Chapter 27 – A Debate Between A Doctor and A Schoolmistress
“Miss Jade, someone has left you a calling card.”
Jade was summoned to Father Rochester’s study in the evening, after she had finished selling all the chips on the street and returned to the domus. Before knocking, she noticed that her clothes were tinted with the greasy scent of fried food, and a faint trace of smog. She hastily brushed herself off with her sleeves, knocked, and entered.
A card was handed to her.
She took it, flipped it over, and read it with a dumbfounded expression. “What’s a calling card? Is this a business card or something? Dr. Lucas Collins, 15 Quinn Street… Who is this person?”
“Business card?” the White Robe frowned, then smoothed his expression. “Do you mean a trade card – those exchanged between merchants? No. A calling card is quite different. It is left by a visitor who wishes to call upon you.”
“Call me?” Jade’s confusion deepened. “I thought we didn’t have a phone. Is this the name of someone who just called for me?”
Rochester tilted his head slightly. “What is the ‘phone’ you referred to, Miss Jade? I have never heard the word.”
“Um…” Jade glanced aside, her mind racing to fabricate an excuse.
The White Robe, sympathetic to the young woman’s supposed loss of memory, kindly allowed the silence and chose to ignore the strangeness. He waved it off and continued calmly, “A calling card is left when a visitor pays a visit but finds the person absent.”
“Huh…” Jade still could not understand the necessity. In her mind, the visitor could simply leave a message and have someone pass it on once she returned.
With a sigh, Father Rochester patiently explained the meaning of leaving a calling card, along with the social customs and etiquette surrounding the practice.
It took nearly half an hour before Jade finally grasped the tedious concept. When realisation struck, she exclaimed, “That guy! That fella who accused me of not teaching properly at the stall! What’s his problem? He looked like some classy gentleman who didn’t want anything to do with peasants. Why would he even wanna waste time starting a… I mean, a debate with me?”
From the way Jade’s unique accent slipped, Father Rochester quietly assumed she had meant something closer to “argue” or “start a fight”, rather than “debate”, which sounded far more refined. Miss Jade’s choice of words had always been blunt, almost peasant-like, though everyone could see the effort she put into improving her speech. Judging by her expressive face, he guessed she did not welcome the visitor.
And Jade did not wait another second before reporting what had happened at the stall, confirming the White Robe’s suspicions.
He considered this for a moment. “Some intellectuals take great pride in their expertise and guard their scientific beliefs rather fiercely.” He gestured toward the card in Jade’s palm. “This gentleman resides on Quinn Street. As far as I know, many renowned doctors and medical chemists live there.”
Jade stared at him in astonishment. “He’s a doctor, and he doesn’t even know how people get lung problems? How did he get his doctor license – by bribery?” She scoffed. “And he dares to come here because of his stupidity? Oh, I’ll let him know exactly how stupid he is, alright! Paper and pen, Father. I’m writing a letter to Lord Ashborne.”
“A letter?” Father Rochester asked, already reaching for the writing materials.
“I need to borrow a microscope. He’s got a lab, right?” Jade scribbled furiously. “Since he was so bored that he dropped by just to make small talk with me so frequently, he must be very interested in watching a live debate between a doctor and a poor ragged schoolteacher.”
Indeed, when Lord Ashborne received Jade’s letter – attached to Father Rochester’s own, detailing the strange calling card and Jade’s reaction – the patron of the ragged school found himself intrigued by the incident between his future consultant and the unknown doctor.
“Trent, fetch me a microscope from the laboratory,” Ashborne ordered. “And ask Dr. Blackwood whether he, and any of our chemists, would care to observe an interesting little spectacle.”
On the appointed date and time mentioned in the letter, Ashborne arrived slightly early. He was accompanied by his secretary who carried a thick notebook – now specially dedicated to recording Miss Jade’s conversations with the Lord – as well as his laboratory director and three of his chemists. One of them carefully carried a box containing the microscope and the necessary glassware.
They found Jade in her classroom, dragging tables aside to clear space for the debate.
“Miss Jade!” Ashborne glanced around the room. “Isn’t your apprentice meant to be assisting you?”
“Lord Ashborne?” Jade lifted her gaze and froze when she noticed the group following behind him. “He’s… selling at the stalls… Um, I didn’t expect you’d bring so many people with you today.”
“Oh, Miss Jade,” Ashborne replied, one brow lifting slightly. “You did not imagine I would let an opportunity to hear a lecture slip away, did you? My chemists were most impressed by your suggestions. You may ask them yourself.”
“My… suggestions?” Jade glanced at the chemists in bewilderment. They returned her look with polite smiles, which were noticeably warmer than the reaction she usually received, even from those who already knew she was merely a ragged schoolteacher. She paused, then realized. “Oh! You mean the cosmetic–I mean, the animal testing? Oh, it’s nothing, I’m not the one doing the testing anyway. You’re the ones doing all the hard work. We should be thanking you for making sure things are safe. Not everyone can handle the impact of doing animal testing.”
“Miss Jade,” Dr. Blackwood said, briefly clasping the hand she had subconsciously extended as he approached, “we are very pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Your insight has offered us a new perspective on our research.”
With a blank mind, Jade returned the handshake – briefly and awkwardly, quite unlike the firm grips she remembered from her previous life - before doing the same with the other chemists. “Well… glad it helps. Anyway, please, have a seat!”
Snapping herself out of the strange hand-shaking moment, she hurried to lead them toward a side table prepared with biscuits and herbal tea. “Oh, gimme a second. I’ll get ya’ll some chairs and desserts…”
Once everything had been arranged and everyone settled, Jade finally had a short moment to examine the microscope of this era. She had expected it to be bulky and inconvenient, but she had not anticipated it being this difficult to use.
“I thought about the light and picked this spot on purpose, for the best sunlight reflection,” she muttered to herself under her breath. “But I never knew it would be so blurry even with the best lighting… Is it the glass? Gosh, then I’ll never be able to show them the tiny pockets. Well, they should already know about those, right? Or maybe I should just lightly touch the glass with soot to collect the particles…”
“What tiny pockets?” Ashborne asked. He and Dr. Blackwood had been standing close enough to overhear her babbling.
“Hm?” Jade looked up. “Oh, I mean… Um. I’m not sure what the doctors have read, but they do understand body parts, right? Like how the lungs work, what those little pockets are for… I know there’s a term for it, but I can’t remember… D’you know? No? Well, never mind. So here’s the thing…”
The term Jade had forgotten was “alveoli”. Forgetting the word, however, did little to hinder her explanation. She rose from the microscope, reached for the blackboard, and picked up a piece of chalk.
She was no gifted illustrator, but her experience as a cake decorator had given her a serviceable level of drawing skill. It was enough for her to sketch the structure of the lungs – the alveoli, the surrounding blood vessels, the exchange of oxygen, and how the alveoli provided a large surface area for that exchange…
“That is a false statement!”
The shout rang out from near the entrance, where four men had just stepped into the classroom. They appeared to have been listening for some time, unnoticed while Jade had been absorbed in her explanation to Ashborne and his men.
Father Rochester stood beside them, evidently the one who had led them inside. He looked rather taken by the speed and intensity of Jade’s lecture.
Jade glanced at the White Robe and gave him a brief nod before turning her attention to the voice of dissent. To her surprise, it was not the man she had encountered at her stall, but a shorter gentleman standing beside him – one who occasionally,and rather subtly, cast glances toward Mr. Rich Sponsor.
The man who was meant to face her, meanwhile, stood with his arms crossed, studying her drawings on the blackboard in silence.
“What would a woman like you know about lung diseases?” the shorter man declared again. “Wearing a cloth lining to block soot? Absurd! Lung diseases are caused by miasma. They cannot be prevented by something as trivial as a piece of cloth!”
Though irritation flared within her, Jade took a deep breath and decided to begin with introductions. “Lord Ashborne, the gentleman in the navy-coloured coat is Dr. Lucas Collins. He’s the person I’m meant to discuss today’s topic with. Dr. Collins, this is Lord Ashborne, our school’s patron, along with his secretary and laboratory chemists. He is here because he found today’s topic of great interest.”
After handling the situation in what she considered a sufficiently polite manner, Jade fixed the shorter man with a glare and said, “Normally, I do not respond to people who don’t even state their name first, Mr. No-Name. But I’m going to be kind today, Mr. No-Name. I’ll explain my ideas logically, in a way that should make perfect sense to anyone with an ounce of common sense.”
The shorter man flushed with rage.
And thus, the debate began, primarily between Jade and this Mr. Noname, who later introduced himself as Dr. Jonathan Hopspread. Dr. Lucas Collins and his companions raised objections from time to time, but Jade’s nerves were entirely – and quite literally – set ablaze by this Dr. Hopspread alone.
Anyone passing by Jade’s classroom could hear the uproar clearly. And on that particular day, the number of people passing by was far greater than usual.
Jade snapped. “Well then, genius, why don’t you explain to everyone here why chimney sweepers suffer far more lung problems than others – if, as you claim, bad odour is the cause? People in Velport breathe in far worse smells every day, yet they die less often than chimney sweepers. What’s your reasoning, huh?”
Dr. Hopspread shot back. “If soots were truly so deadly, all of Velport would have perished long ago! In fact, those of us living in an industrialised city possess stronger lungs than weak country folks. Their deaths occur because they are weaker!”
Jade retorted. “That’s because concentration! Dude, don’t tell me you don’t know what concentration means, or I’ll seriously start suspecting you bribed your way into your position, Sir! Chimney sweeper inhale far more soot than you city folks ever will. That concentration is why their lung problems are worse!”
Hospread said coldly. “You are conflating causes, young miss. The danger these labourers face comes from the filthy lodgings and damp basements they live in, alongside their improper diets – not from some trivial soot floating in the air.”
Jade fired back. “Then do you have scientific proof that every case of lung diseases comes from the causes you mentioned? We’re talking about science here. Use your evidence, your logic, your reasoning, and your common sense, and tell me: when patients with lung disease cough up mucus that’s dark grey and mixed with blood, where does the dark grey part come from?”
Hospread replied stiffly, “That dark sputum, results from ulceration and damaged lung tissue – the product of chronic disease – not from mere coal dust deposits.”
Jade said sharply. “Great. Then let’s talk about lung tissue! Ya’ll have used microscopes before, right? Ya’ll should know how tiny soot particles are–”
Hospread interrupted. “You are straying away from your own argument, young miss. I see no connection between coal dust and microscopy.”
Jade almost laughed. “No connections?! We’re talking about the delicate, fragile little pockets in our lungs! They’re extremely vulnerable to intrusion, and you say there’s no connection?”
“Some coal dust can hardly be considered an intrusion–”
Jade snapped. “Then I’ll dump you into the river and you tell me water isn’t an intrusion to the lungs! Water, goes into your lungs, you die. So why is that, soots, goes into your lungs, and you don’t die? Tell me the logic here!”
……
Josh, who had managed to finish selling the chips early and returned ahead of schedule, stood frozen before the closed classroom door, hesitating over whether he should enter. He had never known his Sensei was capable of roaring across an entire classroom – her voice still audible even over the loud retorts of grown men.
She had never scolded them. Never shouted. At most, she raised her voice slightly when the class became too noisy.
“Never knew Miss Jade was so knowledgeable before today, eh?” Brother Milo – the youngest monk in the domus, probably just a few years older than Josh –- said as he passed by the corridor, giving Josh’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry. Lord Ashborne is inside. He’ll keep things under control.”
Josh nodded. After a moment of thought, he lifted his head. “I’ll prepare honey with mint. Sensei said it’s good for the throat.”
“Best to,” Brother Milo agreed. “At this rate, Miss Jade will likely lose her voice by tomorrow if she keeps shouting like that.”