Amazed to have spent time in the presence of a man who knew William Shakespeare personally, and a poet in his own right that, he, Jake Conley, had to admit never having heard of, he resumed his reading with redoubled enthusiasm. The next chapter in Heather’s book dealt with the nineteenth century, which did not seem so terribly distant. The curse must have endured almost to modern times, he supposed. He glanced at his wife; she’d found something on her tablet that was keeping her attention. Jake’s head began to ache and spin. Psychometry was happening again, how he wished he’d looked both ways before crossing the road in front of that Jeep!
* * *
Tysoe, Warwickshire 1802 AD
The Reverend Francis Mead, the wielder of a fine pen, and particularly learned in numismatics and Anglo-Saxon stud
