**My Husband Sent Me to an Old English Village with Three Children, and a Week Later I Found Something That Changed Our Lives Forever**
“What did you say?” Eleanor froze, a cold dread creeping into her chest. Thomas stood by the door, his fingers tight around a ring of keys. His usual easy smile had vanished, replaced by a mask of frustration.
“I cant do this anymore,” he repeated flatly. “Neither can I, nor my mother. Pack up the children and go to Willowbrook. Grandmothers cottage is still standingit has a roof, at least. Youll manage.”
Eleanor stared at him as if he were a stranger. Ten years together, three childrenand this was his answer? A dying hamlet where only a handful of houses remained, with no shops, no proper roads.
“Why” she began, but he cut her off.
“Because Im exhausted,” Thomas said, avoiding her eyes. “The constant arguments, the endless complaints, you just sitting at home with the children. Mums rightyouve become a shadow of the woman I married.”
Tears burned in her throat, but Eleanor swallowed them. The children were asleep in the next roomLily and Oliver, and the eldest, Henry, likely heard every word.
“How will I work? What will we live on?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Thomas tossed an envelope onto the table.
“Theres enough to get by for a while. The cottage has been in your name for years. If youre so determined to be independent, prove it now.”
Without another word, he turned and left. A moment later, the front door slammed.
Eleanor sank into a chair. One foolish thought circled her mind: *I baked his favourite apple crumble this morning.*
The cottage greeted them with damp and dust. Eleanor stepped inside, clutching a sleepy Lily, her heart heavy. She had spent summers here as a childGrandmothers fresh-baked bread, lavender drying in the attic, apples stored in the cellar. Now it was only cobwebs and decay.
Henry, too serious for his age, pushed open the shutters. Sunlight streamed through the grimy windows, catching motes of dust in the air.
“Its freezing,” Oliver complained, hugging himself.
“Well light the hearth soon, itll warm up,” Eleanor said, forcing confidence into her voice. “Henry, will you help me?” The boy nodded but wouldnt meet her eyes. He hadnt spoken since overhearing his parents last argument.
Thankfully, the old hearth still worked. As the flames licked at the oak logs, filling the room with warmth, Eleanor let out a slow breath.
“Mum, are we staying here long?” Oliver asked, examining faded photographs on the wall.
“I dont know, love,” she answered honestly. “Lets settle in first, then decide.”
That night, they all slept together in Grandmothers wide bed, the children exhausted from the journey. Eleanor lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she had ended up here.
At dawn, she slipped out into the overgrown garden. The apple trees, once heavy with fruit, now stood gnarled and broken. The old shed leaned dangerously, and the well was choked with ivy.
Eleanor took it all inthis was her inheritance. Her new beginning.
The first days in Willowbrook were a nightmare. Each morning, she woke hoping to find herself back in their London flat, to hear the kettle boiling and Thomass voice.
“Mum, when is Dad coming to see us?” Lily asked, used to their Sunday walks. “Soon, darling,” Eleanor lied, unsure how to explain what she didnt understand herself.
The phone never rang. Thomas ignored her calls. Once, a terse message arrived: “You have what you need. Give me time.”
*Time.* What did he expect? That hed miss them? Or that hed erase them from his life entirely?
By the end of the week, it was clear the money Thomas left wouldnt last. The roof leaked, the hearth needed repairs, and food had to be bought. The worst realisation? There were no jobs in Willowbrook.
“Perhaps you should return to London?” suggested Mrs. Whittaker, one of the few remaining neighbours. Eleanor shook her head. “Theres nothing to go back to. Here, at least, we have a roof.”
That afternoon, she decided to clear the garden. The land, neglected for years, was choked with weeds, but she remembered how abundant her grandmothers plot had been.
“Henry, will you help?” she asked. The boy nodded, still silent.
They worked side by side, pulling weeds and turning the stubborn earth. Her hands, once soft from housework, quickly grew calloused. By evening, her back ached, but theyd only cleared a small patch.
“Mum,” Henry finally broke his silence. “Why are we doing this?”
“To plant vegetablespotatoes, carrots, tomatoes,” she began.
“No, I meanwhy are we *here*? Why dont we go home? What happened with you and Dad?”
Eleanor straightened, wiping sweat from her brow. How could she explain? Admit his father had abandoned them? Tell him about Thomass mother, who had always thought her unworthy? Or confess that another woman might be involved?
“We need time to figure things out,” she said carefully. “Sometimes adults need space”
“To decide if they still love each other,” Henry finished bitterly. His voice carried a weight far beyond his years. “Is it because of that woman? The one at Dads office party?”
Eleanor froze. *Victoria*elegant, polished, Thomass colleague. “Just a friend,” hed said when she noticed him coming home late.
“Maybe,” she admitted. “But rememberyour father loves you. And I *will* make sure youre happy, even here.”
Henry studied her, then suddenly hugged her tight. “Well be alright, Mum. You and me. Well take care of the others.”
That night, after the children slept, Eleanor sat by the window, gazing at the starsbrighter here than in London. For the first time since arriving, she didnt feel despair. Only a quiet strength, as if the land itself was steadying her.
The next morning, she returned to the garden, now joined by Oliver and Lily. The children, once restless, threw themselves into the work, excited by the idea of their own harvest. Lily even sketched a plan for flower beds”to make it pretty, like Kew Gardens.”
Then, her spade struck something hard.
“A rock?” Oliver guessed.
Eleanor brushed away the soil and froze. In her palm lay a small, heavy discold and unmistakably a coin. She rubbed it clean and saw the profile of a king.
“Mum, is it treasure?” Lily whispered.
“Just an old coin,” Eleanor smiled, though her pulse raced. “Perhaps Grandmother dropped it years ago.”
But she knew Grandmother Margaret would never have been so careless.
By dusk, theyd found twelve more coins scattered across the plot. That night, she spread them on the table under lamplight. The dates1897, 1899. Gold sovereigns, she guessed. Rare. Valuable.
Sleep wouldnt come. If these *were* gold, what were they worth? Where had they come from? Andmost importantlywere there more?
In the morning, she called the only person who could helpUncle Edward, her fathers brother in the nearby market town.
“Eddie, I found old coins in Grandmothers garden. Gold, with a kings head”
“Sovereigns?” he interrupted, voice sharp with excitement. “Eleanor, are you certain?”
“I think so,” she said.
“Dont tell a soul. Ill be there by noon.”
He arrived in his battered Land Rover, grey-haired and windburned. Eleanor hadnt seen him since Aunt Claras funeral three years prior.
Uncle Edward examined a coin, bit it lightly, then exhaled. “Gold. And not just goldcollectors pay a fortune for these. Do you realise what youve found?”
She shook her head.
“Its a hoard. A proper treasure,” he said. “Each coin is worth thousands. And if theres more”
“But where did they come from? Grandmother never had gold.”
Uncle Edward smirked. “Dont you know? Your grandmother married a local man, John Hartley. But before that, she was a *Waverley*. Before the war, the Waverleys were gentryowned half the county. When hard times came, old Waverley buried his wealth. Then he died, and the land was redistributed. Your grandmother inherited this plotthe very one were standing on.”
Eleanors mind whirled. “And no one ever found it?”
“Oh, they looked. Legends of the Waverley treasure persisted for decades. But no one knew *exactly* where.”
Just then, the children shoutedHenry had unearthed something beneath the apple tree. By evening, they had twenty-eight gold coins, a heavy silver cross, and three delicate lockets studded with gemstones.
“What now?”
