Page 123 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

“Is she dead, too?” Daisy asked.

“No, indeed. She lives in London.”

Daisy’s face scrunched in a frown. “Do you miss her?”

“I don’t, I’m afraid. My mother wasn’t very nice to me. She wasn’t at all like the kind of mother you had.”

Daisy’s eyes dropped to Dolly’s grave. “Charlie says she wasn’t nice.”

Julia stilled. “Oh?”

“She pinched me and hurt my arm. Charlie said I had a bruise this big.” Daisy indicated a large spot near her elbow. “I cried and cried.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Julia chose her next words with care. “Perhaps your mother was having a bad day?”

The idea seemed to give Daisy comfort. “She was very ill.” She paused. “Do you pinch people when you’re poorly?”

“I don’t pinch people at all. I would rather hug them and kiss them if they let me.”

Daisy’s lower lip gave a faint wobble.

Julia slipped her arm around Daisy’s narrow shoulders, drawing her close. She gave the little girl a brief but heartfelt hug. “There,” she said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “That’s the worst you can expect from me.”

Daisy clutched Julia’s hand, holding on to it for the remainder of the time they knelt at the grave.

Julia was touched. “Would you like to go back to the house for some tea?”

Daisy shook her head.

“Shall we stay awhile longer, then? We can find some flowers for your mama. I saw roses by the arbor.”

Again, Daisy shook her head. She tugged Julia close to whisper in her ear. “I have a secret.”

Julia widened her eyes. “Do you? How thrilling.”

“I can show you,” Daisy offered, scrambling to her feet.

“If you like.” Julia stood, permitting the little girl to draw her away, back through the garden and down the drive that curved around in front of the crumbling stone stable block.

She wasn’t wholly convinced this wouldn’t be another unpleasant variety of surprise. Something akin to the invitation to visit Dolly’s grave. But she was resolved to be cheerful about it—even when Daisy pulled her into the darkened barn.

If any place at Goldfinch Hall was haunted, surely it was this one. There was a strange coolness to the air, and a scent of lingering decay even more pronounced than in the rotting east wing of the Hall.

Sunlight streamed through holes in the roof, revealing a floor strewn with antiquated straw. Several empty loose boxes were situated under the portion of the ceiling that was still intact. There was no sign of Musket. He must be out in the pasture somewhere.

“It’s back here.” Daisy quickened her pace. “In the hayloft.”

Julia reluctantly followed her. As they stepped up to the rickety wooden ladder, a soft mewling emanated from the loft above.

Julia’s fear of ghosts evaporated. “Oh my goodness,” she whispered. “Kittens!”

Twenty-Seven

Jasper entered the abandoned stables to find his wife standing atop what was surely the most antiquated ladder in Christendom. Daisy remained safely on the ground, clutching the ladder’s teetering legs.

“There’s six of them altogether,” Julia called down. “Three striped ones, two black ones, and one with orange patches on her fur.”

“That one’s going to be mine!” Daisy called back, shaking the ladder in her enthusiasm. The ancient wood gave out an ominous groan.