“You asked him?”
“Of course I asked him,” frowned Harry.
“Well, I wondered, that’s all. No need to snap at me.”
“I’m sorry, I did not mean to snap, as you put it. It’s just…” he sighed and shook his head as he stared out of the window.”
Saying anything at that point would be irrelevant, decided Willow, so she too watched the countryside pass by their carriage. Once or twice they passed similar vehicles travelling in the opposite direction, and a couple of riders, well-wrapped against the weather, galloped along the same road, often with a shout to their driver.
But overall, their journey was proving to be uneventful, quiet, and actually a bit boring.
Willow closed her eyes and tried not to wish Harry was beside her, holding her, saying nice things…
Chapter Eight
In Which a Country Inn Offers Respite to our Weary Travellers
Since neither Harry nor Willow had much in the way of appetite, the carriage was able to make good time to their destination, arriving just before the gloom of winter darkness fell.
The Blue Fox offered a few tables, several rooms, and—to Harry’s surprise—an excellent beverage. Chillendale ale had been his favoured tipple for quite some time, but it was often hard to come by.
“I hope this’ll do you and yer husband, Ma’am,” said the wife of the innkeeper, who introduced herself as Mrs Marsh. “We don’t get a lot of London visitors, o’ course. They take the other roads. But we’ll do our best to get yer comfortable. And get yer man off his feet.” She looked at Harry as he spoke with the driver just outside the inn.
“Had a tumble, did he? Limpin’ like that…”
“Yes,” answered Willow with a smile, throwing Harry to the wolves. “He fell off his horse a couple of weeks ago.”
And he would be utterly furious at the thought.
“Men,” sighed the other woman.
“Indeed,” agreed Willow.
The room to which she was shown was surprisingly well-appointed, with a couple of chairs, hooks for their clothing and a large ewer and pitcher. There were candles, barely used, and the linens were soft, clean, and smelled of lavender. In addition, there was a good fire already burning to keep the room warm overnight.
“This will be wonderful, thank you, Mrs Marsh.”
“I hope yer’ll be comfy, Ma’am. Yer let me know if yer need anything at all.”
“We will. Thank you.”
Harry arrived at the door with the bags. “This looks very nice,” he approved, winning himself a broad smile from Mrs Marsh.
“I reckon you’ll sleep well enough. But yer best come down soon. Stew’s almost ready and I can smell the bread bakin’.”
Willow sniffed. “Oh, so can I. We will be there in short order, Ma’am.”
Grinning at them both, the woman left, closing the door behind her.
“Well then.” Harry looked at the bed. “I would say that is probably quite comfortable.”
Willow cleared her throat. “Indeed.”
“Where shall I put our bags? Do you need to unpack…um…things?”
“Things?”
“Yes, you know…” he waved his hands, “female things.”
