Page 60 of A Bloom for a Blacksmith

“I’ll get the hot water going,” Darius said, before taking the stairs two at a time.

Stella and the younger couple followed, and before they had made it to the second floor, tears had already begun to fall from Iris’s eyes. “I’ve never been so… so frightened in my whole life,” she whispered.

“What happened? Did someone put their hands on you?” Stella asked, keeping her voice low.

Iris seemed to struggle to catch her breath as she and Angus followed Stella into the bathing chamber, stopping short at seeing the shower bath and other amenities. “The man who lives directly across the street. The one whose windows align with those on the third floor.”

Darius directed a pointed glance at Stella. “I knew he would be trouble one day, the way he stared out of that window all the time,” he commented. “I’ll see to it he never does it again,” he vowed, motioning to Angus to take a seat on one of the chairs. “Let’s get a look at that hand.”

Stella gave start, not having noticed the scuffed knuckles on Angus’s left hand.

Angus and Iris exchanged worried glances.

Angus did as he was told, resting his wounded hand on his thigh. “Uh, as it happens, you won’t have to, sir,” he said.

Retrieving medical supplies from a drawer next to the sink—although he and Stella never required them, the servants sometimes did—Darius paused and stared at the blacksmith. “Where is he now?”

“On the floor in the bookshop,” Iris blurted, her tears coming faster now. “He… he was on his back and his nose was bleeding—”

“I broke it when I punched him,” Angus stated.

“—and we think he suffocated,” Iris whispered.

Stella scoffed softly. “It sounds as if the rubbish took itself out,” she murmured.

“Not quite, ma’am, seein’ as he’s still in your shop,” Angus murmured. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do with him.”

Darius glanced at Stella before he said, “Not another word. We’ll take care of it. Later.”

Stella turned her attention to Iris. “Come, let’s find you some different clothes,” she said, grasping the girl’s hand. When Iris sucked in a breath, Stella furrowed her brows. “What’s wrong? Your arm?” She knew it couldn’t be broken—the pain would have put the girl into a faint.

“I fell on it when I was trying to run up the stairs to get away from him,” she explained, holding the arm against the side of her body.

Stella fished through the medical supplies Darius had spread out on the counter and finally selected one of the dark glass bottles. “Come,” she said again, before leading Iris to her bedchamber.

She helped her out of the ruined gown and examined her arm in the light from a candle lamp. “You’re going to have a terrible bruise,” she warned, redirecting the light to her other side. “Can you lift your arm?”

Iris tried, wincing as she did so.

Stella began applying the arnica salve to the bruise, her strokes gentle against the young woman’s tender skin. When she finished, she stepped back and glanced down at the petticoats. “What about your legs?” she asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Iris stammered. “I was face down on the stairs, but I was trying to grab onto the bottom edge of the door,” she explained. “To have something to hold onto.”

“I’m so sorry to make you relive such a horrid experience,” Stella apologized. “May we undress you completely? You’ve had quite a shock. I want to be sure you’re not injured somewhere else you’re not yet aware of.”

Nodding, Iris untied the corset and removed it before undoing the ties of her petticoats. She gingerly stepped out of the threadbare garments, obviously embarrassed. She wore no drawers, and her knit stockings were snagged in several places.

“You have a bruise here, too, on your rib,” Stella murmured, studying the girl’s torso after lifting the thin chemise.

“They’re probably everywhere,” Iris whispered.

“Finish undressing. I’ll get you a robe, and I’m going to find some clothes for you, too,” Stella instructed. “Would you like to take a quick shower bath? Before I put on more salve?”

Iris’s eyes widened. “I’ve never…”

“It’s like standing in a warm rain shower,” Stella said, rifling through her wardrobe before pulling out a black gown. She tossed it onto the bed followed by a silk dressing robe.

“It sounds lovely. Are you sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”