Free A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) by Suzanne Downes Page A

Verity, busying herself with making toast for their unexpected guest and her own husband, who was, thankfully, not one of those demanding men who were too fine to eat in the kitchen. He was more than happy simply to be fed and didn’t much care for the niceties of placement.
                  He did, however, notice the young woman’s wince of pain when she tried to nibble politely on a slice of nicely browned bread.
                  “Do you not think Miss Molyneux would manage better with bread and milk sops?” he enquired delicately, bringing his wife’s attention to the still suffering girl.
    Verity was at once filled with all-consuming sympathy, “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry! What a silly goose I am. You must be in agony with that tooth. As soon as we have eaten and you have rested, we must send at once for Mr Jebson.”
                  “Oh, pray do not,” murmured Violette, “I could not ask him to attend me on a Sunday, especially since I do not have the money to pay him. Now I have lost my place in the players I must conserve every penny.” Underwood was quick to notice that though she had a pronounced accent, her English vocabulary was excellent.
                  “I’m sure he will not mind, just this once,” Verity assured her earnestly, “He is a most accommodating man, and so very, very kind. Underwood shall fetch him just as soon as he has finished his breakfast.” She carefully avoided any mention of money, afraid that an offer of a loan would cause offence.
                  Underwood made no demur, though he was dashed if he could see why he had to run the errand, or indeed why it had to be poor old Jebson. There must surely be an apothecary or tooth-puller of some description in Dacorum-in-the-Marsh?
                  Lindell returned just as they finished eating and smiled warmly at his visitor, “I do hope you are feeling a little better, Miss ... I’m sorry, I don’t recall your surname. I fear we have all taken the liberty of using your first name in your absence.”
                  “Please call me Violette,” she invited shyly, “you have all been so kind. I do not know how I can ever repay you. But I should really be on my way.”
                  “You have somewhere in mind?” he asked gently, fully cognisant of the fact that she had no job, no money and very probably no living relative – or at least not one that was within reach.
                  “No, I supposed I should find another theatre, perhaps in the next town, and ask for some employment.”
                  “You can’t possibly work until we have seen to that sore tooth,” said Verity decidedly, “Think no more about leaving until you are feeling better.”
                  Since she did feel so terribly unwell and the ache in her jaw was rapidly spreading into the entire side of her face, Violette was only too grateful to accept this edict. She allowed herself to be led upstairs and watched woozily as Verity deftly made up one of the many spare beds in the huge vicarage, then sank wearily into it. After a dose of laudanum, she fell into a feverish sleep.
                  Verity came downstairs and spoke urgently to her husband, “Cadmus, I know that manners dictate that we should wait until tomorrow before calling Mr Jebson out to see to Violette’s toothache, but I’m very concerned about her. She is burning with fever, but even asleep, she was still shivering with cold. That is never a good sign.”
                  Underwood agreed. He recalled a similar effect on his body when he had been at his most unwell and it was vastly unpleasant, one moment drenched in sweat and the next icily cold, with fingers and toes stiff and painful.
                  “I’m happy to go and ask Will to come, Verity, but if the matter is exigent, should we not perhaps