They had been the best of friends since childhood.
She knew that he secretly wore spectacles.
He knew that she had once stolen all the wine for the Eucharist from the parish church and blamed it on the town drunkard.
There was very little that Amy...
Griff's Letter to Mr Bickens Dated 27 September 1809 (20 years prior)
Dear Mr Bickens
I am very sorrie that I did not atend chorch today. It was Oliver Holinswerth fault. he made me hide in the big oak tree where mother could not see me and find me in time for the service. i know I did a very bad thing and god will be angry. i told oliver the same thing and have give him the same letter so he will know to. I hope you like my pickture of oliver and I am sorrie.
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There was something foul afoot and it was not caused by the aggrieved affront Henivieve had made as Amy and her mother attempted to leave that morning to make their way to the Haventry parish church.
Oliver sat in the pew beside her while Mr Bickens continued into the second hour of his sermon, reposing with an air casual nonchalance which in itself wasn't at all odd. No, indeed, but there lurked a somewhat cunning smile on his lips that deepened the creases in his cheeks and the ones that spanned out at the edges of his eyes. Whenever he chanced to glance at her, his grin would deepen and his brows would raise. There was a devilish quality about him and it unnerved her, especially considering they were in a house of God.
Whenever Oliver got that look about him, they would end up in some sort of trouble. It had happened with the stealing of the wine, and the time he had slipped a lewd sketch into one of the hymn books that a parishioner would use during the service, and then there was the incident with Miss Augusta Fleetwood that compelled her to cry off their match which was no small relief for Oliver, though Amy's own inadvertent hand in that little scandal made her wince with the sharp edge of guilt that crept through her.
But now, as they sat in agony and silence, Amy glanced up at the high beamed ceilings with a worried frown.
"What are you doing?" Oliver whispered, leaning closer to her and shielding his face with the pamphlet that held the service's prayers and hymns for the parishioners to follow along with Mr Bickens.
"Looking for storm clouds."
Oliver seemed perplexed for a moment then his expression turned caustic. "Oh, ha ha."
"If you are smitten by a bolt of lightning, I shan't like to be this close to you when it happens."
"Ssh!" Mrs Gretchen Fitzjames hissed from behind them and Amy turned to give the elderly woman an apologetic smile.
"People actually listen to the sermon," she heard Oliver mutter under his breath and she nudged him meaningfully.
"Other people actually have souls they want to save."
"Lest I remind you that yours isn't as virtuous as you think it is-"
"One time many years ago," Amy hissed furiously and jabbed him in the ribs for good measure.
