Mr. Randolph nodded. “Mr. Brighton is the man to handle such things.”
“Excellent. I’ll check the status of the church funds, but I do believe Mrs. Harding’s roof should be among the first things we fix.”
“I don’t know how much coin is left in the fund. The former vicar didn’t seem inclined to spend much from it.”
“That’s interesting. The fund is supposed to be used to help make the lives of the parishioners better, not be hoarded. Do you know if the former vicar had a grand plan for the funds?”
Mr. Randolph shook his head. “I wasn’t privy to it if he did indeed have one.”
Peter turned to Mrs. Stillwell. “Is there anything needed for your cottage?”
“No, luckily not. My late husband had rethatched the roof a month before he passed.”
As they talked, Peter got a much better understanding of how much work the last vicar had put on the curate’s shoulders. It seemed Mr. Randolph had handled just about everything except when there was money involved. It was a shame that a man ofGod would abuse his power in such a way. Peter vowed to change how things ran in the future. Mr. Randolph would not be run ragged now that he was in residence.
“Mr. Randolph, I wanted to talk to you about a garden project,” Peter said.
“Garden project? I’m not sure what you mean,” the curate said.
“The vegetable garden at the vicarage is thriving, and I now realize that that’s wholly due to your excellent maintenance and care. I would like to expand the garden area so that we will be able to supply more families with food, and I’d like you to be in charge of the project.”
Mr. Randolph’s eyes widened. “You want me to be in charge?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Um… it’s just that the former vicar was not keen on me being in charge of anything.”
“Well, be that as it may, I don’t share the former vicar’s opinion. With your loving care, I do believe many more families will have fresh vegetables to eat. Would this be something you’d like to do?”
Mr. Randolph sat up straighter in his chair at Peter’s praise. “Of course, sir. I’d be delighted to take on such a project. Um… there will be a cost, buying seeds and such.”
“The money will be available, not to worry. We can talk about it in the coming days. I could use your expertise in figuring out which vegetables would be most desired by the parishioners. No sense growing something no one wants to eat.”
Mrs. Stillwell gave Peter an almost imperceptible nod.
After chatting for a bit longer, Peter said, “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Stillwell. I must be on my way.”
Mr. Randolph stood and began to follow him out of the cottage.
“No need to come to the vicarage, Mr. Randolph. I’m sure there are things your sister needs help with today. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Peter said.
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Wallings. Thank you,” Mr. Randolph said.
“We must all take the time to care for each other. I hope to make sure no one in our parish suffers from the lack of food or help when the need arises.”
Jacob Fletcher sat inhis study, reviewing the ledger books. The steward had maintained thorough records of everything, which allowed him to quickly grasp what had transpired at Dandridge Manor over the years. The drought last year had led to a significant reduction in the harvest. Though the farmers had enough to get through the winter months, there was little extra. So far this year, rain had fallen every few days, and the harvest in the autumn should be much better, which would benefit everyone.
A knock on his door made him look up. “Come.”
Jones opened the door. “Mr. Jack Johnston to see you, my lord.”
“Good. Send him in.”
Jacob stood when the steward came in. “Good day, Mr. Johnston. Please have a seat. We have much to discuss.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“I want to commend you on your excellent record-keeping. It made it easy for me to see what expenses have occurred on the property over the years and how the profit was handled.”