Page 149 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

Widow of the Earl of Arundell, the Countess was a formidable dark-haired lady with a slight double chin and a magnificent bosom. A leader of fashionable London society, and well-known devotee of spiritualism, she was famous for her various eccentricities, among which was a propensity to wear mourning clothes, and to insist that her unmarried daughter do the same.

“Miss Wychwood. Or should I say Mrs. Blunt?” Her ladyship’s gaze swept over Julia dismissively before moving to the house behind her. “So, this is Goldfinch Hall. An ill-suited name for a place of such reputed power. When the tragedy struck, I believe it was known locally as Edgemoor House.”

Rising from her brief curtsy, Julia flashed a bewildered glance at Anne.

Anne gave a stiff shake of her head. Later, it seemed to say.

Mr. Hartford greeted Julia with a bow. Though his features were soberly disposed, his eyes flickered with their usual expression of private mirth, as if he found the whole situation devilishly amusing. “Mrs. Blunt. Captain. Felicitations on your marriage.”

Jasper had come down the steps to stand at Julia’s back. “Hartford. Ladies.” His voice was as glacial as his countenance. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Lady Arundell leveled her gaze at him, appalled by his ignorance. “Mr. Drinkwater’s bimonthly column. Don’t say you haven’t read it yet?”

“Mr. Drinkwater?” Julia echoed, feeling completely at sea.

“Mr. Drinkwater writes for the Spiritualist Herald,” Anne explained. “He’s lately received intelligence that the veil will be at its thinnest this week between the spirit realm and sites of spiritual significance in the northern counties. His most recent column makes specific reference to Edgemoor House.”

Julia glanced at Jasper. His face was a studied blank. “Goldfinch Hall was once Edgemoor House?”

“In the seventeenth century,” he said. “It’s been rebuilt since, and renamed. Nothing of the original structure remains.”

“Nothing save a portion of the old stable block,” Mr. Beecham volunteered from his place at the top of the steps. He gave Jasper a look of apology. “Your uncle mentioned it on occasion.”

“Your manservant knows more of this place’s history than you do, Captain Blunt,” Lady Arundell said. “I shall speak with him after tea.”

Julia gathered her wits. “Of course. Please come in. Mr. Beecham? If you would bring a tray into the drawing room?”

Not fifteen minutes later, they were all seated comfortably as Julia poured out their tea. She was conscious of her duty as hostess. She’d played the role often enough in her parents’ house. But this was no typical afternoon call. Whatever Lady Arundell’s and Mr. Hartford’s motivations, it was plain that Anne had come solely out of concern.

“We’ve taken rooms at the inn in the village,” Lady Arundell informed them.

“If you can call it an inn,” Mr. Hartford said.

Jasper’s brows lifted a fraction. “You intend to stay?”

“Not above two nights.” Mr. Hartford accepted a cup of tea from Julia with a murmured word of thanks. “I’m needed back in London by Friday.”

“I’m amazed you’re here at all,” Jasper said.

Mr. Hartford’s mouth quirked as he brought his cup to his lips. “I’m quite amazed myself.”

Anne flashed him a repressive glare. “My mother won’t travel without a gentleman to make the way smooth. As Miss Maltravers’s uncle, Mr. Fielding, was unavailable at present, we were obliged to look elsewhere for an escort.”

Julia was beginning to understand.

It seemed that Anne had compelled her mother to visit by holding out the haunted history of Goldfinch Hall as a lure. And she’d managed to convince Mr. Hartford of all people to accompany them here.

How she’d arranged it all, Julia couldn’t fathom, but Anne must think the situation dire indeed to ask aid from a man she’d been at odds with since girlhood.

“Have you received word from Miss Maltravers?” Julia asked.

“Only a letter thus far,” Anne said. “She’s longing to hear from you. Miss Hobhouse is as well. We were astonished to learn of your marriage.”

“Yes. As to that . . .” Julia added some sugar to her tea, the spoon clinking on the edge of the cup as she stirred. “It all happened rather quickly.”

Anne’s lips compressed. “Rather conveniently, too. And now here you are, in the wilds of North Yorkshire, far out of reach of your friends.”

“Not so out of reach,” Jasper said. “You’ve managed to find her.”