A Bride for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

hit on a rough-hewn path.  Slipping and stumbling, she made the steep descent, her heels dislodging clods of earth, her hands clutching at tufts of grass to stop herself from losing her footing and sliding the whole way down on her backside.
By the time she reached the bottom of the cliff she was out of breath and aching all over from where she’d scraped and bumped herself on the way down.  She didn’t care.  Clambering over the rocks, she headed for the patches of golden sand.  When she reached the wet sand, she collapsed onto it, whimpering and tearing at her ankle boots, throwing them one after the other over her shoulder.  She didn’t bother stripping off her ripped and torn stockings.  She could already feel the sand through them in any case.  She had reached the sea and was wading out into its cold waves when she felt hands close onto her upper arms, whirling her round.
Will Nye’s face was livid.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you crazy woman?” he bellowed.  “I thought you went over the edge!  I thought—”
Mina’s balled fists rose up and struck against his chest as she struggled wildly against him.  “I don’t want you either!” she screamed in his face.  “I don’t want you!  I hate you!  Do you hear me?  I hate you!”  He didn’t react, just stood there solid and stoic as she pummeled and yelled, she knew not what, until her lungs burned and her voice broke.  Then her legs went from underneath her, and the next thing she knew, her cheek was pressed to his chest and he was holding her up and she was being carried back up the beach, sobbing as if her heart would break.
*
Mina kept her eyes tightly shut during their ascent.  She was humiliated beyond belief.  Her face felt sore from all the tears.  Straggles of her hair kept blowing across her face.  The gulls screeched and the waves crashed as they broke on the rocks below.  She was sure that any minute now, he would set her down and either tell her to climb the cliff path for herself or simply dump her there and leave her.  After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.
Yet, for some reason, he did neither of those things.  At one point, he did set her down on a rocky ledge and Mina was just struggling to sit up, when she felt herself seized once again and slung over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes.  She had no fight left in her by this point and just hung there limply as he started, sure-footed as a goat, up the steep track.
When she heard voices hailing them from above, she did not raise her head to see who bore witnessed her shame.   She told herself she didn’t care, but her hot cheeks and sweaty discomfiture spoke otherwise.   She had made an embarrassing spectacle of herself.  She hoped Gus Hopkins was not aware that Minerva was supposed to be a goddess of wisdom, but even as the thought fervently crossed her mind, she realized he most probably did.
She was the wretchedest creature alive.  Without friends, without family, reduced to helping herself to a bowl of whatever stew Edna cooked for the bar patrons for her evening meal alone.  She had no-one even to break bread with.  Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, welling up and spilling over.  Because she was upside down, they dripped the wrong way up her face and ran into her hair which felt sweaty at the roots.  Beating the rugs that morning felt like days ago.  She had been a different person then.  One who was not broken.
Someone cleared their throat.  “She alright, is she Nye?” she heard a man’s uncertain voice ask nearby.  She felt Nye’s body twist at his waist as he turned to look at this person, but he didn’t utter a word.  From the pregnant silence, Mina could only suppose he had directed a scathing look in his direction.  She could hear several pairs of boots thudding against the ground, trotting alongside Nye’s long-legged stride, but none of them dared address him again, even when the flattened earth give way to the cobbles of the inn’s courtyard.
The door banged shut behind them and she heard another pair of feet running up the corridor.  “Get water heated,” she heard Nye order tersely.  “Fill the bath.”  Then they were climbing the stairs.  Mina kept her eyes shut, telling herself she didn’t care, but the moment they reached the second floor and he dipped his shoulder to set her down, she tensed and braced herself.  He set her down on her dirty stockinged feet carefully enough.  Seeing spots of blood on her shins she guessed she must have scraped them on the cliffs on the way down.  Mina kept her eyes averted as Nye straightened up.  She was in the tiled bathroom.
“You’re shivering,” he said flatly.  “You need to take those wet things off.”
There was a knock on the door.  Edna’s head peered around it.  “The water was already on,” she said matter-of-factly.  “For the next lot o’ washing.”
Nye grunted and she carried a pail of hot water in, sloshing it into the hip bath.  To Mina’s surprise, Ivy entered the bathroom behind her with another bucket which she also emptied into the bath.  She stopped next to Mina and tossed her head.  “Here,” she said and held out her upturned hand to her.  Mina looked down and saw a round cake of pink soap in it in the shape of a rose.  “Take it, then.”
“Leave it on the side,” Nye said curtly.  “Can’t you see, she’s not in a state to take anything right now?”  Ivy shot him a curious look and set it down on the basin.
“Thank you,” Mina murmured through numb lips.  Ivy made no reply and exited the room.  Edna entered again with