Page 18 of Saved By the Belle

“I am sorry about Mrs. Price and Mrs. Tipps.”

Her father waved a hand, his gaze still on the street. “I know how they are. I am glad for the respite, though I think they came more to gawk than nurse. If the doctor does not come soon, one of us will need to tend Arundel’s wound again.”

“I’ll go,” Belle said. She’d spoken too quickly, too eagerly, and her father turned and gave her a curious look. “It is my turn. You had to repair the stitches,” she said. She felt weak in the knees just saying the words. “Tea?” Belle returned to the stove and busied herself preparing two cups.

When her father stayed at the window, she brought him a cup and stood beside him. A few people had ventured outside, but most were hurrying to work, not looking to shop. “I knew we could not keep Arundel’s presence here a secret,” her father said, sipping his tea and nodding in appreciation. “But I do think we must find a way to keep our neighbors from gossiping too much.”

“Why?” Belle asked. She might have asked how, but she doubted her father knew any better than she.

“The man was stabbed in public. In front of a town house in Mayfair, its owner, and a half dozen of his staff. That’s a rather brazen act, and one, I think, that must have been planned out.”

Belle hadn’t considered that the stabbing might not have been a random act of violence. Those were common in London, even in the better areas of Town like Mayfair.

“You think someone wanted to kill Mr. Arundel?” Belle asked. “And if he learns his attempt failed, he might try again?”

Her father turned from the window. “You always were quick and clever. Yes, Belle, that’s exactly what I think. And I don’t want to be in the way when the assassin returns.”

“But surely whoever wants Mr. Arundel dead won’t think to look for him in a tea shop on Fenchurch Street.”

“I hope not, but it won’t help us if Mrs. Price and Mrs. Tipps tell everyone in the area that the man is here with us.”

“I don’t see how we can prevent it. If we ask them to keep quiet, it will only make the telling all the more exciting.”

“Which means, we need his family to arrive sooner rather than later. Either that or we must move him somewhere safer.”

Belle could see the wisdom of the suggestion, but it was impossible. “Father, he is not well enough to be moved, even if his family did show up on our stoop. And with the weather as it is, that is highly unlikely. The Randalls will send a footman to contact his people, but even a seasoned rider wouldn’t start out in weather like that of last night. A rider might try and go now that it’s morning and the rain’s abated, but the roads will be awful.”

“It could be days before he reaches Arundel’s people and then days before they are able to make the journey back.”

Belle slumped, and her father put an arm about her. She did not often let anyone touch her. She didn’t care much for hugs and hand holding, but she could use the comfort this morning. “We will figure something out. We always do.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “In the meantime, we must keep him alive.”

“Well, Mrs. Price and Mrs. Tipps are hard at it this morning, and if I know you, you will bully him into recovery.”

She smiled. “I will do my best.”

A man in clerkish black paused in front of the window, shook out his umbrella, and opened the door. Belle straightened, but her father patted her shoulder. “I have it. You go have that cup of tea you brewed.” He moved forward. “Good morning, sir. Staying dry, I hope?”

Belle went back to the counter and sipped her own cup of tea. She offered a cup to their customer, and he ended up buying Hot Cinnamon Spice as well as the standard Darjeeling. A few more customers stopped by between bouts of heavy rain, but by midday, it was clear they would not turn a profit this day. Belle could hardly blame the city for staying inside. She had no desire to visit the landlord to pay the rent and the tea warehouses were out of the question. Unfortunately, though she could put off the tea warehouses, she could not put off the landlord. A glance at the windows told her the rain had slowed to a steady drip. She looked about for her cloak and realized she’d left it in the flat.

“The landlord must be paid,” Belle told her father, who was standing at the window, presumably willing customers to come inside. “I’ll go up and fetch my cloak.”

“I’ll not let you go out in this weather,” her father said. “I’ll pay the landlord. I want to stretch my legs a bit anyway.”

Belle fetched the rent money from the safe in the back, and when she returned, her father had donned his coat and hat. He tucked the money inside, close to his chest, kissed her cheek, and went out.

Belle considered brewing another cup of tea. Today would have been a good day to go over the shop ledgers, but she was so tired, she couldn’t trust herself to add two and two, much less any greater numbers. Perhaps she should run upstairs and check on the patient and Mrs. Tipps and Mrs. Price. As though the two ladies had been summoned, the door to the private quarters opened, and the ladies stepped into the shop. They were smiling and murmuring but both went stiff when they spotted Belle.

“How is Mr. Arundel?” she asked.

“Resting comfortably,” Mrs. Tipps said. “But that fever is concerning.”

Belle looked out the window again in vain hope the doctor might make an appearance. “The doctor has still not come, and I don’t know what to do.”

“We gave him a bit of water,” Mrs. Price said, “and I think you might try a bit of broth.”

Belle raised her brows. “I might try?”

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