“She was shocked. He must be mistaken. Lady Annabel would have a fit if it were true

A Time to Reap was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. There’s more great fiction in The People’s Friend every week, £1.40 from newsagents and supermarkets.

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Elizabeth left by the front door to avoid going through the kitchen, and walked away from the house she’d shared with Matthew before their short married life came to its strange, sad end. If only she knew more about his last moments – if only she’d been there with him when something caused his horse to shy.

She’d added up all Andy’s good points when thinking of him as a potential husband for her sister, but couldn’t imagine living with him herself.

Of course, Matthew had been her first love, their joy in each other deepening as they got married and became parents. That could never be repeated.

But lots of people made happy second marriages, and Libby and Flora were used to Andy being around. Tibbie was right; he would be a good father to them.

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. Leaving the way she had meant she hadn’t grabbed her jacket from the hook in the back lobby, the jacket that had the keys to the farm office in the pocket.

She could have gone and sat there until she calmed down.

It was getting dark. As Elizabeth reluctantly turned back she heard a car coming from the direction of Rosland House. She stepped off to the side and stood behind a tree.

It was three cars. The house party was evidently having an evening out.

The first car was driven by Lady Annabel and beside her was Hugh’s American friend, Bill Brock – the man who’d been nice to her girls at the show and had shown interest in the farm, in his rightful place as a guest at the Big House. How the other half lived.

She waited until the tail lights of the third car had disappeared before she slowly set off for home.

Bad mood

There was no time next morning to dwell on the dream she’d had, where she was walking down the aisle not knowing who was waiting for her at the altar.

Rodney Shaw’s bad mood was evident. In the office next to hers his voice was raised. Now, his visitor was actually shouting back.

“Our agreement . . .”

“Never thought . . .”

“Could have been killed!”

“Without a reference . . .”

She recognised the other voice. Frank Robertson. There came a crash as if a piece of furniture had been overturned. Were the two men coming to blows?

Perhaps if she got Tam, or one of the other farm workers, they could try to defuse the situation.

She tiptoed down the corridor towards the main door. It was standing open as usual and there on the step was Bill Brock.

“Mrs Duncan. Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth put a finger to her lips. She didn’t stop walking until they were outside and a few yards away from the building.

“What’s wrong? You’re shaking,” Bill said. “Mr Shaw and Frank Robertson, the estate forester, seem to be fighting. I thought I’d get one of the men to help.”

“Fighting! What about?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“No idea. There’s always been bad blood between them. Why are you here?”

She was aware of his hand on the sleeve of her jumper.

“I came to say goodbye. I’m leaving for the States this afternoon.”

“Oh.”

He let go of her arm and thrust both his hands into his jacket pockets, looking down at the ground. “Annabel told me about your husband. I’m sorry.” He looked up again.

Ludicrous

“She’s invited me to come back any time. May I come and see you when I do?”

Elizabeth’s head cleared. Whatever she thought the thumping of her heart told her when she saw the look in his eyes, it was possible that she was mistaken.

A rich American, on first-name terms with Lady Annabel, making advances to her? It was ludicrous!

“You’d be welcome to look round the farm any time, of course,” she said, her voice polite but distant.

“That’s not what I –” Bill stopped as Frank came round the corner and pushed past them.

“Who is that guy? I saw him with Lady Cecily in the garden the other day.”

“Frank Robertson. What? Surely not!”

She was shocked. He must be mistaken. Lady Annabel would have a fit if it were true. Elizabeth breathed in.

“I hope you have a good journey back,” she said formally.

“Darn it, Elizabeth! I knew the minute I saw you at that fair that –”

“Mrs Duncan?” It was Rodney Shaw. “I thought you wanted my assistance with the subsidy forms? I haven’t got all morning.”

Elizabeth met his look. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

He stared back for a moment then turned on his heel and went inside.

“Mr Brock.” She concentrated on a spot above his left shoulder – she wasn’t going to meet that gaze again.

“I know some Americans have a romantic view of Scotland, especially if they’re lucky enough to visit somewhere like this. I’m just part of the scenery. When you’re back in California you won’t give me a second thought.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Bill held out his hand but let it fall to his side as Elizabeth walked past him.

Inside, she wanted more than anything to curl up in her own office and weep.

She forced herself to gather up the forms and take them to the factor’s office.

If she concentrated on her work she might forget the last five extraordinary minutes.

Pleasure

June read the letter for the umpteenth time. In it, Rita, Sadie’s birth mother, apologised for the short notice.

She explained that her fiancé had been offered a job in the south of England so they were going to get married right away.

He was driving her up to Rosland on Saturday and she hoped Tam and June would allow her to make a short visit to see Sadie.

Tam had told June it was entirely up to her – if she didn’t want the visit to happen then he would tell Rita not to come.

After a sleepless night, June had got up to give Sadie her morning feed.

If she were Rita, would she want to see the child who wasn’t legally hers any more? Wouldn’t that bring more pain than pleasure?

But surely Rita must have thought of that. Could she, June, deny Rita the sight of her daughter? Was it unreasonable of Rita to ask, or would it be unreasonable of June to refuse?

Her thoughts went round and round. But as she lifted the baby over her shoulder to pat her back she thought how little Sadie still was.

The identity of the visitor would mean nothing to her.

If she’d been old enough to ask questions that would be different. She’d have to know some time.

June carried Sadie to the kitchen to tell Tam that Rita could come.

More on Monday.