“I shall have to stay here. I will honour my promise to Madame.”
“There will be no need for that, dear girl.”
“But…”
“Willow, you have kept your word.” His voice was calm and steady. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Wait. You mean…” Her face showed every thought that raced across her mind. “You? You are the person Madame was waiting for?”
He had no other choice but to tell her the truth. “Yes.”
*~~*~~*
Willow felt her jaw drop for a few moments, then collected herself and snapped it shut.
“I…” Words failed her as she struggled to understand the implications of his statement, whatever they were.
“It’s all right,” he soothed. “And it’s a very long story, so…” he winced a little. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to rest a bit more before we have that conversation.”
He was indeed pale, and she rose without thinking about it, going to place her hand on his forehead. “Well, no fever, thank God. But you do need to get your strength back.”
“I will, I’m sure.” He managed to stand, using the table for stability, and then accepted her shoulder, allowing her to support his slow limping progress back to bed.
She remained silent until he was tucked up once more.
“This is a mess, isn’t it?” She stared at him, trying to read his expression. “I can’t begin to imagine what sort of business you might have had with Madame, Harry. And now I’ve put you in a difficult position with my subterfuge. I am so sorry…”
He reached out and took her hand firmly. “Stop. We will find a solution. Trust me.” He sighed and let her go, wearily sinking back onto the bed. “But I must get back on my feet first.”
“I know. And now you’re well enough to get out of bed, we’ll work on that.” She straightened his pillow. “Tomorrow.”
Harry sighed. “What is the number of this house, Willow?”
She blinked. “Seven. It’s number seven, Sea Lane.”
To her surprise, he managed a weak grin. “Of course it is.” He turned his head toward her and sighed. “Life is very strange sometimes.”
She wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment but simply nodded. “Go to sleep.”
“All right.”
Within a minute or so, his eyes had closed, and his breathing eased into a steady rhythm. She’d become accustomed to the sound, to his occasional snoring, and found it comforting. More so now that he was clearly on the road to recovery.
She left his room, partially closing the door, and went to stoke up the fire and finish her tea. The bread and butter would serve her as a meal for the night, since she wasn’t very hungry. Her mind wandered to food, and she planned a larger breakfast than usual; eggs, of which she still had several, perhaps some bacon—if he could eat it—would do him good…
Running through her habitual activities, tidying up dishes, putting things ready for the morning, Willow’s mind tried to make sense out of Harry’s dramatic announcement.
Obviously, there must have been some connection between him and Madame.
Or, given his odd question about the house number, perhaps he’d been told to find this building, rather than Madame herself?
Her tenure here in this place had been…emotional, to say the least. There’d barely been chance for her to recover from losing Madame before Harry arrived so unceremoniously. Tonight, she would take some time to breathe; her patient was on the road to recovery, the house business was settled, and all she had to do was put the dishes away. Then she could think.
Her book was awaiting her by the fire, the one she’d begun a few days ago. A lovely tale that had intrigued her from the very beginning. But as she crossed to her chair, she realised she’d done little to clean out the few things that Madame had left.
The books she’d take with her, if she could. There weren’t many, but they carried memories, and she felt responsible for them. The bookshelves themselves were simple, and now mostly empty. One or two small pottery pieces, for flowers perhaps, and an empty trinket box.
The only drawer that still contained anything was the one Madame had used to store her bills and other important paperwork. The deed to the house, now in Willow’s name, was there. There were a few other sheets, some in their own leather folders. Perhaps it was time to take a closer look and see if any might be relevant to Harry’s mysterious revelation.
