“Mrs Smithers, bless her. Apparently, the dear departed Mr Smithers’ clothing was still in her possession.”
“Obviously, he didn’t wear a nightshirt,” commented Harry, holding up the gown he’d worn during his illness.
Willow had to laugh. “A valid point. We could probably leave that here.”
“I agree.” He folded it neatly and put it in the drawer, then removed the socks and put them in the bag.
She blinked, realising she was staring at his hands.
“I…I’ll go and see to the basket of food.”
“All right.”
Scurrying from the room into the kitchen, she busied herself with her task, putting bread and her little pot of butter carefully into a basket, along with the other meagre supplies she’d accumulated. It didn’t take long, so she slipped her cloak over her shoulders and called to Harry.
“I’m going to take the basket to Mrs Smithers. I shouldn’t be more than a moment or two.”
Harry emerged with their valises. “I think I’m about done here.”
Before they could say any more, there was a firm knock on the front door. Willow opened it and smiled as she saw Mrs Smithers standing there.
“What a wonderful coincidence, Ma’am. I was just about to bring you this basket of food. Since we don’t know how long we’ll be away, we thought you could make use of it?”
“How kind,” beamed the older woman. “And in return, I have a surprise for the both of you…”
“You do?” Willow stared at her in astonishment as Harry came to her side.
“I do indeed.” She took a breath. “I’ve found you a carriage.”
Chapter Seven
In Which Our Unmarried Couple Hurriedly Depart the Coast for London
Harry settled himself into the carriage in the seat opposite Willow. The carriage was not new, that was certain, and the cushions could have used extra padding, but it was serviceable, the driver seemed to know his way, and it was—in Harry’s opinion—a gift from the gods.
Or goddesses, if one were inclined to endow Mrs Smithers with those attributes.
“We should make good time,” Willow said, grasping the handle nearest to her as the rutted roads made their presence known.
“I hope so,” answered Harry. “But not unless these roads get better.” He looked out the window, seeing little but wet hedgerows.
“At least we’re on our way. And in relative comfort, too.” She sighed. “Mrs Smithers has a good heart. I do, however, have to wonder why she had a town-coach at hand. She said it belongs to friends who had arrived a day or so ago, and that it had to go back to town anyway, so why not take us with it?”
“It seems plausible?”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Willow leaned back and shifted a little in an effort to get more comfortable. “I expect that you, with your talk of spies and such things, has set my mind on a slightly different course.”
He grinned. “You can’t imagine Mrs Smithers being an agent for a foreign power?”
“Lord, no,” she laughed back. “And one should never look a gift horse in the mouth. So I will simply remind myself to write to her when we arrive and thank her again. After all, she is going to look after the house, as well as helping us travel.”
“A very good-natured lady, I would say.”
Willow nodded. “Although slightly overpowering.”
“I can agree with that.”
Silence fell for a little while, broken only by the sound of the horses’ hooves, and the occasional thud and rattle as they hit potholes and puddles.
