Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 57

Chapter 57: Miss Lintner and the New Teacher — The Tailor Shop’s Secret Inner Room and…

When Helen pushed open the door to Augusta’s Dress Shop, the proprietor, Miss Constance, had just finished reading a letter from Madeira.

She looked up to see her visitor, her gaze lingering on Helen’s furrowed brow and her dusty nurse’s uniform—which she clearly hadn’t had time to change. Constance understood immediately. Miss Burns was not here to discuss business; she would never wear such a solemn expression just to buy a dress.

“Good afternoon, Miss Burns. You’ve come at the perfect time. I’ve just finished an interesting letter,” Constance said, elegantly waving the stationery in her hand, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I think you will care deeply about its contents. There are too many ears here; shall we talk inside?”

Helen took a moment to steady her breathing, eyeing the letter. After a brief hesitation, she silently followed.

The inner room of the dress shop was filled with half-body mannequins draped in unfinished garments. Constance led Helen through them, the soft, expensive fabrics rustling against their skirts.

During this short walk, Helen unexpectedly recalled her days at Lowood. Before the reconstruction, Lowood was always dark and dim; students were forbidden from making noise or dressing up. In the rare visits from noble ladies, she had caught glimpses of a world outside the boarding school.

It was not a world she had the opportunity to step into. While her classmates would stare longingly, she usually took one look and lowered her head. She had long ago chosen her path—one of hardship, but spiritual fulfillment.

Miss Temple, however, had been her warmest companion and firmest support during her initial hesitations. Therefore, no matter how sincere Mr. Lintner’s letter or how tempting the terms, Helen had to personally ensure there was no deception involved. She would never lead Miss Temple into a place of risk for the sake of a “reward.”

Just as she reached this conclusion, Constance stopped and gestured toward a small table for two in the corner.

“I spoke with a friend here last time,” Constance said with a reminiscent smile and a self-deprecating sigh. “Afterward, I felt terrible for neglecting her so much that I let her stand for the whole conversation. It was quite rude of me.”

She pointed gracefully to the newly added chairs. “So I thought this place should have a comfortable corner for hosting important guests like you. Please, sit, Miss Burns.”

Constance had anticipated Helen’s wariness. In his letter, Lintner had described this young lady’s integrity and caution in great detail. To be honest, compared to the exciting stories happening in Madeira described in the letter, Miss Burns’ reaction was hardly a surprise.

As her fingertips tapped the table unconsciously, Constance recalled the letter’s description of Jane’s business dealings over the past two months, and her smile deepened. Jane was ambitious and capable—just as she had appeared during their time in Madeira.

And her companion, Mr. Lintner—no, rather, Miss Lintner—was equally impressive.

She pulled her thoughts back, focusing on Helen’s tense face, and decided to stop dancing around the issue.

“Miss Burns, I know why you are here,” she sat down, looking the other in the eye with a certain tone. “It’s about Mr. Lintner’s invitation to Miss Temple, isn’t it?”

Seeing Helen press her lips together without denying it, she continued in a voice full of understanding:

“I understand your concerns. A merchant of unknown origins, an invitation to travel across the ocean… it sounds like an adventure that requires extreme caution.”

“But what if I told you that the instigator of this ‘adventure’ is not merely a calculating merchant, but a remarkable woman who, to achieve her goals, walks the world in a male identity?”

“…”

Helen’s brow furrowed in shock, her eyes filled with confusion and wariness, unsure of how to respond.

Seeing her like this, Constance couldn’t help but laugh. This expression was exactly like the reaction of the other party involved when she had uncovered the secret two months ago.

She would never forget that afternoon. After bringing Lintner into this inner room, she had “accidentally” tripped over a roll of scattered fabric while turning around. With a cry, she fell forward in a seemingly clumsy manner.

Lintner’s reaction was lightning fast. He stepped forward and caught her steadily.

It was that exact moment.

Constance had greedily absorbed every piece of information in that second: the arm she grabbed was strong but had soft lines; the palm supporting her lower back was firm but lacked any aggression; the entire posture of the embrace was a natural support, without a hint of the instinctive overstepping or avoidance characteristic of an adult male.

As the other helped her stand and she used the leverage to rise, her shoulder “unintentionally” brushed against the other’s chest. That was enough. The proportions of the figure, the contours of the bone structure…

All her long-term observations and guesses were finally confirmed in those few seconds of carefully designed contact.

“Mr. Lintner—or perhaps I should say, Miss Lintner,” she had said then with a sly smile, “Your disguise could indeed fool most people, but there are certain details that even the best men’s clothing cannot entirely hide. There are no outsiders here, only us two ‘ladies.’ I think a well-intentioned secret is the best start to a friendship, don’t you?”

At the time, she had viewed the other’s reliance on notes as another layer of disguise and sincerely expressed her desire for a spoken conversation.

But Lintner had simply waved his hand and pulled out his pen and paper.

“Miss Constance, I have long since admired your insight. It is a stroke of luck to be able to speak candidly with you. However, the inability to speak and the concealment of my face are genuine conditions, not pretenses. I ask for your understanding.”

Having a shared gender was enough to dissolve most of her wariness. Furthermore, over the past few years, Constance had pieced together the reasons behind the delay of Eleanor’s marriage and held a great deal of goodwill toward Lintner. She nodded, accepting the answer, and then shifted the conversation to a “favor between friends.”

Snapping back from her brief memory, Miss Constance stared at the hesitant Helen and continued her persuasion:

“Miss Lintner knows much about you and Miss Temple and operates with great mystery. I completely understand your misgivings, Miss Burns. But think: a merchant chooses to confess her greatest secret—her gender—to you as a bargaining chip. Is that not the most powerful proof of sincerity? Beneath that exaggerated disguise lies a truly sincere heart.”

“…You are quite right,” Helen nodded slightly, offering a strained response.

If the person before her weren’t Miss Constance—who had saved her life and donated so much to St. Thomas’ Hospital over the past year—she would never have believed a verbal “confession.” But there was still a lingering hesitation; after all, recommending Miss Temple leave England for Madeira was…

Seeing her expression soften, Constance relayed the instructions Lintner had included in the letter:

“Miss Burns, please relax. I believe Miss Lintner mentioned in her letter that she only hopes you will relay the invitation to Miss Temple. It is not a forceful demand. I trust Miss Temple will make her choice based on her own heart, will she not?”

Another silence followed. Helen’s gaze shifted to a fitting mannequin nearby. Constance did not rush her, waiting patiently for the upright young lady’s answer.

Finally, Helen withdrew her gaze, took a breath, and looked back at Constance with her usual determination.

“Miss Constance, I trust your character and your judgment. I will relay this matter to Miss Temple exactly as it is. As for her decision, that will be entirely of her own will. Thank you for your candor today.”

Three weeks later, Funchal Port.

The cries of seagulls echoed over the docks, mingling with the chants of sailors and the salty sea breeze. Jane stood with her hands tightly clasped, practically fidgeting. Her gaze swept over the bustling crowd again and again, darting toward the steamship from London that had just docked.

Standing beside her, Lin Zhao was much quieter.

Jane couldn’t help but steal glances at her. During the first week after her “drunken night,” they had been busy organizing the Giannito Chamber of Commerce activities and dealing with Mr. Phillips, almost forgetting the matter of the new teacher.

It wasn’t until the second week, when Miss Burns from St. Thomas’ Hospital wrote back saying Miss Temple was willing to accept the invitation, that Jane began badgering Lin Zhao for days about who this Miss Temple was.

Lin Zhao had been vague, only describing her as a superintendent at Lowood—a brilliant, kind, and powerful lady—before using the excuse of preparing for Miss Temple’s arrival to disappear for several days.

But Jane had noticed there was more than one letter from London; she had spotted Miss Constance’s name on one of them, and had buried herself in work out of pique.

Now, in the third week, the ship carrying Miss Temple had arrived, and they were here to meet her.

Being stared at so intently, Lin Zhao finally managed a muffled sentence from beneath her cloak: “Jane, it’s a bit sunny today. Why don’t you wait in the carriage?”

In truth, Jane didn’t need to follow her from the manor, but because Lin Zhao’s evaluation of this lady was so high, she was itching to meet her as soon as possible.

“It’s fine. Aren’t you here as well?” Jane turned her head back, casting her gaze into the crowd.

The gangway was lowered, and passengers poured down like a tide, carrying luggage of all sizes. Jane strained her eyes, trying to find a figure that matched Lin Zhao’s description among the weary or excited faces. But there were simply too many people—different heights, different clothes—making her dizzy.

Just as Jane was about to lose her patience, a point of stillness appeared in the crowd.

It was a lady, tall and well-proportioned. Even in the noisy, chaotic dock, she simply stood there, as if the surroundings could not disturb her. She wore an elegant purple traveling dress with black velvet trim, a simple but well-tailored style. Under the sun, a small gold watch hanging from her belt reflected glints of light.

Sensing Jane’s gaze, the lady slowly turned her head and looked over.

In an instant, the noise of the docks seemed to fade. Jane saw her clearly. She had dark brown hair arranged in gentle curls at her temples, a slightly pale but clear face, and a pair of brown eyes that seemed to see through everything yet were full of kindness.

That gaze crossed the crowd without hesitation and landed directly on Jane. It wasn’t a scrutinizing look, but a gentle confirmation—as if she had already read Jane’s story in a book and was now merely confirming that the portrait on the frontispiece matched the real person.

Jane’s heart skipped a beat.

She had never met this lady, but that calm, dignified manner and her composure amidst the chaos filled Jane with an unprecedented sense of kinship and respect.

Was this the “powerful” lady Lin Zhao spoke of? No, it wasn’t just power; it was an internal sense of order that could soothe the soul.

The lady picked up her small suitcase and walked toward them with a steady pace, the crowd seemingly parting for her naturally. She stopped before the two, her posture upright, and gave a slight nod.

“Excuse me, are you two the ones from Vine Manor here to receive me?”

Her voice was clear and steady, like a church bell in the afternoon, instantly quieting the restlessness around them. Jane was completely captivated by those eyes and that aura, forgetting to answer for a moment.

Lin Zhao reacted first, stepping forward to hand over a pre-prepared note.

“Hello, Miss Temple. I am Lintner, and this is my client, Miss Jane Eyre. It has been a long journey. Welcome to Madeira.”

The lady took the note. Her long lashes cast shadows over her downcast eyes, accentuating her broad, pale forehead. Jane stared blankly at the scene, her urgent anticipation turning into a daze.

Before meeting her, Jane had wondered why Lin Zhao, who didn’t seem to know Miss Temple very well, was so certain she would like her. The answer was in this single look.

She felt like she had found an old friend; joy and a sense of closeness surged from within. Rather than a first meeting, it felt more like a reunion in a foreign land between two people who had shared a long history and deep, warm bonds.

Jane didn’t have many wonderful memories of England worth missing. But looking at Miss Temple, she remembered the often cloudy skies, though her current mood was more of nostalgia than melancholy.

“Good day, Mr. Lintner, Miss Eyre. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.” After reading the note, Miss Temple offered a friendly smile, her voice warm.

Lin Zhao nodded slightly. Seeing that Jane was still lost in thought, she gently nudged Jane’s arm under the cloak.

“Miss Temple,” Jane was startled back to reality. Finally finding her voice, she stepped forward, looking at the other with a bit of urgency. “Good day. I am so happy to see you. I don’t know why, but seeing you feels like seeing… an old friend of many years.”

As soon as she said it, she realized how abrupt and rude she sounded. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly corrected herself: “No, you are here to be my teacher. Please forgive my rudeness…”

Maria Temple’s smile deepened at the sincerity in the girl’s eyes. She didn’t mind the flustered defense at all, merely watching her with a gentle gaze and a soft nod.

“Good day, Miss Eyre. It seems that for this meeting, we have both been waiting a long time.”