“I’m sure she did.”
“Did your mother love you?”
Julia brushed the dried mud from the chiseled placard at the base of the angel. It was inscribed with Dolly’s name and the date of her death. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“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.
Julia’s foot slipped from the rung. “Oh!”
Jasper was at her side an instant before she fell. He caught her neatly in his arms.
She clung to his neck, gazing up at him in amazement. “Jasper! Thank heaven. For a moment I feared I was about to do myself an injury.”
Jasper glowered at her, his heart threatening to beat straight out of his chest. If she had fallen—if she had hurt herself—
The prospect was enough to make his temper boil over.
“What do you mean by climbing up there?” he barked at her. “Can’t you see how dangerous it is? You might have broken your blasted neck!”
Daisy’s face drained of excitement. “It was my fault. I told her to climb it.”
“It’s not Daisy’s fault,” Julia said. “I went up the ladder of my own accord. There are kittens up there. Did you know that?” Her hands slid to his shoulders. “Oh, do put me down. And stop scowling. Nothing happened. I’m quite safe.”
He unwillingly set her feet down on the straw-covered floor. The mewling of kittens punctuated the silence, as if in explanation of her reckless behavior.
“Kittens?” he ground out. “We don’t even own a cat.”
“She’s wild,” Daisy said. “From the moors. Julia says we can tame her.”
“Julia?”
Daisy flushed. “She said I could call her that.”
“I did.” Julia set a reassuring hand on Daisy’s narrow back. “And we’ll try to tame them. I can’t promise it will work.”
“We’ll use cheese and milk, won’t we?” Daisy gave Julia an expectant look. “Then the mama cat and her kittens will be ours to keep.”
“I hope they will,” Julia said. “Your papa doesn’t object, does he?”
Jasper ran a hand through his hair. “What I object to is the pair of you climbing up a rotting ladder into a rotting hayloft. The whole of this stable may come crashing down at any given moment.”
“It can’t be that dangerous,” Julia said. “You keep Quintus here, don’t you?”
“Of course not. He’s stabled in an outbuilding on the other side of the Hall. Cossack will be kept there as well. That’s what I was coming to tell you.” He marched them out of the stables and back into the yard. “The horses have arrived.”
Julia’s face lit up. “What? When?”
“Just now. Ridgeway’s man has brought them. He’s been on the road since Sunday, traveling in stages.” Jasper addressed Daisy. “Run up to the Hall and tell your brothers. They can come out as soon as their lessons are done.”