Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 61

61. First Step

The ebony carriage engraved with the Wilford family’s willow branch emblem arrived late in the evening at Dockland, east of Lydon, and dropped off Grace Gurton and Theresius Wilford. Dockland, an area adjacent to the harbor, was home to dock workers, factory laborers, and prostitutes.

“This is where the term ‘slum’ originated.”

Theresius spoke with a faint grimace. The salty sea air mixed with the stench of filth hung in the atmosphere, forcing him to breathe almost exclusively through his mouth. If he didn’t, he felt as though he might vomit at any moment.

“S-slum, you say.”

“Being near the harbor, the land here is low-lying. As you can see, there’s no drainage system. Wastewater from factories, the harbor, and residential areas constantly floods the streets, turning them into a perpetual mire. That’s why it’s called a ‘slum.’”

“I-I see.”

Grace steadied her queasy stomach and looked around. In the narrow, dark alleys filled with piles of garbage, cries of pain, sobbing, and angry shouts echoed incessantly.

“C-children are lying on the ground.”

Grace, startled, tried to help the children lying there, but Theresius hurriedly stopped her.

“They’re filthy.”

“B-but if they stay like that, they might get sick. And it’s chilly at night.”

“If you touch them, Miss Gurton, you might fall ill yourself. Shouldn’t you be cautious, especially with your engagement approaching?”

Theresius had recently begun treating Grace like an ignorant, failing student and interfering with her actions at every turn. On the surface, it appeared to be assistance for her entry into society, but in truth, it was his attempt to mold her to his liking.

“Are you curious about how the poor live?”

“Y-yes.”

For less than two years, Grace had lived in a poorhouse in Aire.

About ten years ago, Aire had been devastated by a smallpox epidemic and the potato blight, leaving countless children orphaned. Poorhouses across Aire were overwhelmed by the influx of orphans, and government aid was woefully inadequate. Proper care was impossible.

That was why Grace had accepted Theresius’s suggestion of teaching at the poorhouse. Having experienced such dire circumstances herself, she understood all too well how such conditions could push children to the brink.

Though she was neither wealthy nor noble, Grace wanted to help in any way she could. She was fortunate to have gained enough knowledge and skills to teach others, thanks to Professor Charles Dodgson.

“In that case, I should book you a travel package for your next visit.”

“T-travel package?”

When Theresius made this cryptic remark, Grace tilted her head in confusion and looked at him.

“These days, there’s a popular half-day tour that departs from central Lydon and explores this area. Passengers sit in carriages and observe how the people of Dockland live.”

“…Pardon?”

Grace was horrified by his next words.

“W-why would you watch something like that?”

“Think of it as a kind of foreign travel experience. It’s not something you’d usually see in our part of the city—dockworkers cursing and brawling in taverns or women pulling each other’s hair in the streets.”

“……”

“Oh dear, you look terrified. Don’t worry; guards will accompany you throughout the tour.”

Theresius chuckled but quickly grimaced again. Unable to bear the stench, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his nose before leading Grace to a building. It was one of the few structures with even the faintest light from a candle flickering through the cracks of its door amid the darkened houses.

“This is a charity school attached to the poorhouse.”

The school principal guided Grace and Theresius inside. Grace peered intently into the classroom through a window.

The interior of the classroom was beyond poor. The furniture was haphazardly arranged, the small blackboard was chalky and faded, the low ceiling looked ready to leak in the rain, and the creaky wooden floorboards seemed barely capable of holding together. The students sat on the floor, which was in no better condition.

Compared to the lecture halls of Grentabridge, the disparity was painful. Grace felt a sharp ache in her chest.

All the students were women. The oldest appeared to be in their twenties, while the youngest looked to be eight or nine years old. They were entirely different from the college students of Grentabridge in every way, except for one thing: the same yearning gleamed in their eyes.

Grace felt embarrassed by the jade dress Lady Mary Montague had chosen for her. Standing before them in a Gallian silk gown was thoughtless. Realizing this, she stepped back.

“My lady, you don’t look well. Are you very nervous on your first day? You don’t have to teach the lessons yourself. Just visiting here is what matters. Shall I hire someone else to do the volunteer work?”

Misunderstanding her reaction, Theresius whispered softly. Grace felt a surge of frustration but pressed it down firmly and replied.

“N-no, it’s fine. I… I definitely want to teach the lessons.”

“…If that’s the case, I’ll wait in the carriage.”

With a forced smile, Theresius left the building. He refrained from voicing his reluctance to stay even a moment longer due to the stench.

Grace watched as he hurriedly exited the building. She then turned to the elderly man standing beside her and asked a question.

“H-how many subjects are taught at this school?”

“The classes cover Ingrint, mathematics, the doctrines and creeds of the National Church, and etiquette—a total of four subjects. But even teaching one or two is a challenge. Most of the students work in factories during the day and come here for lessons at night. They’re utterly exhausted.”

“T-they even learn etiquette?”

“Of course. They must learn to demonstrate submissive behavior before their superiors or employers.”

The school principal answered proudly.

“W-what should I teach, then?”

“Lord Wilford mentioned that you’re fond of mathematics, my lady. So, you can help the students grasp numbers. If possible, you could also teach Ingrint.”

Listening to the explanation, Grace stepped into the classroom. The previously noisy room fell silent, as if cold water had been poured over it.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

The school principal bowed deeply before departing. Taking a deep breath, Grace stood tall in front of the students.

“H-hello. My name is Grace Gurton. I’ll be teaching you Ingrint and mathematics from now on.”

The dozen or so faces staring up at her from the classroom floor showed no expression. Grace’s fingertips grew icy cold, much like Lady Montague’s hands.

“Teacher.”

Then, a small child sitting in the front row raised her hand and spoke. She was a girl wearing a shabby, patched blue skirt.

“I can only count to ten.”

“Lily is a fool.”

Someone mocked the child, breaking the tense atmosphere in the classroom. As the students began chatting, Grace breathed a sigh of relief and opened her teaching materials with a faint smile.

***

Several weeks had passed since Richard Spencer’s meeting with Theresius and Grace in front of Parliament. Today, Richard was driving to the Montague mansion in Chelsea. He had received a message from Lady Mary Montague, requesting that he join her and Lord Anthony Montague for dinner to celebrate Anthony’s arrival in Lydon.

However, as he reached the brightly lit mansion, its glow illuminating every corner of the garden, Richard once again encountered Grace Gurton, who was about to board a carriage.

“…Where are you going at this hour?”

“I-I’m heading to the poorhouse to teach a class.”

“At this late hour?”

“I-I have no choice. T-the students work during the day.”

“And Wilford?”

“Ah…”

Grace fidgeted awkwardly, touching her ear.

Theresius Wilford had accompanied her on her first visit to Dockland. However, shocked by the conditions he witnessed, he had not accompanied her since. Yet Grace continued to visit the poorhouse three times a week without his escort.

“You’re telling me you go to such a dangerous place without an escort? What is that fool… I mean, what is Wilford doing?”

“Wilford hired bodyguards to accompany me.”

“Even so…”

“T-thank you for your concern.”

Concern? Me?

“A-and thank you for being upset on my behalf.”

Upset? Me?

The sudden wave of déjà vu made Richard’s expression twist.

Here it was again. Every time he tried to say something, Grace entangled him in her words, leaving him speechless. The usual thoughts about “what a noble ought to do” didn’t even cross his mind anymore.

“Lord and Lady Montague are waiting for you.”

Grace tilted her head slightly toward the mansion as she informed him. Richard tried to suppress his annoyance and offered a composed farewell.

However, as Grace’s Wilford family carriage left through the mansion gates, Richard couldn’t bring himself to enter the mansion. Instead, he stood there, watching the carriage disappear.

Even though their friendship had vanished, he believed it was the duty of a gentleman.