Page 29 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“Miss O’Connor, the honor is mine.” He motioned to her black gown. “Please accept my condolences on the death of your brother.”

Stunned he would know of it—she wouldn’t have expected Stella to share such information—she bowed her head. “Thank you, sir.”

“I came to discover if there is anything I might do to assist you in getting settled in the rooms upstairs,” Mr. Agremon added. “There is an able-bodied man in my employ who can help us as well,” he offered. “Mr. Thompson.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. “Of both of you,” she added.

“We can meet you at your current lodgings tomorrow afternoon. Say two o’clock?”

Iris inhaled softly. “Your help would be most welcome,” she said. “But I’ve barely begun to pack—”

“Mr. Agremon will see to taking you and me home this evening in our coach,” Stella said, rejoining them. “Along with some empty crates you can use. If you’re not able to pack everything, we can see to the rest of it on another day,” she added.

“That’s so kind of you,” Iris murmured, relieved she wouldn’t be expected to share a coach with only Mr. Agremon. Despite his friendly demeanor, she knew she would not be comfortable alone with him. He was too much man, somehow.

“Has my wife showed you the rooms upstairs?” he asked.

“She has not, sir.”

He gave his wife a quelling glance. “I’ll be happy to guard the store while you give Miss O’Connor a tour,” he offered.

Stella appeared uncertain for a moment. “All right, but please don’t scare away anyone who comes in,” she warned. Apparently, Iris realized, she wasn’t the only one who was intimidated by her employer’s husband.

“I shall be on my very best behavior. In fact, I shall stand behind the counter and read…” he bent down and plucked a tome from the carton next to the counter, “John Farey’s Treatise on the Steam Engine. How delightfully coincidental that this volume would be exactly here. One might say it’s kismet.” He winked at his wife.

“I would have thought you had that one memorized,” Stella murmured, before she turned her attention to Iris. “Shall we take a tour of the upstairs?”

Iris nodded. Her curiosity about her future lodgings had increased with each passing minute. She had hopes for a room large enough to accommodate her cot, books, and the few kitchen items she owned, but she would appreciate whatever was being offered. “I am ready when you are, ma’am.”

“Call me Stella,” her employer replied, helping herself to a lantern. Her husband saw to lighting the wick inside before she waved to the back of the store where a thin stairwell was located. “I don’t know that we’ll need this since there are a couple of windows, but it will help illuminate the corners. Follow me,” she said. “I did have a chance to remove all the rubbish left by the last tenant, but I cannot attest to its cleanliness.”

Once they reached the top of the stairs, they passed through a door and onto the second floor. To the right, another set of stairs led up to the third floor.

A series of crates were lined up along one wall, but otherwise the hardwood planked flooring was free of furnishings and carpets. A counter with a sink and a few cabinets were set against the back wall. On the front wall, two windows looked out over Ave Maria Lane.

“It’s not much—”

“It’s huge,” Iris whispered.

“It’s the same size as the bookshop below,” Stella countered. “These crates are filled with books that will be moved downstairs when Mr. Miller delivers the rest of the bookcases I have on order,” she explained. “I think you’ll want to spend most of your evenings on the upper floor, though. Make it your bedchamber.”

“That’s included?” Iris asked in awe.

“Well, I’m certainly not in need of it.” Holding up the lantern, Stella led them up the stairs. There was no door at the top—the stairs deposited them onto another wooden plank floor.

Although a wood railing separated the stairway from the open room, there were no other interior walls. Again, two windows looked out on the street below, although these were smaller than those on the first floor. A fireplace was positioned on the same wall as the floor below.

“Why are there no windows on this side of the building?” Iris asked, waving to the back wall. Although it was still light outside, the late afternoon sun cast shadows on the back wall from the mullioned windows on the front wall.

“Window tax, no doubt,” Stella replied, lifting the lantern to better illuminate the corners. “It was this way when I purchased the building.”

“You purchased it?” Iris asked in surprise.

“I did. Well, Darius—Mr. Agremon—had to be present for the transaction, of course,” she explained, not mentioning how she had the funds for such a purchase. “The roof has recently been replaced, so you shouldn’t have to worry about the ceiling leaking.”

Iris studied the room, trying to imagine what she might do to lighten up the space. The walls had been whitewashed, but time had them appearing gray. A soot stain shot up the wall in one area, suggesting a sconce had at one time been attached too close.

“I think I should have a colorman see to some paint,” Stella offered. “It’s terribly dreary up here.”