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