“Oh, I see.”
“I’ve always been a seafaring man, me and my father before me.”
“You are a fisherman, Mr. Hopkirk?”
“I am now,” he agreed. “But when I were in my prime, I was in the merchant navy.”
“Indeed? You must have seen a good deal of the world?” Mina spoke around her mouthful of pins in a way she knew would make her mother quite shocked. Somehow, she did not think Gus Hopkirk would care at her lack of etiquette. Her fingers flew as she pinned and tacked the curtains into their new incarnation.
“That I have.” He beamed. “That I have, though if its sights and wonders you’re after, then this part of the world is the right one to come to.” He lowered his voice. “There’s sights and sounds along this coastline would curdle the blood in your veins,” he said. “More to petrify any man who’d traveled the breadth and depth of the world! This coastline,” he said ominously. “Has more mysteries and terrors to rival any other in the civilized world, or the uncivilized, if you takes my meaning.” When she looked up, she found him tapping his rather broad nose.
“Well,” Mina said cautiously. “It rather sounds as though you are speaking of ghost stories, Mr. Hopkirk.”
“Ghost stories! I should think I am!” he agreed with a chuckle. “Are you partial to a yarn or two, Mrs. Nye, on a cold, rainy day in spring?”
Mina thought of the thrilling short stories in her periodicals that her father had frowned at. “I confess, I do enjoy them,” she admitted. “Though I tend to associate them more with Christmas time.”
“Then, perhaps…?” He withdrew a flask from his waistcoat and tipped the contents into his tea, holding up the bottle quizzically.
Mina shook her head. “No, thank you, not if I want these curtains to be fit for purpose.”
Gus chuckled and settled back in his chair. He told her tales of spectral hounds and restless grey ladies, of hand-wringing wraiths and ghostly hunts who pursued lost souls along the cliffs on a stormy night. He told her of the malevolent monks who had once lived in a medieval monastery on this very spot who had been disbanded and punished by the bishop for their wickedness and sin. If you saw them, you were surely cursed to an unhappy fate. Some travelers, he added ominously had been known to drop dead at the sight of their sinister habits, their empty cowls creeping up to them on a dark, stormy night.
“They must surely have had weak hearts,” Mina said with a shudder. “Or some other such predisposition?”
“Aye, mebbe,” Gus agreed, closing his teeth on his pipe stem.
Mina hesitated, dying to know what wickedness and sin the monks had indulged in during their lives, but maidenly decorum held her back. Gus’s eyes twinkled.
“The monastery had a relic,” he explained. “And so, became a popular route for pilgrims in those days. They flocked there, to touch the holy bones of St Grayking.”
“St Grayking?” Mina frowned. Surely, she had heard that name before.
“Aye,” he nodded. “The monks built an annex for the pilgrims to take their overnight rest in,” he continued comfortably. “There, for a handsome fee mind, they served them with roasted goose and plum pudding and all sorts of fine wines.”
“I see.” Mina picked up her tacking thread. “It does not sound like typical monastic fare.”
“No indeed,” Gus agreed heartily. “They was supposed to subsist on weak gruel and pottage, but they had grown used to rich foods and vice. But that’s not the worst of it.”
Mina threaded her needle and looked up enquiringly. “It wasn’t?”
He shook his head. “No indeed! Once these pilgrims was soused to the gills, they would lure the richest of them out to the headland on some pretext and fling them off the nearest cliff and help themselves to all his worldly goods.”
“How terrible! But surely some of these murdered pilgrims must have washed up on the shore?”
“Aye, that they did,” Gus agreed. “But their party would usually have moved on by then, so no-one knew whence they came. If anyone stayed on, the monks would say their victim must have gone out for a walk and been set on by thieves or else sleep-walked to his death.”
Mina considered this. “Yet you said the bishop punished them, so their secret must have been discovered eventually?”
“Aye, that it was,” Gus agreed, removing his pipe. “Too many dead bodies washed up and someone wrote to the bishop about all the unsavory rumors of wine, loose women and song. One time, they had the misfortune to pick out a wealthy merchant with powerful connections who wouldn’t let his disappearance lie. They found his gold ring on the beach and two witnesses who’d seen him take to his bed the night before, despite the monks denying they’d ever laid eyes on him. Kicked up a fuss they did, then one of the monks he confessed. Some say under torture and the rest was all hung on a gibbet on the harbor wall.
“The bishop had their monastery torn down and the annex burned to the ground.” Gus nodded with satisfaction. “So may all sinners be punished. It don’t stop ‘em walking though. Not on a moonless night. They’re doomed to tread their old path up to the cliffs and then back home again. Dragging their feet and rolling their cart with them.”
Mina looked up with a quick breath. “Rolling their cart?”
“Aye, for sometimes their victims was so dead drunk they had to be dragged from their beds and rolled up to the cliffs.”
Mina felt herself turn pale. That couldn’t possibly have been what she heard in the early hours, could it? She lowered her sewing and stared at Gus. “How horrible.” He nodded in solemn agreement. “I don’t suppose—? I mean, that you’ve ever—?” She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask it.
“No, Mrs Nye. I ain’t never seen hide nor hair of any ghostly monks. But you can bet if I did, I’d take to my heels so fast you wouldn’t see me for dust.” He chuckled, tapping his nose with his pipe. “Now, are you sure you won’t take a nip of this?” he said, picking his tin flask back up with a flourish.
“No, indeed thank you.”
“How’s them curtains a-lookin’ of?”
Mina broke her thread and shook out the folds of the one she was working on. “They’re all pinned and tacked now, ready to be sewn up. I shall finish them this afternoon.”
“That’s good, Mrs. Nye. You’ve an industrious nature and no mistake. Think Nye said as you was a schoolmistress in your past life?”
Mina was surprised. “Nye told you that?” For some reason, she had not thought Nye was the garrulous type.
“Oh aye. You needn’t look so shocked,” he chortled. “I knowed him since he were a boy, so I have.”
Mina frowned. “But I thought you said you only moved here ten years ago?”
She thought he blinked a moment, but then his ready smile returned. “Ah well, he were only a lad of eighteen or so then. To an old fellow such as myself, that’s nowt but a boy!”
She nodded, returning his smile. “You do not take your boat out today, Mr. Hopkirk?”
He shook his head. “Too windy,” he said. “My bones is too old to fight against the waves. I only takes her out now when it’s calm and balmy. I shall be mendin’ my nets this afternoon,” he said, glancing at the window. “My word, how the time has flown. I hope I’ve not bored you with my yarns, Mrs. Nye.”
“No, indeed! I very much enjoyed them, thank you.”
“No, don’t stand up,” he said getting to his feet. “I’ll not distract you any further.” He wandered over to the door and paused there a moment looking back at her. For an instant, Mina thought he would speak again, but he merely nodded and let himself out.
Edna appeared not long after with a fresh pasty for her lunch and more hot water for tea. She inspected the curtains and was most pleased to be told a pair was for her own bedroom window. “I can sew up the second pair, Mrs. Nye,” she protested. “Now you’ve put them all ready.”
“You’re very busy, Edna,” Mina reminded her. “And have plenty to be going on with already. I can sew yours u
p tomorrow. Besides, it never occurred to me, but do you have a curtain rod in your room already?” Edna shook her head, looking suddenly crestfallen. “It is of no matter,” Mina assured her. “I shall tell Nye to have one put up.”
Edna’s expression wavered. “I don’t know as—”
“I shall go and tell him directly,” Mina cut her off firmly. “Besides, I need to stretch my legs. I’ve been sat here unmoving all morning.”
“If I hadn’t made plans already, I could have spent my afternoon off sewing them up,” Enda said with regret.
“I quite forgot it’s your half-day,” Mina said. “I did want you to pick me up a few things from St Ives after all. That is, if you are still agreeable?”
“Of course!”
Mina stepped to the writing desk and hastily scrawled a list. Two bottles of scented lotion, two bars of scented soap, two stamps. The lotion and soaps were for Edna and Ivy so it was a shame she could not pick them up herself, but it was the thought that counted. The stamps were for herself. One to put on the letter she was writing Hannah and one for a spare.
“I shall run upstairs directly,” Mina said. “To fetch my money.”
“There’s no hurry,” Edna called after her. “There’s another hour till I meet the cart.”
Mina was already halfway up the stairs and she did not slow her step as she flew up the attic stairs to collect her half-sovereign. She burst into her bedroom without ceremony.
“Oh!” Nye stood on the threshold, though the other two men were nowhere in sight. Gazing past him she saw the new brass curtain rail fixed firmly into place. “Finished already?” she asked foolishly, but she felt rather discomforted finding him in her bedchamber like that.
“I am,” he said, fixing her with an intent look. “You?” He looked pointedly at her empty hands.
“They are taking shape. I have only to sew them up now which I will sit and do this afternoon.”
“I see.”
“In fact,” she said. “There was enough fabric to make two pairs of curtains. So, I have made a second pair for Edna. Her window faces the courtyard too,” she added and saw his eyes narrow. “So, I will need you to fix up a second curtain rod in her room also.”
“Is that so?”
She raised her chin. “It is, yes.”
“That what you ran up here to tell me?”
“Actually,” she said, walking past him and around the bed to reach the chest of drawers. “I have come to fetch my money. Edna is going into St Ives this afternoon and has kindly agreed to fetch me a few things.” She reached into the top drawer and withdrew a single navy stocking from the back of it. With little other choice, she shook it out under his eyes and pulled out the bundled-up handkerchief from the toe. This she unwrapped to reveal her gleaming half-sovereign.
“You’ll not be sending Edna to St Ives with that much, surely?” he asked with a frown in his voice.
“I don’t have anything else,” she admitted without thinking. “Can you change it for me?”
“Maybe.” He hesitated. “What did you need her to fetch?”
Mina bridled. “Personal items,” she said, drawing herself up. To her consternation, he walked toward her. Mina’s heartbeat picked up disturbingly when he came to a halt before her and plucked the list from her hand that she hadn’t realized she was still holding. She gasped indignantly as his eyes travelled unhurriedly over the list.
“Is that it?” he asked. “I’d have thought from your attitude it was a pair of drawers at the very least.”
“How dare you! No gentleman would ever mention—”
He scoffed. “I’m no gentleman, Mina. I would have thought a smart woman like yourself would have realized that by now.” He let his gaze rake over her. “I had no idea that fine ladies got through soap as fast as you do.” His eyes dwelt on her. “Nor lotion, but I guess that’s how you keep your skin so soft.”
To her embarrassment, Mina could feel the color creeping into her cheeks. How did he know how soft her skin was? She remembered how he had carried her in his arms the day before. Had he touched her skin? “As a matter of fact, it’s not for me,” she admitted. “But to repay Edna and Ivy’s kindnesses toward me.” His eyebrows rose at that. “Ivy used her own lotion on my cuts.”
His eyes flickered. “You don’t have any of your own?”
Mina shook her head. “I used the last of it the other night,” she admitted and even she could hear the note of sadness in her voice. Why was she talking so much? She suspected it was Nye’s fault as he did not talk enough and made her nervous. His proximity was extremely disquieting.
Nye frowned. “So, tell Edna to buy three lotions and three soaps.”
“I need to employ thrift,” she pointed out. “If my money is to last. Besides, I have two bars of soap already. I bought a lavender with me and Ivy gave me a rose.”
“Keep your half-sovereign,” he said brusquely. “I’ll speak to Edna.”
Mina was flustered. “What do you mean?”
“I have a few things to add to her list,” he said turning away. Impulsively, Mina reached out and caught his sleeve, he halted at once.
“But I want to buy them as a token of my thanks,” she insisted.
“They’ll still be from you,” he said harshly. “Do you think I’m in the habit of buying gifts for the maids here?”
She hurriedly withdrew her hand. Was he offended? “No, of course not, but—”
“Fine,” he said, holding out his hand. “Give the half-sovereign to me. I’ll deduct any costs from it you incur.”
Mina handed over the sum of her wealth with some reluctance. “And you’ll put up that curtain rail for Edna?” she added boldly. He scowled. Mina wasn’t sure what imp of mischief prompted her, but before she knew it, she had added pertly. “After all, you can deduct any expense from my half-sovereign!”
He took a step closer and Mina took an involuntary step back. Their gazes clashed and Mina realized they were both breathing hard now.
“Careful Mina,” he told her in a low voice. “It wouldn’t do to give me an excuse, not right now.”
“An excuse for what?” Mina asked, wishing her voice didn’t sound so breathless. Had she fastened her self-lacing corset too tightly that morning? He took another step forward and Mina took another back. Her skirts were up against the dressing table now and she had nowhere to left to retreat. She stared at up him, transfixed.
“Nye!” the shout from the stairs startled them both.
Nye turned his head. “What is it?” he bellowed.
“Delivery!”
He growled something under his breath and turned away, heading down the stairs with a heavy tread. Mina stayed frozen where she was a moment. Oddly enough, at that moment, she couldn’t decide if her overwhelming emotion was relief or disappointment. Strange. She waited five whole minutes before she too went downstairs.
She finished the first pair of curtains that afternoon. Setting them down, she rose from her chair and stretched. She felt stiff and irritable. If she hadn’t been under such pressure to finish these wretched curtains by nightfall, she could have had a nice walk at lunchtime. She walked over to the window and peered out at the rapidly darkening sky. She hoped Edna would be back before nightfall, that was all.
The curtains in the parlor bar were dingy and dark and could likely do with a good wash, she thought, fingering the heavy fabric as she loosened the cord to pull them across the window. She would have to light the lamps in here if she was to dine alone in here as everyone seemed to expect her to. Crossing to the mantlepiece, she picked up one of the rolled spills Edna had placed there that morning for her convenience. Holding it to the flames a moment to catch, she walked across the room to light the two oil lamps on pewter bases that stood on two of the remaining small circular tables. They cast a soft golden glow over the room and Mina had just turned around to survey the results when a knock at the door was followed by Edna spilling into the room laden down from her shopping trip.
“Oh, Mrs. Nye!” she panted. “I’ll just set these things down in here and then get some water boiling for tea.”
“Let me see to the tea, Edna,” Mia said, crossing the room. “You look done in!”
“That Sam Coulter’s wagon does jolt a body.” Edna shuddered. “And the wind and rain didn’t help!”
Mina slipped out of the room with the silver teapot into the kitchen where she set water to boil on the range. By the time she returned with a fresh pot of tea, Edna had removed her bonnet and tidied her hair and was looking a lot less harried.
“How was your aunt?” Mina asked as she set out the cups and saucers.
“Very well,” Edna shared. “She’s a good soul and not one to make a fuss about her troubles. We couldn’t even get halfway down the pier, what with the weather, but we had a nice cream tea in our favorite tea rooms. Aunty helped me pick out the items from your shopping list too,” she added with satisfaction. “We went into quite half the shops on the high street.”
“I’m not surprised that you’re worn out,” Mina commented, pouring tea into two cups. “It sounds like you’ve been very busy indeed.”
“And how has your sewing progressed?” Edna asked, glancing over at the blue velvet at the other end of the table.
Mina passed a cup and saucer to Edna. “The first pair are completed,” she admitted. “And I shall sew up yours tomorrow morning.”
Edna’s eyes gleamed. “I told auntie you were making me some curtains and she bought you this,” said Edna, delving into a shopping bag before sliding a somewhat crushed looking cardboard box across the table.
“What is it?” asked Mina in surprise.
“It’s a cream cake,” said Edna. “I only hope it’s not too squashed.”
“Oh, how kind of her!” Mina peered inside at the cream slice. “It looks delicious.”
Edna nodded, looking gratified. She piled two more boxes onto the table and a large pink striped tin. “I hope this was what you had in mind,” she said. “Only Master Nye wasn’t terribly specific.”
A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance Page 10