The look of defeat on Jonathan’s face was so comical that Esther turned away and smothered her laughter with her apron. Then she heard his deep chuckle as he ruffled Kate’s curls. ‘All right, you win. I can’t beat the two of you!’

But on the third day, Jonathan was back in the fields doggedly keeping pace with the other workers.

Despite his grief at the loss of his elder son, Squire Marshall was determined that life on his estate should go on as near to normal as possible.

‘We shall hold the Harvest Supper as usual,’ he told each of his tenants in turn. ‘I expect you all to come and bring whatever friends you like.’ He paused a moment reflectively and added, haltingly, ‘There’ll be too many empty places.’

Visiting Brumbys’ Farm, he said to Esther, ‘And this is the young man I’ve heard about who’s visiting poor Mrs Harris.’ He held out his hand to Jonathan and gripped it warmly. ‘Did – did you know my boy?’

His voice deep with regret, Jonathan replied, ‘Not personally, sir, but by sight, yes.’

‘Well, my boy, I trust our good air is returning you to full health. I expect you’ll – er – be going back soon, will you?’

Jonathan’s normally steady gaze flickered away for a moment. He took a deep breath and then looked back to meet the squire’s gaze squarely. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said softly, but nonetheless firmly, ‘I will be going back.’

Esther, hearing the exchange, felt as if the breath had been knocked from her body. Her whole world seemed to crumble and even in the sunlight she shivered Mechanically, she stretched a smile on to her mouth when the squire wished her good day. She stood staring after him as he mounted his horse and rode out of the farmyard gate.

When he was out of sight, Jonathan put his arm about her and led her into the barn. ‘I know what you’re thinking – feeling,’ he said gently. ‘But you’ve known all along that I must leave eventually. I’m well now – that’s obvious to anyone who sees me working in the fields. I shouldn’t be here. Every day I’m on borrowed time.’

She looked up into his face. ‘But your wound isn’t healed properly. You know it isn’t.’

‘It’s – well enough that I ought to be going back. If I don’t report back very soon, they’ll come looking for me.’

‘You could hide here. No one from the army knows where you are, do they?’ She flung her arms about him crying, ‘Don’t go. Stay with me. Please!’

He held her close. ‘A little longer, my love, just a little while longer.’ More than that he would not promise.

Later she asked, ‘You’ll come to the Harvest Supper with me?’

‘I’ll go to the supper – but not with you.’

‘Whyever not?’