck as well so no separate scarf required.
Josh studied her for a moment, then spoke hesitantly. “Sensei, you look a lot like a nun… The accessories look just like what Sister Miriam wears.”
“...Really?” Jade frowned. Without a proper mirror, she could only guess at her appearance by squinting into the jagged shard of the light refractor. “I didn’t cover my ears, though. Just my hair and my neck… Well, I probably picked up some influence while designing it. Let’s test it today and see how it goes.”
She realised her mistake the moment she entered the dining hall.
“Oh, Light above all, Miss Jade!” Sister Miriam exclaimed.
“Pater Lucis!” Brother James stared. “Miss Jade, have you become one of our sisters?”
Father Rochester blinked. “Miss Jade… I don’t recall trimming your hair.”
“Oh my,” Sister Geenia added thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind a wimple like that myself. It looks quite proper.”
“...” ‘Kay, bad decision. Jade quietly removed the modified head covering and forced a wry, “No, Father, you didn’t trim my hair. I’m just trying to find a better way to keep my hair from the smoke and smog on the street.”
Hair trimming was the ceremony marking one’s entry into the Domus Lucis clergy. Traditionally, the presiding cleric would cut away a small lock – about an inch long – to symbolise dedication to the Light. In earlier centuries, the rite required complete shaving, but over time it had softened into a token gesture.
“You could’ve worn a bonnet–oh.” Realisation dawned on Sister Geenia when her gaze shifted to Jade’s long hairpin. “That’s why you asked us how the other lasses style their hair?”
“Yeah,” Jade shrugged, “Ribbons and strings just don’t suit me”
“You do seem more comfortable with that stick hairpin,” Sister Miriam said. “That day we tried other hairstyles, you looked awkward the entire time.”
“Mm-hm.” Jade sighed. “Guess I’ll stick to head and neck scarves and wash them every day. Gosh, the smog in town…”
“Ah, yes, the smog,” Brother Aaron – the monk responsible for the domus’s farm labour and schedules – said with a weary sigh. “Precisely why I chose to live here instead of any city domus.”
Jade glanced around as others nodded and murmured their agreement, her eyes widened. “Wait, you guys hate it too?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Sister Geenia laughed. “That stench is dreadful.”
“I just never heard any of you complain,” Jade said. “I thought you guys had no opinion about it.”
“Oh, Miss Jade,” Sister Geenia said gently, “we dislike it well enough. We simply can’t do anything about it.”
Brother James nodded. “That is the price of industrialisation, for the sake of a better nation.”
“But…” It’s not healthy…Oh, right. I forgot again, Jade thought, lips tightening. People here don’t care about public health… Or rather, they haven’t realised that it’s something they should care about yet.
Noticing the expectant looks around her – everyone seemed to be waiting for her to finish her sentence – Jade quickly offered a polite smile. “I mean–look at this face mask I made! It blocks most of the soot and some of the odour. At least it’s more practical than that hair-veil-thingy I showed just now, right?”
Brother Aaron took the mask and examined it carefully before nodding. “Indeed. I would need one whenever I enter town.”
The mask passed around the dining table. After everyone had inspected it, they agreed it would be useful when travelling through the smog-choked streets.
Brother James turned to Father Rochester. “Father, I propose we allocate funds to produce these face masks for the domus”
“Approved, James,” Father Rochester replied. “Make plenty. Everyone should have spares, especially for cleaning dust and chimneys.”
“Yes, Father.” Brother James nodded.
After breakfast, while Jade prepared for class, she noticed Josh had been watching her with an unusual thoughtful expression.
“Josh, what’s on your mind?” Jade asked. “You’ve looked like that ever since I put on that veil-thingy.”
“Oh, um…” He scratched his cheek, “I just never thought Sensei would…um, failed?”
“Hm?” Jade tilted her head.
“Well, Sensei, when you worked on the biscuit recipe, it succeeded.” Josh explained, “The iron oven project, we’ve already ordered it. The clarified tallow and the chips stall, everyone loves them. And the offal pies. Even the face mask! But today, the wimple…”
Jade chuckled softly, “Failure is normal, Josh. Knowledge only reduces failure – it doesn’t erase it. Ever noticed that most of my successes are related to food? Mostly pastries?”
Josh nodded slowly.
“Just as I’ve told you, I’m a pastry professional, I’m trained in this,” she continued. “I understand the theory, and when I apply those principles, the results are predictable. Fashion design, however, is not my strength, as you witnessed just now.”
She finished a line on the blackboard before turning back to him. “If I insisted on inventing the perfect hair covering. I’d face repeated failure because I lack the necessary knowledge. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. We should develop our strengths and be mindful of our limitations. You get me?”
Josh fell silent for a moment. “So… if I gain more knowledge, understand more principles… I’ll have fewer weaknesses? And one day, I could have become someone without any?”
Jade blinked, and looked him in the eye. “In theory, yeah, you could say that.”
“But in reality?”
“In reality,” she said, setting down her chalk. “Everyone has weaknesses – even saints. And that’s what makes us human. No one is perfect, Josh.”
Josh murmured quietly, almost to himself, though loud enough for Jade to hear: “For only the Light is the whole and perfect, across time and space, unto the endless.”
“From the Lumen Codex, right?” Jade caught Josh’s nod and shooed him back to his seat. “Yeah, something like that. Now, get ready for class.”
Just as Jade expected the day to pass like any other, Mr. Rich Sponsor arrived once again.
“Miss Jade,” he greeted, removing his hat. His silent secretary followed a step behind as always. “Good to see you well. Father Rochester mentioned you’ve ordered the new oven, and it will be installed this winter?”
“Hey… Um, Sir,” The words Mr. Rich Sponsor almost slipped out, so she quickly squeezed out a polite smile. “Good day to you too, Lord Ashborne. Yeah, and once it’s installed and adjusted, we can increase our production, and more students will have jobs here at the domus.”
“A remarkable milestone, Miss Jade,” he said, clearly impressed as he followed her toward the now-empty classroom. “Shouldn’t you be supervising the bakehouse?”
“Sister Miriam is there, along with my apprentice,” Jade said, gesturing for him to sit. “They can handle the pies and potatoes. The recipes are straightforward.”
“Potatoes,” Ashborne repeated thoughtfully. “I’ve heard about your winter chips project. Why are the students preparing them in the bakehouse rather than the kitchen?”
“I’m thinking of assigning the bakehouse exclusively to projects that fund the school,” Jade said. But before she could elaborate, a knock at the door drew everyone’s attention. It’s Josh.
The young apprentice stood at the entrance, holding a wooden tray. On it sat a tiny stove, three clay cups with a matching teapot, a small pot of water, and a tin. Under the gaze of a nobleman, he looked uncharacteristically timid. “Sensei,” he asked softly, “is this the tea set you wanted?”
He hadn’t expected himself to be this nervous. Last time, when the Lord had watched the baking in the bakehouse, he had worked just fine at Jade's side… Wait. He wasn’t watching me then, Josh realised. He was watching Sensei.
The thought stirred a new wave of respect.
“Yes, Josh,” Jade said, rising to take the tray. “Thank you. I’ll be late to the bakehouse today. Can I trust you to handle things?”
“Of course, Sensei.” Josh bowed briefly to Ashborne before retreating.
Jade struck a match, lit the stove, and poured water into the clay pot. “Can’t afford proper tea yet, so I’ve prepared some flower tea instead. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Flower tea?” Ashborne frowned slightly. When Jade sprinkled dried petals into the cups, understanding dawned. “Ah, you mean tisanes.”
“…tisanes?” Jade echoed. Despite months of diligent reading and conversation, the sheer volume of refined vocabulary in this world still caught her off guard.
Ashborne paused, searching for a suitable explanation. “Herbal tea.”
“Herbal tea?” Jade’s mind immediately jumped to the dark, bitter Chinese brews made from herbs and roots used to treat sickness since ancient times, then shifted to the modern, sweetened “cooling teas” sold at roadside stalls run by old Chinese grandmas… Well, flowers count as herbs too. So Jade nodded, “Yes, you’re right, herbal tea. I should get some for my students, too.”
“Wouldn’t that be an added expense?” Ashborne asked. “I thought Miss Jade preferred to spend profit on better food.”
He watched curiously; he had never seen anyone brew tea using Jade’s method. The cook in his house always served black tea or wine, never these sorts of herbal infusions.
“By spring or summer, the iron oven should generate enough profit for me to spare a penny or two. I’ll hire a few students to pick wildflowers,” Jade replied, gesturing toward the riverbank. “There’s a field nearby where people picnic. Wildflowers grow there in abundance. It shouldn’t be any trouble at all for them to gather what we need.”
Jade paused and nodded to herself. “If I have them gather and dry the flowers weekly, we can store enough for winter. Or maybe…”
She lifted her gaze to him. “Sir, do you think selling herbal tea bags could earn a few extra pennies?”
Ashborne considered this, then shook his head with a small smile. “I can’t say, Miss Jade. I’ve never paid attention to such details. But your ideas have proven sound so far. I think it’s worth a try.”
Jade nodded to herself, making a mental note. “Another market investigation, then.”
“But Miss Jade,” Ashborne continued, “aren’t the profits from the oven and the chips already sufficient? From what you explained to Father Rochester, they should be enough to cover the children’s meal, books, and even teachers’ wages. For a ragged school, I’d say it’s a remarkable achievement.”
“Yeah…” Jade’s tone was nonchalant. “But more resources mean more opportunities. I’m trying to give them alternative ways to earn without risking their lives in dangerous workplaces.”
Ashborne’s expression grew stern as the conversation turned to this topic, “Yes, I’ve heard the reports. Not many, but I knew there have been accidents. Still, among my acquaintances, there is very little concern.”
Jade considered this for a moment, then replied with a faint, sneering smirk. “Either they don’t care about the welfare of humanity’s future, or someone has silenced the news.”
Ashborne’s eyes widened. “Silenced the news? How…?”
Noble-doe, Jade sighed inwardly. Aloud, she said. “Your memory isn’t that bad, is it? Surely you remember why you were forced to stay at home? And the smear campaign against you?”
“...Oh.” Realisation dawned on Ashborne. He frowned. “Still, I doubt they could silence every publisher in Velport. That situation was different from my own.”
“I don’t work in publishing,” Jade shrugged. “And I don’t have connections with heartless factory owners, so how would I know the details? I’m making a bold guess, and bold guesses are supposed to sound a little absurd.”
She waved it off. “Anyway, it’s far too large an issue for a commoner like me to worry about. The most I can do is give my students better options. Jobs that pay more and don’t risk their lives.”
She began counting on her fingers. “Now, some of them can already make biscuits, pies, and fried chips. A few are good at sewing, so maybe there’s something I can do about it. And herbal tea bags…” She paused. “Oh, I’m also thinking of refining a recipe for potato biscuits. How’s that sound?”
“Delightly, Miss Jade,” Ashborne said, smiling.
He found himself genuinely admiring her way of speaking plainly. She planned carefully and followed through with concrete steps – unlike certain tradesmen who styled themselves as gentlemen, luring him into ill-defined ventures. They faltered whenever he pressed for details, let alone proper accounts or projections, like the ones Miss Jade had presented without being asked.
Some friends – now little more than acquaintances – had accused him of becoming overly cautious with money, claiming a nobleman should never be so picky about coins. But all he asked for was a proper plan! He could afford a failed investment; a few hundred pounds were little more than pin money to his sister. That didn’t mean he would accept every dubious proposal without scrutiny.
Perhaps it’s time I reconsider who I call a friend, Ashborne thought, listening as the modest teacher spoke earnestly about her students’ futures.
“I think I focused too much on the girls’ jobs, even though the skills I’m teaching are suitable for both,” Jade said, her brow furrowed. “Now, I don’t think we people in poor neighbourhoods really care about gender bias in labour – unlike the folks uptown – but it seems the students have their own preferences. Many of the boys aren’t showing much interest in what I’ve offered so far…”
“I’m certain you’ll think of something, Miss Jade,” Ashborne said reassuringly. “Just as you did with the tea bags.”
At last, the water came to a boil.
Pale yellow dandelion petals drifted in the clay pot, accompanying the small talk between the patron and the teacher. The warm infusion passed from cups to lips, and then gently, into their stomachs.