“Yes,” Mina agreed slowly. “I suppose she was at one point. Not when I knew her of course, but before she was married to my father.”
Ivy shook her head. “Well!” she said, staring at Mina. “They always says as he took after his mother,” she mused. “But I can’t say as I can see a resemblance.” She hesitated. “Except maybe… In a certain delicacy in the cast of your features.” She returned to massaging the lotion into Mina’s fingers as Mina reflected this was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said about her face. “And to think,” she marveled. “That Lord Faris thought to provide for you—a proper lady—by marrying you off to a nasty rough brute like Nye!” She looked scandalized. “He’s got a wild side and no mistake.”
“Lord Faris?” Mina clarified, trying to keep track of the conversation.
“Yes him,” Ivy agreed darkly, before hesitating. “The apple don’t fall from the tree and no mistake. You do know that—” She lowered her voice. “Nye’s father old Jacob Nye ran this place before him. But he weren’t the one what sired him.”
“I have heard that the old Viscount was his true father,” Mina admitted, coloring delicately. “Making them half-brothers.”
“That’s right. The old lord what was married to your Mother. Ellen Nye were his fancy piece for years. He bought this place for her when he was done. It’s named after her. Before that, it was called The Quiet Woman.” Mina absorbed this startling piece of news in silence. The Merry Harlot on the sign was Nye’s mother? “Jacob Nye married her, getting his hands on the inn and giving both mother and child his name.”
“I see.”
Ivy released her hand and moved down to the foot of the bed. She flipped back the coverlet and inspected the scratches up Mina’s shin. “Nasty,” she tutted, reaching for her bottle.
“You shouldn’t waste all your lotion on me, Ivy,” Mina said hurriedly. “It looks expensive.”
“Nonsense,” Ivy said, waving a hand. “You’ll ruin your skin with that nasty abrasive carbolic and wind up as dried up as Edna.”
“You and Edna have both been very kind,” Mina murmured as the soothing cool lotion washed over her skin.
Ivy shrugged. “You must have told her,” she said with a snort. “About your connection to Lord Faris.”
“No,” Mina answered. “Not a word of it. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
Ivy’s mouth dropped. “And she’s been hob-knobbing with you? Thinking you’re a cast-off bird of paradise?” Mina gazed back at her blankly. “A soiled dove. Lord Faris’s ex-mistress,” Ivy explained patiently.
“I’m sure she doesn’t think that,” Mina said, stirring uneasily as she remembered Edna’s words earlier. I don’t care what anyone says. I know a respectable woman when I see one.
“Bless you sweetheart,” said Ivy, plunking her hands on her hips and giving her a pitying look. “That’s what everyone thinks. The whole damn village.”
7
Mina woke the next morning and remembered it was Sunday. Her muscles felt stiff and sore as she donned a gown that had once been blue plaid but was now a rather dingy black. She would have to go in search of yesterday’s clothes at some point. She could not afford to lose half of her petticoats, even if the gown were torn and in need of repair. Outside her room she found her black ankle boots, polished and cleaned after their mishap at the beach the previous day.
Edna was already downstairs and together they washed, ate toasted muffins, and drank tea before donning their bonnets and cloaks and setting off for church. They were halfway across the courtyard when Nye’s voice hailed them. Mina whipped around and saw him emerging from the stables.
“Where are you off to?” he asked with a heavy frown. “I thought you’d sleep in this morn.”
“Church,” Mina answered him simply.
His gaze flickered over her and he cleared his throat. “You’re none the worst then,” he said, gazing at some fixed point to the left of her shoulder.
“Just a bit sore,” Mina admitted. “Which is my own fault.” She took a deep breath. “Next time I get an urge to visit the beach, I’ll look for a more sedate path.”
His eyes met hers briefly before he looked away. “You do that,” he said dryly.
Edna opened and shut her prayer book restlessly. “We’ll have to leave now, Mrs. Nye,” she interrupted them. “Or we’ll be late and Reverend Ryland doesn’t appreciate latecomers.”
Mina nodded, noticing that Edna did not address Nye or even look at him and his eyes were trained on her.
“No housework when you get back,” he said gruffly. “It’s Sunday, so you can take your rest.” He swung about on his heel and plunged back into the stables before Mina could react.
“Is The Harlot open on a Sunday?” Mina asked as she and Edna hurried across the courtyard. She felt slightly discomforted speaking of harlots on the Lord’s day.
Edna pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’ve put a shoulder of mutton in the oven this morning to roast. There’s plenty of sinners spend their Sundays at this godforsaken hole,” she said sourly. “And expected meat along with their liquor.”
Mina glanced up at the inn sign as they passed it and the pretty, round dimpled face of the harlot. For the first time she noticed she was winking one eye and clasping a tray of bottles to her ample bosom. She wondered if Ellen Nye had really been as pretty and as merry as the sign proclaimed. If so, her son had inherited neither of these traits.
For the first time, it occurred to her that if Ellen Nye had been the old Viscount Faris’s mistress ‘for years’ as Ivy had said, then very likely it had been during the time her own mother was married to him. Her footsteps faltered as he considered the likelihood that her mother and Nye’s had been love rivals. What a strange notion.
She was twenty-four this year, she would have put Jeremy at twenty-seven or thereabouts and Nye not much older. Had Nye been the old lord’s first-born, despite his illegitimate status? Was it that which had that cemented Ellen’s place in the old viscount’s affections and led to him purchasing her the inn? They turned down to the right and started down the steep hill to the village as Mina pondered these things.
It was at the first glimpse of the fishermen’s cottages lining the main street through the village that Mina felt the first stirrings of unease at the reception she might receive from the congregation. Ivy’s words came back to haunt her from the previous evening. Did everyone really think she was Jeremy’s cast-off mistress?
A few stragglers were stood milling about outside the church exchanging gossip, but it did not seem Edna was the sociable type for she headed straight for the church door. Her head held high Mina followed her example. She heard a few sharply indrawn breaths as she and Edna proceeded down the aisle of the church, but Mina made sure to keep her gaze straight ahead. Edna made for a pew halfway down and Mina slipped into it after her, sitting next to her on the wooden bench.
Despite her impressions on her wedding day, St. Werburgh’s church was not in fact a cave, but rather a small grey stone church with few pretensions. Its porch was probably its most decorative part of it either that or the colorful stained-glass windows. During the service Mina found herself wondering several times at the significance of the images on the windows which were festooned all about with geese. She recognized Reverend Ryland’s ponderous tones and wondered what he had made of the impromptu wedding service he had been impelled to perform.
Looking back on it now, that whole evening had all the qualities of a bad dream and she couldn’t quite believe she was even married. Glancing down, she found she was rubbing the bare third finger of her left hand where a wedding band would traditionally be worn. She didn’t even have a brass one, let alone a gold. She still had Mama’s of course, she thought, as Papa had not had the heart to sell it. Should she take to wearing that in the cause of respectability?
On the walk back to the inn she quizzed Edna about the geese and was told vaguely that they were sacred to St. Werburgh.
“I did not, but I shall make sure to next Sunday. Most interesting,” Mina murmured as they turned into the inn. “The stained glass looked very fine.”
“Lord Faris paid for it,” Edna sniffed. “You may have observed the Vance family box pew up the front? Decorated with the family coat of arms?” Edna prompted.
Mina admitted she had noticed it. She recognized the crest from Jeremy’s carriage.
“Precious little they ever sits in it!” Edna said darkly. “His lady wife,” she spoke the words with vicious disdain. “Has visited The Harlot more times than she has St Werburgh’s!”
“Viscountess Faris has been to the inn?” Mina was frankly shocked to hear this. Her impression of The Merry Harlot was that the place was rough and ready and entirely unfit for polite company. “In search of her husband I suppose, for I cannot imagine any other reason.”
“Least said about it the better,” Edna enounced with disgust.
Mina frowned. Though her husband might be related to Lord Faris, it was on the wrong side of the blanket and would not be acknowledged by polite society. “Is Lady Faris from a local family?” she asked, feeling some curiosity toward her half-brother’s wife. She remembered Jeremy had made some disparaging comment about her during their journey but could not what recall for the moment what it had been.
“Met her in London he did and bought her back here a bride,” Edna’s expression was disapproving. “Nasty fast bit of goods she is too! For all the fact her father was an earl!”
“They have a child I think?”
“Young Master Vance been sent away to school, poor mite. Probably for the best. Precious little moral guidance he’d receive at home and that’s a fact!”
Mina felt a flicker of interest. She supposed young master Vance was a nephew of hers of sorts. Not that the connection was likely to be recognized now she was a publican’s wife. “I see,” she murmured placatingly. They had reached the kitchen door by now and reaching for it, Mina was surprised to find it wrenched open for her.
Nye stood looming in the doorway. “About time,” he said with a frown, taking her arm and leading her through to the passage beyond. “What kept you?”
“It was only a short sermon,” she pointed out mildly. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” To her surprise, he led her straight to the parlor bar. A good deal of the wooden chairs had been cleared out of the room along with most of the small circular tables. Instead, two plush armchairs and a sofa had been set next to the fireplace, upholstered in a matching peach colored brocade. To her astonishment, she saw her own silver teapot sat on one of the tables that remained along with a very pretty tea set of cobalt and gold. A rosewood workbox was sat next to the sofa on which a beautiful Chinese shawl was spread out and against the opposite wall, an elegant lady’s writing desk stood complete with little drawers, a penholder, and a matching chair.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Mina blurted after staring in astonishment at the room’s transformation. “Really, I don’t.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Nye shrugged. “It’s for you to use.”
“Me?” she turned to him blankly. “But whose are these things?” she said, pointing to the workbox and shawl and giving a sweeping gesture to incorporate the china service.
“Yours now,” he replied shortly.
“Mine? But—”
“I’ll send Edna to fetch your tea.”
“Wait- “
The door shut behind him. Mina wondered why every word he spoke to her seemed to take monumental effort. Was it all women he did not like, or just her? She remembered how Edna also seemed to avoid him. Maybe she shouldn’t take it personally. Maybe he just loathed all women. For some reason, she thought suddenly of Ivy and wondered if he was also averse to the blonde barmaid.
Mina turned in a circle, taking in the mostly empty expanse of the parlor bar now. Her new seating area only took up about a third of the space. She walked over to the large handsome mantlepiece over the fire. It had been quite bare the other day when she had polished its every carved nook and cranny, but now it had two very pretty candelabra set on it which were dripping with crystal droplets designed to catch the light.
A decorative box of gold enamel sat between them which had a coral cameo in the center of the lid, bearing the profile of a classical maiden. When Mina lifted the lid, it started to play a tinkling tune, so she quickly slammed it shut and moved away. How could they be her things, she wondered blankly? Clearly, they were expensive items and no doubt someone’s treasured possessions. Moving over to the sofa, she admired the delicate peach upholstery and then lifted the Chinese shawl to examine the exquisite patterning of pink blossom adorning the teal-colored silk. She had never seen one so pretty.
Absently, she draped it over her shoulders and walked back to the mirrored over-mantle. Was it merely her imagination or did the shawl immediately brighten her appearance? Not just the unalleviated black of her mourning, but also endowing her skin with an illusion of blooming. She shrugged it off quickly. It was a beautiful thing, but to imagine it could beautify her was just nonsense. She set it down carefully onto the sofa and sat down beside it.
Edna brought her hot water for her tea and seemed to cautiously approve of the new set up. “Silver teapot looks right at home,” she said, nodding with satisfaction. “It’s my half day tomorrow, Mrs. Nye,” she said, catching Mina off guard. “I mean to hitch a ride to St Ives to meet my aunt on the pier.”
For a moment, Mina had thought Edna was going to invite her to join her. She felt a stab of disappointment. “Oh, how nice. Is St Ives big town?”
Edna nodded. “It’s a fishing port,” she explained.
Mina nodded. “Does your aunt live there?”
Edna shook her head. “It’s halfway between us, so a good point to meet.”
“Well, I hope you have a lovely visit, Edna.”
“Would there be anything you wanted me to fetch you back, Mrs. Nye? From the shops, I mean.”
“Oh.” Mina thought a moment. “That’s very kind of you, Edna. Let me consider and I will let you know.”
Edna nodded. “I’ll make a seed cake this afternoon. If I have the time,” she added briskly before leaving the room.
Mina thought of her half-sovereign as she measured tea leaves into the pot and added the hot water. Would it be a good idea to break into it when it constituted her only wealth in the world? It might be a nice gesture to replace Ivy’s bottle of lotion and to buy Edna some scented soap after their kindness toward her.
She was still debating this when the small brass key in the latch of the workbox at her feet caught her attention. Deciding she would look inside while the tea brewed, she lifted the box onto her knee. Inside was a jumble of embroidery tools, sewing needles, silk threads, and fancy buttons. It was lined with blue silk and had lots of dividers for organizing things, so Mina could only imagine that someone had turned it upside down at some point for it have got into such a mess.
Impulsively, she upended it now on the sofa and determined to sort the contents that very minute. She spent an enjoyable twenty minutes reordering the box to her satisfaction and drinking two cups of tea during the process. Then she nipped upstairs to collect her own meagre sewing kit to add to the box. She had a silver thimble and a small pair of sewing scissors in a decorative sheath to add along with a quantity of cheap black darning wool she used for her stockings.
It was only after she had sat back down again that she recalled the matching pair of Staffordshire china dogs which she had not even unpacked from her trunk. They would look very well on th
e mantlepiece she thought, at either side. She would go and fetch them also. She was returning with this journey, with the dogs in her hands when she came across Nye in the passageway.
“I was just fetching these for the mantle,” she said hurriedly, forestalling any demands as to why she was not reclining by the fire. He glanced down at the red and white china dogs complete with collars. To her surprise, he followed her into the parlor room where she set them above the fire. “What do you think?” she asked, rather self-consciously as she stepped back to study the effect.
For a moment, she did not think he would answer. He seemed to be regarding her more than the ornaments. Then he seemed to stir himself. “What kind of dogs are they supposed to be?”
“Cavalier King Charles’s,” she answered promptly. “They were my mother’s.”
Again, his gaze, which had been wandering over the rearranged room, snapped back to meet hers. He nodded which she supposed meant he approved. Suddenly, it occurred to Mina that the feminine possessions, now dotted about the room, likely belonged to his mother and had been brought out of storage. She blushed, thinking how inappropriate it was that his mother’s things should now be mingled with her own as Ellen Nye had been the mistress of her mother’s first husband.
“I’m having a dining table brought in before supper,” he said curtly. “You can take your meals in here in future.”
Mina’s eyes widened. “Will you take them with me,” she asked, emboldened by the longest conversation she thought they’d ever probably had.
His eyelids flickered. “Probably not.”
Oh. Well, that was certainly plain speaking. It seemed their lives were to run parallel to one another but not cross over. “I would appreciate it very much,” she said, deciding to take a leaf out of his book. “If you could explain the rules to me.” She walked over to one of the peach brocade armchairs and perched herself on it, hands folded in her lap. She would be civilized and calm, completely in control. The opposite of what she had been the day before.
“Rules?” he asked, looking as though goaded into speech.
A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance Page 8