lone, he rode across his land.

He was mounted on Black Opal, his ebony-coloured stallion. Keeping pace at his side was a riderless horse. It was Gilda, the roan he had given Maddy after their marriage. Before leaving the stables he had strapped on Maddy’s favourite silver-chased saddle, and turned the stirrups backwards to symbolize that her owner would never ride her again.

It was the first time he had been back to Dunoon since he had buried Maddy here four weeks ago.

When he had arrived on Friday night, Tim and everyone else on the sheep station had welcomed him warmly, and it was apparent they were glad that he had at last returned. So was he.

Maddy’s death had torn him apart, and he was filled with an unendurable sorrow. He had been afraid that it would be too painful to come here. They had been so happy together at Dunoon. But now, as he rode through the lovely, pastoral countryside on this Sunday afternoon, he felt a certain kind of peace settling over him. He knew that in part it was due to the tranquillity, the gentleness, the stillness that abounded here.

He followed the Castlereagh River for a long time, then branched off, crossed several meadows, and took the winding track that led through the green hills of Dunoon. When he reached the crest of the steep incline, he dismounted, walked over to the great oak, stood gazing out across the extraordinary landscape.

How beautiful it looked after two days of rain. Everything was green and shimmering. It was the end of August, almost the end of winter. In a few weeks it would be spring; already the weather was superb, mild for this time of year. Philip lifted his eyes. The sky was a bright, polished blue, radiant with sunlight. The very perfection of the day seemed to underscore his sadness. It was a day to share…with someone…

Philip turned away, went and sat down under the oak, propped himself against its ancient trunk. Taking off his flat-brimmed hat, he threw it to one side, trying to relax. His thoughts were scattered, chaotic still, his mind fogged by pain. But perhaps here he would be able to find a little ease.

This was his special place; it always had been since his childhood. Maddy, too, had grown to love it up here on this high land. She had said it was like being part of the sky. He smiled to himself at the remembrance, then recalled the morning he had met her in the portrait gallery, not quite a year ago.

They had ridden out here, had sat for a while under this leafy old tree. He had said some extremely personal things to her, things which had even startled him at the time. But she had not seemed to mind. She had looked at him for the longest moment, her lovely, intelligent grey eyes so quiet and unwavering, but she had made no comment. And at that precise moment he had known he would marry her.

Madelana had been the most remarkable woman he had ever met. Right from the outset of their relationship there had been a strange familiarity about her. It was as if he had known her, been separated from her, then reunited with her again. He realized now that he had felt this way because he had been looking for someone like her all his life, that she was the woman he had idealized in his mind. He had found her finally, only to lose her…so quickly.

Maddy had had such inner grace. That, perhaps, had been the source of her radiance…she had been an incandescent being. A fragment of a poem by Rupert Brooke flashed through his mind…All about you was the light That dims the greying end of night…And, in the flowing of your dress, Undiscerning Tenderness.

Philip sighed and closed his eyes, allowed himself to drift with his myriad thoughts, and slowly the memories came flooding back. He began to remember every little thing about their relationship…every single moment he had ever spent with her was suddenly crystal clear. He recalled the hours, the days, the weeks, the months. Each and every detail was precise and exactly in place, as if a reel of film was being projected before his eyes. And on that hillside, where he had been taken by Emma Harte as a boy, he found his Maddy again. He saw her as she had been the instant he had first set eyes on her in the gallery, her image intact. He smelled the fragrance of her hair, heard the laughter and joyousness in her voice, felt the gentle touch of her hand on his. And the tears came then, and he wept for her, and he remained on the hillside until the light began to fade.

And as he rode back to the manor, down through the green hills of Dunoon, the riderless horse at his side, he felt her presence everywhere, and he knew he would never lose his Maddy ever again. She was in his heart, and she would be a part of him for as long as he lived. Shane had been right. Her spirit was in him.

He flew back to Sydney late that night. Early on Monday morning he went out to Rose Bay.

His mother was startled to see him standing in the middle of her living room, and her surprise showed as she hurried to greet him.

Cool sunlight was pouring in through the windows, illuminating Philip’s face most painfully. Daisy felt herself flinching inside and her heart shrivelled. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for weeks. His face was a study in desolation. There was a haggardness about him that startled her, as did the streaks of white in his black hair. It seemed to Daisy that he was a shadow of the man he had once been, his looks gone, his vigour and energy vitiated completely.

She wanted to take her son in her arms and comfort him, but she did not dare. He had pushed her away, held her at arm’s length since Maddy’s death, and she had respected his wishes, had had no alternative but to leave him alone in his sorrow.

And so she was further surprised when he took a step forward, wrapped his arms around her. He held onto her tightly, as he had done when he was a small boy needing consolation, and she clung to him, loving him with all her heart. Neither spoke. This long embrace was enough; words were not needed. And Daisy understood deep within herself that the healing process had started for him. And she thanked God.

Eventually he released her, and said, ‘Well, Mother, I thought I’d better come out to see you…’ ‘I’m so glad you did, Philip.’

‘I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved, Ma. I realize I’ve been impossible, difficult with you, and with everyone else for that matter. But, very simply, I couldn’t help myself.’

‘Oh darling…I understand, truly I do. You’ve been suffering so very much.’

‘Yes.’ He hesitated a moment, then continued slowly, ‘Seeing Maddy’s young life cut tragically short has been so heartbreaking for me, and I honestly thought I would never be able to sustain the loss of her. It’s been pure hell, Ma. But then last night, flying back from Dunoon, I began to realize there was also a degree of self-pity in my grief. I was not only mourning for Maddy, but mourning for myself as well…and mourning for the life we’ll never have together now.’

‘That’s only natural,’ Daisy murmured softly, her vivid blue eyes filling with sympathy and understanding.

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He moved away from her, edged towards the door, then swung to face her suddenly. There was a little pause before he blurted out, ‘I’ve come to get the baby.’

Daisy looked at him swiftly. Her heart lifted. ‘Fiona’s with the nanny. The young Englishwoman Maddy engaged before she – ‘ Daisy cut herself off, looked at Philip uneasily.

‘Don’t be afraid to mention Maddy’s death, Ma. I’ve accepted it.’

Daisy could only nod. She was reluctant to speak in case her voice trembled.

She led the way upstairs. ‘This is Mr Amory. My son,’ Daisy said to the nanny as they entered the room.

‘Yes, I know, Mrs Rickards. We met when I went for the interview with Mrs Amory.’

Philip shook the nanny’s hand, murmured a greeting, then strode over to the crib in the corner of the bedroom which was serving as a nursery.

He stood staring down at the baby.

He had not seen her since the day she was born. She was already a month old. After a few seconds, he bent down, reached into the crib, picked her up somewhat tentatively, as though he thought she might break in half.

Holding her away from him, he gazed into her small face. A pair of solemn grey eyes stared back at him unwaveringly. Maddy’s eyes, he thought. Bringing the baby to his chest, he held her tightly in his arms, close to his heart, one hand on her head protectively. This was Maddy’s child. His child. A wave of love for the baby swept through him.

Slowly, Philip walked across the floor, still holding Fiona in his arms. He paused at the door, swung around.

‘I’m taking my daughter home,’ he said. He glanced at Daisy. ‘Don’t look so worried, Ma. It’s all right. I’m all right.’ A small smile glanced across his mouth. ‘And we’re going to be all right. We have each other.’