No, no, Esther’s heart cried within her. She wouldn’t believe it – not of her own mother. She glanced down for one last time at the spot where her mother lay. Poor Connie Everatt, whose only sin had been to love too much. And wasn’t she, her daughter Esther, now guilty of that same sin for loving Jonathan Godfrey so passionately? Her mother had paid for her sins with her life, a life cut short. Esther, too, was paying, trapped by duty to her husband.

She turned away and saw that her uncle was beckoning to them to rejoin the family as the villagers drifted away. ‘You’ll come back to the house, Esther – Will, for a bite afore you go?’

‘It’s very kind of you, Uncle,’ Esther began, ‘but we should be getting along . . .’

‘Oh, you must come back, even if only for a moment,’ said her uncle, catching hold of her hand. ‘I have something for you.’

‘Something for – for me?’

He was nodding eagerly. ‘Yes, you must have it. Hannah was always most insistent that she wanted you to have it.’

‘Aunt Hannah? Me?’ Now she could not keep the surprise from her tone. She felt Will’s warning grip on her elbow from behind and said no more, merely nodding agreement.

They walked down the village street back to the cottage, George and Will one either side of Esther, the others a little way behind, whispering together.

‘Come in, come in,’ George fussed. ‘Rachael, make the tea, girl. We can’t let Esther travel all that way back without a cup o’ tea.’

Esther smiled inwardly. When she had left this house the last time, there had been no one to bid her goodbye, to make her a farewell cup of tea. No one had seen her go, or seemed to care about her going.

Her uncle was delving into the far corner of the kitchen, picking up a heavy oblong shape and bringing it to the table.

With a gasp, Esther recognized it. Her gaze met her uncle’s eyes. He nodded, smiling in answer to the unspoken question. ‘Yes, it’s yar aunt’s sewing machine. Her pride and joy. She wanted you to have it.’

‘Oh, Uncle – no! You must be mistaken. Aunt Hannah wouldn’t have wanted me to have her sewing machine.’ The words were out of her mouth before she stopped to think. Her uncle did not seem to take offence, instead he merely said, ‘She did, Esther lass, really she did. Ask our Rachael, if you dun’t believe me.’

Esther glanced briefly over his shoulder to look at her cousin. The glowering expression on the girl’s face and the pursed lips were enough to tell Esther that her uncle was indeed speaking the truth.