Chapter 34 – Before Departing to the Clubhouse
Jade glared at Mr. Secretary, who was standing beside a polished luxury carriage, gesturing for her to enter..
She rubbed her briskly, ensuring she was fully awake and not caught in some absurd dream, then lifted her gaze. “Excuse me, I think my ears didn’t function well just now. What did you just say?”
“Lord Ashborne, patron of the school – and your friend – invites you to attend a new form of salon game,” Mr. Trent replied in his usual expressionless tone. “It is to be hosted at The Silver Acorn.”
“He–but I’ve already explained the rules to him! Ugh!” Jade facepalmed for a second before glancing back at Mr. Trent. “It’s not being held in his house?”
“It is a clubhouse belonging to Lord Wexleigh,” Mr. Trent said.
“A clubhouse?!” Jade gestured at her daily attire – the patched dress still dusted with chalk from the lesson she had just finished. She exclaimed, “Does he actually expect me to go to a clubhouse in this?”
“My Lord had made all the necessary arrangements, Miss Jade,” Mr. Trent replied calmly.
He had begun to understand why his employer enjoyed teasing the ragged schoolteacher. Her animated indignation was rarely seen within their circle – and, admittedly, he did not entirely object to witnessing it.
Jade narrowed her eyes. “He made all the arrangements, huh? Informed every other guest about the event, but just happened to miss the invitation card for me, huh?”
“Deliberately,” Mr. Trent confirmed with a small nod.
Jade snapped. “He did that on purpose! Let me guess… He knew I’d reject the invitation, so instead of trying to persuade me,he decided to just drag me into the party, eh?”
“In essence, yes.” Mr. Trent observed her pacing in increasingly tight circles. “Time is advancing, Miss Jade. We ought to depart.”
“Clubhouse. A huge venue.” She bit her lip. “Which means he has invited a lot of guests, right? Let me guess again – gentlefolks? I thought it was considered inappropriate for a woman to enter such places because they belonged to men?”
“My Lord invited primarily authors,” Mr. Trent explained. “Ladies and gentlemen are welcome to attend with their spouses. Some may bring their elder sons and daughters. The invitation described the event as ‘a new form of storytelling suitable for all ages possessing logical faculties and creative imagination’.”
That did not reassure her.
Jade disliked dealing with the wealthy in this era – at least not now, when she was so clearly labeled a “lower-class woman” by society’s standards. This was an era expected people to remain within their spheres: the poor with the poor, the rich with the rich. Anyone who crossed the border would be examined, measured, and judged, to see if you’re “worthy” or “wanting”.
If she appeared at that clubhouse, she would invite scrutiny. Some nouveau riche, not yet schooled in aristocratic civility, might sneer outright. She lacked refinement by their standards. She did not possess the elegant occupation considered fashionable or respectable. She might not even be deemed worthy of direct address.
When she first arrived, she had not understood these divisions. Now she did. Selling biscuits and chips at the stall had taught her more about class boundaries than any book or news article could.
It was an unspoken rule. And she had no intention of breaking it if she desired a peaceful life.
And now, what was that Rich Sponsor doing?! That’s totally inappropriate, and he should know it! Jade grunted inwardly.
If she were already established – if she owned a thriving confectionery and needed wealthy patrons – she would, of course, have braced herself and approached them with thick skin. That would be a calculated business decision.
But that was her future plan, and she did not want to irritate any of her future customers now. Who knows if some narrow-minded people would remember her years from now? She would never underestimate the longevity of grudges; she had, in fact, encountered more than one vindictive “Karen” in her previous life.
Jade folded her arms and exhaled slowly. Now. How should I reject the invitation…
She immediately seized Josh’s arm, “I’m taking my apprentice with me. Surely he didn’t prepare for him as well? I would very much need him to be with me at all times. In that case, we’re probably not suitable to get near the clubhouse, don’t you agree?”
Josh, caught entirely off guard, stared at her in surprise. But after days under her instruction, he understood her well enough to nod promptly. “Yes, Sensei required my assistance for many matters. If we depart, our absence would disturb the bakehouse schedule.”
“Though my Lord did not anticipate Mr. Brickville accompanying you,” Mr. Trent said evenly, gesturing once more toward the carriage, “arrangements can certainly be made for him as well, Miss Jade. Now, if you would. The guests are greatly anticipating today’s salon. The winter has been rather uneventful this year. Surely Miss Jade would not deprive them of their entertainment?”
A silence stretched between Mr. Trent, who had been holding the carriage door, and Jade who, glared at him while still gripping Josh’s arm.
“Ugh. Fine!” Jade snapped at last.
She turned toward the bakehouse, where one of her students had peeked out. “Bell! Tell Sister Miriam she’s in charge until I’m back. Josh’s coming with me.”
“Yes, Miss Jade!” Bell disappeared inside to relay the message.
Jade faced Mr. Trent again, exhaled sharply before entering the carriage. “I’m telling you, if any ‘lose face’ incident happens, it’s all his fault because I’m attending the event with his name on the invitation. You get me?”
“Lose face?” Mr. Trent echoed lightly, and figured it out within an instant. “You mean disgrace? Well, I’m certain Miss Jade will conduct herself appropriately.”
“Funny – where’s his confidence in me coming from?” Jade muttered, raising her brows as the carriage door shut and hooves began to clatter. “Even I doubt my own mind sometimes when it comes up with these nonsense ideas.”
Mr. Trent merely shrugged and opened the small notebook he carried at all times. “Miss Jade, I believe this would be an opportune moment to acquaint you with the guests attending tonight’s salon.”
Before she could protest, he began. “Mr. Romanolf Robert Raysmach – an author known for his detective serial…”
The journey from the domus to Ashborne’s estate was not long – no more than twenty minutes. Yet for nearly fifteen minutes of that ride, Jade and Josh watched as the carriage traversed land that belonged entirely to the estate before the manor itself finally appeared in view.
Josh leaned toward her and whispered, “Sensei, I did not realize the orchard I visited was merely at the border. It takes this long simply to travel from the gate to the House?”
“Well… I’m kinda expecting this,” Jade replied quietly.
She knew a nobleman could be incredibly wealthy – private jets, hundreds of servants, tons of luxury cars, and probably even a golf court at their House. She had taken the images and videos she remembered from her previous life and mentally altered them to fit this era’s version. But still, seeing such a glamorous manor standing before her stunned her. It left her speechless and thinking: It’s a shame my vocabulary is so weak that I can’t even find the right terms to describe how grand this House is!
Mr. Trent guided them not through the grand entrance, but through a side door – the one he himself used.
They passed bustling servants. A few cast curious glances at the schoolteacher and her apprentice.
At last, they were led into a modest chamber, likely a spare room used by staff.
On the bed lay a gown. It was finer and far more presentable than the one Jade currently wore, yet restrained though that no one would mistake her for a lady of rank.
While Jade glared at the hoop skirt – which she later learned was called a bustle, much smaller and simpler than the hoop skirt for the ball gown she had seen on TV – and the intricate ruffles, Mr. Trent instructed, “Please wait here a moment. I shall fetch Mrs. Palsmore to assist you with the gown. Mr. Brickville, if you would accompany me, we will have you changed elsewhere.”
“Not in your usual attire, Mr. Trent,” Jade turned to him immediately. “Just give him something a footman would wear.”
She caught Josh’s arm and lowered her voice. “Listen, we’re not attending the salon as guests.”
“We are not?” Josh’s eyes widened. He knew he was a tag-along, so he certainly wasn’t a guest, “But Mr. Trent made it sound as though Sensei was invited as an honoured guest.”
“Use your common sense and logical thinking, Josh,” Jade whispered. “That’s a clubhouse. There will be nobles. It’s not a place we can approach with our current status… Well, in future, maybe I’ll get you in as a cake decorator; I guess that’s acceptable. But today, you’re getting in there as my footman or assistant, and I’m there as a game instructor – a one-time teacher. You get what I mean?”
Josh’s expression turned solemn. “I understand. Speak only when addressed. Observe and learn quietly. Record what I do not understand and investigate later.”
“Exactly.” Jade nodded, and before she parted with him, she instructed, “And learn a proper bow from Mr. Trent. We’re representing our patron tonight, okay?”
“Yes, Sensei.” Josh gave a quick nod before following Mr. Trent out of the room.
A short while later, the door opened again.
This time, a gentle, dignified middle-aged lady entered with composed elegance. A teenage girl, bearing a resemblance to her, followed with a jug of water, which she poured into a basin near the dressing table.
“Good day. You must be Miss Jade, whom Lord Ashborne had mentioned frequently of late,” the lady said warmly. “I’m Mrs. Palsmore, the governess. Lady Eleanor requested that I attend you.”
“Good day, Mrs Palsmore. I’m Jade Lysmere. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Unsure of the proper protocol, Jade gave a small, careful bow – somewhat reminiscent of a Japanese inclination. She wasn’t sure how to politely greet someone of higher status, but bowing was surely a safe bet for showing respect.
She tried not to appear too nervous. “Thank you for coming to assist me… I was expecting a maid, but a governess’s assistance was beyond my expectations, Mrs. Palsmore.”
“I shall be candid with you, Miss Jade,” Mrs. Palsmore replied gently, gesturing for the girl to assist her. Jade complied, somewhat awkwardly. "Since Lady Eleanor received the Background and Character Settings of the Quinark Universe, she had been most curious about the origin of its creation.”
So she’s here to observe me and report back to Ashborne’s sister? Jade thought. Aloud, she replied, “I’m honoured Lady Eleanor finds the story interesting. Will she be attending the salon?”
Meanwhile, the young girl worked with remarkable efficiency. Jade scarcely had time to process events before she stood in her undergarments. A damp cloth was offered for her to freshen her face, neck, and arms.
The girl smiled briefly as she assisted Jade with her stockings. Her brows lifted slightly when she noticed the improvised stocking suspenders Jade had fashioned herself.
“...Um,” Jade cleared her throat and replied in a rather shy tone. “I just don’t think ribbons are that secure, and I don’t have the time to retie them all day. So I came up with the buckle and strap to secure them. No one can see what’s under my dress anyway, eh?”
“A most practical innovation, Miss Jade,” the girl said with a soft laugh, quickly mastering the fastening system before moving on to adjust the corset with professional efficiency.
Mrs. Palsmore, still smiling, nodded in agreement and replied to Jade’s question. “I’m afraid Lady Eleanor isn’t ready to be out of the House yet, though she’s very curious about how the salon will go.”
Jade considered it for a moment. “Perhaps Lord Ashborne could take her to play the game with their cousins and other relatives. I’m sure it would be a fun activity, though it’s quite time-consuming.”
As Jade slowly dressed herself in the attire a decent teacher should wear, Mrs. Palsmore asked, “I heard it’s a storytelling game. How long does it usually last?”
“It depends,” Jade said cautiously, recalling a news story about a D&D session that had lasted more than forty years. “It all depends on whether the players want to conclude the story or keep it going. A season can always be paused and resumed at the next meeting, so it’s very flexible.”
They continued their light conversation as Jade layered on the clothes. She took the opportunity to ask the governess how to perform a proper curtsy, in case she needed to show respect to someone at the event – though inwardly she rolled her eyes at the tedious etiquette.
At last, Jade completed her outfit with a mantle. The navy-blue walking dress was modest and demure, perfectly aligned with the stereotypical notion of how a teacher ought to look – no more, no less. She was relieved to find there were no handmade laces or expensive embellishments; she certainly couldn’t afford to repair or clean them if anything went wrong. She doubted this attire was Mr. Rich Sponsor’s idea; if he had chosen it, he probably would have picked something fancy and attractive to show her off – much like how people back in her previous life would share posts about their favourite influencers on social media.
It still felt slightly weird to have a “mega-fan” in this era, and Jade was sometimes confused about how to deal with him.
She turned to the mirror. Her hair had been released from its hairpin, retied with ribbons, and arranged into a delicate bun beneath a detachable winter hood that fastened to the cloak. After a brief inspection, she retrieved a small ceramic jar from her own detachable pocket hidden at her waist beneath layers of petticoats. She applied a light smear of lip balm to her chipped lips and dry cheeks – winter had been harsh on her. Though she wore no cosmetics, the simple touch brightened her appearance; at least she felt presentable now, compared to her usual plain, chalk-dusted look.
The girl’s gaze fixed on the tiny jar in Jade’s hand.
“It’s made from beeswax, olive oil, and some herbs,” Jade explained with a smile. “Cost me quite a few coins to get the ingredients, you know.”
“You made it yourself?” The girl asked, surprised.
Jade capped the jar and nodded. “I made extra. I’ll give you some after the salon. Thank you – and thank you as well, Mrs. Palsmore, for your assistance.”
Mrs. Palsmore opened the door with a soft chuckle. “You may thank me again later, when you return to change, shall you not?”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” Jade grinned brightly. Then I’ll see you later.”
She took a deep breath and marched toward the unknown battlefield awaiting her.