Page 53

She turned away from her father, hands shaking with adrenaline and found Bess was standing in the space between the shed and the house, Hannah beside her.

Bess lifted a hand to her mouth at Merritt’s cursing and Hannah, disgust written all over her face, threw an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, patting brusquely.

She gave a sharp nod of her chin to Ophelia.

You can deal with this , it said. You are capable .

She nodded back to her friend and then looked to the groom, whose eyes were like saucers in his pale face.

She could hear her father getting louder behind her.

“Damn you, Ophelia! Don’t walk away from me!”

He grabbed for the reins, yanking when the horse shied away from him.

“There’s no need for that, now,” came Mrs. Darling’s voice from the doorway of the house.

“If you’ve something to say to one of my farmers, you may say it politely or not at all.

” She hardly raised her voice, but it carried, firm and clear, over Merritt’s angry scolding.

He froze, and Ophelia saw a horrible, familiar look come over his face.

Derision, disbelief at being called out, by a woman, no less.

“Do you address me, madam?” he said, icily.

Mrs. Darling looked around, amused. “Indeed. You and your man here are the only strangers on my property at the moment. As I said, if you’ve come to make a scene about the women working my land, you’ll find the esteemed committee member for the War Ag down in the village, in the pub more’n likely,” she finished under her breath. “You can lodge a complaint with ’im.”

“You’ve no right to prevent me from taking my property with me.”

“Oh, your property, eh?” Mrs. Darling’s mouth curved in a dangerous smile.

“With me now, Ophelia,” her father commanded, failing to meet Mrs. Darling’s eyes.

“I’m not coming with you, Father. Not now. Not ever.” Ophelia stepped closer to Mrs. Darling, Bess and Hannah tightening in at her back. She could feel them all around her, a wall of affection and strength. She had never felt so safe in all her life.

“She’s no more your property than mine, sir. That is, not at all. Now take yourself off ’afore I have to call for the constable.”

“This is not the end, Ophelia. Don’t think you’ve gotten away with anything.”

It is the end.

Her father motioned to his groom, who gave Blackwood a leg up, before swinging up into his own saddle.

The horses swung in a circle in the farmyard, Merritt already raising his crop and bringing it down on the bay’s rump.

It kicked out an elegant hind leg and shot forward, the group disappearing in a cloud of dust. Ophelia let out a shaky breath.

He had always been a bully and had gotten away with it because she hadn’t stood up to him.

The realization was like the wind being knocked out of her; she had always had this power within her.

The huge bay was on top of him before he realized what was happening, and Silas only had time to leap into the verge before the horses thundered by.

A crouched figure gripped onto the back of the first horse, the second, ridden by a man who shouted, “Pardon!” as they passed.

Standing one foot on the lane, one in the grass, Silas sucked in a breath.

He adjusted the hoe he was carrying back from the smith’s and continued up the lane to the house.

“’S okay, dove,” came Mrs. Darling’s voice from the yard.

Silas couldn’t see anyone yet, but the low murmur of voices layered over each other in concern reached him.

His heart thumped unsteadily in his chest and he hurried the last few steps.

Ophelia faced away from him, head tucked against Bess’s chest as she leaned close to her friend.

Bess’s arms circled her protectively, and both Hannah and Mrs. Darling were speaking lowly over their heads.

He only caught snippets carried on the air; “no right” and “ignorant” and “safe here.” His brain emptied of all thought, save one.

Ophelia was hurt . He dropped the hoe with a thud and when they all turned their heads at the noise, he saw her face.

The streaks of tears were visible on her cheeks, but her eyes were sharp and her chin set in the determined way he had come to love.

“Fee?”

“You’re back,” she cried and listed out of Bess’s arms toward him.

Without thinking, he caught her to him and smoothed a hand down her hair to her back. He felt her arms come about his waist and clutch him tightly. He bent his head to take a deep breath against her hair. She smelt of sun, notes of perspiration, and grass rising as he breathed her in.

“What’s happened?”

“My father’s just been,” Ophelia said against his chest. Her voice was low and tired. “He was shouting about failing my family and the estate. I think he truly expected to cow me into leaving.”

“Good God, your father is a ...” Silas faltered, not able to find the words to properly express his anger.

“He was awful, Silas. About wanting me to return to run the house for him, and you and your family.”

“Shh, shh, shh, he’s gone now, Fee.”

Mrs. Darling caught his eye over Ophelia’s head and said, “Let’s have a cuppa and catch our breath. Like many a man his age, your father has no end of bluster. I think we all need a moment after that performance.”

Ophelia let herself be led into the house and Silas trailed after them, wondering how he had managed to stop one wave of Merritt’s cruelty only to be swamped by another.