It was as if an icy hand had taken hold of her heart and was squeezing it. She knew only too well what an “accident” meant in the village of Larkswell.
“Yes, an accident,” Jeffrey Farlow said, “and Richard is asking for you.”
“Richard?”
Wivina said the word almost beneath her breath and looking up at her Jeffrey Farlow asked sharply,
“Who else did you expect to have one?”
“Richard is at the Vicarage.”
“No, he did not get there.”
“What happened? Was he run over?” Wivina asked frantically.
She had a sudden vision of Richard being bowled over by a phaeton in the narrow village street. It had happened last year to a child. One of the wheels had passed over him and he died in agony.
“You had better come and see for yourself,” Jeffrey Farlow said.
“Yes – of course,” Wivina answered.
S
