For a moment, Mina had thought Edna was going to invite her to join her. She felt a stab of disappointment. “Oh, how nice. Is St Ives big town?”
Edna nodded. “It’s a fishing port,” she explained.
Mina nodded. “Does your aunt live there?”
Edna shook her head. “It’s halfway between us, so a good point to meet.”
“Well, I hope you have a lovely visit, Edna.”
“Would there be anything you wanted me to fetch you back, Mrs. Nye? From the shops, I mean.”
“Oh.” Mina thought a moment. “That’s very kind of you, Edna. Let me consider and I will let you know.”
Edna nodded. “I’ll make a seed cake this afternoon. If I have the time,” she added briskly before leaving the room.
Mina thought of her half-sovereign as she measured tea leaves into the pot and added the hot water. Would it be a good idea to break into it when it constituted her only wealth in the world? It might be a nice gesture to replace Ivy’s bottle of lotion and to buy Edna some scented soap after their kindness toward her.
She was still debating this when the small brass key in the latch of the workbox at her feet caught her attention. Deciding she would look inside while the tea brewed, she lifted the box onto her knee. Inside was a jumble of embroidery tools, sewing needles, silk threads, and fancy buttons. It was lined with blue silk and had lots of dividers for organizing things, so Mina could only imagine that someone had turned it upside down at some point for it have got into such a mess.
Impulsively, she upended it now on the sofa and determined to sort the contents that very minute. She spent an enjoyable twenty minutes reordering the box to her satisfaction and drinking two cups of tea during the process. Then she nipped upstairs to collect her own meagre sewing kit to add to the box. She had a silver thimble and a small pair of sewing scissors in a decorative sheath to add along with a quantity of cheap black darning wool she used for her stockings.
It was only after she had sat back down again that she recalled the matching pair of Staffordshire china dogs which she had not even unpacked from her trunk. They would look very well on the mantlepiece she thought, at either side. She would go and fetch them also. She was returning with this journey, with the dogs in her hands when she came across Nye in the passageway.
“I was just fetching these for the mantle,” she said hurriedly, forestalling any demands as to why she was not reclining by the fire. He glanced down at the red and white china dogs complete with collars. To her surprise, he followed her into the parlor room where she set them above the fire. “What do you think?” she asked, rather self-consciously as she stepped back to study the effect.
For a moment, she did not think he would answer. He seemed to be regarding her more than the ornaments. Then he seemed to stir himself. “What kind of dogs are they supposed to be?”
“Cavalier King Charles’s,” she answered promptly. “They were my mother’s.”
Again, his gaze, which had been wandering over the rearranged room, snapped back to meet hers. He nodded which she supposed meant he approved. Suddenly, it occurred to Mina that the feminine possessions, now dotted about the room, likely belonged to his mother and had been brought out of storage. She blushed, thinking how inappropriate it was that his mother’s things should now be mingled with her own as Ellen Nye had been the mistress of her mother’s first husband.
“I’m having a dining table brought in before supper,” he said curtly. “You can take your meals in here in future.”
Mina’s eyes widened. “Will you take them with me,” she asked, emboldened by the longest conversation she thought they’d ever probably had.
His eyelids flickered. “Probably not.”
Oh. Well, that was certainly plain speaking. It seemed their lives were to run parallel to one another but not cross over. “I would appreciate it very much,” she said, deciding to take a leaf out of his book. “If you could explain the rules to me.” She walked over to one of the peach brocade armchairs and perched herself on it, hands folded in her lap. She would be civilized and calm, completely in control. The opposite of what she had been the day before.
“Rules?” he asked, looking as though goaded into speech.
“Of how we are going to conduct ourselves within this marriage,” she elaborated carefully. “You have kindly made me a space in your inn. Am I to take it, that my activities are to be confined to this area?”
He jutted out his chin. “You are.”
“I see.” She hesitated, reluctant to break their truce. Embarrassingly, she chose that moment to remember how she had screamed in his face like a banshee. “Yes, I quite see,” she added awkwardly.
He breathed out noisily. “I married you to get my hands on some property that was mine by right,” he said starkly. “It was promised me and Faris did not honor that promise. I thought—” he broke off frustratedly. “What I can’t figure out is why you did it?”
“Me?” She paused, trying to think of a delicate way to say she was destitute and had little choice in the matter. Words failed her, so she decided to go with the unvarnished truth. “My father died last week,” she said bluntly. “I was left alone in the world with a lot of debts to settle.” She took a deep breath. “He ran a small school in Bath, but it had been struggling these past few years. My father’s health was such…” she sighed. “He left just enough to cover our bills but no further expenses.” She glanced at Nye, but his expression gave nothing away. “I taught at the school too, but I could not secure another teaching post, though I’ve been trying for months,” she confessed in a rush.
“You’re a schoolteacher?” he bit out at last, with a disbelieving look.
Mina nodded. “I had hoped perhaps to find work as a governess, but as the school failed, all our sponsors fell away. None of them replied to my letters.” She swallowed. “I was desperate,” she admitted.
“You must have been,” he replied with faint bitterness.
It occurred to her belatedly that she had perhaps been rather tactless. Ah well, in for a penny; in for a pound. “Have you been married before?” she blurted and then colored hotly.
“No,” he said grimly.
“So… all these lovely things,” she swallowed. “Must have belonged to your mother then?”
He regarded her in silence a moment. “Is that a problem for you?” he asked and something in the tone of his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
“Of course not!” His expression still closed off, he made no reply, just straightened up as though to take his leave.
“Nye!” she said quickly and watched him stiffen. “I very much appreciate what you have done here,” she said painstakingly. “Making room for me, I mean.”
His eyes held hers for an instant, then abruptly he swung around and made for the door. Mina collapsed back into her chair, closing her eyes an instant. My God, why was it so difficult to speak to that man? Hearing the door close firmly behind him, she opened her eyes again and stared into space. And how was she supposed to get through the rest of her married life with him?
True to his word, Nye reappeared an hour later with a bearded man who looked vaguely familiar, carrying a large mahogany dining table with fluted legs. The ginger bearded man tugged his cap at her and stared as though astonished to see the transformation that had taken place in the room. Mina, who was sat repairing the rips and tears in her petticoats from her misadventure on the cliffs the day before, hurriedly dropped them out of view down the side of the sofa.