Page 12 of Willow (Out on a Limb #4)
In Which Our Unmarried Couple makes Slow Progress toward London
She had remained calm thus far, but this morning had not exactly turned out the way she’d expected. Part of her had hoped for a carriage ride with Harry, a private time for just the two of them, when they could sort out their current situation.
But Willow soon realised that a fast walk along a country lane was not going to produce a similar chance for conversation.
Harry set a good pace, and she kept up, determined not to slow him down. But every now and again, he would stop and peer between the trees in the forests lining their lane.
“Can you see it yet?” She had to ask the third time he paused.
“Not yet, but we must be near.” He glanced at her. “Are you all right so far?”
“Of course,” she nodded. “I am more worried about your ankle than my feet.”
“I am managing.” He sighed. “Not something I’d like to do on a regular basis, but there’s not a lot of pain, thank goodness.”
They walked on, and Willow decided this was as good an opportunity as any to ask the question that had plagued her ever since their hasty departure from the inn.
“Who would have done such a thing, Harry? And do you think it has anything to do with your reason for going to London, or could it be just random thieves?” She frowned. “After all, who knew we were making this trip?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Very astute of you, Willow. I was actually just wondering the same thing myself.”
She couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused, but he spoke again before she could settle on a response.
“I cannot, for the life of me, think of anyone who knew our direction. Certainly not anyone who would be aware of what I was carrying or where I was going…”
“Neither can I,” she answered. “Perhaps our coachman told someone?”
“It’s possible.”
“Or…” she paused. “Oh no, that would be too horrid.”
“What?”
“Mrs Smithers,” sighed Willow. “She knew. She found us the carriage. She also knew our destination was London. Goodness, she even provided the means for us to get there. So, without a doubt, she knew every detail of this journey, with the possible exception of exactly where you were going when we got there.”
Harry was quiet for a few minutes, enough time for her to know he was weighing her statement carefully. “I hate to think that. But I’ve learned that people are not always what they seem, Willow. And when you think about it, was it just coincidence that she happened to live next door to Madame Lépine?”
“Good grief.”
“Exactly.”
They walked on in silence for a while, both busy with their thoughts, then—on one of his pauses to look through the trees—he beckoned to Willow. “Look. Through there. I am certain that’s Roger’s house. Franklin Chase. I came down for a shooting party a long time ago.”
She stood next to him, looking at a very pretty country home. “Can we cut through here? The trees are bare, and the ground is probably muddy, but at this point we can’t afford to waste time, can we?”
Harry shook his head. “No, we can’t. I must reach London before tonight. I’m well over a week late now, and if I can’t get there today…well, the consequences might be…”
“It’s all right. I understand if you can’t tell me. It’s probably better I don’t know.” Which was a mixture of the truth and a lie, since it wasn’t all right at all, and she would very much have liked to know what messages, if any, he carried. But indeed, the truth was that it was most likely to be better she didn’t know.
To her surprise, Harry hugged her close. “You are quite astonishing, Willow.”
She blinked. “I am?”
“Yes.” He took her hand. “Now come on, we are about to get ourselves quite muddy.”
*~~*~~*
Mud notwithstanding, the shortcut through the woods was a blessing, and the two of them emerged on Franklin Chase’s back lawn no more than fifteen minutes after leaving the lane.
And as they hurried to the nearest door, it opened on a very astonished young footman.
“Ho, lad,” said Harry, “Is Sir Roger here?”
“Um…” the surprised footman blinked. “Er…”
“Good heavens, Mr Chalmers,” said a stern voice. “What on earth are you doing on our lawn?”
“Barton,” breathed Harry. “Thank God. Is Sir Roger here?”
“No, sir, he is in town and will be for a few days. Was he expecting you and the…er… young lady?” Moving away from the door, he beckoned them inside. “May I offer tea? Dry clothing?”
“There isn’t time, I’m afraid.” Harry tugged Willow along with him into the hallway. “We need horses, Barton. My…my wife and I had our carriage stolen last night, not far from here, and when I found out that the Run was so near, I thought of Roger.”
“How dreadful.” Barton frowned, his massive eyebrows drawing together. “Of course, we’ll be happy to provide mounts for you and your lovely wife.” He bowed low to Willow.
“Jeremy, go to the stables at once. Have Mr Thomas saddle two horses and make one a side-saddle.”
“You are both gracious and kind, Mr Barton,” Willow smiled at him. “Sir Roger is blessed in his staff, I can tell.”
A little spot of colour appeared in the butler’s cheeks as he turned back to them. “A lovely compliment, Mrs Chalmers. If you’ll come this way, I believe I can find something a little warmer for your ride.”
“That would be most gratefully appreciated,” said Harry, as they walked down a passageway and into a large hall. “Please also pass our thanks along to Roger? I shall most definitely be seeing him soon to thank him in person, I know.”
“Of course, sir.” Barton opened a cupboard door and produced a couple of warm woollen coats. “I believe these should fit. You and Sir Roger are close to the same size, I think…and for you, Ma’am, I have this jacket with a cloak attached. Sir Roger’s mother had it made for when she was riding.”
“Oh, how clever.” Willow smiled and accepted the garment. “You are so kind.” She slipped into it with a smile, clearly relishing the warmth of the fine wool and the convenience of the large cape, which would settle easily over a horse’s rump.
Harry nodded approvingly. “I know better than to ask if you’ll be comfortable in a side-saddle for a few hours.”
She shot him a quick glance. “Good. We’ve not ridden together, but I’ve not lost my taste for a good gallop.”
“I would encourage caution,” offered Mr Barton. “These local roads are not the smoothest, and it will be a couple of miles before you reach the main road to London.”
“We understand. And I cannot thank you enough for your assistance.” His face sobered as he looked at the butler. “Such gracious and immediate aid is extraordinary, and rest assured, Roger will know about this as soon as we get to town and finish our business.”
Barton nodded and returned his sober look with one of his own. “We here at Franklin Chase understand that sometimes haste is of the greatest necessity. Your horses are outside, so you must depart immediately, I imagine.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, then nodded. “Very good. Come, Willow.” He held out his hand and the two of them left Franklin Chase on what turned out to be very nicely paced and fresh mounts.
“Interesting,” said Harry as they took the first mile or so slowly, accustoming themselves to the horses and the rough lane.
“What was??” Willow glanced at him, finding herself more comfortable than she’d expected in the saddle.
“Barton. He had everything we needed ready in extremely short order, without questions or anything that might have delayed us.”
“He did indeed. A very efficient butler. Sir Roger is a lucky man.”
“I think Sir Roger might also be friends with some of the people I know.”
Willow was quiet for a few minutes, and Harry knew her mind was turning over the implications of his comment.
Then she took a breath. “Well, goodness. One does indeed learn something new every day.”
They rode as fast as they dared, and when they reached the firmer surface of the road, Harry darted a quick look at her. “Ready for a bit of a gallop?”
She grinned. “Yes indeed.”
With a click of his heels, Harry spurred on his horse and noted that Willow did the same beside him. He kept the pace steady, so as not to wind the beasts too soon, but as the sun emerged from the clouds, he pushed his worries aside and simply enjoyed the sensation of a good horse, a clear road, a sunny morning, and the woman he loved by his side.
A fiery kind of joy billowed up through his heart as he admitted the truth to himself, and settled into the knowledge that somehow he was going to marry Miss Willow Trease, and make their informal union as formal as it could get.
Shooting a quick glance at her, he smiled at her expression of delight; she stayed beside him, her hair blowing around her face, leaning forward just a little as she urged the horse onward. What a woman she was. And how lucky he’d realised that before some other chap snatched her up.
His mind wandered over a variety of topics as they rode, staying together and slowing now and then to rest the horses and let them drink from nearby streams. At least two hours had passed, by his calculations, when they finally reached the outskirts of town, and Harry reined in.
“We have made excellent time,” he smiled. “Not far to go now, but we’ll have to slow down. There will be carriages and wagons ahead.”
Willow nodded. “I think the horses will appreciate going a bit slower,” she patted the neck of her mount. “Do you know the way from here? Through London?”
He gave a quick nod. “We’ll head for the Westminster Bridge, cross the river there, and after that, it’s a short jaunt past Green Park to our destination.”
“And that is?”
“A private home, Willow. We will quietly ride around to the back, and there our horses will be taken and cared for. I expect there’ll be a maid or two for you as well.”
She straightened. “I see. Your wife and your mounts are tended to, while you go on and do your incredibly important business elsewhere.”
“That is correct.”
“And will I ever be allowed to know the nature of that business?”
“Were it my decision, yes. But it’s not. Please understand that.”
She thought about that. “All right. But at some point in the future, when it is safe to do so, will you tell me the truth?”
“Perhaps,” he smiled. “And that’s the best I can do for now. Let’s move on and put an end to this ride.” And this business.