Chapter 91 – The Lady Who Observed
The charity bazaar was hosted by a Dowager Countess after all, and on top of that, it was held at the Silver Acorn, a clubhouse owned by an Earl. Those who do not wish to suffer social death would never dare cause havoc in such a setting.
As a result, the booth run by Wrynfield Domus Ragged School survived the first day peacefully, interrupted only by a handful of noblewomen sniffing around like curious hounds.
It was near the end of the day, while Jade and the others packed away unsold goods and tidied the stall, that she realised something rather unexpected: Not all ladies were as sharp as Lady Glorissa.
Not that Jade looked down on these glasshouse flowers, but from her perspective, many resembled “babes in the wood” – a label she had once unfairly placed upon Mr. Rich Sponsor himself. These women were easily distracted, less confrontational than she expected, and often too shy to speak directly. Perhaps it was the result of their education, or perhaps some social custom Jade cared too little to understand.
All Jade could think was: I’m deeply sorry for pinning Mr. Rich Sponsor with that label. Compared to them, our Landlord is as brilliant as a saint! I really need to fix my judgement lens. I shouldn’t judge people based on my mere experience…
Lady Glorissa had been the only one perceptive enough to notice Jade properly, and quick enough to conclude that Jade posed no threat to her chances of winning a gentleman’s affection.
For that, Jade felt deeply relieved. Because she wouldn’t have to repeat explanations over and over to someone who, for some reason, was unable to understand what she was saying.
She had witnessed such an incident back in her previous life. Once, a female customer had become convinced that Jade’s coworker – a college student working part-time as cashier – was trying to flirt with her husband. The woman caused scenes in the shop repeatedly and even attempted to cyberbully the poor partimer online… In reality, the part-timer had absolutely no interest in a balding middle-aged man, and already had a handsome boyfriend of her own.
Jade sighed. She could never understand what was in those people’s minds.
Still, she quickly shook away these random thoughts and returned to counting stock.
Everyone was in good spirits because half the goods had sold.
Josh said excitedly, “Sensei, just like you planned, we can pay the tuition class students some coins and buy waterskins and more stationery!”
“Yep. And I can finally save enough funds to make every student their own school cap!” Jade announced cheerfully.
“A student cap?” Everyone turned toward her in surprise.
Josh blinked. “Sensei, do you mean you’re about to give each of us a cap?”
“Yeah,” Jade nodded and began explaining. She did not raise her voice, though passing vendors subtly slowed nearby, stretching just enough to overhear.
“You know, ever since I started all these projects, I’ve set one goal: to make our school self-sustaining. Meaning, our school could still run through an entire semester even without donations… I mean, donations help, but we shouldn’t depend entirely on them because we never know how much we’ll receive. What if suddenly nobody donated for an entire season?”
Everyone listened closely. Miss Arrowot, especially, paid careful attention. As the new teacher expected to inherit Jade’s position, she would eventually become responsible for planning the following school year.
“If we can support ourselves,” Jade continued, “then we are no longer a ragged school that temporarily houses and teaches children. We become a proper, organized school. Even though our syllabus wouldn’t be exactly the same as those of proper school, and we only offer one year of education, our graduates would leave with skills such as reading, writing, counting, basic pie-making, needlework, drawings, and whatever skills our teachers at the time could offer.”
“And as an organized school, we need something that unites us, something that makes us appear orderly and connected,” Jade explained. “Like how we’re all wearing aprons today. Or how household servants can be identified by their maid caps or the embroidered emblem on their sleeves. You can tell immediately which house they belong to. We need something like that too, to represent us.”
Josh immediately underwood. “A uniform? Like the students in proper schools?”
“I wish,” Jade said with a shrug, “But practically, we can’t do that.”
Clara spoke at once. “Is it because of the cost? I think we could get discounts if we bought in bulk, and maybe use defective fabric pieces! And… we could make a simpler uniform, or–”
Jade shook her head. “If our students dressed too nicely, they’d become easy targets for theft. Clara, the idles, the street lurkers, the wastrels – they wouldn’t hesitate to rob a child of decent clothing just to sell it for drinks or gambling money.”
Larry, who had once worked as a newsboy, suddenly understood. “That’s why Miss Jade wants caps! A cap wouldn’t stand out much. Nobody would bother stealing one, it’s not even worth enough to buy a drink!”
Miss Arrowot, inspired by the discussion, added, “We could sew the school emblem onto each cap and stitch the student’s name inside. That way, anyone who steals one would struggle to resell it unless they tore it apart for cloth.”
“Alright, cap it is!” Jade nodded. “I’ll save part of the money with Father Rochester for next school term, and the rest can go toward food and books.”
The children cheered. Clara smiled warmly at their excitement, and even Miss Arrowot, who usually maintained a composed expression, allowed herself a small smile.
Once everything had been packed away, the group left the bazaar at a brisk pace. The hired horsecart had already arrived to take them back to the domus.
None of them realised their conversation had quietly spread among the servants working at the Silver Acorn and those assisting the vendors.
Kathy, the maid who had overheard the discussion, hurried upstairs to a private sitting room where her young mistress was resting. “Miss Lydia, I heard something interesting!”
Miss Fairborne, Dowager Countess of Canareith’s ward, opened her eyes and turned to her maid. “What is it?”
The Dowager Countess had attended the charity bazaar during the afternoon and departed after two hours. At her age – and with troublesome joints – that was the most she could comfortably manage in a day. Most of the social responsibilities therefore fell upon Miss Lydia Fairborne, an orphaned distant relative whom the Dowager Countess had raised almost as a granddaughter.
Though the bazaar served the Dowager Countess’s charitable ambitions, it also fulfilled another purpose: Miss Fairborne had reached marriageable age.
The Dowager Countess hoped to demonstrate her ward’s capability in managing a large household, and organising the charity bazaar offered an excellent opportunity to showcase such skills.
Miss Fairborne had previously hosted tea parties at the country estate. She had arranged elegant dinners where guests dance merrily until two in the morning. She possessed confidence in her abilities, yet this was her first event of such scale.
As a result, she had chosen to hold her nervousness in and remain present from the opening of the bazaar, deciding to leave only after the last vendor departed.
She settled disagreements between ladies competing over the same items, introduced eligible gentlemen and ladies to one another, resolved issues brought by the steward regarding refreshments, and even witnessed several trade agreements negotiated between vendors and customers.
Kathy helped oversee the grounds, ensuring that any issues could be addressed before it escalated.
Miss Fairborne signed. She had endured enough complications for one day and sincerely hoped Kathy had brought an amusing story rather than another petty scandal.
“Miss, do you remember the penny skewer stall?” Kathy said, her voice bright as a robin’s song. “The one that sells biscuits before winter and chips during winter? I finally saw their schoolmistress!”
“The domus stall that sells to fund their school?” Miss Fairborne recalled it immediately. A stall operating under such unusual circumstances was difficult to forget.
“Yes, yes, Miss,” Kathy replied eagerly. “I heard their teacher used to sell biscuits there sometimes, but she stopped appearing after winter began. People said she felt unwell because of the smog. I kept wondering what she looked like, but I learned about them too late to ever see her.”
“And what does she look like?” Miss Fairborne lifted a hand, and Kathy immediately dashed behind her to gently massage her shawl-covered shoulders.
“Not as pretty as most ladies,” Kathy said, recalling the image. “But she seemed kind and… hm, like she had read many books? She looked like she knew many things.”
“An intellectual sort of charm?” Miss Fairborne said, closing her eyes.
“Yes, yes, Miss! That kind of charm. Like when I met Mrs. Hamilton,” Kathy nodded.
Mrs. Hamilton was the wife of their family physician, a bookish woman capable of distinguishing a convex lens from a monocle. Kathy would not have called her beautiful, yet the maid agreed that she was, in a way, charming.
This comparison surprised Miss Fairborne. Kathy held Mrs. Hamilton in unusually high regard after days spent observing ladies of every social rank she could see.
“And?”
“And the schoolmistress decided that if they earned extra funds, she would make caps for all the students as a uniform!” Kathy said, excitement creeping into her voice. “A uniform, for ragged school children! Even if it’s only a cap, it’s still uniform! It’s strange to imagine a group of children all dressed differently but sharing the same cap.”
Miss Fairborne’s eyes snapped open, astonishment clear in her gaze. “What an innovative and eccentric decision.”
“Hm?” Kathy tilted her head, not entirely following her mistress’s meaning. She wasn’t the clever sort anyway, so she shrugged away her wonder and continued. “The school mistress wants the school to become a properly organised school, with education that helps feed the children. Baking, and needlework! Oh, if all the girls there could sew as beautifully as the decorative screen displayed on the stage, they’d never need to fear going hungry!”
Miss Fairborne exhaled softly and leaned back into her chair. Taking the cue, Kathy stopped massaging her shoulders.
“No wonder Lord Ashborne pays attention to her,” Miss Fairborne murmured.
Kathy tilted her head again.
She knew Lord Ashborne. Her mistress and the Dowager Countess had participated several times in a fashionable new parlour game – a collaborative storytelling pastime in which each participant created a character and together built an adventurous tale. Some of those stories had even been published in Lord Ashborne’s newspaper. Lady Canareith greatly enjoyed clipping the published pieces and preserving them in a scrapbook.
Lord Ashborne had become one of Lady Canareith’s newer acquaintances through those gatherings. At the Dowager’s age, new friendships were uncommon, and everyone within the household had quietly taken notice.
Kathy did not understand what connection might exist between a schoolmistress and a nobleman, but a good maid knew when to be silent.
So instead, Kathy refilled her mistress’s teacup.
“Yes. Very interesting, Kathy.” Miss Fairborne took a sip before rising to leave for home. “Keep an eye on them when you can. I would like to know more about the school… and the schoolmistress.”
“Yes, Miss Lydia,” Kathy bowed lightly before gathering the tea things and following behind her mistress like a shadow, exactly as a proper maid should.