Page 20 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

Stella gave a start. “Oh, no. I live in a townhouse in Mayfair. But perhaps…” She shifted on her chair. “Perhaps you could live there.”

Inhaling softly, Iris said, “Me?”

Stella held up a hand. “When do you finish your day at the market?” she asked.

Lifting a shoulder, Iris said, “I’m usually sold out of flowers by three o’clock in the afternoon.”

Grinning, Stella said, “What if I told you I was in need of a… of an assistant? Someone with sales experience. But for only two or three hours a day? In the late afternoons?”

Appearing hesitant at first, Iris asked, “What sort of assistant?”

Stella shifted in her chair, so she was angled in Iris’s direction. “Someone to look after the shop whilst I am in the back office seeing to the ledgers and paying invoices,” she replied. “I’ve not been open for business but a month now, so it’s not yet busy, but I expect it will become more so once I begin running advertisements.”

“So, I would be a shop girl after I get there from the market?” Iris clarified.

“Yes. Instead of flowers, you would be selling books. Taking money. Completing a receipt. Making change.”

“I can do that,” Iris said with a shrug.

“I think it’s a bit over a mile betwixt the two locations, though,” Stella murmured, her attention on her mind’s eye.

“I can walk a mile. But… would… would I be paid?”

Stella gave a start. “Yes. Or… what would you say to living there in exchange for working say… twelve hours a week? Two hours a day, Monday through Saturday?”

Iris’s mouth dropped open. “I could keep my position with the Joneses?”

“Well, of course. In fact, you really must continue working for them, because they’ll need help selling trees.”

“Trees?” Iris repeated, surprise sounding in her voice. Only that morning, Mr. Jones had mentioned he was putting a new greenhouse into production.

“Redwood trees. I learned only yesterday my husband is in partnership with the Joneses. He saw to building their newest greenhouse and the purchase of five hundred seedlings. He was going to deliver them to Mr. Jones this morning.”

Iris gave a start. “Mr. Jones told me about it only this morning. Do you find it odd that I work for the Joneses and now your husband works with them, too?” she asked softly.

Stella shook her head. “It’s probably just a coincidence,” she replied, lifting a shoulder. “So, what do you say to working for me in exchange for lodgings?”

“I say… yes,” Iris replied, her face lighting up in delight. She suddenly sobered. “Would I be allowed to read? When there are no customers?”

Stella tittered. “I would expect you to.”

“Then I accept your offer, Mrs. Agremon.” Iris held out her right hand.

Stella shook it. “Now, when can you move in?”

Iris seemed at a loss for a moment. “I have to see to Jacob’s burial—”

“Then you can start work when you’re able,” Stella suggested.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Stella held up a finger. “Now, there’s a pump for water outside the back door of the shop. You have to promise me you’ll boil the water before you drink it,” she warned. “The water from London comes from the Thames, and it’s the source of the cholera that has so many sickened these days. I shouldn’t want you becoming infected.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Iris replied, nodding her agreement. At least Jacob hadn’t died from cholera. His death would have been much worse if he’d been infected by the awful disease.

“Will you require help with moving your possessions?”

The young woman seemed to consider the query for a moment before she shrugged. “Possibly. I’ll need to find some crates—”