A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

a towel.  Halting footsteps in the passageway outside had her turning her head to see Will Nye staring straight at her.  For a moment, she held his gaze, and then with a slight shake of his head, he was gone.
Mina breathed out again with relief.  She rebuttoned herself carefully and checked the pins in the neat knot at her nape, giving him time to finish frying his bacon.  “Do you have any headcloths or scarves I could use to cover my hair?  And perhaps a spare apron?  I have one,” she added quickly at Edna’s expression.  “But I have not yet unpacked my trunk.”
“I’ve one I can loan you,” Edna acceded grudgingly.  “But it’s nothing fancy.”
Mina held her tongue, rather than pointing out a fancy housemaid’s apron would be of little use to her when scrubbing down greasy surfaces.  The slam of the kitchen door let them know Nye had departed.  “He can’t possibly have eaten already,” Mina commented with a frown.
“The likes of him don’t sit at table,” said Edna told her dryly.  “He slaps it between two pieces o’ bread and takes it with him.”
“I see,” Mina climbed to her feet and picked up the empty pail.  “I’ll go and fetch more water for heating while you make the tea,” she said.
Edna acquiesced and Mina traipsed back out to the pump.  Feeling eyes on her, she grabbed the handle and started vigorously working it.  By the time she felt able to take a surreptitious glance about the courtyard, all she caught was a glimpse of Nye’s back disappearing into an outhouse.
Edna made their tea strong and hot and she added sugar but no lemon.  Mina drank her cup with a sigh of pleasure for the blend was a surprisingly aromatic and unusual one.  “What kind of tea is this?” she asked, lowering her cup.  “It’s got a lovely flavor.”
Edna shrugged, opening the cupboard to show paper packets tied with string.  “I just picks one off the shelf,” she said.  “There’s plenty to choose from.”
Mina gaped at the extensive choice of tea leaves.  She had never seen so much in one place outside of a tea merchant’s establishment.  “Someone must enjoy tea a good deal, I think,” she commented.
Edna’s gaze swerved away evasively.  “There’s plenty of tobacco and brandy about the place too,” she said dryly.  “But I don’t poke my nose in what don’t concern me.”
Mina frowned, but Edna did not elaborate, so she set about tying a scarf about her head as the water heated.  “Do you have any white vinegar or lemon?” she asked, thinking of Hannah’s tried and true methods when it came to domestic cleaning.
“No lemon,” Edna said succinctly.  “But we got white vinegar.”  She indicated a cupboard and Mina set about making her diluted solution.
She spent an industrious morning scrubbing down every surface in the kitchen.  When she’d done all the obvious ones, she opened all the cupboards, turned them out, and set about scouring the shelves.  At various points, she heard people come in and out of the room, but steadfastly ignored all comers.  Her upper body usually wedged in a confined space in any case.
Edna made a good quantity of flat pastry pies with mince and onion and baked them in the scullery oven, before she set about boiling up a load of linen and bedclothes which looked none too savory.  “Prizefighters bleeding all over the sheets,” Edna complained crossly.  “And worse!”  She took a half a raw potato to the worst of the stains and rubbed it to the discolored spots while muttering to herself.  She made them another pot of tea at midday and wordlessly slid one of her pasty pies toward Mina for her midday meal.
In the afternoon, Mina replaced all the contents in the cupboards and attacked the scullery with the same zeal.  By four o’clock, she was exhausted and realized she had somewhat over-done it.  She had to work hard to pick her feet up and not drag them when she once more trailed out to the pump to refill the copper for washing.  She was far too tired to lug a load of buckets of warm water up to the porcelain hip bath on the first floor, she thought wryly.  Instead, she would have to settle for a strip wash in the scullery.
It was a shame as she felt simply filthy and despite the scarf wrapped around her head, her hair would now need washing, as she had worked up such a sweat.  Then she noticed a small tin bath hanging from a peg in the scullery.  That would be just the ticket.  She filled it and fetched out the abrasive carbolic soap once more, thinking longingly of the scented cake in her trunk.  In reality, the carbolic would serve her much better in her current dirt-covered state, though she did not know in what condition it would leave her long brown hair.
There was a tatty folding screen in one corner which someone had once covered laboriously with cut out scraps of what looked like programs and flyers for various music hall and circus performances.  It was coming apart now, but Mina saw with interest that it had once been edged with velvet ribbon and studs and had clearly been a labor of love.  She dusted it with a damp cloth and arranged it around the tin tub to give her some modesty as she bathed.
Edna had not reappeared since mid-afternoon and Mina could only assume, she had duties elsewhere.  Other than Nye, she had not seen any other men about the place since the previous evening, so she thought she would simply get on with it.  Kneeling beside the tub with a jug, she first washed her hair and soaped it up with the red carbolic soap.  Then she swiftly undressed and lowered herself into the water, lathering up her limbs and dragging a washcloth over