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T hey reached the circle of the drive, boots crunching on the gravel.

Climbing the wide stone steps, Silas faced a brass lion’s head knocker glowering from the center of the glossy black door.

His stomach was heavy with dread and nerves.

They stood silent, shoulder to shoulder, for a moment before Mr. Bone reached out to press the bell.

It rang inside the house, hollow and loud, then the shuffling of feet and the door opened to reveal a stout woman with dark eyes in a merry face.

Her greying hair, still strawberry blonde in places, was loosely held in place with a lacy mobcap.

“Help you, gentlemen?” she asked without opening the door farther.

“We’re here to see Blackwood,” said Silas with as much confidence as he could muster.

She looked at him then, as if seeing him suddenly.

“Silas Larke? Oh my stars, boy! I’d no notion you were back.

” She clutched at her cap and then at the shawl tucked round her shoulders.

“Mrs. Greene, d’you remember? I used to make biscuits for you and Ophelia.

Oh, lord, don’t get me started!” The housekeeper dabbed at her eyes and shook her head.

“Of course I do,” Silas said. “I’m so glad to see you again. As to Ophelia—I’ve a letter here from her. She wanted me to bring directly to you.” He pulled a small envelope from his chest pocket and handed it to Mrs. Greene.

She dimpled at him, tears still leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Oh my stars! How lovely of her. Do come in, then.”

Mrs. Greene motioned for them to come into the foyer, and they both stepped forward into the house.

It was quiet inside with a palpable feeling of emptiness about the place.

Nothing much had changed that Silas could see, but he had only been inside perhaps three or four times, and never through the front door.

Mr. Bone held his leather case to his chest and nodding to Mrs. Greene said, “Mr. Casper Bone, at your service, ma’am.

” The housekeeper tittered and took his hat.

“Is he in the study?” Silas asked, knowing it was rude, but not feeling able to make his way through all the niceties without losing his nerve. He needed to get this done. “I know it’s not the done thing, and I would enjoy longer to catch up, but there is a matter of some urgency, Mrs. Greene.”

“Oh, yes, I see, o’ course.” She motioned them toward the largest of the doors off the foyer. “In there.”

The room was heavy with age and dark wood, anchored by the plush Aubusson carpet and the massive desk in the centre of the room.

Bookshelves towered along the far wall, still stuffed with volumes, but the mantel was missing the large landscape that had hung above it, and Silas noted that the trinkets, silver snuffboxes and jeweled cigarette cases, that had been displayed on the sideboard were gone.

Blackwood was bent over paperwork when they entered, and Silas took him in, in the moment before he looked up; greying black hair, shoulders hunched over his scrawling hands, the fabric of his expensive suit greasy with wear even from this distance.

He continued writing for a fraction of a second longer before he raised his head, an expression of disoriented shock on his face.

Silas pounced, not waiting for Blackwood to gain a moment’s equilibrium.

“I’ve come to settle my mother’s tenancy, Blackwood. I was a fool to agree to your threats before, and I’ll not leave here until she’s properly titled on the leasehold.”

“So you managed to make it back, did you, Larke?” Blackwood’s face had settled back into its regular territory, a derisive sneer. “Well, I have to admit, I didn’t think much of your chances overseas, but here you are.”

“Here I am.” Silas took the papers that Mr. Bone had ready for him. “She’s years left on the lease, and according to my lawyer, there’s no way for you to break the lease without proof of dereliction.”

“Oh ho, your lawyer, is it? And who might you be, my good man?” Blackwood turned his beady eyes on Bone, fingers steepled over his paunch.

“And has Larke let you know what his part of the bargain was? That’s he’s already broken it, settin’ foot in here.

” Then to Silas, “Give it up, Larke, you were outmanouvered before you even got to France ... unsurprising considering your father. A man unsuited to anything but standing behind a plough, not a clever bone in his body. Much like yourself,” he snarled, a superior tilt to his lips.

“Ah, well, sir,” said Mr. Bone. “You may not be aware, but the courts don’t look too kindly on blackmail, so you’ve not much of an argument as to Silas’s breaking it.

However”—he stepped forward and took a seat in the chair in front of the desk—“there is the matter of the lease signed by your late wife’s father in .

.. oh”—he scanned down the document with a long finger—“1835, it looks like. That was the traditional renewal of a hundred-year lease with Silas’s grandfather, so by my reckoning, that gives Mrs. Larke until 1935 before she need worry too much about moving on.

So unless there’s any proof of dereliction, your tenants are well within their rights.

I suspect the courts are run off their feet at the moment, what with all the war work, so might not look favourably on such a nuisance case. ”

Silas wanted to laugh at the pinched look on Blackwood’s face, but he schooled his features into neutrality.

Bone slung one long leg over the other, waiting for Blackwood to speak.

It was interesting to see him in his element here in the grand house, shoulders straight and firm, hands relaxed on the arms of the chair.

Silas had only seen him on the land prior, and through the implacable eyes of Mrs. Darling.

He had seemed harder there, more ossified in his position, but today he had been inquisitive and kind, and now commanded the room with confidence and ease.

“It’s nothing to me who stays in that hovel, but I’ll not hesitate to evict her if the land shows the slightest dip in productivity. I’m not running a charity,” Blackwood spat.

“There’ll be no question of that, Blackwood,” Silas said. “My family has been working that land for generations, and so it will continue. My mother is more than capable.”

Mr. Bone rose, calmly gathering up his papers and closing the latch on his briefcase.

“Good day, sir. These papers will be stored securely, along with the notes outlining our business today, should you have any notion of trying to destroy or alter them. It was not a pleasure doing business, but I trust I fulfilled my duties as a voice of reason.”

“Get out!” Blackwood growled.

They made their way out into the foyer and through the front door, a rectangle of light with a dazzle of green in the distance.

Silas sucked in a breath on the threshold and stepped onto the porch, as if into a new life.

He wanted to laugh or sing, something to release the bubble of relief that filled his chest. Instead, he turned and shook Mr. Bone’s hand.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Bone. You’ve no idea.”

“Casper, please. And it is sincerely my pleasure. I’ve no stomach for aristocrats run amok, faced my own version of that man decades ago, and it still needles me.” The older man patted Silas’s shoulder. “It was good to work the legal chops again, it’s been a long while.”

Silas laughed, and they began the walk back to the Larke farmhouse. He was looking forward to dinner with Samuel and his mother, but in truth, he was desperate to get back to the farm to see Ophelia. He felt the distance from her like an ache in his chest.