Wednesday dawned with a very blue sky and bright sunshine despite the bite in the air. Mina hurried down to breakfast informally in the kitchen and immediately noticed unfamiliar faces milling about the yard outside the window.
“Folks have started arriving,” Edna confirmed, following the direction of Mina’s gaze. “We’ve had two coaches already before eight.”
“Good gracious,” Mina observed, raising her teacup to her lips.
“Soon as it’s noon they’ll start swilling ale,” Edna said bitterly. “You just see if they don’t.”
“I’ll get started on the vegetables for the roast dinner as soon as I’ve finished my toast,” Mina reassured her.
Edna nodded. “The mutton’s already in the oven, roasting with rosemary and garlic for the evening meals. If you do the veg, then we’re as prepped as can be expected.”
Mina moved to take charge of the piles of carrots, beets, and turnips and commenced duties there.
Once they were peeled and chopped and set into pans of cold water, she moved them to the side where they could be placed on the range when needed.
New arrivals kept sweeping into the yard and making their way through to the public bar and even sitting in the sunshine outside on a low wall with their tankards.
Edna was forced to run in and out of the kitchen, trying to cover her many duties. She had only just started bearing the stacked platters of hot pasties into the barroom when she was called away again to show another couple up to the bedchamber they had paid for.
“Mrs. Nye,” she said with an agonized glance at the piping hot pastries. “I knows as how you’re supposed to stay out of sight, but I don’t suppose—”
“Never fear, Edna. I am sure I can carry the last of these through without catching anyone’s attention.”
The harried maid smiled at her and darted out into the hallway. Mina’s prediction proved true for the first two platters which she carried through without comment. For the third and final platter however, she was not so lucky.
Mina set the laden dish down on the nearest table to the door and turned to make her escape. She almost collided with a solid figure standing there. It was one of the prizefighters who had stepped into her path.
“Careful, miss.” He laughed, throwing his hands up. “No need to flee before us. We’re not as scary as all that I hope!” He looked her up and down. “You’ll be Ivy’s replacement, then?”
“No, I—”
A second boxer stepped forward. “I remember you,” he hailed her cheerfully. “You were here last time. You came into my room, then ran away before we could get acquainted.” He grinned at her.
Mina’s eyes widened with surprise. “I’m sure I did no such thing!” she denied promptly. Then she frowned, for now she looked at him, it did seem to stir some hazy memory. All at once, she recalled him sprawled out on a mattress on the floor, waiting for Ivy to finish with the occupant of the next room. “Oh,” she said uncomfortably, raising a hand to her lips.
“You remembered me now?” he asked. “Few people could forget this face,” he boasted with a wink, displaying his profile obligingly for her. He was good looking, she acknowledged with his tanned face and nut-brown hair. “You should have stuck around. I never object to passing the time of day with a pretty woman.”
Mina looked frowning from one to the other. They looked remarkably similar with their long, lean builds and twinkling hazel eyes. “Are you brothers?” she asked.
“That’s us, I’m Jack Toomes and this here’s my brother Frank.”
“We’ve another brother fights too, but he couldn’t make it here tonight,” said Frank stroking his sideburns. “He’s—er—indisposed.” From the gleam in his eye, Mina guessed the third brother was up to something even more reprehensible than fighting.
“’Ere, you boys,” interrupted a villainous-looking old woman from a few tables away. “You blind? That ain’t no doxy.” She gave a toothless cackle that seemed to echo in her memory. “You’re wastin’ your time trying to sweet talk this one, she’s took,” she said, knocking back a large glass of gin.
Frank and Jack’s heads whipped around. “What you talkin’ about, Ma?” Jack demanded.
“We’ll see who’s wasting their time,” said Frank. “You workin’ the bar tonight?” he asked, turning back to Mina. “What time do you finish your shift?”
“I don’t actually serve behind the bar,” Mina started to explain. “You see—”
“What the bloody hell’s going on here?” roared Nye from the other end of the bar. He had just come through the other door with a large barrel over his shoulder. “You pair of bastards step away from her and Mina—get back in the kitchen this minute!” he bellowed.
Mina’s face flamed scarlet. Thanks to Nye’s yelling and bawling everyone had turned to look at her with interest. “Don’t you speak to me like that, William Nye!” she replied, her spine stiffening with outrage.
“Mina!” cried Effie, standing up from her table. “How are you, my darlin’?”
“Bloody hell, I didn’t expect her to last more’n a week at most!” someone else observed loudly nearby.
“I’m very well, thank you, Effie,” Mina replied with as much dignity as she could muster. “How are you?”
“Never mind that!” Nye boomed. “You have no business being in here—get out!”
Mina gasped, turned on her heel and hurried back out of the room, blinking back tears. Before she even knew it, she had rushed out of the front door and was hurrying across the courtyard as fast as her legs could carry her. Dimly, she heard the door burst open behind her and someone in boots striding across the cobbles behind her. She had just reached the gatepost when strong arms closed about her from behind.
“Oh no, you don’t my girl,” Nye said lividly, as he lifted her off her feet. “What the hell is it with you and taking off running?” When she started struggling, he swung her around so she faced back toward the inn, then did a double take when he saw the tears streaking down her face. “Mina!”
“Leave me alone!” she flung at him, dragging her forearm across her face, and trying to barge her way passed him back toward the inn.
He seized her about the waist again, hauling her against him. “Why are you crying?” he demanded roughly.
“I’m not speaking to you!” she told him shakily as he placed two large hands on either side of her face.
He lowered his face to hers. “You know, I didn’t mean it like that!” he said in a low, compelling voice. “I just meant the taproom, not—”
“I don’t care what you meant!” Mina flung at him her voice raw and throbbing. She shoved at his chest hard, but he didn’t move back an inch. “I don’t even want to look at you!”
“Mina!” He sounded frustrated. “Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”
“Our marriage you mean?” she demanded. “No, you’re quite right. Trying to make the best of it is an utter waste of my time!”
His expression hardened. “That is not what I meant, and you damned well know it!”
“If you would be so kind as to release me,” she said icily. “Then I will get back to my rightful place in the kitchen.” The effect she thought was probably ruined by her tear-stained face, but she couldn’t do anything about that right now.
He gave a low growl. “If you take off again, I’ll put you over my knee.” He seized her chin and tipped it up to meet his gaze. “Don’t test me.”
“Just leave me alone, Nye,” she said, suddenly exhausted from all the emotion. “I’ve had enough.”
“What does that mean?” he asked angrily, grabbing her arm. “Mina?”
“I’m tired of all this,” she said wearily.
“No, you’re not!” he growled at her, tightening his grip on her upper arms, and shaking her roughly. “You’re in your bloody element, so don’t lie to me!” Mina caught her breath and stared at him. In her element? What did he mean by that? “Don’t tell me you’ve had enough of this becau
se I don’t accept that. I won’t accept it.”
“Wha—?” Mina tensed, but it made no difference as he dragged her against him and crushed his mouth to hers in a cruel, possessive kiss that mashed her lips against her teeth. His fingers drove into the hair at her nape, almost painfully, holding her fast so she could not escape his embrace. Instinctively she knew that to struggle would be a mistake, so she remained rigidly still, until he released her, his breathing ragged and the light of battle in his eye. Mina’s gaze shifted over his shoulder to the faces all pressed against the inn windows.
“We have an audience,” she pointed out.
“Let them look,” he hurled back at her, his fingers closing about her wrist and dragging her in his wake. “If it means I’ll be spared the sight of you being accosted by all and sundry, then so be it.”
“Accosted?” she spluttered. Once he’d hauled her over the threshold, to her surprise he towed her toward the public bar and not the kitchen. “Nye?” she asked, trying to come to a halt and starting to panic. His strength made her dragging feet pointless.
He flung back the door and hauled her up against his side, his hand at her waist. “Everyone!” he announced. “This is my wife and I’ll thank you all to remember it!” He glared about the room aggressively and Mina winced. “Anyone got anything to say about that?” he challenged.
“What’s her name, Nye?” someone called out jocularly.
“Mrs. Nye, to you,” he replied, lip curling. “Anyone else?” His narrowed gaze seemed to wither any remaining questions on their tongues. “You’ll see her about the place this weekend, but I’ll ask you to keep a civil tongue in your heads or you’ll answer to me. Am I understood?”
There were some cleared throats and shuffling of feet at that. “Aye, you’re understood,” another voice responded to a chorus of ‘ayes’. Mina tried not to meet any gazes, she felt so mortified.
Nye lowered his mouth to her ear. “You can invite Effie and any of the womenfolk you want to sit with you in the parlor,” he said, surprising the life out of her. “But if you allow anyone to be over familiar, I won’t be answerable for my actions, Mina,” he warned direly.
When he released her, Mina stumbled forward before recovering her step. She lifted her chin and picked her way through the tables and chairs toward Effie’s bright puce dress. When she reached the table, she realized Effie was sat with the raven-tressed partner of Mr. Jones. Today she was wearing a striking dress of striped black and white and a matching hat with a black feather.
“Here, darlin’,” said Effie, drawing a seat back for her. “Park yourself here wiv’ us girls. Can’t think when I’ve been so entertained! Allow me to introduce Miss Dottie Jones,” she said, gesturing toward her companion. Then casting a shrewd look over Mina, she nudged her own glass toward her. “Take a swig of this, you’ll feel more the thing then.”
Mina nodded toward Dottie who was surveying her with amused incredulity and accepted Effie’s kind gesture by taking a tiny sip of the gin. She managed it without pulling a face or shuddering. “Thank you,” she said, returning the glass to Effie with a forced smile. “I’m afraid Nye won’t permit me to sit in the public bar,” she admitted. “But if either of you ladies would like to join me in my private parlor, then I would be glad to receive you at any time. I can generally be found in there or the kitchen.”
“My, my,” drawled Dottie Jones. “A private parlor, we are privileged.”
“I’ll join you and gladly,” Effie announced. “Jeb plain ignores me when he gets wiv’ all his boxing cronies and that’s a fact,” she laughed. “But probably not till tomorrow, though Mina. We’ve got the bouts to watch and you’ll likely be done in by then and all. You’re run off your feet.”
“Yes,” Mina agreed. “Perhaps you’ll join me there for breakfast tomorrow morning, say at nine o’clock?” With a slightly unfocussed smile, Mina turned and made her way out of the bar with her head held high. She fancied she did not imagine the swell of conversation as the door swung to behind her, but if there was any justice in the world then Nye’s name was being just as bandied about as her own, if not more.
She was glad to escape to the kitchen after her ordeal but even there was not quite the refuge she would have liked. She heard Edna’s voice upraised in the kitchen and when she pushed the door open, she saw she was talking heatedly to Reuben. On her appearance, they both shut up like clams.
“If those is ready, I’ll take ‘em out now,” Reuben said in a surly voice, clearing his throat.
Edna tutted. “Ten minutes ago, would have been preferable,” she snapped. He picked up the platter of hot pasties with ill-grace and stomped out of the kitchen with them.
“Right sorry I am, Mrs. Nye,” Edna said, turning to her without preamble. “It’s my fault the master took on so—”
“No, no Edna, I knew how he would be, it’s not your fault,” Mina interrupted her hastily. She could not bear to hear Edna speak of what had happened. “We are so short of hands that it really ought to be every man, woman, and child on deck.”
Edna bit her lip. “Yes, Mrs. Nye,” she said repressively. “Least now with the lunchtime rush, things will quiet down for a few hours till evening.”
“I suppose so,” Mina agreed. “What time will you be required in the taproom?”
“Not till six,” Edna said pressing her lips into a thin line.
“It’s a great pity Reuben cannot take a turn at serving behind the bar,” Mina observed, rolling up her sleeves and crossing to the sink to wash the large quantity of glasses and tankards that had appeared from the bar dirty.
“That stupid fellow!” Edna spat bitterly. “Could not be trusted as far as he could be thrown.”
Mina filled five trays with clean drinking vessels before the sink was cleared enough for the next lot. “These will all need taking through to the bar Edna, and I confess I am not equal to the task.”
Edna nodded grimly, setting down the potato she was peeling ready for the suppers. “It’s not to be wondered at Mrs Nye,” she said, rounding the table and picking up the first lot. “If I find Reuben, I’ll send him through for the rest,” was her departing shot over her shoulder.
Mina, who had spotted Reuben through the window setting down hay bales in the yard, did not have the heart to disillusion the crosspatch maid. She wondered a moment what the bales could be for before she realized he was marking out a crude ring for the opponents to spar within.
When Edna returned, the trays now stacked with dirty glasses once again, she piled them next to the sink.
“Can I leave you to take charge of the pots, Mrs. Nye,” she asked, making for an overhead cupboard. “Only I need to make the dough now for the loaves for morning.”
“Of course, Edna. And once I’ve done these, I’ll wash up. I cannot bake bread, so you need to concentrate on that.”
“Yes, Mrs. Nye,” Edna agreed looking gratified. They worked silently for the next hour and a half, moving purposely around the kitchen. Once Mina had fetched and boiled clean water for the sink and cleared the dirty dishes, she made a pot of tea which they shared as she washed and dried all the glasses and mugs.
At one point, a grumbling Reuben appeared bearing the empty platters which now only held pastry crumbs from the devoured pasties.
“Not there!” Edna scolded him when he tried to set them down on the clean table. “Over by the sink for washing, you lummox!”
He changed direction and slammed them down, but Mina cut off his hasty retreat by pointing out the clean glasses for the bar. “You’ll need to take those back through now, Reuben,” she pointed out coolly. Reuben muttered under his breath but followed her directives all the same.
“After this week, Nye really needs to take a good look at the staffing of this place,” Mina said darkly.
“He’ll never sack Reuben,” Edna said bitterly.
“Why not?” Mina frowned, looking up in surprise. “Is his stable work really so indispensable? He seems a surly, dis
obliging fellow to me.”
“It’s not his work in the stables the master cannot do without,” Edna muttered and would not meet Mina’s steady gaze.
Mina pulled the plug on the sink and let the dirty water drain away as she considered this. Was it possible that Reuben was in on the smuggling business, she wondered? She collected the bucket from the corner of the kitchen and carried it outside to the pump to refill with water for boiling. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Effie’s man and another muscled prizefighter both smoking cigars as they sat on the low stone wall in the sunshine.
“Mrs. Nye,” they said both said, removing their cigars from their mouths politely before they spoke. Neither of them wore a jacket but were sat in their shirts and waistcoats as if relaxing in their own gardens.
She nodded. “How do you do.”
“I’m Jeb Morris,” said the first who had very pale blue eyes. He nodded to his companion. “This here’s Clem Dabney.”
“How do,” said Clem, eyeing her curiously. His waistcoat was pink and black with gold stitching and he wore no cravat, his collar slung negligently open as if he were still shaving. Mina wondered if it was due to his thick, muscular neck. Perhaps neckcloths were uncomfortable for him to wear?
Jeb hesitated. “You probably don’t remember us,” he said. “But we were at your wedding.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a twinkle in those almost colorless eyes as he replaced his cigar between his lips.
Mina seized the arm of the pump and worked it, glad for a distraction. “Yes,” she said after half-filling the bucket and pausing to rest her arm. “I do remember both of you as it happens. You were with Effie who was very kind to me and as for you, Mr. Dabney, your companion broke a mirror in your room and threatened to see you hanged if I remember correctly.”
Clem Dabney let out a surprised guffaw. “Aw Goldie didn’t mean anything by it, Mrs. Nye,” he told her with an easy grin. “She’s just got the temper of a fiend.”
A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance Page 24