She stood back. “Very well. Am I allowed to change? It would be a little inconsiderate to hand a man a wife and have her perish of the cold in the same night.”

Her mother choked on a sob behind her. “Nora, darling.”

She held her father’s gaze. He jerked a nod. “Be quick. I’m sure your new husband has places he needs to be.”

The new husband under discussion spoke. “I’m honoured, Sir. But are you sure this is what you wish?”

Master Marchant puffed out his chest. “Most assuredly.”

Eleanor tossed her head and ran up the stairs, refusing to react in any way to Sebastian’s malicious giggles. She marched into her room and began pulling clothes out of her cupboard and storage chests.

All her smocks, all her hose. She’d wear her warmest day-gown now, and pack the other two. Three woollen shawls, two petticoats, her purse, hair combs and pins… Where were her boots? As if summoned, Mrs Fisher entered the room carrying the boots she’d taken to clean earlier. “I assume you’ll be wanting these, Miss.”

Eleanor pulled at the lacing on her evening gown. “Yes, and both my cloaks.”

She slipped out of the gown, and her fine leather slippers, then pulled on a second set of hose, wriggled into her thickest woollen gown, and pulled the lacing tight. She paused, surprised, when Mrs Fisher moved to help her. The woman shrugged. “With him or the blond snake, you’re going to be out of the house soon enough, and less work for me, may as well help you on your way.”

Well! She would make sure the horrible woman was dismissed the instant she returned home. In the meantime, she bent to tie her boots, then turned to the bed and stripped one of the pillows of its case. She stuffed her bundle of clothes and trinkets into it, and marched out of the room.

“I’m ready.”

Her mother wailed as Eleanor swept down the stairs in her grandest style. The Gents, both father and son were nowhere to be seen.

Eleanor walked over to the forester. “Let me get my cloak, and we can leave.”

Her new husband looked surprised but glanced at her father, who was huffing and steaming like a pot on the fire, ready to boil over, and said nothing. He held out a hand for her pillowcase, watched her shrug into her light cloak, then the winter one, gave her the book and turned towards the door Mrs Fisher was now holding open.

He walked out into the night, Eleanor at his heels, and the door swung shut behind them.

Eleanor waited for the door to open again, for her parents to run out, apologise, and gather her home. The lights in the front parlour window snuffed out.

The man beside her spoke softly. “We’ve a way to go tonight, and tis late already, it would be best to get underway.”

She looked at him, then put up the fur-lined hood of her outer cloak. She’d make sure the people at whatever inn he was staying at knew who she was. Word would get back soon enough, and they’d come after her.

They left the square and wound through streets lit only by candlelight leaking through shutters. The streets were quiet, but far from empty, Eleanor failed to find a familiar face in those they passed, all hurrying to or from somewhere, and not sparing either of them more than a glance.

The streets grew narrower and twisted back on each other. All she could tell was that they were heading towards the east gates. It was not an area she knew; her world had been bounded by the central market square and the river to the west. Her companion reached out a hand as they turned another corner. “Step carefully here, the rain’s washed some of the stones out.”

She accepted his help without comment, his hand was warm, far warmer than hers; she’d forgotten her gloves.

Once they were past the uneven stones, he let her hand go, and knocked on a door in the wall. A shutter in it snapped open, then shut, and the door swung inwards with an irritated creak.

Eleanor all but stumbled through the entrance, so eager to be inside, in warmth and light. She needed tea, some food, and a chance to assess the damage to her book. Instead, she found herself staring around a small stable yard as the forester spoke with an older man, before retrieving a horse from one of the stalls and backing it into the shafts of a nearby cart.

It wasn’t until he led the harnessed horse towards her that she found her voice. “We’re leaving town at this time of night?”

The shadow in front of her nodded. “Moon’s near full and sky’s cleared, we’ll have enough light and I’ve been away too long already.”

She stared at him. “But it’s night. The gates will be closed and there are, things, out there.”

He moved, she thought he might have sighed. “The gates close at midnight, the bells only just struck eleven and any creatures that might be out and about won’t stray onto the Tradeway, too many travellers, too many caravan guards, too many guard dogs and weasels.”

She refused to budge. “And if the sky clouds over again?”

“Then we light the lantern and go slowly.”

She bit her lip. “But I’m tired, and cold, and hungry. Can’t we stay somewhere and go in the morning?”

He definitely sighed this time. “No, we can’t, the second part of our journey is not one to be made in the dark.”

“Second part? Where are you taking me?”

He gently took her book and tucked into the pillowcase with her other things, then ushered her up onto the seat of the cart. She wasn’t quite sure why she let him. He climbed up beside her and set the horse moving with a flick of the reins. “Woodbine Village.”

She huddled into her cloaks, tucking her hands under her arms. “I’ve never heard of it.”

He was sitting close enough that she felt his shrug. “I’d be surprised if you had. It’s not a big enough place to be of interest to important townsfolk like yourself, and most of our wood goes direct to the crafters of Clearfall Castle, rather than into town.”

Eleanor frowned at the passing buildings. “Then how is Papa going to know where to come to fetch me?”

This time she felt his shoulder drop. “He’s not. He’s taking on the young man who was there, teaching him to take over his business. Told me to come by next time I was in town to discuss a bit of dowry from your Grandmother but that you were my responsibility now.”

She gripped the edge of the wooden seat, hard, she had to breathe, she had to get through this. “He’s chosen Sebastian over me?”

“Is that his name? He seemed rather smug about the whole thing.”

Eleanor snorted. “He would, he’s a toad.”

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