Chapter 86 – First Day of the Charity Bazaar
The domus students held their final rehearsal after setting up their booth and arranging their auction pieces on the stage. They went over everything Miss Jade had taught them: how to address customers, how to offer polite greetings without overdoing it, how to handle coins and package purchases, how to apologise, how to guide customers in choosing items, and how to refer them to the three teachers if a situation was beyond their ability.
They were still nervous, but more confident now – looking around, they realised that only a handful of booths, mostly from established Houses and shops with trained staff, could rival them. For the first time, it struck them clearly: We are actually quite good. And just as Miss Jade had said, they were well-prepared.
“Alright, now, as we discussed,” Jade began, giving them a brief pep talk. “Team up in pairs and take turns looking around to familiarise yourselves with the layout, just in case customers ask for directions. If you’re tired, take a break in our covered rest; we’ve brought some quick meals, so don’t worry about hunger or thirst. Be observant, be quiet, be polite and attentive. Miss Arrowot, Miss Whitcombe, and I – at least two of us will be here all the time. So if there’s anything you can’t handle, bring it to us.” She paused, then added, “However, make me your last option. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Jade,” the students replied in unison.
“Good. Dismiss.” At her signal, they moved to their positions.
Miss Arrowot, as ever, appeared composed and steady, though Jade suspected she was slightly nervous beneath that calm exterior as well.
Clara, however, showed hers plainly. She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Jade, are you certain you want Miss Arrowot and me to handle the customers? But I do not know how to speak to them!”
“We’ve practiced this many times; you’ll be fine,” Jade assured her, then sighed. “I know I was supposed to be the one at the front, but many upper class and intellectuals loathe me now. Me standing out front won’t do the sales any good.”
“Loathed you? Why?” Clara frowned, surprised at first, then became alert, “Is it because of those anonymous letters sent by the ladies?”
“Not really; the letters were mostly from guys, not the ladies. But regardless, both groups dislike that I was ‘too loud’ when commenting on the air pollution,” Jade said. Noticing Clara’s confusion, she went on, “That happened before you arrived. I debated a group of doctors – or intellectuals, something like that. I guess some assume that incident sparked Lord Ashborne’s interest in cleaning the air, which led to all those debates in the newspapers. You’ve seen them, right? About installing air scrubbers in factories, air filters in household chimneys, regulations, fines – all that.”
Clara had only read a few of those letters sent by women – the ones Jade had generously shared. She knew Jade had received some unfriendly correspondence, but not the cause behind it. Still puzzled, she said, “But I never saw your name mentioned anywhere. The articles spoke of scientists and politicians, but not you. Not even Lord Ashborne’s name appeared.”
“My name was mentioned in some scientific journals,” Jade replied with a shrug. “Father Rochester got me a few copies. It was just a brief mention – the authors focused more on thanking Lord Ashborne – but… I guess women are hardly ever mentioned there? Or maybe me as a ragged school teacher isn’t supposed to be ‘intelligent’ enough to be worth a footnote? They called me ‘bold’, ‘unfeminine’, ‘a commoner who doesn’t know her place’, and all that in those letters. The guys probably meant it literally, but the ladies? Their letters have subtext. And trust me, when women want to dig for the truth, they’re the best detectives in the world. So, I guess my name appearing beside Lord Ashborne – the ultimate bachelor and ‘best future husband’ – really hit a nerve?”
Clara’s eyes widened. She lowered her gaze, realising she’d completely missed the hidden message in the letters Jade had shown her.
“I don’t really care what they say, honestly. Their words are too fancy for me to understand without a dictionary anyway – you know, I’m not exactly good in language.” Jade tried to lighten the mood, but Clara clearly was not amused. She slapped Jade on the arm, frowning. “How can they say such things to you!”
“Honestly, Clara, I don’t care,” Jade shrugged. “You see, whether they like me or not doesn‘t affect how I eat or sleep, or how I teach at our school. The people around us don’t care either. I don’t share a sphere with them; their words are harmless to me.”
Clara wanted to press further, but this was hardly the place. Her shoulders sank slightly. “No wonder you are dressed like the students.” she murmured. “You are hiding yourself.”
“Yep,” Jade said with a casual tone. “I won’t announce who I am, and I’ll be relatively invisible for the rest of the event. I don’t want to irritate these potential employers for our students. So Clara, you and Miss Arrowot will need to handle most of the talking. I’m sure they won’t judge you nearly as much as they would me.”
And that was precisely how the day unfolded.
The Silver Acorn stood among the finest examples of interior design in this era. Its high ceilings were adorned with gasoliers and chandeliers, catching the daylight streaming through tall windows framed with acorn motifs. Luxurious carpet stretched across the floor, while walls and columns gleamed with intricate patterns – silver dominant, accented with restrained lines of gold. The splendour alone was enough to make the unaccustomed hesitate at the threshold.
Naturally, customers attending the Dowager Countess’s charity bazaar were all of the middle and upper classes. Jade watched as daggers were drawn with a mere glance; groups of ladies traded icy, appraising stares, scanning their opponent from hem to bonnet even as they exchanged honeyed greetings that Jade struggled to follow. English was her second language, and the formal cadence, combined with the sharp, clipped accent of the aristocracy, made their speech almost impenetrable. Though she had spent nearly a year growing accustomed to the way people spoke around her, this refined, high-born diction still felt like a foreign language.
Mr. Rich Sponsor does not talk like that… Is this some sort of fashion among ladies? Jade wondered as she quietly packed purchases for a middle-class housewife. This customer had been particularly taken with the practicality of the summer curtain, and soon her companions followed suit, each purchasing one for her own home.
Ornate gowns, heavy perfumes, champagne and wine, fans decorated with delicate designs, jewellery that glittered beneath the light, and hats adorned with flowers bearing hidden meanings. Even the men’s attire defied her understanding; their suits were colourful, far from the plain and subdued styles she remembered.
Jade swore she had not expected to see so many fancy gowns and dresses and suits in her entire life – not even at the charity event she had served in her previous life, where rich people had arrived in business attire or simple shirts and jeans. Formal gowns there had been reserved for weddings, and even then, they had not sparkled like this… well, probably because she had never seen a gala night where celebrities wore diamond-encrusted gowns with her own eyes, but still…
Her eyes began to ache; the constant shimmer of jewels under the hall’s brilliant lighting made her want to tear up.
She did not yet know that, later in the afternoon, she would witness gowns and eye-dazzling jewellery worn by upper-classes rivaling her impression of a red-carpet gala. Those displays would be so radiant that they would literally hurt her eyes more than what she had seen now.
The House of Wexleigh must have hired an exceptional architect to design a clubhouse with such excellent indoor lighting, to the point that it seems to brighten every guest who arrives. Jade mused. Only now did she realise that the brief glimpse from her last visit had not done this venue justice, as she had stayed in only one of the rooms rather than the grand hall.
This venue was more than a charity event; it was one of the grand social occasions following the Spring Ball that signaled the opening of the Season. This was the time when men and women sought suitable matches.
Jade saw pairs arriving together, often accompanied by a chaperone to safeguard the prosperity of the innocent young ladies. Many gentlemen purchased artificial flowers from their booth. Those with better taste selected the accessories or embroidered handkerchiefs for their companions, earning approval nods – and occasionally smiles – from the chaperones.
Unaccompanied gentlemen were fewer, and they seemed more drawn to the lightboxes. Married couples, on the other hand, bought a wider range of items – from greeting cards to curtains, from haircombs to decorative screens.
Speaking of screens, those mini screens had sold out before the students had even taken their midday break.
“Surely you have more,” an elderly lady said, speaking up just as the last available screen was sold. Turning to Clara, she added, “I should very much like one for my dressing table. The embroidery is quite unique.”
“Our apologies, madam,” Clara replied with practiced humility. “We do not have enough girls to produce more decorative screens. We had put our best effort over the past few months into the finest piece we could create.”
“Your finest piece?” The elderly lady peered at Clara through a lorgnette, her eyesight evidently weak. Had she not been amused by the velvet flowers adorning a haircomb – which she had stood and examined with interest before picking one – she might have purchased the last two-fold screen instead of watching it being carried away by another customer. She inquired, “I presume your finest piece remains unsold. Where might I view it?”
“It is displayed on the stage, at the far right,” Clara said, extending her arm to guide the lady’s gaze.
The elderly lady gasped.
There stood a five-fold decorative screen, each panel roughly a foot wide and six feet tall, set within a polished wooden frame and protected by glass. Across its surface bloomed a profusion of roses in varied colours, vivid against a sweeping backdrop of blue sky and golden waves of crops ready for harvest – Jade racked her brain just to come up with this contrasting scene. Roses alone would have been pretty, but this contrast gave the piece a sense of life and meaning that elevated it beyond mere decoration.
The elderly lady wasted no time in making her way to the stage. She studied the embroidery with keen interest, murmuring to herself, “Cotton thread? Long and short stitches, though not quite the same… rarely seen here… ooh, and this blending of colours, most unusual… Roses, foliage, and a field in harvest, a grand piece of needle painting… There are flaws, but considering the advantages, acceptable… Oh! A chick at the bottom chasing a worm! How delightful! The sky… softly tinted with other colours…”
Nearby stood the servant who had registered the auction pieces. In truth, he had positioned himself close to the works submitted by the Wrynfield Domus Ragged School, judging them among the more valuable items and therefore in need of closer supervision. As Head Footman, he would not risk assigning such responsibility to others, fearing that mistakes might occur if he were not watching. From this vantage point, he could also observe the entire hall and ensure the staff remained attentive.
He noticed the elderly lady’s intense scrutiny and was already prepared when she raised a finger without even looking his way.
He stepped forward at one. “How may I assist you, madam?”
“This screen, is it part of the Evening Auction?” she asked. Then her gaze shifted to the other pieces, and she gave a small gasp of awe. “And these as well?”
“Yes, madam. All items displayed upon the stage are for the Evening Auction,” The Head Footman replied.
The elderly lady snapped her lorgnette shut, her expression resolute. “What is the starting bid for the screen?”
“£30, madam.”
“For the materials alone, that is reasonable,” she said thoughtfully. “But for the craftsmanship and design… I should offer £50. I must secure an invitation, footman.”
The Head Footman nodded, “If you would be so kind as to speak with the secretary at the desk yonder, madam, he will attend to your registration.”
The elderly lady inclined her head and strode away with purpose.
This made the sixth inquiry regarding the Evening Auction – most concerning the five-fold screen and the hair accessories. The lightbox had drawn interest from a few gentlemen, while the curtain had yet to attract attention. Still, the Head Footman believed it would appeal to a different sort – those of a more modest and pious disposition, who seldom voiced their desires openly.
His gaze drifted toward the domus booth.
The students stood in neat formation, guiding customers with quiet efficiency and polite restraint. For a fleeting moment, he might have mistaken them for his own staff, so well were they trained.
Jade Lysmere. He recalled the name from the vendor list – the schoolmistress overseeing the domus’s stall, recommended by Lord Ashborne. Considering the undercurrents already stirred by the young master of the House, he could not help but anticipate some degree of commotion before the day was done.
Best have the men prepared, He thought, and quietly issued a few instructions to his subordinates.