“That stupid fellow!” Edna spat bitterly. “Could not be trusted as far as he could be thrown.”
Mina filled five trays with clean drinking vessels before the sink was cleared enough for the next lot. “These will all need taking through to the bar Edna, and I confess I am not equal to the task.”
Edna nodded grimly, setting down the potato she was peeling ready for the suppers. “It’s not to be wondered at Mrs Nye,” she said, rounding the table and picking up the first lot. “If I find Reuben, I’ll send him through for the rest,” was her departing shot over her shoulder.
Mina, who had spotted Reuben through the window setting down hay bales in the yard, did not have the heart to disillusion the crosspatch maid. She wondered a moment what the bales could be for before she realized he was marking out a crude ring for the opponents to spar within.
When Edna returned, the trays now stacked with dirty glasses once again, she piled them next to the sink.
“Can I leave you to take charge of the pots, Mrs. Nye,” she asked, making for an overhead cupboard. “Only I need to make the dough now for the loaves for morning.”
“Of course, Edna. And once I’ve done these, I’ll wash up. I cannot bake bread, so you need to concentrate on that.”
“Yes, Mrs. Nye,” Edna agreed looking gratified. They worked silently for the next hour and a half, moving purposely around the kitchen. Once Mina had fetched and boiled clean water for the sink and cleared the dirty dishes, she made a pot of tea which they shared as she washed and dried all the glasses and mugs.
At one point, a grumbling Reuben appeared bearing the empty platters which now only held pastry crumbs from the devoured pasties.
“Not there!” Edna scolded him when he tried to set them down on the clean table. “Over by the sink for washing, you lummox!”
He changed direction and slammed them down, but Mina cut off his hasty retreat by pointing out the clean glasses for the bar. “You’ll need to take those back through now, Reuben,” she pointed out coolly. Reuben muttered under his breath but followed her directives all the same.
“After this week, Nye really needs to take a good look at the staffing of this place,” Mina said darkly.
“He’ll never sack Reuben,” Edna said bitterly.
“Why not?” Mina frowned, looking up in surprise. “Is his stable work really so indispensable? He seems a surly, disobliging fellow to me.”
“It’s not his work in the stables the master cannot do without,” Edna muttered and would not meet Mina’s steady gaze.
Mina pulled the plug on the sink and let the dirty water drain away as she considered this. Was it possible that Reuben was in on the smuggling business, she wondered? She collected the bucket from the corner of the kitchen and carried it outside to the pump to refill with water for boiling. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Effie’s man and another muscled prizefighter both smoking cigars as they sat on the low stone wall in the sunshine.
“Mrs. Nye,” they said both said, removing their cigars from their mouths politely before they spoke. Neither of them wore a jacket but were sat in their shirts and waistcoats as if relaxing in their own gardens.
She nodded. “How do you do.”
“I’m Jeb Morris,” said the first who had very pale blue eyes. He nodded to his companion. “This here’s Clem Dabney.”
“How do,” said Clem, eyeing her curiously. His waistcoat was pink and black with gold stitching and he wore no cravat, his collar slung negligently open as if he were still shaving. Mina wondered if it was due to his thick, muscular neck. Perhaps neckcloths were uncomfortable for him to wear?
Jeb hesitated. “You probably don’t remember us,” he said. “But we were at your wedding.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a twinkle in those almost colorless eyes as he replaced his cigar between his lips.
Mina seized the arm of the pump and worked it, glad for a distraction. “Yes,” she said after half-filling the bucket and pausing to rest her arm. “I do remember both of you as it happens. You were with Effie who was very kind to me and as for you, Mr. Dabney, your companion broke a mirror in your room and threatened to see you hanged if I remember correctly.”
Clem Dabney let out a surprised guffaw. “Aw Goldie didn’t mean anything by it, Mrs. Nye,” he told her with an easy grin. “She’s just got the temper of a fiend.”
“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
