Page 22 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

Her brows furrowing, Iris asked, “What is that?”

“It’s a Persian word meaning… fate or destiny,” Stella explained. “In other words, you are meant to work at my shop. Amongst the fruits of your brother’s labors.”

Iris dipped her head. “I think I’m going to cry,” she murmured.

“Not yet,” Stella said. “Mr. Streater is on his way this very moment.”

Iris sniffled and quickly moved to her chair and sat as Stella took her time. She was barely seated when Theodore Streater reentered the room and moved to stand behind his desk.

“Ladies, I believe I have the situation sorted to Miss O’Connor’s satisfaction,” he stated, nodding to Iris. He held up a pasteboard card. “Your account has been fully restored, and now I can see to a withdrawal on your behalf.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Streater,” Iris gushed.

“You have my gratitude,” Stella chimed in.

“You have mine,” he countered. “Miss O’Connor’s account isn’t the only one that cur has robbed in the past week. Seems he was planning to leave for the Continent and wanted to do so with enough funds so he wouldn’t have to work another day in his life.” He made a disgusted face. “He has gone to gaol.” Mr. Streater turned to Iris. “How much do you need for your brother’s burial?”

“Four pounds, sir.”

For a moment, he seemed reluctant to say what was on his mind until Stella said, “What is it, Mr. Streater?”

In a quiet voice, he asked, “Did he die of cholera?” Then he added, with a wince, “The first class ground is cheaper if he did.”

Iris shook her head. “He didn’t show symptoms of it,” she replied, shuddering at the reminder that many residents in the Seven Dials area near where their tenement was located were dying from the disease. “I always boil our drinking and cooking water,” she added, giving Stella a significant look. “No, he thought he had influenza. From his fever and his claim that his body ached, I believe he was right.”

“Hmm,” he said, grimacing. “Well, then. If you come with me, we’ll get you your money,” he said. Turning to Stella, he asked, “Did you have a deposit you wish me to oversee at the same time?”

“I do indeed,” Stella acknowledged.

The three left his office and moved to one of the tellers. Mr. Streater’s presence meaning they didn’t have to wait in the line that had shortened considerably since their initial arrival.

It was nearly closing time.

“Thank you again for your help, Mr. Streater,” Iris said, holding out her left hand.

The head of clerks regarded it with a grin and shook it. “You’re welcome. If you’re without a man to assist you for your future visits, do come find me.”

Tears once again collected in the corners of her eyes. “Oh, thank you, sir.”

“Thank you for the use of your office today,” Stella said, offering her left hand.

“The use of my office?” he repeated in confusion.

“I have negotiated an advantageous agreement with Miss O’Connor. She has agreed to be my assistant in the bookshop in exchange for lodgings.”

Mr. Streater grinned but quickly sobered. “You’re quitting the Joneses?”

“Oh, no, sir. I’ll continue working for them as long as they want me,” Iris explained. “Mrs. Agremon only needs my help in the late afternoons.”

“Ah, well. Glad to hear it. I’m reminded it’s been some time since I bought daisies from you.”

“I’ll have some on the morrow,” Iris promised.

The two women took their leave of the bank, bidding farewell after agreeing on a time for Iris to begin her work at the bookshop.

Chapter Ten

A Bachelor Makes a Decision