“I am sorry to leave you, dear,” Mrs. Tipps said, “but Mr. Tipps will be wondering what has become of me.”
Belle looked at Mrs. Price hopefully. She knew there was no Mr. Price. “I had thought to stop in for tea to have with my toast. As it is, I’ve eaten nothing all day.”
Neither had Belle, and the mention of toast made her stomach growl.
“Of course. You both have been such a help. My father or I will take over from here.”
“Where is Mr. Howard?” Mrs. Price asked.
“He went out for a moment. He should be back shortly.” That was not quite true. The landlord lived about a fifteen-minute walk from Fenchurch Street, but her father would not be gone long.
“Would you like us to stay until he returns?” That was Mrs. Price again. Mrs. Tipps looked as though she had no intention of staying, but Belle had always supposed Mrs. Price had a bit of a soft spot for her father.
“No, no. I’ll be fine.” Belle tried to think how she might be subtle in the suggestion that the ladies not mention their injured guest, but nothing came to mind, so she pushed on with her characteristic bluntness. “I do have a favor to ask of the two of you.”
Mrs. Price’s brows went up with interest, but Mrs. Tipps put a hand on her hip. “What’s that?”
“Would you mind keeping Mr. Arundel’s presence here to yourself? He was stabbed, and I’m sure Mr. Randall has notified the authorities, but we don’t know why he was stabbed or if he is still in danger, and until we speak with a Constable, it might be best to keep the man’s presence here to ourselves.”
“You can count on me, dearie,” Mrs. Price said in a tone so laced with excitement that Belle knew she was right to assume she would have had more success keeping Mr. Arundel’s presence quiet if she herself had stayed quiet.
“I’m no gossip, Isabelle Howard,” Mrs. Tipps said, clearly offended. “Now, you have more important matters to worry about. Best not to leave him alone too long.” Mrs. Tipps pointed to the ceiling in the general vicinity of Belle’s bed chamber.
“I won’t.”
The two ladies gathered their umbrellas and wraps and set out. Belle closed the door behind them, struggling a bit as the wind had kicked up. It was strong enough to blow Mrs. Tipps’s umbrella back.
Belle looked out the window for her father, but even if she had been able to see past the rain, it was too early for him to return. She made the decision to lock the door and turn the sign to CLOSED.
Then she went upstairs to see the patient.
Chapter Six
The flat was strangely quiet and dark as no lamps had been lit or windows opened. Belle made her way to the open door of her bed chamber, and then stopped and stared. Mr. Arundel had been tucked neatly under the covers, which were straight and tucked tightly under his arms, which lay pin-straight at his sides. His face was still flushed with fever, but he looked relatively peaceful, even gentlemanly with the shirt the ladies had put on him to help warm him. Belle narrowed her eyes. Had the ladies brushed his hair?
Looking past the patient, she saw her room had been put to rights. In fact, it was neater than she had left it before Mr. Arundel had shown up. She suspected the ladies had wanted to snoop through her things more than they wanted to tidy her chamber, but as Belle had nothing to hide, she didn’t mind.
A glass half full of water sat on the bedside table, and Belle thought she had better take the advice of the ladies and attempt to get him to take some liquid. One benefit of the rain was that at least neither lady would meet anyone on the street to whisper to about Mr. Arundel. Still, she couldn’t hope that they would keep it to themselves for long. Belle moved the chair beside the bed out of her way and sat on the edge of the mattress with the cup in hand. Gently, she lifted Mr. Arundel’s head. He was still far too warm, and it concerned her how still he was.
She put the glass to his mouth, but his lips wouldn’t open. “Come now, Mr. Arundel,” she said. “You must drink something.” She attempted to force his lips open, but once she had them parted and tried to make him sip, the water just ran down his chin.
Belle mopped up the spill and then jumped when she heard a pounding on the shop door. She gathered her skirts and hurried down the steps. It couldn’t be her father, as he had a key. She expected a customer and all but collapsed with joy when she saw the doctor. She opened the door and held on so it would not blow back, and the doctor came in on a whoosh of rain and cold. He removed his hat and nodded to her, looking even wearier than she felt. “Miss Howard, was it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Mayhew. Would you like some tea?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s none at all,” she said. The doctor seemed like an Earl Grey man, and she hastily set water to boil.
“How is the patient?” Mayhew asked.
“He is resting at the moment, but his fever is quite high.”
“Did you place him in ice as I instructed?”
Belle spooned tea into the warm pot. “No, sir. I’m not sure who your usual patients are, but we have no ice nor means to obtain it.” She poured the boiling water into the pot.
“I see. Too bad he couldn’t stay with Randall.”
