“Aye, agreed,” his small companion grunted.
Joe Reed nodded his head. “And the finified young lord whot saw me after Oi did in Tall Tee … he needs some attention, don’t he?”
“Aye.” The small man was a man of few words, rarely speaking unless matters called for it.
“Right then, Oi haven’t been able to get to him yet, and Oi mean to tell our flash covey that we wants our share or else … whot say ye?”
“Oi don’t know. Queer that sounds to me. Ye don’t want to take a chance taking another shot at gentry. Trouble leads that way, and the flash covey, well, ye best be careful telling him anything, or ye’ll find yerself in a shallow grave.”
“Whot then?”
“Joe, ye ain’t thinking. We gots to find where he has it hidden, that’s whot we gots to do. Then … we make our move.”
“Aye, we’ll have to work on it,” Joe answered thoughtfully. “Ye be right. Oi always loike running things by ye. Got a good head on yer shoulders, and Oi tell ye whot, I was happy to do Tall Tee in, the way he was always slapping ye around.”
The small man grunted, “Thankee … Oi hated him, Oi did. And that young flash covey, well, he could be trouble, but this time, if ye toikes a shot, well then, toike a shot and make it work.”
“Gots to find him first. He left the inn … ye know.”
“Aye, but he is forever visiting that Moorely mort. Saw them together Oi did. Wait till then … mayhap pop them both off at the same time, free and clear.”
“Aye, that’ll do. That’ll do.”
* * *
Serena had returned from town and had not been home more than ten minutes when she made up her mind. She rushed into the library where her uncle was enjoying a fire and a good book, planted a kiss upon his cheek, and told him she had one or two more things to do outdoors.
He waved her off, telling her that he expected his good friend to be dropping by as was his habit late in the day.
Pleased that he would have company, she hurried upstairs and donned her riding clothes. A few moments after that found her at the barn saddling up her mare and telling her groom he could not accompany her as she was only taking a quick ride to the rectory.
Reverend Eustace’s parish of Bolder was comprised of a small farmer’s village, no more than five farms, one handsome house, perhaps a smattering of no more than a dozen smaller ones occupied by the lesser gentry, and a number of picturesque cottages.
The rectory itself, which bordered the Piney Woods of the New Forest, was not richly appointed, with only a small garden front and back. Although it was a modest parish, it was most certainly a respectable establishment and charmingly designed.
Serena had always enjoyed her visits to the rectory when the Reverend Thomas FitzWilliams had been there. He had been a dear friend of her uncle’s, and although he had moved on to a larger parish in the north country, he and her uncle maintained a lively exchange of mail.
She arrived at the arched doorway where the housekeeper, Mrs. Plumstock, who had stayed on with Eustace, opened the door, and smiled. “Lord love you, child, where have you been all these weeks? I have missed your visits sorely.” She ushered Serena within. “Come in … sit. The reverend is not home yet, and you and I can sit with a hot cup of tea and have a lovely chat.” She led her towards the kitchen.
“That would be lovely, Mrs. Plumstock, as it is you I have come to see,” Serena told her as she followed her. “In fact, I just saw the reverend in town and knew he would not yet have returned from his errands.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Plumstock. “Right then … sit yourself down.”
Serena had always loved this cozy kitchen. Potted herbs adorned the windowsill, and copper pans hung near the large brick fireplace. Dark oak beams lined the ceiling and baskets hung in various shapes and sizes.
In the center of the lovely room was a dark oak round table, and Serena pulled up a wooden chair and sat as Mrs. Plumstock poured her a cup of tea and pushed freshly baked pastry at her.
She sipped as Mrs. Plumstock asked, “Now then, how is your uncle? I heard he took sick.”
She laughed. “He is up and about but as crotchety as ever, thank goodness. In fact, he tells me that tomorrow he means to drive me over to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Tucker’s for luncheon. He wants to take a look at an American horse Lewis Tucker imported for breeding.”
“Aye, I heard tell that ’tis a magnificent animal, strong in the works.” Mrs. Plumstock nodded with approval. She reached for a biscuit and took a sizeable bite as she leaned onto the table. “Well now, isn’t this nice … having you here again for a cozy chat. I must tell you, I miss the Reverend Thomas a great deal. Things are not quite the same …”
“Indeed, we miss him as well. Such wondrous stories he had a store of. Do you remember the one about William II, you know, King Rufus?”
“Bloodthirsty devil that he was,” grumbled Mrs. Plumstock. “Red-bearded, wild-tempered …”
“And put to death in our own New Forest,” Serena said purposely.