“Is she not here with you this weekend?” Mina asked.
He smirked. “She’s otherwise engaged.”
“Don’t listen to him, love,” Jeb recommended. “He’s already moved onto pastures new.”
“Not all of us are ready for a leg shackle, like Nye was,” Clem protested.
“Not a very flattering way to describe Mrs. Nye, Clem. You’re ungallant, so you are,” Jeb chafed him.
“Nay, that wasn’t my meaning, Mrs. Nye,” Clem said hastily. “I make a point always to be gallant to the ladies.”
“Such gallantry I believe I can live without,” Mina said dryly, and Jeb laughed uproariously as Mina worked the pump until the bucket was filled and then stooped to pick it up.
“Nay, let me,” Clem said, sliding off the wall and taking the bucket from her. “I’ll prove I’m a gentleman and all!”
Mina nodded to Jeb who was still wiping tears from his eyes and led the way back to the kitchen with Clem following docilely behind her. “Thank you kindly, sir,” she said as he set it down on the kitchen table.
He turned to where another two empty pails stood next to the door. “Let me get these for you, Mrs. Nye,” he said, pointing his thumb toward them with a lopsided grin. “It’s the least I can do.”
“It would be a kindness,” Mina said, inclining her head. “And I thank you.”
He strode off with the remaining buckets and Edna gave her a wide-eyed look from where she was kneading the dough.
“We can use all the help we can get,” Mina reminded her.
17
The clock struck six and Edna finally disappeared into the bar after the last of the plated roast dinners had been carried through to the bar by her and Reuben. Mina was scrubbing the pots in soapy water when she heard a footfall in the doorway.
“Mina!” Jeremy greeted her exuberantly. “Here you are, like Cinderella confined to the kitchen.”
“Auntie!” chorused Teddy who was being carried in his arms.
Mina pushed a lock of escaped hair out of her face and beheld them speechlessly. “You have surely not brought my nephew to watch this barbarous sport?” she blurted out in shocked accents as they sauntered into the kitchen.
“We rode over on Papa’s chestnut hack,” said Teddy. “Papa says I’m old enough to watch the lightweights fight,” he boasted, rushing up to her as soon as he was set down on his own two feet.
Mina bent down to kiss his proffered cheek. “You did not bring the carriage?” she said in surprise. Although now she came to think of it, the yard was rather full with coaches and likely could not squeeze another in.
“Not us,” answered Jeremy lightly, then changed the subject. “Lightweights generally spar earliest in the evening,” he informed her, looking about the kitchen with great interest. “Not to mention, boxing is a good deal less barbarous than taking him to watch some other country sporting event on offer locally, such as cockfighting.”
Mina shuddered and snatched up a tea-towel to dry her hands. “I don’t understand how grown men can watch such nasty things,” she said with disapproval. “I suppose at least men are rewarded for their participation and freely choose their fate, unlike dumb animals.”
“Quite so,” Jeremy agreed absently.
“I thought it was the sport of kings that interested you, Teddy,” she said, moving away from the sink.
“Horse racing,” Jeremy explained, seeing his son’s blank face.
“Oh! It is,” Teddy agreed readily enough. “But I do want to see them fight. Do you know any of the boxers, Aunt Minerva?”
“As a matter of fact,” Mina said, arching a brow. “I was conversing with two just now outside.”
Teddy rushed to the window and pressed his nose against it. “What are their names, Auntie?”
She walked over to stand next to him. “That one in the extraordinary waistcoat is called Clem Dabney,” she said. “And the one next to him is called Jeb Morris.”
“What funny names!”
“I once won a golden guinea on Clem Dabney,” Jeremy said. “Who’s he fighting?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion,” Mina retorted.
Jeremy laughed. “Your uncle Nye is also a boxer,” he told his enraptured son.
“Will I see him fight, Papa?”
Jeremy shook his head. “He’s a heavyweight m’boy. He’ll be mid-roster I suspect and we’re only staying for the first fight.”
Teddy’s face fell. “Oh, please Papa,” he wheedled.
“It would not be at all nice for you to be here after it grows dark,” Mina told him sternly. “It would not be respectable.”
Teddy huffed out a sigh and thrust out his bottom lip.
“I had hoped to secure a private parlor,” Jeremy sighed. “But they’re all taken. Everyone got here devilish early it seems.”
“Well, you can use mine,” Mina said, as the thought struck her. “It has a window out onto the courtyard.”
From the gleam in Jeremy’s eye as he thanked her, she realized he had expected her to offer this for his use. She did not mind though, as she would have been appalled at the idea of him taking a child of such tender years into a common taproom.
“Let me show you through.”
She took them through to her private parlor and Jeremy went to the bar to secure lemonade for Teddy and something stronger for himself. Mina demurred, but he brought her back a bottle of wine in any case which he set on the side.
“Is this room for your use alone, Auntie?” Teddy asked, opening the lid of the music box, and setting off its pretty chimes.
“Yes, your uncle Nye had it set up for me.”
He looked frowningly at the walls. “Where is your portrait of grandmama?”
Mina smiled. “My portrait of her is only little and I wear it here, around my neck.” She reached up and unfastened her locket. “Come sit beside me and you shall see.”
Teddy came and sat on the sofa next to her and she passed the open necklace to him which he gazed at for a moment. “Yes,” he agreed solemnly. “That’s her.” He looked at the other miniature. “Is that my Uncle Nye?” he asked.
Mina shook her head. “That is my own dear Papa. He was a schoolmaster.”
Jeremy poured him a tumbler of lemonade from a jug and passed it to him.
“What are the dogs’ names?” he asked, restlessly getting up to wander the room.
“Dogs?” Mina looked up to see him gazing at the china Staffordshire dogs on the mantle. “Fiddly and Dee,” she improvised.
Two dimples appeared in Teddy’s cheeks. “You made that up!” he accused.
“Of course,” she agreed with raised brows. “That is my prerogative. I have another china dog upstairs that an-ex pupil of mine named and you would not believe the preposterous name she gave it.”
“Bill Barnicoat,” Teddy guessed promptly.
Mina gave a startled laugh. “Now that is a funny name.”
Jeremy smiled, sitting in a seat by the window. “It’s a local Cornish name,” he said. “And don’t go poking and prying into all your aunt’s personal things,” he admonished the boy.
“I don’t mind,” Mina assured Teddy who was peering in her workbox. He extracted two silver thimbles and set them on his thumbs.
“They’re taking their coats off for the first bout, my son,” Jeremy said, taking a sip of brandy.
Teddy rushed over to the window. “Colfax is out there!” he said, pointing. “Can we not go outside Papa?”
“You’ll cramp his style. Besides, your aunt’s feelings will be hurt if we abandon her.”
“You may carry a chair over to the window if you like, Teddy,” she offered. He made haste to take up her suggestion.
No sooner had he clambered into his seat; his face next to the glass then he gave a startled exclamation. “Grandpapa from the picture!” he gasped, pointing a finger to the pane. “There!”
Jeremy looked amused. “That is not my father, but your uncle Nye,” he explaine
d. “He does look very like that portrait of the fourth Viscount Faris, does he not?”
Teddy frowned. “But why does my uncle Nye look like grandpapa?” he asked.
Mina’s gaze darted to Jeremy, but he looked perfectly composed. “Because Vance blood flows in his veins too, my boy. Why else?”
“But my aunt…?”
“Your aunt has no Vance blood like us,” Jeremy reminded him gently. “You know she shares my Mama but not my Papa’s lineage.”
Teddy’s frown cleared. “Oh.” He glanced sidelong at Mina. “So, if my aunt and my uncle had a little boy, he would be more like a brother than a cousin to me.”
“He would still be your first cousin.” Jeremy laughed. “But a very close one indeed.” Teddy seemed satisfied with this and pressed his nose to the glass. “Mind you do not fog that windowpane,” Jeremy admonished him. “Your aunt is forced to clean those with her own fair hands.”
“Have you no servant, Auntie?” asked Teddy in surprise.
“Only one,” Mina admitted. “It is too bad, but no one wants to work for us here at such a lonely spot.”
“You have not yet replaced Ivy?” Jeremy asked with a yawn.
Mina shook her head. “Nor like to, apparently.”
He nodded. “Let me ask my housekeeper if they can find you someone,” he suggested. “We often turn people off if they displease my wife,” he observed with a grimace. “What was the name of that unfortunate girl your mother flew at last week?” he asked, turning to Teddy.
“Corin,” Teddy supplied sadly. “Mama pulled her hair and slapped her cheek so hard, it turned quite red.”
“She’ll be a local girl and looking for work, no doubt,” Jeremy hazarded.
Mina lowered her voice. “If she’s respectable, I have been reliably informed she will not want a position here.”
“Ah,” said Jeremy holding up a finger. “But that was before. All Penarth now knows there’s a mistress now in residence and a highly respectable one at that. She attends church every Sunday and has swept through with a new broom. Is that not so?”
Mina regarded him in surprise. “All of Penarth?”
“Assuredly,” he agreed. “I promise you.”
“Well, if you can find us another pair of hands, we would indeed be grateful, but we are badly in need of bar staff and I’m sure a former maidservant from Vance Park would not fall so far in grace as that.”
“No, but a footman might,” Jeremy suggested wryly. “Only Colfax stays the course, we get through them at a rate of knots as well.”
“What about Herney?” suggested Teddy without taking his eyes from the window. “He said he will work his notice and not another day. I heard him tell Harbottle so only yesterday.”
“I did not realize he was working his notice.” Jeremy looked startled. “Ah well, our loss may be your gain, sister.”
“Well, that would be wonderful indeed if you may work such a miracle,” Mina said doubtfully.
“Leave it with me,” Jeremy said confidently. “And now, silence while we enjoy the bout.”
Mina watched for a couple of minutes but found the prospect of two bare-chested men repeatedly thumping each other in the face, while the crowd shouted and jostled excitedly around them, to be one, she did not savor. She slipped back to the kitchen as Jeremy explained the precise science of the counter punch to his son and heir.
Soon she had stacked the washed pans against the draining board and started on the gravy smeared plates which started to appear via a sulky Reuben. He did not speak as he plunked them down beside her, so Mina did not trouble herself to either.
She had soaked through two drying cloths already and was fetching a third freshly laundered tea towel from the drawer when her brother reappeared, once more carrying Teddy.
“We’re off now, Mina. Night is falling and I’d better take this one home.”
She nodded and came forward to kiss Teddy’s cheek. “Will you need to collect Colfax from outside?” she asked.
Jeremy shook his head. “I shall not spoil his fun.”
“Teddy will not slip from the saddle while he’s asleep?” she fretted.
Her nephew’s eyes flickered open. “I’m not so tired as all that!” he objected.
“He’s an excellent seat.” Jeremy laughed. “Besides, I should not let him fall.” He looked at her critically a moment. “You’re overworked here, Mina. I shall speak to my housekeeper without delay.”
“I would appreciate it,” she admitted. “It has been a long day, but I shall take myself off to bed directly.”
He nodded.
“Will you not kiss Papa goodnight?” Teddy asked from his father’s shoulder.
Mina started. “Of course, we are brother and sister after all,” she said bracingly and stepped forward to lightly peck Jeremy’s cheek. “Goodnight Jeremy,” she said and saw a flicker of surprise in his expression before he smiled back at her, looking pleased.
“Goodnight Mina.”
She did not watch them depart through the window, but instead finished up in the kitchen and then went through to the scullery to wash before bed. She was just fastening the buttons at her neck as she walked into the connecting passageway to the hallway when she paused, hearing a burst of husky laughter. She could see the shadow against the wall of two figures, just out of view who were intertwined at the foot of the stairs.
“Finally noticed me, have you?” the voice asked flirtatiously. “I been waiting for you to cast your eyes in my direction for an eternity, Clem Dabney. I thought that Goldie had sunk her talons in you good and proper.”
“You’re a local then, are you my beauty?” he responded gamely. “Now that does surprise me, for you’ve not the regional way of speech at all.”
“Good God, no!” the woman replied with sounding annoyed. “I’m no Cornish maid!”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Dabney replied, lowering his voice. “For I’ve no use for maidens, none at all. I prefer a more seasoned hand at the plough.”
“Prefer to ride below the crupper, do you?” she asked huskily. “I must confess I’ve no use for novices when it comes to plough my furrow.”
Mina flushed, she ought not to be listening to this, she thought. The terms might be agricultural, but she knew from their tone they were not discussing anything as wholesome as farming. She was just sliding her foot back for a stealthy retreat when she heard the front door open and close and a third voice raised to join the throng.
“Ah, there you are Clara,” said a booming voice. “I’ve secured a prime position in the courtyard and mean to sit atop our carriage to watch the next bout.”
“I was just telling Mr Dabney here, my dear how you’d laid your bets on him at the last three fights,” his lady answered bold as brass.
“That you, Dabney?” asked the voice in surprise. “Good gad sir, I’d have scarcely recognized you rigged up like a gent.”
“Oh yes, it’s me alright,” Clem Dabney answered good-naturedly. “By habit, I don’t tend to walk about stripped to the waist.”
“No,” mused the gentleman sounding surprised, as though he’d never considered that prizefighters might have lives outside the ring. “I suppose you wouldn’t, by God.”
“I’ll be out shortly, Cyril dear,” his companion dismissed him. “Mr. Dabney was going to introduce me to his lady friend, Miss Gold.”
“Oh,” the unfortunate Cyril responded without interest before another aspect occurred to him. “Now don’t you get distracting Dabney before his fight Clara,” he reproved her. “Needs all his concentration on defeating that bruiser Nye. Devilish ugly customer he can be. I lost my shirt when he defeated that Frenchie last June.”
“Nay sir, she won’t distract me,” Clem said easily. “Besides, there’s some of us that benefits from a last-minute distraction. I get too wound up if I’ve nothing else to focus on.”
“Oh?” Cyril sounded interested in this technique. “Well, in that case, proceed my dear fellow! You’ll join
me when you’re ready Clara,” he said, his voice drifting away.
Clara giggled. “I didn’t realize you were fighting William Nye.” Her voice was breathy with excitement. “Maybe I should wait and offer the spoils to the victor,” she purred.
“Nay, one so beautiful could not be so cruel,” Clem murmured. “You’ll not abandon me so fast? Not when I’m so anxious to play the swain.”
She laughed at that. “You’ll not escape so easily, my big strong ox,” she told him. “For I mean to put a yoke on you before this night is ended, my fine, lusty ploughboy.” Mina hearing a rustling sound, guessed they were kissing.
“Oh, very well,” Clara conceded with a sigh. “In that case lead me to your rustic hayrick forthwith.”
“Aye and gladly,” he responded. “We’ve got half an hour for I fight at eight.”
Hurried footsteps mounted the staircase. Slowly, Mina advanced into the hall. She was trembling, she noticed as she reached for the bannister, with anger. So, the lady considered she might offer herself as a winner’s trophy to her husband did, she? Mina inwardly seethed as she climbed the steps to the attic. She did not know if Clem had been allotted a bed on the second or third floor, but she went slowly to ensure she had provided them with plenty of time to have ensconced themselves in his room.
She reached her bedroom without further occurrence and once there, made haste to don her nightgown and bed-socks and an unflattering nightcap besides. She drew the covers over her head and thought about the people currently spilling from every door in the inn. Disreputable types she thought them. A mix of sportsmen and villains.
Her mother would have been shocked to the core at such goings-on under her roof, she thought. But then, Mama’s own experience of life at Penarth had set her on the ruinous course path to divorce. She was not sure how Mama subsequently wound up marrying a respectable schoolmaster, for her parents had never spoken to her of such things. She supposed they must have drawn a discreet veil over Mama’s previous life. On reflection, perhaps it was not so strange that she had not known Jeremy even existed.
She turned over on the bed, furiously dragging the sheets with her. It took only a few moments with her eyes squeezed shut before she realized she was not going to get a wink of sleep. With an exclamation, she sat up and reached for the matches, lighting her candle. She would read the highwayman story, she told herself. She had only managed the first few pages before dropping off the previous night.
A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance Page 25