A Bride for the Prizefighter - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,93
to see him cross to the stables after leaving the building. She kept an eye on the window as she carried on with the potatoes and sure enough, five minutes later he reappeared with a battered trunk on his shoulder which he brought in and carried straight past her with it and out to the hall. When he reappeared, he halted next to the table.
“You’ll need to go through it, some stuff needs throwing out, some for mending.”
“You’re happy for me to do that?” she asked, looking up.
He nodded. “There’s nothing interesting, just work clothes, my razor, some spare change. I’m going down to the cellar to sort out some barrels. If anyone comes by, tell them to wait.”
“Very well.” She watched his back as he left the room and remembered how Ivy had said he jealously guarded over the cellar. She turned back to her diminishing pile of potatoes with pursed lips.
She had just dropped the last peeled potato into a bucket of cold water when Edna appeared carrying a basketful of wet sheets. “This is the last of it,” she puffed. “I’ll get it out on the line now, weather permitted.”
“There’s been no spots of rain,” Mina said. “Shall I help you? I could do with a stretch of my legs.”
Together, they collected in the washing that had dried and hung out the wet sheets. Then Edna joined her efforts parboiling up the cubed potato and swede and frying off the minced beef and onions. Once all the ingredients were prepared, they fetched out the flour, butter, and suet for a mammoth batch of dough making.
They weren’t finished with this task until well after six o’clock when they ate a simple supper of leftover fish pie together in the kitchen. Nye joined them to eat a plateful before hurrying back to whatever task he’d left.
Mina allowed herself to be persuaded to take a bath that evening and took a hurried wash in the tin bath in the scullery, listening to Edna banging the cupboards and the pots and pans in the kitchen. By the time she emerged, Edna had formed fifty half-moon shaped pasties already which she placed under teacloths.
“They’re all the better for resting before their glazed and baked,” she explained. “I’ll make a second batch first thing in the morning while these are in the oven.”
“Maybe I could help, if you could show me how, Edna.”
“I’d be glad to. Goodnight, Mrs Nye.”
Mina made her way hurriedly up the stairs, anxious to avoid all with her wet hair and her petticoats slung over her arm. She was lucky and made it up to the attic undetected. Once there she drew on her nightgown and set about towel-drying her hair.
It was at that point that she noticed Nye’s battered trunk set down against the far wall of the bedroom. She stared at it a moment, noticing the straps were unbuckled. He had given her permission to sort through his things, she remembered, and it must only be around seven o’clock. Far too early for her to climb into bed. Pulling on her bed socks, she padded over the floorboards toward it, carrying her hurricane lamp with her. Settling cross-legged before it, she set the lamp down beside her and threw back the lid.
Inside was as Nye had said, a jumble of work clothes in varying condition. Mina soon made a pile for mending and a pile for tidying away into the chest of drawers and the wardrobe. Underneath this was an assortment of penknives, cufflinks, razors, bits of string, handkerchiefs, neckerchiefs, braces, and a collection of old pipes.
Mina was surprised by this as she had never seen Nye with a pipe, but here she found cherrywood, meerschaum, and even clay pipes all looking well worn and in somewhat sorry repair. Some were carved into curious semblances—a dog’s head on one, a naked woman wrapped about the bowl of another. There was even a couple of pipe tamper tools, one in the shape of a mermaid and the other of a lady’s stocking-clad leg, but she found no tobacco pouch.
These were assuredly Nye’s personal effects, she thought, carrying the items to the drawers on the side of the bed he invariably slept on. Though she found no letters or even postcards among the items, she did find a sheaf of papers pertaining to his ownership of Vance House and the deeds to the inn itself, the only other paperwork she found was two photographs tucked into a folded piece