Chapter 29 – The Supporters
On the day Jade’s voice finally recovered, she was summoned to Father Rochester’s study once more.
“Miss Jade, these letters are addressed to you,” Father Rochester said, handing her a stack of seven or eight envelopes.
“Huh? That many students are going to be absent from class?” Jade glanced at the first letter, then frowned. “Cursive? I don’t remember any of my students’ parents being able to write cursive.”
Before Rochester could respond, she rubbed the envelope lightly between her fingers. “Wait… this isn’t cheap paper. Do I know these people?”
“Miss Jade, the letters arrived through the post and by hired messengers,” Father Rochester replied. “They are most likely not from your students’ parents.”
Jade flipped through the letters. The handwriting was elegant and refined… and immediately problematic, as she wasn’t particularly good at reading this kind of script.
“Um, Father, may I take a closer look here?” she asked, glancing at the White Robe. “I’m just worried I might misunderstand what they’re trying to say.”
“Of course, Miss Jade,” Father Rochester said, nodding as he returned to his paperwork. As the chief clergy of the domus and principal of the ragged school, he had no shortage of documents to deal with – finances, applications, notices. There were letters awaiting his review and others demanding a reply, all piled endlessly on his desk.
Jade opened the first letter and almost immediately felt a dull ache forming behind her eyes. The sentences were excessively ornate. It said: My dear Miss Jade Lysmere, You must pardon the liberty I take in addressing you, though we are not acquainted. The gathering in the domus where you spoke with such conviction upon the health of the poor–
Though Jade had read serialised stories from old newspapers, she usually chose ones with straightforward language, skipping the flowery and embellished styles – exactly like the one in her hands now. It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand it; it was that doing so required more time and tortured more of her brain cells just to decipher what simple message they were trying to convey beneath layers upon layers of decorative description. After all, for her, this was “old generation” English – and for Light’s sake, she even had problems reading “old generation” Chinese text!
She skimmed the letter, grasping the general idea: someone was expressing support for her stance during the debate. The letter was unsigned, bearing only an occupation at the end: A Governess Serving a Noble Household.
Jade stared at the words for a moment, then looked up. “Father, what’s a governess?”
Father Rochester lifted his gaze, eyebrows rising slightly. He paused before replying, “A governess is a lady employed to educate girls within a private household.”
“Ooh, the female home tutor!” Jade said, understanding dawning on her face. Then she muttered to herself, “They’re called ‘governess’ in English? Why not just be straightforward and call them ‘female home tutors’…”
In Chinese, household tutors – whether female or male – are both called home tutors, differentiated only by the gender prefix. Jade, who was still in the long-term process of expanding her English vocabulary, filed the word away mentally before asking, “So… a teacher whom I don’t know sent me a letter to support me?”
Father Rochester took the letter she was reading and skimmed it before returning it to her. “Indeed, Miss Jade. I suppose the others contain similar sentiments.”
Jade arched a brow. “Well, I supposed some of them might just be scolding me or even bellowing at me for not behaving properly.”
She opened the rest. Five gave her the like button; the remaining few stepped firmly on dislike.
The letters amused her greatly. She had never run a social media account herself, but in her previous life she had watched her bakery boss manage one for their shop. He never handled the kitchen work, dealt only with management. He often came by to discuss the new seasonal designs and menus, and more often than not, to complain about the absurd DMs flooding the inbox. Jade had listened to him rant often enough that she was no stranger to public opinion.
Still, it was amusing. Somehow, in an era without internet or social media, she had collected both likes and dislikes. So, that makes me somewhat of an influencer or KOL now! -heh-
Kind of hilarious, considering she’d become famous for debating a doctor about public health instead of for her biscuits…
[Sure, your mood takes a hit when you receive a hater’s DM. But hey, just ignore it. Focus on the love, the rainbows, and the likes from the other! Everything will be fine!]
That had been her boss’s honest advice. So she adopted it now and calmly tossed the negative letters into Father Rochester’s paper bin.
“Thank you, Father,” Jade said, noticing the intrigued look he gave her as she discarded the letters. “By the way, do you think we could get a discount – or perhaps round down the price – if we buy multiple copies of dictionaries?”
“Brother James would be better suited to answer that,” Father Rochester replied with a nod. “But yes, bulk purchases generally receive a discount.”
“Great.” Jade snapped her fingers. “Next month’s project allocation will go toward dictionaries.”
“A wise choice, Miss Jade.” The White Robe regarded her thoughtfully. “And I assume you will be remaining in the domus for the rest of the month?”
“And probably next month too… I suppose I’ll be indoors for the entire winter,” Jade sighed. “Sorry, Father. I shouldn’t have argued with those people. You’re receiving complaints, huh.”
“Pay them no mind,” Father Rochester waved a hand dismissively. “You have done nothing wrong, Miss Jade. It is my duty to provide shelter for those in need. You do our students good, and that is all that matters.”
Jade nodded. “Now that I’m free from running the stall, I’ll have more time to consider career paths for the students.”
She began counting on her fingers. “Some of them are capable of baking and frying; they could become street vendors or kitchen helpers. I’ll make sure their skills are solid. I know Mr. Anderson intends for some of the higher performers to become clerks or office workers… Honestly, I don’t think sending the girls into service is ideal. It’s too restrictive and too isolating. Who knows what happens to them behind closed doors? So I’m considering teaching them to forage for wildflowers and herbs, or even to plant them here.”
She gestured vaguely. “You know, the bare corners and borders of the land where nothing useful grows? We could use those small patches to plant herbs and wild flowers.”
Father Rochester smoothed his moustache. “Yes, Miss Jade, I can see this would benefit the students. But I presume you have a purpose beyond merely teaching them to plant?”
“Herbal tea bags.” Jade rubbed her thumb against two fingers in a universal sign of money. “Father, extra income. For them and for the school. They’ll learn to recognise the plants, how to dry and store them properly, how to mix them for good taste and proper medicinal effect, and how to cultivate them. Maybe some of them could become gardeners in the future. Or at least sell herbal tea blends and earn a living.”
Father Rochester nodded approvingly “A worthy intention, and a brighter prospect for the children.”
“I’ll work on the illustration so they can identify foragable flowers and herbs.” Jade winked at the White Robe. “Father, I really don’t have time to worry about whatever is happening outside the domus.”
Father Rochester gave a soft chuckle, finally at ease. The young woman’s resilience was far stronger than he had expected.
Though Jade ignored the rumours circulating about her debate on lung disease, Mr. Anderson and her students faithfully reported every whisper they overheard.
“Little Benny wore a face mask while sweeping chimneys today!” one child announced. The “little Benny” in question was a chimney sweep who lived near their street. “His master isn’t that bad, I think. He gave them all masks before sending them down the deep chimney.”
“I saw ladies wrapping scarves around their faces!”
“A good sir at the club spoke in favour of Miss Jade!”
“They were discussing it at the pub…”
“Those men in stiff starch shirts kept talking like they know how horrible chimneys are. Miss Jade has never been wrong!”
Jade gently raised a hand to stop them. “Now, now. I know you agree with me. But remember what I told you? Don’t–”
“Don’t argue with people outside the school,” the children recited in unison, but one of them pouted. “But they are bad-mouthing you, Miss Jade! How could we not say a thing?”
“I know, I know.” Jade patted their heads. “If you must reply, just reply politely with something like ‘time will tell who holds the truth’, or ‘we believe the scientific mind will correct all wrongs’. Don’t argue, and don’t provoke or irritate anyone, because – what’s our goal?”
“Earn more coins for food and books!”
“And how do we do that?”
“Smile at customers, speak kind words, and salute them politely!”
“Exactly.” Jade nodded firmly. “Ignore the words. Focus on earning food and books.”
She clapped her hands lightly. “Now – good news. The iron oven will be installed this winter. So the earnings we’re making now, after fees and emergency savings, will go toward your meals. What would you like for breakfast tomorrow?”
“A broth? Bone broth with meat scraps!”
“Apple pie, Miss Jade! Sweet apple pies!”
“Can we have cheese?”
Jade listened to every suggestion and nodded. “Okay. We’ll bake apple pies today instead of offal pies, and stew a pot of bone broth overnight. That will be tomorrow’s breakfast. A small treat for all of you who’ve worked so hard for the lessons. Agreed?”
“Agreed!” The children cheered, their thoughts of defending their teacher finally replaced by anticipation of food.
However, Jade knew she could not allow the situation to continue disturbing her students. She might be able to restrain them for now, but not forever. And she was reluctant to reject their warm intention to defend her – it would only hurt their feelings.
The best way to draw attention away from one spotlight is to create a brighter one elsewhere. Now, what other bombastic news could I give the public that has nothing to do with me… Just as Jade was contemplating this, she looked up and saw Mr. Anderson knocking on her classroom door.
Lessons had ended, and Jade was still holding a piece of chalk, using the blackboard as draft paper while planning her “new spotlight”.
She quickly grabbed the damp cloth at the side and wiped her hands clean. “Mr. Anderson, is there anything I can help you with?”
“Yes, Miss Jade. I would appreciate your assistance in marking my students’ homework.” Mr. Anderson smiled gently. “Would you spare some time to help this old man?”
“Of course. I’d be happy to.” She immediately sent Josh to inform the bakehouse that she would be late today, then followed Mr. Anderson to his classroom.
Although Jade had been teaching at the ragged school for some time, she had not truly had the opportunity to work closely with Mr. Anderson. He was far more experienced. He taught servants at the House he served, and he already had a structured syllabus – adapted from other ragged schools – to suit current expectations.
His teaching style did not overlap with Jade’s. The students she had taken over were those unable to adapt to his methods, so she could not simply use his materials as reference. His students were solemn and disciplined, in contrast to hers, who were often lively, noisy, and scattered.
Still, her methods must have had merit. Father Rochester had mentioned that Mr. Anderson had requested her syllabus as reference materials. He began adopting her examination and homework system, then her semester structure – the one that accounted for spring ploughing and autumn harvest, granting students seasonal breaks.
Other than that, she and Mr. Anderson rarely conversed. They did not share common topics. Yet she could see that he had grown increasingly pleased with her performance. Occasionally, when their eyes met, he would nod or offer a small smile.
As for why he sought her help instead of instructing his pupil-teacher* to mark the papers… based on what Jade had observed here, it was highly possible he was subtly expressing support for her amid the lung disease debate.
Educated people here just love to talk in circles; they seem to dislike speaking or acting straightforwardly with one another… Jade mused, her head beginning to ache. She was deeply bothered by this circuitous way of communicating, and she strongly suspected that those of even higher status would be far more indirect.
She entered the larger classroom and took a seat across from Mr. Anderson’s desk. Several stacks of papers lay neatly arranged, each weighted down to prevent them from scattering.
“These are the homework assignments my students have submitted,” Mr. Anderson said, nudging his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “I had intended to go through them all today, but I received an invitation this afternoon. I’ll need them marked as soon as possible. I hope you do not mind me imposing upon your time, Miss Jade, especially with your projects ongoing.”
“Oh, it’s quite alright. My current projects can run without me now.” Jade waved a dismissive hand and picked up one of the stacks. “The next stage of the iron oven project will begin after it’s installed. I’ll need to test the temperature, adjust the timing, refine the recipes, perhaps develop new ones. Until then, Sister Miriam can manage the students perfectly well. There’s no need to worry.”
Mr. Anderson handed her the sample answer sheet along with a bottle of red ink – the proper kind, not her makeshift version made from beetroot juice. “Miss Jade, though it may not be my place to say… would it not be wiser to retain full oversight of your projects?”
Jade looked at him in mild surprise before smiling. “One day, I will leave the school. Teaching isn’t truly my expertise. So before I do, I want what I’ve built here to continue smoothly without me. Of course, I may visit from time to time and offer suggestions. But by then, it will be up to whoever is in charge to decide what benefits the school. I’m content as long as the projects serve the students.”
“Miss Jade.” Mr. Anderson held her gaze for a moment and sighed softly. “You are giving this school a legacy that may endure for years. It would be a pity if you were to depart.”
“Not so soon, Mr. Anderson.” Jade chuckled lightly. “I’ll be here for at least a year or two, perhaps even three. We shall see how things unfold. Who knows? Maybe the Light has other plans for me.”
“Very well, Miss Jade. I am relieved to know you have considered your decision carefully.” He nodded. “Now then, shall we begin?”
“Of course.” Jade dipped her pen into the red ink and began working through the papers. In her mind, a cheerful BGM started playing, accompanying her good mood.