Chapter 42 – The Joy Sung
Looking at the design sheets compiled in her hands, Jade was impressed by the creativity the students had come up with. Of course, many were unusable – too complicated, requiring expert-level skills to produce, or simply unrealistic and impossible to make in practice – but some were brilliant.
Jade took a deep breath and focused on the ones she had selected from the pile: OMG, there are actually a few talented accessory designers in my after-school tuition!
“Miss Jade?” Wendy, one of the more promising designers, looked at her nervously, twisting her fingers together. “Is something wrong?”
Jade snapped back to the present. “Nope, nothing wrong. All good!”
She stood, gathering the pile of designs along with a few blank sheets and a pencil. “I’m going to report our progress to Father Rochester. These came just in time, I can include them in my report.”
Wendy visibly relaxed after hearing that.
“No worries, Wendy. Keep practicing! I’ll be back soon.” Jade gave the girl a light pat on the shoulder before heading straight toward Father Rochester’s study.
Father Rochester was extremely busy during the winter. Jade realised that the moment she opened the door.
Seeing the crowded desk piled with documents and letters, she paused in surprise. “Um, Father, mine is just a small matter. I think I’ll come back later so I don’t disturb your work…”
“It’s quite alright, Miss Jade.” Father Rochester pushed the document he had been writing aside and gestured for her to sit. “I was about to pause for a cup of tea anyway. Do you need anything for the after-school tuition? More coal, perhaps?”
“It’s fine. Brother James had been overseeing those matters.” Jade handed over the design drafts. “These are the children’s designs for the handicrafts they plan to make. I thought you might take a look, Father.”
Father Rochester skimmed through the pages. “The lines are rather novice – some quite messy – but the ideas appear workable.”
“Yeah, they added a lot of unnecessary lines, but give me a minute. I'll show you.” Jade pulled out one of the designs and began redrawing it on a fresh sheet she had brought, extracting the core idea. Within moments, she produced a simplified version – clean, elegant lines forming a clear design for a hat decoration.
Father Rochester raised his brows, clearly surprised. “Magnificient, Miss Jade.”
“Yes, Father. These students are particularly talented.” Jade nodded and pulled out several more designs. “These are the ones I think show real potential.”
Father Rochester studied the pages carefully. His gaze moved between Jade’s refined sketches and the students’ original, messy drafts.
“I see it now, Miss Jade,” he said slowly. “Perhaps I might ask the chief clergy of other domus whether they know of suitable masters willing to take apprentices. Their futures would be far brighter than continuing to labour among the poor.”
“I agree. But before that, Father,” Jade added, “I’d like their names attached to their creations. I mean, just a small line somewhere in the corner. Or maybe a logo–um, an emblem, yes. Our school’s emblems, to show these pieces were created by them.”
Jade had assumed copyright laws didn't exist here – at least not in the fashion trade. Raymond and Matt had mentioned that dressmakers often reproduced designs directly from popular fashion magazines. If that was the case, there would be little protection for these students’ work. Once their designs appeared on the market, other shops would probably copy them almost immediately.
She explained her concerns, and Father Rochester listened attentively before shaking his head. “Miss Jade, there is no practical way for us to prevent others from copying these designs. It is an unfortunate reality your students must accept if they choose this path.”
“You’re right,” Jade sighed. Even in modern times, people still copied or pirated others’ designs. Expecting stricter protection in this era was unrealistic.
“However,” Father Rochester continued, “I do agree that placing our emblem on the products would be wise. It represents our identity, and customers will know they are supporting a charitable cause.”
And people liked supporting charity when they could. Even working folk would not mind paying a penny more if they knew the money helped others. Besides, they were offering well-made, affordable crafts – not poorly made rubbish.
Jade nodded. “Well, that’s one advantage we have over the others.”
“Also, you should make a record book of these designs and keep it here,” Father Rochester instructed. “You may store it in our library, or anywhere safe with your other records, Miss Jade. It may prove useful when we recommend the students to masters who are willing to take on apprentices.”
Jade clapped her hands. “Right – a portfolio! Okay, I’ll get that done. Thanks for the reminder, Father.”
She retrieved the drafts from Rochester. As she did, her eyes happened to fall on the sealed letters set aside for delivery. The stack was noticeably taller than before, a clear sign of how busy Father Rochester was in managing the domus during winter.
Her gaze drifted to the emblem stamped on the wax seal, and something suddenly caught her attention. “Father, the acorn on our emblem…”
“Hmm?” Father Rochester followed her line of sight. “The acorn? It has always been there. You should have noticed it on the stamp you placed on the biscuit packaging.”
“Yeah, but…” Jade squinted slightly. “That’s the symbol of Lord Ashborne’s family, right?”
The decorative acorn motif appeared everywhere related to the Lord. It was on every corner of the Silver Acorn, on his carriages, and even on the accessories he wore. Only now did she realise there was a connection between his acorn and the one used by their school.
“Indeed,” Father Rochester, glancing at her curiously. “My Lord has been our Landlord for the past ten years and has supported us continuously since then. He permitted us to use the motif from his family crest.”
“... And we pay him rent?”
“My Lord had kindly waived our rent.”
“Whoa.” Jade was genuinely stunned.
She had always known he was rich. His estate alone already matched her old mental image of “rich” – something like those influencers from her previous life who owned enormous houses with swimming pools and sports cars.
But this?
An entire parish under his authority, where his influence reached every corner. In her mind, the area of the parish was the territory overseen by the domus – hosting weddings, funerals, and countless other parochial matters. The area was vast, extending far beyond anything she could have imagined.
“Poverty has limited my imagination,” Jade muttered under her breath.
Still, the realisation was a comforting thought. With a landlord as powerful – and unusually attentive – as Lord Ashborne, they were far better protected than most people. Many landlords rarely cared about what happened on their lands, leaving everything to their stewards; however, Ashborne actually paid attention to his parish.
If anything unlawful happened, the tenants could seek his help.
Once again, Jade felt grateful to be under the protection of their Mr. Rich Sponsor.
Maybe I should be nicer to him… Jade mused. Then she remembered how disruptive his frequent visits could be. Her lips tightened. Or maybe not.
“Miss Jade,” Father Rochester called just as she was about to excuse herself.
Jade straightened and turned toward the White Robe. “Yes, Father?”
Father Rochester smoothed his moustache thoughtfully. “Would you be able to provide some artificial flowers for next Sunday?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. How much do you need, Father?” Jade asked.
After a moment of silence, he replied, “Ten flowers. Preferably white ones, or those in lighter colours.”
“Sure, no problem,” Jade nodded. Then realisation struck her. “Oh! It’s for the Joy Sung, right?”
“Exactly.” Father Rochester nodded with a small smile before letting out a soft sigh. “It was meant to be twelve.”
Two newborns had not survived their first month. He had only just returned from the cemetery after conducting their funerals.
Such losses happened often enough that he soon pushed the sorrow aside and offered Jade a warm smile. “Simple flowers will suffice, Miss Jade.”
“Alright, Father.” Jade accepted the request, politely excused herself, and left the study.
As she walked back to the classroom, she recalled the religious ceremonies she had become familiar with while living in the domus. Joy Sung was one of them.
It was a ceremony celebrating newborn children. Parents would bring their one-month-old babies to the domus, where the clergy would sing a carol blessing them with Light and wishing them a bright future.
The ceremony could be small, consisting perhaps only one parent, one baby, and a single cleric. A monk or nun would be enough.
It could also be larger, with several families present and a senior priest presiding alongside a group of monks and nuns.
And sometimes it was grand and elaborate – usually when wealthy parents commissioned the ceremony according to their own preferences.
That was essentially how the ceremony worked, though each domus had its own variations. In the Lucis Domus of Wyrnfield, each infant was gifted a flower and a small card bearing the baby’s name, stamped with the domus emblem. The card also served, in a way, as a birth certificate for families who chose not to register their child with the authorities, since official registration required both money and time.
There were no flowers during winter. Normally, the domus would carve carrots or potatoes into flower shapes as substitutes. But from what Jade understood, none of the nuns in the kitchen were particularly skilled at it.
Now, the task will fall to Jade’s students.
“Our flowers will be used for the Joy Sung?”
“For ten babies?”
“Don’t make the fancy or complicated kinds,” Jade emphasized. She paused to think for a moment. “Lilies. White lilies would be suitable for babies. Do we have enough white scraps for ten lilies?”
“Yes we do!” The children responsible for making artificial flowers were thrilled. They gathered together immediately and began drafting designs for the lilies.
The other groups looked slightly jealous at not being included in the Joy Sung preparation. Noticing their sour expressions, Jade chuckled softly.
“Well, I supposed embroidered ribbons attached to the flowers would look nice?” She suggested. “And the card with the babies’ names – those would look better with some floral decorations, right?”
The children’s eyes brightened. They quickly formed groups and began discussing what they should do next.
Watching their excited faces, Jade felt a quiet sense of satisfaction.
The winter newspapers were filled with heartbreaking news. Poor houses collapsing under heavy snow. People found dead on the streets from cold and starvation. The situation could be far worse in a poorly managed parish.
This was an era where catching a simple cold could mean death within days. Even piles of coins could not stop diseases that would have been easily treated in Jade’s previous life.
A school where none of the students had died from sickness or starvation was already something worth being proud of. Father Rochester had even shown her a letter from another domus in a parish similar to Wyrnfield – they had lost nine children since winter began.
Such realities had never crossed Jade’s mind when she accepted the role of teacher. Remembering that, she began to feel slightly guilty for calling Ashborne a noble-doe in her mind when they first met.
Yes, he could be reckless – perhaps even careless – when deciding where to invest his money. But as Jade gradually learned more about this world, she began to realise something important.
It wasn’t really Ashborne’s fault.
The wealthy people here were all reckless with money by her standards. In fact, Ashborne would probably be considered strange – or even looked down upon – if he interfered too much with how his finances were handled. Others might sneer at him, calling him a “businessman” or “trader”. Such terms were insults to a nobleman, as aristocrats were expected to avoid trade and simply enjoy the wealth managed by their underlings.
Come to think of it, Mr. Rich Sponsor is actually an extremely nice guy. He even tolerates my peasant attitude, Jade mused as she extracted the essence from another student draft and redrew it with cleaner lines. If I were dealing with some other nobleman, I might have been scolded – or even thrown out of the parish – for offending them.
Her pencil moved smoothly across the paper.
Maybe I should show some appreciation… on behalf of the school and children. But how? And with what?
She looked down at the design she was refining.
Maybe an accessory the children made?
Then another thought followed.
Would he mind if it’s made from scraps?
She frowned slightly.
Well, he probably wouldn't mind… but would his friends laugh at him if he wore something like that?
She paused for a long moment, and decided to leave the matter for another day, when her mind was clearer.
For now, she returned her focus to guiding the students as they prepared the flowers for the upcoming Joy Sung.