Excerpt:

The Wearyall Hill Bed and Breakfast looked perfectly ordinary from the outside.  Gwen peered at it through a curtain of gray drizzle, while rivulets of moisture worked their way under the collar of her cloak and down the small of her back.  A compact, comfortably overrun garden separated the façade from the street, and a cherry-red door waited for her at the end of the narrow path. 
 
This looks like as good a place as any to run away from home.