Page 1 of Willow (Out on a Limb #4)
Cold grey clouds hung heavily over the waters of the English Channel, making a young woman sigh as she stared out of her window at them. The sight was nowhere near as lovely as the snow-covered forest would be, the familiar one surrounding her home, many miles away.
She missed it, especially over the past weeks, when she knew that Christmas celebrations would be ongoing, and the special glow of the season always seemed brighter when the family was together.
Viscount Trease and his wife, Lady Hazel, kept the joyous spirit of the holiday; the house would be filled with the scent of fir boughs, and the aroma of freshly baked mince pies would tempt the palate of anyone setting foot over the threshold.
It had been so for over two hundred years now, although nobody really knew how the first Viscount celebrated his Christmas. Because he had been elevated from the rank of stable hand within a matter of moments, he was probably a bit dazed, especially since the Royal he had rescued became King of the Realm not long after.
Gratitude, Hopper Trease must have thought, certainly came with advantages.
But he and his wife (a former milkmaid), wasted no time in having a suitable home built, and over the generations, the Viscounts had added to it, here and there. Which brings us to this moment, a lovely Christmas at Forest Grange, residence of the Trease family.
What with an engagement, a new Trease on the way, and the announcement that another little one would be joining the family in the coming year, the rafters rang with laughter and all the traditions of Christmas were celebrated with gusto.
But there was one family member missing…
Miss Willow Trease, the not-identical twin of the newly affianced Miss Holly Trease, was not at Forest Grange. In fact, she wasn’t even in the same county.
Willow, to her surprise, found herself on the South Coast of England, in a village called Little Witham.
And little it was, too, comprising a dozen or so houses, one or two shops for essentials, and a church a mile away that served the area. It was quiet, and once upon a time had hosted quite a few of the aristocracy during the summer months. But, as always, tastes had changed, and what was once regarded as a charming small fishing village became little more than a wharf and some dull lights on winter nights.
It had also attracted a couple of foreigners, probably because there was quite a bit of unpleasantness going on across the channel.
One of them, Madame Louise Lépine, had lived there since her retirement from the educational world, where she had tutored many a young lady in the French language. It had been a sheer coincidence that one of those young ladies, Miss Willow Trease, had crossed her path a few months ago. On her way back to Forest Grange, Willow had seen the accident that had almost killed Madame, and rescued her, ordering her coachman to take them both to Madame’s home.
Once there, and once they’d recovered from the astonishing coincidence of their meeting, Willow had written to her parents explaining the situation, and stayed, since Madame lived alone and had no one else to care for her.
A small house, set back a little from the seafront, but still with a full view of it, had become Willow’s home-away-from-home as she tended to a woman who quickly left her role as teacher behind, and became a dear friend.
But the outcome had shattered Willow’s heart; Madame never fully recovered from her injuries, and several days after Christmas, her heart had failed.
Alone, with Madame at peace now in the small graveyard behind the church, Willow stared from the window of the house that was, to her utter astonishment, now hers. Madame had made that clear in her last days, over Willow’s protestations.
“It is all I have, chérie,” she’d whispered. “And I have nobody to give it to, except you.”
Sighing at the memory, Willow leaned her head against the cold glass and gazed at the rough grey sea, sadness choking her, and fighting the urge to go running home to her family. She had to wait for a while…it had been part of Madame’s last wishes.
“Stay here, ma chérie, after I’m gone. Wait, I beg of you. Wait until you know it is the right time to leave.”
“I don’t understand…” Willow had held Madame’s hand and frowned. “How will I know?”
“A message will come, and the messenger will tell you, Willow. He will know.”
Even now, nearly a month after that inscrutable plea, Willow still did not understand. She’d had plenty of food and other supplies, thanks to Madame’s foresightedness, but the waiting was getting irritating. Her gaze over the waves didn’t help provide an answer.
The knocker sounded loudly through the quiet house, and she jumped at the noise, but hurried to answer it, blinking at the large man who stood there.
“Yes?”
“Package fer yer. From the boat o’er there…” he jerked his head over his shoulder. “Says I gotta get this ‘ere. So…’ere.”
Willow staggered as the man pulled a very large bundle from the wall by the door and thrust it against her, then took off before she could recover enough to shout after him.
She kept her balance, but it wasn’t easy, and her breath deserted her as she realised she had a body wrapped up and pressing against her.
“Dear God.” She stumbled, trying to struggle with the weight and the front step at the same time. Through sheer determination, she dragged and manhandled it into the main room, ran back and slammed the door, then returned to see who could be in such dire straits.
Carefully unfolding the fabric, which turned out to be a man’s heavy cloak, she pushed it away and then unwrapped what looked like a filthy scarf from the muffled head. Gingerly, she pulled it aside, only to catch her breath on a choked gasp.
“Oh sweet heavens…Harry…”