Chapter 10 Embroidery·Cooking
1232 Words
Jane saw Elara already working at her embroidery hoop and said nothing. She settled beside her, taking out her own needle and thread to begin her task.
Her assignment for dressmaking class was a miniature petticoat—practice for mastering the art of cutting fabric.
Most girls at Lowood were orphans, and their clothes were made by their own hands from the plain cotton provided by the school.
A girl’s skill with a needle was plain to see in her daily attire. The cleverest ones would gather leaves from the hills to dye their cloth, adding subtle color to their garments.
Older students, having learned lacework, would weave simple patterns to adorn their cuffs, collars, or bonnets. Even in modest circumstances, the girls found ways to make their lives a little more beautiful.
Lowood truly fulfilled its purpose: equipping young women with skills to support themselves after graduation.
Many dreamed of becoming housekeepers—stable, lifelong positions where their children might even inherit their posts. Others aspired to be ladies’ maids or governesses. Elara had heard countless such hopes shared in the dormitories and classrooms.
To prepare them, the school offered a dizzying array of courses—twenty hours per subject, six classes a day, each forty minutes long. Lessons began at eight o’clock after breakfast and ended at three in the afternoon, followed by a short tea break.
The rest of the day was free time, with dinner served promptly at six—before dark, to save on candle wax.
By the end of maths class, Elara had finished the handkerchief. Using simple running stitches, she’d embroidered tiny blue speedwells—no larger than her fingernail—their delicate stems and leaves taking just the length of the lesson to complete.
Jane’s face lit up when she received the gift. She folded it carefully, tucking it into the bodice of her dress so the edge of the embroidery peeked out, a subtle adornment.
“You’re more skilled than the teachers, Elara,” Jane said in admiration. “Why did you come to Lowood? I would never want to leave my parents if I had them.”
Elara smiled softly. “My needlework is passable, but my French, dictation, and piano are far from perfect. I need proper instruction. As I told you, my parents cannot afford a governess—not with my brother Theodore and sister Maria to educate too. The rent from our lands only stretches so far.”
It was the same excuse she’d used before—a plausible cover for her true reason. She needed a legitimate explanation for her skills, one that would hold up when she returned to Longbourn.
She could claim she’d learned from the school’s teachers, or from a noble lady she’d met here. Anything to avoid suspicion. In this world, unexplained talent could label a woman a witch—and a witch’s fate was the gallows.
The bell rang for the end of class, and two sturdy housekeepers entered, carrying a large wooden bucket between them.
“Tea time,” Jane said, craning her neck to see inside. “I wonder what we’ll have today.”
Elara glanced at the bucket. “Mushroom soup and bread, I expect.” As if on cue, another servant appeared with a basket of sliced bread.
Each girl received a bowl of thin, nearly unsalted soup and a slice of bread—white wheat bread today, a rare treat instead of the usual brown rye. Elara ate slowly, dipping the bread into the soup to soften it.
The food at Lowood was by far the worst part of her stay.
At the Harrington manor, Mrs. Harrington had been frugal, but they’d always eaten white bread, fresh vegetables, and fruit—luxuries compared to the meager fare at school.
Mr. Harrington had known the food would be poor, which was why he’d given her ten pounds before she left. He’d intended for her to buy extra provisions.
But Elara had saved the money, hoarding it for supplies she needed: bobbins, fine pins, and parchment—essential tools for complex lacework.
She’d known how to make handcrafted lace in her past life, though it had been called “spindle embroidery” in China. The tools were not expensive, but they were hard to come by—especially the hundreds of pins needed to anchor intricate designs.
The most elaborate piece she’d ever made had required over a thousand pins. Stocking up on everything she needed would cost at least three pounds.
To put it in perspective: a loaf of dark bread cost three pence, and one pound equaled twenty shillings, or two hundred and forty pence. Three pounds could buy two hundred loaves of bread—no small sum.
She’d learned the prices from Miss Temple, whose integrity she trusted implicitly. Still, the thought of spending so much made her wince. She couldn’t bear to waste the ten pounds on food—especially food that was neither tasty nor satisfying.
She hadn’t gone entirely without treats, though. That afternoon, she’d bought potatoes, tomatoes, and eggs from a local farmer’s wife.
Meat had been unavailable—farmers rarely sold their chickens, which were too valuable for their eggs. But the simple ingredients she’d purchased would be enough to make something delicious.
After finishing her tea, Elara turned to Jane. “I bought potatoes and eggs. May we borrow Miss Temple’s kitchen? Could you help me wash and slice the potatoes? I think you’ll like the fried ones I make.”
Jane understood Elara’s kindness. By asking for help, she was letting Jane share in the meal without feeling like a charity case. She nodded eagerly, already looking forward to it.
She thought of the woolen scarf she’d asked a local shopkeeper to sell for her. Once it was sold, she’d treat Elara in return. The thought lifted any lingering awkwardness.
They linked arms and went to Miss Temple’s office to ask for permission. The small kitchen was adjacent to the teacher’s living quarters, part of her private chambers.
Miss Temple readily agreed, with one gentle request: “Could you make a little potato mash for me? I’ve heard such wonderful things about your cooking.”
Elara smiled. “Of course, Miss Temple.”
Turning to Jane, she said, “Could you wash the potatoes? Slice some for frying and soak them, and cut the rest into chunks for mash. I’ll wash the tomatoes and make tomato sauce, and a tomato and egg dish.”
Jane nodded, taking the potatoes to a basin and peeling them with an iron spoon—there were no vegetable peelers at Lowood.
Elara went to the hearth, retrieving the only small copper pot and arranging the iron trivet over the fire.
She still couldn’t fathom why every household used hearths instead of stoves—even the Harrington manor had been the same, though their hearth had a separate bread oven.
She dreamed of the day she could afford to build a proper kitchen with a stove, where she could fry, stir-fry, boil, simmer, and braise—all the cooking methods she’d known in her past life.
For now, she made do with the hearth, adjusting the fire carefully as she prepared to cook. The smell of tomatoes and warm potatoes soon filled the small kitchen, a welcome change from the usual bland soup and bread.
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