Chapter 47 – Proper Ladies
Mrs. Whitcombe was the first truly proper lady Jade had ever encountered.
A proper lady, in Jade’s understanding, was the sort of woman raised indoors and educated to become a good wife who fits their social standards. Their daily lives were not concerned with what to cook for dinner or how to budget next week’s expenses. They had the luxury of ignoring such trivial matters – they had servants handle those things for them. Instead, they concerned themselves with what gown to wear to the next ball, which fashion trends in Velport were worth following so they would not appear outdated, and – among the married ladies – which young men and women might make suitable future in-laws.
They were like flowers carefully kept inside a greenhouse: delicate, sheltered, and unprepared for storms or drought. They required constant care, and many of them were so sentimental that they might as well have stepped straight out of the dramatic romance soap opera Jade never cared to watch or read – the sort where the heroine was forever a damsel in distress.
It felt as though there was an enormous gap between women like them and women like Jade – working-class women who spent every day thinking about how to survive and how to stretch every coin they possessed.
Of course, there was the fierce kind of lady – the one who had full control of the household and the resilience to withstand the thunders and storms whipped at her. This kind of matriarch could sustain the family when a financial crisis hit, when the men of the house had fallen, and when the burden shifted to her shoulders. Many proper ladies would slowly grow into someone like this once they began managing a household, eventually becoming a canopy for their children.
However, Mrs. Whitcombe was not one of them.
For some reason – even though Mrs. Whitcombe had a daughter of about sixteen, had presumably managed a household, and had maintained her late husband’s social connections before coming here – she still appeared naive and innocent. She seemed almost like a girl who had never faced real hardship.
Some might say her late husband had protected her very well. But in Jade’s eyes, it seemed more like Mrs. Whitcombe had never been given the chance to truly grow up.
Since Mrs. Whitcombe’s marriage, she had lived inside the bubble of a romantic love story, frozen at the moment of “happily ever after”.
Thus, when her husband died so suddenly, her world collapsed and shattered into pieces. She did not know how to move forward. She forced herself to stay composed because she still had a daughter to care for, but that did not mean she had grown into a responsible adult. She merely endured.
And once she reached the domus – once her daughter had found a safe place – she stopped enduring. She wept as much as she wished, mourned her lost husband, and allowed herself to sink into grief as deeply as she pleased.
On the first night after Mrs. Whitcombe and Miss Clara arrived at the domus, the widow collapsed into bed. And after a few days of weeping, she fell ill. She had been holding herself together for so long, her nerves had finally given way.
The doctor said it was a fever but did not prescribe any medicine. The chemists’ circles were still in chaos as the authorities, the royal chemists, and doctors were still debating on which remedies were harmless and which dangerously contained mercury or lead – the cosmetic industry’s upheavals were still sending shockwaves through the nation.
“Let her rest. Apply damp cloths to her forehead to reduce her temperature,” The doctor instructed. “Feed her something light and nutritious, like… um…”
“Beef stock,” Jade suggested. She had been present when the doctor came to examine the patient.
The doctor nodded. “Yes. Beef stock, and perhaps beef stew as well. That should help her recover.”
That night, Jade helped Miss Clara cool Mrs. Whitcombe's fever by wiping her forehead, underarms, and back with damp cloths. She took turns with the other nuns, and by sunrise the fever had dropped to a mild one.
Mrs. Whitcombe slowly recovered. But even after she was able to leave her bed, she spent most of her time shut away in her room, mourning her late husband.
It seems as though she had forgotten the whole plan – to teach the students drawing and needlework, finished an embroidered screen together with her daughter and the girls, and then used that work to raise Miss Clara’s reputation enough to send her to a proper ball, and eventually secure her a suitable fiance.
“Mama means no harm, Miss Jade,” Miss Clara explained, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment over her mother’s behaviour. “She is simply too sorrowful over Papa’s death.”
“I’m not complaining.” Jade shrugged. In truth, it was not her place to complain. The domus had its own rules, and if Father Rochester thought the arrangement acceptable, then it must be acceptable.
“I just think it might do her some good,” Jade added, “if she could stop being so sorrowful.”
Bad emotion could affect physical health as well. So Jade suggested, “Why don’t you take her out for a walk? A little sunshine might cheer her up. I know the snow here isn’t exactly bright and pretty, but she could look at the Lysmere River. The riverbank with snow scattered over it actually looks quite nice.”
The snow near Velport definitely did not match Jade’s childhood imagination of the pure white snow from Disney films. Here it was grayish, almost like a dirty mop, stained by the soot drifting out of factory chimneys. The colour looked even worse the closer one got to the center of Velport. That was where the chimneys were most numerous, and the horses pulling carriages stomped the snow into a mushy mixture of mud and slush.
“It’s too soon for her to feel cheerful,” Miss Clara sighed. “She has already filled three bottles with tears, and I…” She signed again.
“...” Jade decided not to comment about the tear bottles. It was difficult for her to imagine being so overwhelmed with grief that she would do nothing but cry.
I mean, I still need to eat and live, Jade thought as she took another bite of bread. I’m not a millionaire with tons of money sitting in the bank earning me interest for daily spending. I need to work to survive; I got a kid to raise. No time for me to grieve that much, unless I wanna die.
Josh managed to bake some decent bread despite her being unable to provide him with a usable starter; he had to cultivate his own from scratch. She had given him verbal and written instructions on how to roll and shape dough, but having been confined to the classroom recently, she hadn’t had the chance to demonstrate the techniques hands-on. Yet, he still managed. Some loaves were fluffy and well-shaped, while most had uneven density or large hollow pockets – but at least they were edible, unlike the rock-hard bricks Jade herself produced.
She had high hopes for Josh. He could already make bread while she could not. Once he mastered cake baking and decoration, he would surely become the best pastry chef in this parish.
“Miss Jade?”
“Hm?” Miss Clara’s voice pulled her back from mentally praising her own apprentice. She turned to Miss Clara, her raised brows a silent question.
Miss Clara lowered her voice and asked quietly, “Is it true that all my belongings would become my husband’s once we marry?”
“By law, yes.” Jade nodded, then added casually, “Which is why some despicable men prefer hunting rich heiresses instead of finding an honest way to support themselves.”
“Hunting?” Miss Clara gasped.
“No, not hunting with guns or arrows in the forest,” Jade clarified quickly. She was rather relieved that, between the mother and daughter, at least one of them seemed capable of recognising the dangers of their situation. “These fortune hunters target innocent and naive heiresses – girls from wealthy families or girls who don’t have a guardian watching over their choice of husband. They trick the lady into falling in love and marrying them. But in truth, they don’t love her at all. They only want the fortune she brings with her when she marries.”
Jade took another bite of bread before continuing. “After the marriage, once they have control of the dowry, they may start treating the wife badly. And the wife often cannot do much about it, because the law rarely favours her.”
“H-How could that be possible!” Miss Clara exclaimed, horrified. “How could anyone do such a thing?! H-How could they betray a pure and sincere heart like that?”
Jade knew that her lecture earlier that day had probably shattered the young lady’s sheltered worldview. But without a protective father – and with a mother who was emotionally far more fragile than she was – Miss Clara would have to learn to stand on her own.
“Well, bad people exist everywhere,” Jade said bluntly. “You value love, but the love you know comes from romance stories. That’s why these facts shock you.”
She shrugged. “In truth, we meet all kinds of unpleasant people every day – bad merchants, bad workers, bad employers. Even our patron has dealt with them. Some people tricked him into investing in terrible ventures and practically ran off with his money…” She paused and corrected herself. “Well, not exactly ran away. They just called it ‘failed investments’. But the money probably ended up in their own pocket. And now they’re likely going around babbling that Mr. Patron is unreasonable and stingy for refusing to invest in them again.”
Miss Clara gasped again. “How could they! They are the ones who did wrong!”
“Don’t waste time trying to understand the minds of despicable people,” Jade said, giving the young lady a light pat on the shoulder. “It’s not worth the effort.”
“You only need to accept one fact,” she continued. “There will always be bad people in this world who try their best to trick others for their own benefit. All we gotta do is recognise them, and stay away from them.”
Miss Clara remained silent for a long while. So long that Jade finished her meal and was about to help the other nuns wash the dishes. At last, Miss Clara spoke in a dawning tone. “Miss Jade… that lecture about marriage laws – you were speaking to me, weren’t you?”
Jade tilted her head. “Well, not exactly. But looking at you did remind me of things I should teach my students. I’m not particularly good at teaching, so I often get ideas or inspiration from the people around me and what my students should learn.”
Miss Clara had already reviewed Jade’s self-written textbook for the students. She knew what Jade had taught and what she planned to teach in the future.
Three semesters’ worth of lessons covered nearly everything the students needed: how to read, write, and count; some practical skills; basic knowledge of science* and regulations; some manners and etiquette; even what to do during emergencies. This young and inexperienced teacher had given the students a foundation far broader than what she herself had received at a girls’ day school.
“If I’m not mistaken, a ragged school is meant to teach students only how to read, write, and count,” Miss Clara said softly. “Why did you decide to teach them more than what was asked of you, Miss Jade?”
Jade thought about the question for a long moment.
She had asked herself the same thing before: Yeah. Why am I teaching them all this? I could just stick to the basics, right? Teaching more only makes things harder for me; ignoring all of that would make my life much easier…
After a while, Jade smiled.
“Perhaps it’s because, in my understanding, teaching is a sacred profession,” she replied. “A person who teaches or lectures others, is someone who passes on the path toward knowledge, who guides others in how to learn, and who clears their doubts along the way so they can gain wisdom.”
She shrugged lightly. “I know I’m not very good at it, but at least I tried. Also…”
Because I pity them. They’re children who should be worrying about nothing more than getting bad exam results, dammit. Jade did not voice that thought aloud. Instead, she gave Miss Clara a warm smile. “Also, I hope I can give them a chance to have a better future.”
Miss Clara stared at her in astonishment. After a long, speechless moment, she suddenly reached out and grasped Jade’s hands, “Miss Jade?”
“Yes?” Jade blinked, slightly confused about why the young lady seemed so sentimental tonight.
The young lady looked directly into her eyes. “Would you allow me to call you simply by your name?”
“...Sure.” Jade replied. In truth, Jade didn’t mind anyone calling her by her name. But “proper” people here rarely addressed each other so informally; even among the poor, most chose to use surnames. Jade, unaware of this hidden rule when she first arrived, had been calling students by their first names. Though she thought of changing it after she became aware of the custom, the students had grown used to it and preferred that she continue using their first names.
So far, no one had called her simply “Jade” – except for Mr. Rich Sponsor, who had once mentioned doing so in private but had never actually done it; he had been far too busy playing the storytelling game.
Taking Miss Clara’s request as an invitation, Jade grinned. “In that case, may I call you Clara?”
Clara’s face brightened with a smile. “It would be my pleasure, Jade.”