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

seek a medical practitioner who is nearer than Wimpleford?”
                  “I have already enquired of Lindell and he tells me that the only man able to pull teeth here is a veritable butcher. I cannot leave the poor child to his tender mercies, not when she is already in so much pain.”
                  “Then I had better hire a gig rather than a hack, for I shall need to bring Will and his equipment back with me.”
                  He immediately went off to suit words for actions, not unhappy to be driving out of town, rather than attending church, which Verity would surely have compelled him to do, as a gesture of civility towards their host. As a scholar of history, he was only too aware of the misery caused by organized religion of all sorts, and consequently despised them all. Sadly he found himself in church rather more frequently than he cared for, mostly to avoid embarrassing his clerical brother, and he would very likely have had his conscience pricked by his wife for the same reasons, now that they were lodging with yet another vicar.
                  The rain began again as he clicked the hired pony into a brisk trot and he was glad of his caped greatcoat and curly-brimmed beaver hat, which had been thoughtfully dried by Verity before the embers of the kitchen fire overnight. They should keep the worst of the weather off him and fortunately it was not terribly far to West Wimpleford. He could only hope that Will would be agreeable to coming to Violette’s aid. Sunday would be the poor fellow’s only day of rest and he would be quite within his rights to tell Underwood to go to the devil!
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
                 
    ‘Ab Honesto Virum Bonum Nihil Deterret’ – Nothing deters a good man from acting honourably
     
                  As he guided the pony trap into town, Underwood suddenly realized the major flaw in his plan and cursed himself under his breath for his stupidity.
                  Of course he had no idea where Will Jebson lived. He had been surprised to find the younger man did not live above his shop, as most proprietors did, and he had been given the address when the invitation to meet his wife and family had been issued, but Underwood only knew two places in the area; the main street which housed the inn and the apothecary shop and Pershore House.
                  Normally this would not be a particular difficulty, for he would simply ask at the inn or one of the shops, but the day was Sunday. The shops were shut and the inn would only serve customers if there was a stagecoach due. This would never happen in big cities or even the larger towns – the day of the week had little effect on commerce there, though the clergy breathed fire and brimstone on those who defied the order to rest on the Lord’s Day. However country towns and villages were still in the dark ages as far as religion was concerned. Sunday was a day of rest and that was that.
                  He could, of course, hammer on the inn door until someone deigned to give him access, but he was reluctant to cause such a furore when all around him was so peaceful. He could think of no other recourse but to take himself off to see Rutherford Petch and hope that he could direct him to Will Jebson.
                  He need not have worried. Rutherford was only too glad to escape the tyranny of Sunday and accompany Underwood on his quest.
                  Will Jebson lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of the town, ivy-covered, so that Underwood could barely see the stone of which it was built. The garden too was overgrown and it was evident that Will did not have much time for gardening, or household maintenance, for the paint on the window-frames was peeling and the glass was streaked with dirt.
                  Petch noticed the neglect also and muttered, “God bless