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T he letter came two weeks later on a day heavy with the heat of impending summer, the blue banner of the sky limitless above them as Ophelia and Silas ran the mower over the first hay field.

The wheat fell in long, golden rows behind them, the birds swooping down to scavenge loosened grains or the rodents startled from their shelter.

It was hot work, and dusty, but the horses pulled the machinery steadily along, and before the sun was directly overhead, they had cleared a third of the field.

“Hallo!” Mrs. Darling shouted from the gate, brandishing a water jug and a packet of sandwiches.

Ophelia steered Samson and Delilah gratefully toward the row of beeches and came to a halt near the gate.

“Ta,” said Silas, scooting off his seat on the reaper and reaching for the proffered jug. He took a quick swig and passed it to Ophelia.

“There’s something else,” said Mrs. Darling. “This came for you today.”

Ophelia took the letter, her stomach falling at the sight of the Blackwood seal affixed to the seam of the envelope. She slid it open.

“... badly injured in a fall from his horse .” She swallowed, something like bile rising in her throat. “ No suffering, never regained consciousness ...” She felt herself let her arm fall, the letter hanging from her fingers.

“Fee—”

“I suspected bad news?—”

Mrs. Darling and Silas spoke over each other.

“My father is dead.” The words sounded hollow in her ears, her mouth dry. “It seems he fell during a ride. He never awoke.” She couldn’t find it in herself to feel sad, exactly, but she felt suddenly alone in the world. Then Silas’s hand was on her shoulder, running down her arm to catch her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Fee. Maybe sit down a minute?” He gestured to the stile in the fence, leading her gently toward it.

Her head felt muzzy, and she wanted to push everything away and keep mowing the field. It was inconvenient to have to think of her father when they had only a week before the War Ag committee member returned to inspect their progress. Ophelia didn’t think she could bear if they were judged lacking.

“Damn it,” she whispered into her clenched fists. “Damn it all.”

Silas and Mrs. Darling looked at each other. “Perhaps it’s best to bring the horses in now. The rest of the field’ll wait until tomorrow,” said Mrs. Darling.

“No, certainly not,” Ophelia said, more sharply than she intended. “Only we’ve the inspection in no time at all, and I know we can get enough in if we just keep on it.”

“Suit yourself,” said Mrs. Darling, sanguine. “Everyone takes this kind of news in their own stride. When my husband died, I put my head down and I’m sure I didn’t look up for a decade.” When Ophelia said nothing, she nodded. “I’ll let you get on then. See you both for supper.”

Silas passed her half a sandwich and led her by the hand to sit on the ground. He didn’t press, but she knew he was waiting for her to say something. Finding no words, she bit into the sandwich and felt the brightness of the raspberry jam and cheddar cheese on her tongue.

“I’m so sorry about your father, love,” he said quietly, his half of the sandwich sitting on his thigh, still in the wax paper. “No matter what they were to us in life, there is nothing like losing a parent.”

Ophelia nodded and couldn’t help but think of Silas losing his own father, the stories he had shared, the love he had felt in his father’s presence.

There was nothing like that with her own father; he had provided the essentials to keep a child alive, but nothing to nurture or care for one.

He had viewed his daughter as a possession, a means to an end.

There was nothing to feel for him, as far as she was concerned.

She wanted to go back and take up the reins again, to forget all about her father and his venomous words, to pretend that nothing but this farm, these people, mattered. But that wasn’t true, and she knew it.

He dipped his head and covered her hand with his own. The grass under her palm was cool and she let herself feel the texture of both it, and the comforting weight of Silas’s large hand on hers.

“You seem exhausted, love. I know you want to finish the day, but would you let me get you home?”

Ophelia nodded, suddenly wrung completely out.

It seemed the whole house waited for them; Mrs. Darling stood in the farmyard, Hannah and Bess on the bench next to her. Mrs. Darling shaded her eyes as they approached and called them all into the house. Hannah slid the cat in her arms to the ground and unfolded herself gracefully.

“What’s the news?” she asked quietly.

Bess slid her arm through Ophelia’s. “Are you okay?” she asked, scanning Ophelia’s face.

Silas hung back, letting the women enter first, and Ophelia heard the thump of his boots when he removed them.

“My father’s been killed in an accident. I’ve received a letter from Mrs. Greene, the housekeeper, explaining it all.”

“Bloody hell, Ophelia. I’m awfully sorry,” Hannah said, squeezing her hand.

“Will you have to go back, then?” Bess wanted to know.

“I don’t want to, but I think I must,” Ophelia said, leaning into her friend’s shoulder.

“There’s no one else to deal with the estate, nor get the staff situated elsewhere.

I can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.

I won’t know for sure until I can speak with a solicitor about the will.

I’m hoping Mr. Bone might be willing to help me. ”

Both women nodded. “Be sure to give a good reference, that’ll be the most help to them,” Hannah said. “Everything hinges on the reference when you’re in service.”

Ophelia nodded and folded into a chair at the table and felt her farm family close around her.

Mrs. Darling poured tea into cups, Hannah pushed a cup each toward her and Bess, and she heard Silas rustling around in the pantry.

Returning to the estate was the last thing she wanted to do, and it wasn’t only the harvest that weighed on her mind; she and Silas were .

.. well, she wasn’t actually sure what they were or what they might be.

It felt like the wrong time to be going though.

When all five of them had discussed how the work might continue in Ophelia’s absence and worried through things she might face at her father’s house, the other women retired to bed. In the dark kitchen, Silas rose and stood behind her chair.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to the estate,” she into the dark room.

“I’d like to let him vanish without a single thought .

.. but I’ve accused him of ignoring the people and the estate, and it would be wrong of me to do the same thing.

As far as I know, I am all that remains of our family, and I think that might mean that I will inherit the estate,” she said, the thought so absurd she wanted to laugh.

“What am I supposed to do with that now, Silas?”

“It feels like a right bloody mess at the moment,” Silas said soothingly, his strong fingers pressing into the knots of her shoulders. “I suppose there is more to it than I understand, but we can figure it out.”

She nodded, miserable. It felt strange and empty to be utterly alone, the only one left from her small, unhappy family.

She rested her head back against Silas and let the sadness wash over her.

“Would you like me to come with you, Fee?”

She wanted to say yes, but knew she couldn’t. “I want you to come, but it’s more important that you stay to meet the War Ag requirements, Silas. We only have a few weeks until the inspection, and I can’t even think about leaving Mrs. Darling without your help. Promise me you’ll stay?”

“I promise, but I’m worried sick about you going on your own, Fee.”

“I’ll be fine, Silas. It’s only the estate, not the other side of the world, and without my father, there’s no threat to me. But I will write, I promise. I should be there tomorrow night, and I will send word when I have a sense of how long it all might take. A fortnight, I should think.”

“Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I miss you already,” he whispered against her hair, before leaving through the kitchen door.

Ophelia sat looking across the table at the stove, not seeing the bright embers fade to ash, while her tea grew cold in the cup.

She wanted to soak up every second she could of this house, the farm.

She was afraid to leave Mrs. Darling’s farm, worried that it was the talisman that prevented her from being swallowed up by the estate.

She felt safe here and didn’t want to give that up to face her father’s mess.

Finally, hours later, she stood, legs stiff, chest tight, and instead of climbing the stairs, crept to Silas’s room in the barn.

She shed her uniform and climbed under the eiderdown.

He hugged her to his warm body, chest to back, and she fell asleep to the sound of his breath in her hair.