Who even knew what horrors could lie in wait for her on such a lonely stretch of road? She shivered, thinking of highwaymen and goodness only knew what. Foolish Mina, she upbraided herself, drawing her cloak tighter around her. Afraid of goblins, pixies, and ghosts when you’re a grown woman and should know it is beasts of flesh and blood that pose the biggest risk. One, in particular, sprung to mind and she dashed a forearm across her eyes.
They were tears of thwarted anger, she told herself hastily, that kept filling her eyes. Nothing else and certainly not self-pity. She had wanted to rail and scream at the aggravating Lord Faris, but of course, she had not. Sometimes being raised a perfect lady felt like a real burden. Try as she might, it did not seem to come to her as naturally as it had to dearest Mama.
She tried to imagine now, what Mama would have done if she had been left to tramp miles on foot, alone in the dark, scorned by her own wedding party, and failed. Papa would never have treated her mother in such a fashion. Indeed, he had always shown the most tender-hearted solicitude and consideration toward his spouse. But Nye was as different a man from her own father as chalk and cheese. In truth, she had no-one else to compare him to, she thought having never met such manner of man before.
She wondered what flaming redhead Effie would have done if her ‘man’ had left her like that at the altar, humiliating her in front of all gathered there. Probably screamed and cursed like a fishwife, Mina thought with envy. She would likely have flown at him and clawed his eyes out, spitting and hissing like an angry cat. How she would have liked to have done that! To have picked up her fallen shoe and flung it at his head as hard as she could throw it!
Mina’s bottom lip trembled, and she bit on it until she could taste blood. She hated him. Not Jeremy Vance, but William Nye. The sudden realization brought her up short a moment and she stood a moment shivering in the dark. Why did she blame Nye so much for the debacle? After all, he had been as coerced into their farcical marriage as she.
Maybe that was why she was so angry, she thought, comprehension dawning. She thought there should exist some fellow feeling between them, some kind of sympathy for a fellow sufferer. They had been in the leaky boat of their marriage together, until he had pitched her over the side to the sharks! Yes, that was it, she thought with a decisive nod. That was why she blamed William Nye. Squaring her shoulders, she strode onward, ignoring her sore heel and the dull ache in her chest. She needed to forget all notions of allies or friends. For these days she was quite alone and had none.
By the time she reached The Merry Harlot most of the lamps were extinguished, though she could still hear occasional bursts of merriment from the public barroom. Avoiding that entrance altogether, she skirted the edge of the courtyard and surreptitiously tried another door. For the first time that day, luck was in her favor and the handle turned. Stepping inside with a thankful sigh, she pulled it closed behind her, leaning heavily against it while her eyes accustomed themselves to her surroundings. She seemed to be in another bar, this one a more genteel version with rugs on the floor, upholstered sitting chairs and round tables. Were parlor bars a thing, she wondered with a frown? If so, then The Merry Harlot had one, although, she realized with a sneeze, it was rather dusty and seemed little used. She moved slowly across the room, bumping into little tables as she went.
The only reason she was tiptoeing, she told herself, holding her breath as creaking footsteps crossed the floor above her, was to keep things simple. All she wanted to do, was find her bags and an empty room for the night. She could reopen hostilities on the morn, but for now, she simply wasn’t equal to them. She had risen at six and it was now long past midnight. It had been a long day; she was cold and weary and wanted her bed. When her questing fingers found the door latch on the opposite wall, she slowly levered it open and gazed out into the dim hallway.
There they were! Her trunk and carpetbag had been dumped unceremoniously in the corridor. The trunk was far too heavy and would have to wait until the morrow, but she pounced on her carpetbag and brought the large, ugly piece of luggage to her chest and hugged it as though it were an old friend. She nearly wept with relief at being reunited with it, and that was when she realized she was overwrought and needed the seclusion of a quiet room to collect herself. She didn’t even care about food or washing her face. Just sleep.
Lifting the ribbons of her ruined bonnet, she plunked it on her head and caught sight of her reflection in a large etched mirror on the opposite wall. My God! She looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards! Telling herself there was nothing she could do right now to repair the damage, she headed for the staircase instead.
Three brass candleholders with snuffers were laid out on a side table next to a silver candelabra. Transferring one of the lighted candles into a holder she held it up before her and with a muttered prayer that her luck would hold, started to limp up the stairs, wincing at every step. On the first floor, she found two locked doors and one that opened onto a room strewn with personal belongings and an unmade bed. The fourth room was a bathroom with discolored porcelain tiles and a matching roll top bath with clawed feet. Next to it was a smaller hip bath which would not take so long to fill and a handsome washstand. Opening the last room on that floor, she heard two sets of loud snores and beat a hasty retreat.
There was nothing for it, she would have to go up another flight of stairs. Her heart in her mouth, Mina mounted the steps until she found herself on another landing. This floor seemed a good deal livelier than the first. The first room, she did not try for she could hear a fully-fledged row erupting between its occupants.
“Just you wait!” a woman screeched. “I’ll see you hanged first, Clem Dabney, you see if I don’t!”
“Woman! Hold your tongue!” came the deep and furious response. There was the sound of something thudding against the wall and the shattering of glass. Seven years’ bad luck thought Mina hurrying past that one as fast as her blistered foot could take her. Unless it was a window of course.
The second room, disappointingly, was locked. The third she could distinctly hear giggling from. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was that blonde barmaid named Ivy.
“Oh, you rogue!” she cooed. “You know that costs extra.”
Mina pursed her lips and passed on to the fourth room which she prized open gingerly. At first, she thought it was a sitting room, for there were several chairs dotted around it, then she noticed a mattress in the middle of the floor and on it a half-dressed man sprawled out swigging beer from a stone-wear jar. He looked up in surprise and she saw his head was bandaged.
“That you, Ivy love? Frank didn’t take long then!”
With a hasty apology, Mina withdrew her head and shut the door. She thought he called something after her but didn’t stick around to find out what. There was only one door remaining untried and it was right at the end of the passageway. Mina approached it with some trepidation. Even as she set her hand to the latch, she heard an earthy moan from within and recognized the cockney accents of the redhead from the church.
“Ah Jeb, that’s it,” Effie groaned. “Do not spare me, my love. Oh, do not spare me!”
Do not spare her from what? Mina wondered, as she hastily retreated from the door. From Effie’s loud moans, she guessed Jeb was heeding her entreaties well. If her hands were not full of luggage, and candlesticks she would have covered her ears. She took three hurried steps backward and felt herself collide with a wall where there should not have been one. Swinging around in alarm, she found a large figure looming out of the shadows before her and realized with horror that it was none other than her new husband.
“Excuse me!” Mina burst out in mortified embarrassment. Something was thudding now against the wall in the room behind her, punctuated by animalistic grunts that made Mina’s ears burn. “I need to find an empty room,” she added shrilly, trying to dodge to one side of the bulk that was William Nye. “That one is taken.”
“Are you sure?” he asked dryly and seeme
d to block her path entirely, whichever way she tried to barge past him. He shot one brawny arm out and braced it against the wall, leaning down so his mouth was close to her ear. “There are no free rooms,” he said slowly, possibly so she could hear as Effie was now starting to wail with increasing volume. Mina dropped her carpetbag and clapped a hand to her neck to shield it from his hot, tickling breath. His eyebrows rose. “We’re full,” he added bluntly. That took the wind out of her sails and she gazed up at him in dismay.
“Full?” she yelled as Effie approached a pitch only dogs could hear. “But where am I supposed to sleep?”
Nye frowned at her. Behind them, Jeb bellowed like a bull. The thudding stopped abruptly with the sound of a masculine groan and collapsed mattress springs.
Mina drew a deep breath and picked up her carpetbag. “If you could be so kind as to direct me to the staff quarters,” she said, striving to sound composed, but even to her own ears sounding slightly hysterical. To her shame, she could feel herself beginning to tremble all over with strung-out nerves. Hot candlewax spilled onto her fingers and her bag nearly slipped from once more from her grasp.
He did not speak for a moment, just looked at her hard. Then he uttered one word. “Attic.”
Mina sagged with relief. She couldn’t help it. She felt exhausted and perilously close to tears. “Thank you,” she muttered, a slave to politeness even in the face of the worst manners she had ever been subjected to. He made no response, just turned his back to her, and walked back down the way he’d come. Mina’s eyes burned. Pray God he never knew how close she had come to humiliating herself and blubbering like a child.
With a suppressed sob, she started up the last flight of stairs. The ceilings were much lower and sloping up here, and she could well believe it was where the maids slept. The first room had two narrow beds in it, both unmade and strewn with clothes and a dresser covered over with a deal of ribbons and combs, perfume bottles, and spilled powder. The room reeked of a floral pungent scent and guessing that one was likely Ivy’s, she opened the second which was scrupulously tidy but had a quantity of hand-sewing laid piled up on the one bed and a handmade patchwork quilt on the other. As this too was clearly occupied, she made wearily for the third and final room, which was on the opposite side and much bigger than the other two. Indeed, it was quite as big as both the other rooms combined.
This room had a bare dresser and a large bed in the center with a brass bedstead. The fire was unmade, and the bed stripped back to its mattress. Mina almost cried out with thankfulness to see it was not in use. She whisked inside and shut the door behind her, setting her candle down on the dresser. Unfortunately, there was no lock on the door, so dropping her bag, she seized a rickety wooden chair instead and shoved it under the handle.
Her safety seen to, she cast about for blankets and sheets to dress the bed. A trunk under the window looked promising so she made for that, and by another stroke of luck, found it contained a quantity of much darned and mended linen. She dragged out sheets enough for her needs and made up the bed.
Sadly, there was no water to wash and anyway, she was too tired to comb her hair or do anything other than strip down to her chemise and drawers, blow out the candle and crawl under the covers. She lay awake for a few minutes, telling herself that though she despised her half-brother, it was pointless saving her wrath for a morally weak character and a drunkard such as himself. She had sent him away with a flea in his ear and expected he was probably passed out in a drunken stupor by now in his four-poster bed. A four-poster likely emblazoned all over with the Faris coat of arms, she thought with faint scorn.
As for William Nye… she set her jaw. She would make that man sorry he’d ever met her, if it were the last thing she ever did! A small smile curved her lips even as a tear trickled from the corner of one eye. Comforted by her vow of vengeance, Mina fell into a deep sleep.
5
Mina rose early the next morning and established the routine that she would stick to for the next week. She rose, dressed in her serviceable black gown, and descended to the kitchens in search of hot water and something to eat. Her first glimpse of the large kitchen almost made her recoil, it was in such a squalid state. Every surface was covered in a thick coating of grease and dirt. The fire was lit in the coal fire range, though there was not a soul in sight. Someone was up and about though, for on the table was the remains of a round loaf and a dish of butter which still had a knife set in it.
Peeking her head in the room next door she found a large scullery which had a copper set in the corner for heating water and a bread oven, both of which shared the same chimney. Peering under the lid of the copper, she found the large pot was only half full of tepid water. First she lit it with a spill from the kitchen range and then, casting about, found a large pail in the corner and remembering she had seen a pump in the courtyard the previous night, carried it outside to fill it with water.
As she waited for the copper to heat, she helped herself to a piece of bread and butter, reflecting she had not eaten since dinner the previous day and was ravenous. A cupboard next to the sink revealed a jar of blackcurrant conserve which after sniffing she thought looked edible, so she added a scraping of that and had just perched on a wooden settle to eat it, when the sharp-faced barmaid bustled in, tying her apron strings. She did a double take when she saw Mina and her face grew tight.
“Oh,” she said. “You did make me start. I didn’t expect to see you again.” She sniffed and strode through to the scullery before returning rapidly. “Who lit the copper?” she asked in surprised accents.
“I did,” Mina said, swallowing her mouthful of bread and jam. “I’m heating water to wash. Good morning,” she added briskly. “My name is Mina Nye. What may I ask, is yours?”
The maid flushed to the tips of her hair. “It’s Edna,” she said after a moment’s heavy pause. “Edna Lumm.” She ran her hands down her apron distractedly. “No offence, Mrs. Nye,” she said stiffly. “But I got things to be getting on with. I can’t stand around here passing the time of day like a lady o’ leisure.”
“That’s quite understandable, Edna,” Mina said pleasantly. “I feel the same way. May I ask if the kitchen is considered your province?”
Edna bristled. “Hah! If only,” she snorted. “My duties extend far and wide in this godforsaken hole!” Her cheeks were two spots of bright scarlet now. She was practically vibrating with indignation.
“Yes, I think I saw you serving in the taproom last night,” Mina agreed calmly, finishing off her meal and brushing the crumbs from her lap.
“My poor mother would turn in her grave if she knew I had to serve at bar!” Edna burst out. “Ivy’s supposed to man the bar of an evening, but on fight nights… she’s got other duties,” she finished bitterly. “I don’t like it, but needs must, and a girl’s got to earn an honest crust.”
“Yes indeed, it sounds like you must be spread very thinly,” Mina said with sympathy.
Edna’s mouth worked a moment before she could speak. “I got pasties to make before lunchtime and then I got to make a start on the laundry. It’s no good expecting that slattern Ivy to wake before noon!”
“I see.” Mina nodded. “Well, if you’ve no objection, I can see there’s plenty of things I could be helping out with down here.” She glanced around the filthy kitchen. “I can’t cook, so the easiest thing for me to do would be a spot of cleaning.”
Edna stared at her. “You’re going to clean?” Mina nodded. An expression of heavy skepticism passed over Edna’s face. “I see,” she said, plainly thinking this some whim of the moment. “Well, help yourself, I’m not about to stand in your way, I assure you!”
“Thank you,” Mina said mildly, standing up. “Will you share the first lot of warm water with me? Where do you usually wash? In the scullery?”
This spirit of camaraderie had Edna blinking, but she fetched a china basin and the two of them went companionably into the scullery where they stepped into the alcove, unbu
ttoned their necks and cuffs, and rolled back their sleeves. Edna shared a block of carbolic soap with her and some faded but clean washcloths. They were performing their ablutions side by side when Mina heard the kitchen door slam and the heavy tread of boots across the floor.
Feeling Edna’s gaze on her, Mina forced herself not to react as she heard someone slamming cupboard doors and a filthy curse-word muttered before the rattle of knives in the drawer. It had to be him.
“He’ll be getting himself bacon and eggs from the larder,” Edna muttered. “And splashing hot fat all over the back of the range, no doubt,” she added bitterly.
Mina nodded, realizing the household seemed to shift for itself when it came to meals. “I don’t suppose there’s any tea to be had about the place, is there?” she asked wistfully for she knew the drinking of tea to still be considered a luxury in many places.
“Tea, why to be sure,” said Edna. “We’ve a cupboard full of the stuff. We’ll brew some, when he’s cleared out with his foul temper,” she added in a low voice.
A cupboard full? Mina’s spirits rapidly rose. “Wonderful,” she breathed, setting down her washcloth and picking up a towel. Halting footsteps in the passageway outside had her turning her head to see Will Nye staring straight at her. For a moment, she held his gaze, and then with a slight shake of his head, he was gone.
Mina breathed out again with relief. She rebuttoned herself carefully and checked the pins in the neat knot at her nape, giving him time to finish frying his bacon. “Do you have any headcloths or scarves I could use to cover my hair? And perhaps a spare apron? I have one,” she added quickly at Edna’s expression. “But I have not yet unpacked my trunk.”
“I’ve one I can loan you,” Edna acceded grudgingly. “But it’s nothing fancy.”
Mina held her tongue, rather than pointing out a fancy housemaid’s apron would be of little use to her when scrubbing down greasy surfaces. The slam of the kitchen door let them know Nye had departed. “He can’t possibly have eaten already,” Mina commented with a frown.
A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance Page 4