Chapter 81 – The Parish’s Spring Ball
The domus storeroom always held fabrics donated by various people. After some searching, Jade found a set of discoloured curtains that had apparently been there for years, so long that even Brother James could not recall when they had arrived.
“We have no use for discoloured curtains in the domus,” Brother James said, giving them a brief glance. “Certainly not ones with colours faded in blotches. We could sell them to traders, but if you have a use for them, Miss Jade, you may take them. I trust you will put them to good purpose.”
Jade was not skilled at needlework, but making aprons was simple enough, and repurposing these discoloured curtains could save quite a few coins, so she was satisfied with her decision. After receiving Brother James’s approval, she chose not to ask anyone for help – everyone was occupied with preparations for the Spring Ball, and there was no need to trouble them over such a small task. Instead, she worked on it during her free moments… which, at last, she actually had after the busy winter.
Winter had been exhausting for her, a vast contrast to those forced to idle during the cold weather. She had scarcely found time to rest, her mind constantly occupied with ways to do her students good.
As she spent her time sewing – with nothing to rush about – she let out a quiet breath, finally recognising the quiet kindness behind Father Rochester’s insistence that she take it easy. He had been right to forbid her from taking on more work.
And then, the Spring Ball began.
Guests were expected to arrive at five in the evening. The domus rose early that morning to prepare the Square.
The Square – not the geometric shape, but a place – was a wide, open area used by the parish for gatherings, whether in times of urgent or for practical needs such as drying crops. Its surface was uneven, layered with pebbles and slabs placed over time by the residents themselves. It was functional rather than orderly, patched together whenever someone found the time or materials to improve it. Over the years, it had naturally become the venue for parish events, including the Spring Ball and Harvest Day.
Jade had passed by the Square many times before. On ordinary days, it looked like a neglected stretch of land, with grass pushing through the gaps between stones. Several large rocks, roughly the size of barrels. were set at intervals; judging by the ash and blackened surfaces, they were used for burning wood. A few streetlamps stood around the perimeter, casting only dim light – enough to see one’s path, but not enough to make out faces or hazards such as pits clearly. Jade had heard stories of late-night workers startling one another in the dark, mistaking each other for ghosts.
Today, however, the Square was being transformed.
Children pulled up the grass, while adults who had time to spare helped transport wood and coal from Lord Ashborne’s estate. By the time Jade arrived, the cubic frames of bonfires had already been arranged atop the stones, waiting to be lit.
Mr. Drogo had also arrived, bringing several servants from the estate. They hung buntings and long strips of fabric around the Square. Sister Miriam whispered to Jade that these decorations would later be donated to the domus – eventually to be repurposed into curtains for the domus or garments for the clergy once their current robes wore out.
The steward also provided several long tables – more than enough for each household to lay out the food they had brought. The domus added a few more, scattering them across the Square for small gatherings and conversation.
Jade’s assigned task was to clean the ground – or more accurately, to shovel it clear. Her main objective was to remove the slushy mix of mud and melting snow, pushing it aside beneath trees and along the edges, so that the guests would not have to wade through it during the feast.
It was a simple job. The Square had already been partially cleared by others earlier in the day, and it took her no more than half an hour to finish. The work left her pleasantly warmed from the good exercise. As she cast one last look over the Square before heading back to the domus bakehouse, she suddenly realised something.
“No chairs? Are we sitting on the ground?” Jade asked Brother Milo, who had been working beside her. She did not mind sitting on the ground, but it was still considerably cold, and she doubted it was wise to risk falling ill by sitting on the cold earth.
Brother Milo was about to reply, but his tone shifted as a horse-drawn cart approached. He pointed toward it. “See those bales of hay? Those will be our seats!”
Bales of hay – something a city girl like Jade had only seen in movies or pictures. She lingered for another fifteen minutes, studying them and even trying one out for herself.
The farmer who had delivered them chuckled, “My, Miss Jade, never sat on one before?”
“Yeah…” Jade patted her temporary seat. “But I’ve slept on one! My mattress is stuffed with loose hay. I didn’t know the bundled ones would feel like this; they’re quite different.”
They exchanged a few more words. Jade picked up bits of rural knowledge she would probably never use, then bid the farmer goodbye before returning to the domus.
She continued to busy herself within the bakehouse, hurrying through her dinner with the pies fresh from the oven, and somehow broke the record for producing the most pies in the shortest time; she didn’t just bake them, she deep-fried some as well.
Sister Miriam was impressed. “No one will ever surpass your record with the tools we have here, Miss Jade. I never imagined pies could be fried…”
“Well, as long as the filling’s cooked, you can fry almost anything,” Jade said, calling a student over to carry the last basket of pies out of the bakehouse. “Baking is still better, but deep frying works when you’re in a rush. Just need to be careful when handling the hot oil – choose wisely who should be in charge of the oil pot, Sister Miriam.”
“I shall remember that. Now,” Sister Miriam gave her a gentle push. “Quick, go and prepare yourself! Dress nicely, and go find someone to dance with. Maybe you’ll find yourself a suitor!”
“I doubt it,” Jade laughed, accepting the nudge as she went to change.
The budget version of the Spring Ball lacked grandeur, but it overflowed with warmth and laughter. Children shared foods and sweets. The elders drank freely, their voices rising with cheer. Musicians – likely carpenters or farmers by day – beat their drums and played their flutes, weaving simple melodies that felt lively and sincere. It was a delight to Jade, who had not heard music since arriving in this world.
Young lads and lasses approached one another shyly, exchanging names before pairing off to dance around the bonfires. It was nothing like the elaborate ballroom etiquette Jade had read about in serialised stories. Here, there were few rules – so long as one stayed within sight of the crowd and within the Square, one could dance freely.
Jade could swear she saw pheromones and pink, lovey-dovey bubbles floating in the air, sparks flashing thick between glances.
Unlike the upper classes, who had to weigh reputation before accepting or declining a dance, everything here was straightforward. Anyone could ask; anyone could accept. And soon enough, news of engagements would spread through the parish. According to Sister Geenia, this season marked the height of weddings – often group ceremonies held on Sundays, for the sake of cost..
Many invited Jade to dance, but she declined them all politely – then took Josh’s hand instead.
The boy had not expected to dance at all. He was still a little young; his turn would come in a couple of years. Yet now, grinning, he clasped Jade’s hands and stumbled through the steps, his movements clumsy but full of glee.
Elegance was scarce on this makeshift dance floor between the domus and the farmland. Everyone moved awkwardly, some more than others – but no one cared. What mattered was the joy of welcoming spring and bidding farewell to a harsh winter until next year.
As the feast drew to a close, Father Rochester rang a bell. The sound carried across the Square, and the crowd began to gather into formation.
“What’s happening now?” Jade asked, following along beside Josh.
“The Big Dance!” Josh exclaimed, pulling her toward a corner of the crowd.
Several monks gathered part of the bonfires toward the centre of the Square, adding wood and coal to merry up the flames. The drums began to beat once more.
Hand in hand, the crowd formed a wide circle around the fire. They kicked their feet in rhythm, counting their steps as they moved together in the final dance of the night. Some bumped into one another; others stepped on toes. It took a few minutes before they found a shared rhythm, but once they did, laughter spread easily, and joy lit every face.
And that was how the celebration ended.
Jade watched the guests depart, smiles lingering as they made their way home. Then, she noticed that some remained behind in the Square.
“Come, Miss Jade, help us distribute the food,” Sister Geenia called, standing by one of the long tables. She waved Jade over.
Before Jade could respond, the nun pressed a ladle into Jade’s hand and pulled the teacher to her side.
“Here, everyone will get a full bowl, do not worry,” Sister Geenia said, filling another portion and handing it to the thin woman waiting before her.
Jade understood immediately.
Those gathered at the long tables were the desperate – the ones too poor to even feed themselves. They lined up quietly for the leftovers from the feast. Embarrassment flickered across their faces; they kept their gazes lowered, cheeks flushed, yet they had no other choice.
Jade offered them a bright smile instead. “Come, line up over here as well. Josh! Help me get them lined up and count the numbers, please!”
“Yes, Sensei!” Josh, ever helpful, quickly gathered a few students and began organising the queues. Some students, noticing what Jade was distributing, came forward to help collect the remaining food and bring it to Jade’s table. After counting both the people and the portions, Jade let out a small breath of relief: they had more than enough to distribute.
It was only the next day that she learned the surplus had been intentional. Sister Lucy explained, “It is an unspoken tradition established by our late Countess of Wexleigh. She pitied the poor and instructed her kitchens to prepare food in abundance, so that those in need might always have something for the following days.”
Cleaning up the place took time. By then, it was late into the night. Once they had ensured no food or valuables were left behind, they packed up and returned to the domus, leaving the hay bales to be cleared in the morning.
Jade was among the last to leave.
Just as she turned to go, she heard someone call her name.
She glanced around, and spotted a luxurious carriage waiting a short distance away.
She recognised that carriage. She had ridden in it once before. And beneath the dim glow of the lamp, she saw a familiar silhouette stepping forward, calling her name again.
“Jade.” Ashborne moved into the light, his face revealed under the yellow glow of the gas lamps… and looking somewhat off.
“Milord?” Jade approached, puzzled at first, wondering why he was here late at night. But as she drew closer, a scent reached her. She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“No,” Ashborne replied with a dreamy smile, his eyes half-lidded. “It simply occurred to me that I have not seen you for quite some time…”
Jade studied him. The gaslight made it hard to tell if he was flushed, but the smell was unmistakable. She frowned. “Yeah, you’re drunk.”
“...So?”
“So?” Jade raised a brow. “So get back into your carriage! Wash your face, get a good sleep, and do nothing tomorrow! I bet you’re going to wake up with a headache … Coachman? Or Valet boy? Come get your master back into the carriage!”
“... you’re rather harsh with me,” Ashborne pouted.
“And I’ll be harsher if you don’t get your arse into the carriage… Hey! Don’t you dare throw up here! Oi!”