Chapter 30 – The Patron’s Sister
“Lord Ashborne, Sir,” Jade said, looking at the nobleman sitting across from her with a deadpan expression. “Don’t you think you’ve been coming here a little too often? I mean, don’t you have other amusements to enjoy? I read in the newspaper that the orchestra has been quite a hit, and the music hall has invited some renowned performers. I thought you might prefer that sort of thing.”
“Unfortunately, I have never found such entertainments particularly engaging.” Ashborne’s lips curved into a polite, handsome smile. Jade found it faintly irritating. He looked perfectly refined – but she had a bold suspicion that she had become the entertainment he found interesting lately.
“Besides, with winter setting in, most social gatherings have ceased,” he added. “Many of my acquaintances have returned to their respective parishes until the Spring Ball is announced.”
Jade paused, then arched brow. “No club activities suited to your taste?”
“They have seldom held much interest for me.” Ashborne shrugged lightly. Though he attended certain clubs to maintain social ties, he found little pleasure in gambling, card games, or gossiping about ballet dancers and opera singers. Nor did he feel particularly ambitious when discussions drifted toward politics – even in leisure hours. His mind tended to wander whenever conversation turned to the quiet bargains and rivalries conducted beneath the table.
“Come to think of it,” he continued, “my sister and I share the same sentiment: many things grow dull when winter arrives.” He recalled his sister sitting by the window before his departure, a book resting unopened upon her lap, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. Even her latest purchase from the bookstore had failed to hold her attention.
“Winter blues? Hm…” Jade murmured, retrieving the phrase from some dusty corner of her memory. It was the sort of affliction she had never expected to encounter. Back in her previous life, she had lived in an equatorial country with sunshine all year round. How could one suffer from winter melancholy under endless blue skies? But here, beneath a perpetual ceiling of smog and cloud… maybe she should mind her own mental health as well. Does staying near the fireplace help?
Ashborne caught the phrase and found it curiously apt, if somewhat rustic. Before he could comment on it, Jade asked, “What do you and your sister enjoy in common?”
He was uncertain why she inquired, but answered nonetheless. “Reading. My sister reads incessantly. She frequents the bookshop for every new release. I find her romance novels intolerably dull. Eleanor, my sister, is far too enamored with those dreamy fancies. At gatherings, she rarely engages – she prefers to retreat to her chamber.”
Ah, an introverted book nerd, Jade noted mentally.
“I am more entertained by scientific journals,” Ashborne continued, “Memoirs of naval and military campaigns also appeal to me. They offer valuable insight into the wider world. I often find myself imagining – had I been the man in question, how would I have acted?”
An RPG gamer? Too bad there aren’t any games here… Wait. An idea stormed into shape within Jade’s mind, but she quickly shook her head. No, that would be far too complicated. Better think of something simpler… to serve as the other spotlight.
Jade lifted her gaze, her eyes sparkling. “Dear good sir, would you be open to a very interesting suggestion?”
Ashborne raised a brow. “I’m all ears, Miss Jade.”
“And this is the result of your visit today, brother?” Eleanor accepted the roughly bound stack papers that Ashborne had just placed – somewhat too enthusiastically – upon the table.
She bore a strong resemblance to her brother, though her expression was cooler, touched with a habitual reserve, unlike her brother, who always wore a bright smile when surrounded by people he was comfortable with. Raising a brow, she added, “I was under the impression you had gone to observe the peculiar specimen at the domus once again.”
“Elly, you shouldn’t describe Miss Jade as a specimen, the way you do your flowers,” Ashborne said, a slight furrow forming between his brows.
“That’s the most accurate description I can think of when I recall your expression whenever you mention her.” Eleanor lounged on the couch, her chin propped on her palm. “You speak of her the way others watch an opera singer on stage. She’s rare. Interesting. A spectacle – though it would be vulgar to call her one. She’s better than that. Her conduct appears humble, even kind, at least to your eyes. Specimen is the most neutral word I can manage.”
“She’s a friend, Elly,” Ashborne said, displeased by Eleanor’s choice of words. “She treats me as one, and I intend to honour that.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened as she straightened. “A friend? Is she trying to marry into our family?”
“No, Elly.” Ashborne sighed. He couldn’t entirely blame his sister; few believed a man and a woman could be friends without romance. But he could see clearly enough that Jade had no interest in him – if any, she seemed irritated by his frequent visits, which disrupted her time spent devising her next fundraising project.
“She’s devoted to the children.” He gestured at the stack of bound papers. “In fact, this was her idea, to keep me occupied and out of her way.”
“I highly doubt that,” Eleanor replied lightly. “An educated woman with a strange accent, ignorant of our etiquette yet sharp and witty? She fits perfectly the sort of child born out of wedlock, hidden beyond the kingdom by a high-ranking noble father. Perhaps she crossed oceans and lands for him – or in search of fortune and recognition, to secure a better marriage… Such an ambitious lady, dear brother. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had already marked you as her suitor.”
Ashborne let out a slow breath. “Elly, either your mind has been thoroughly poisoned by the romance novels you’ve been devouring, or I must assume you’re still in a foul mood over that schemer.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together.
Ashborne chose not to press further. He had come to cheer her, not provoke her. Swiftly, he opened the bound pages and held them out. “Read this. You’ll understand.”
Eleanor took the papers with languid curiosity and scanned the opening lines – then froze. “What’s this?”
“A very rough fantasy outline.” Ashborne smirked. “Miss Jade proposed organising a competition – inviting authors to write stories based on these settings. I had no idea she possessed such imagination! It’s a pity she refused my offer to commission her directly, but she agreed to the idea of commissioning others.”
The papers bore two distinct hands. One was messy, filled with arrows and branching lines that mapped the flow of ideas – unfamiliar to Eleanor. The other was neat and orderly, responsible for most of the written content. Mr. Trent’s hand, she recognised at once; she had seen it often enough in the notes her brother sent her.
The premise itself was simple: a world where supernatural power existed, and a hero – chosen by fate, whether he knew it or not – was destined to save it. He would face a villain, an evil lord who sought dominion through fear and violence. Along his journey, the hero would encounter fractured fractions and hostile forces, persuading some, battling some, in a realm where virtue had crumbled, morality lay in ruins, and justice survived only as a legend…
What astonished Eleanor most were the countless paths branching from the central plot:
– Friendships forged along the journey, only to end in betrayal.
– A formal companion who defected to the forces of evil.
– A betrothed hero torn between duty and the lady he encountered – whom should he choose if securing an alliance required marriage?
– A powerless rebel, willing to sacrifice himself to save his village.
– A slave with no supernatural gift, who manipulated two kingdoms while sustaining the illusion that he possessed a rare and formidable power.
– The tragic past of the evil lord – how the world had shaped him into the very monster it feared, a tragedy even the savior might acknowledge.
– A woman who weaponised her own body, climbing through seduction to avenge her dead – yet flawless – fiance.
– A pet animal from the villain’s army, twisted into a beast for the sole purpose of avenging its fallen master by turning on the hero.
– …
Some threads were no more than scattered keywords. Yet the world implied by them – kingdoms of mystical races, each holding perspectives at odds with humankind, yet forced to entangle and ally for survival, each guarding its own interests – was vast.
Eleanor could scarcely imagine how magnificent the tale might be if ever completed.
At last, she understood why Ashborne was so certain that this threadbare schoolmistress harboured no designs upon him. She found herself agreeing, reluctantly. A mind capable of carrying such a world, of dissecting the darkness within humanity so clearly, was unlikely to stoop to petty scheming. Such a person would not reduce herself to using another girl as a stepping stone…
Eleanor looked at her brother. “Surely a handsome reward could persuade her to write it for us? I must read this story.”
Ashborne shook his head. “Miss Jade refused outright. She insists her prose lacks elegance. She even showed me the passages she writes for the schoolchildren… Though I hold her in high regard, I was forced to concede the point.”
Disappointment settled over Eleanor. A version compiled by other authors might never capture the original version. She might never know what story truly lived behind those scribbled outlines.
“However, Miss Jade has inspired me with another suggestion,” Ashborne continued, lifting his chin slightly. “Since we must endure a long wait for the competition result, she suggests we commission several authors – both men and women – to develop the world into separate series, delivering a chapter to us each day.”
Eleanor’s eyes brightened. “A set of serials – written solely for us?”
“And we could watch how their narratives intertwine,” Ashborne said, snapping his fingers, “Spot their inconsistencies, expose their flaws – have a laugh at their expense. Oh, dear sister, I’ve been thrilled ever since I got this idea from Miss Jade. How did she put it? Creating a ‘story universe’, establishing a fixed core, then allowing different authors to roam freely within. Each work remains distinct, yet contributes to a single, vast tapestry.”
Eleanor could imagine the delight of reading such stories – perhaps even overseeing such a grand literary enterprise herself.
Then, practicality intervened.
Lady Eleanor Ashborne made a swift calculation. “My pin money would scarcely suffice to hire even a handful of authors to build this universe…”
Ashborne puffed out his chest. “Praise me, dear sister. I have long awaited a kind word from my shy little sibling.”
“...” For the first time, Eleanor found her brother insufferably smug. Yet for the sake of the stories she was soon to have in hand, she bit her lip and tugged at his sleeve. “Please, dearest brother – the most handsome and generous lord in the entire kingdom – show mercy to your little sister, who now understands that she possesses the finest brother in the world…”
Ashborne beamed, brighter than she had ever seen him, and nodded in satisfaction. “I have instructed Trent to search for suitable candidates. It will take a few days to negotiate terms and send out invitations. I intend to gather them at father’s clubhouse to discuss the matter in detail.”
Eleanor released his sleeve, looking content. Her gaze drifted back to the page describing the competition, and raised a brow. “If we are already to receive commissioned chapters, is it still necessary to organise a writing competition?”
Ashborne smirked. “Dearest sister, would you not be delighted to see what a newly discovered author might produce if granted such an opportunity?”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Consider it – you would be the one who discovered a rising talent, the one who offered them the chance to shine in the annals of literature. Your name might one day appear in their memoirs. They would cherish the opportunity you bestowed upon them; without you, they might never have reached such heights…”
He knew the idea would appeal to Eleanor. She often read interviews with celebrated authors who spoke with gratitude about the editors and patrons who first recognised their promise.
Miss Jade’s words echoed in his mind:
“Imagine the reputation you would gain if you hosted this competition properly, Sir. I don’t know whether you care for such things, but no one refuses a good reputation, right? It would broaden your connections, widen your access to information… And it may prove useful one day. Say, for instance, if you wish to check the family of a future brother-in-law, to see if he’s validated or something. One must be cautious. I have read news about love scams… I mean, romantic fraud. So, you’d better take care of your sister, you know? Reading will do her good, but she needs to broaden her genres…”
The news reports Miss Jade had mentioned must have unsettled her greatly; she had spoken at length on the matter once she learned he had a younger sister.
In any case, seeing the gloom lifted from Eleanor’s expression as she eagerly began planning the competition pleased Ashborne immensely. He resolved then to make the event as grand and far-reaching as possible.