A boy stood next to him—young and slim, with a mop of black hair, and a scowl etched so deeply into his narrow face it might have been carved there with a chisel.

“My dear,” Jasper said, “this is Mr. Beecham. And this young man is Charlie.” He set a hand at the small of Julia’s back. “Beecham, Charlie. This is my wife. I trust you’ll make her welcome.”

“Mrs. Blunt.” Mr. Beecham bowed. “Welcome to Goldfinch Hall.”

“Mr. Beecham.” Julia inclined her head. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance.” She turned a smile on Charlie. “And I’m very pleased to meet you, sir. Your father’s told me so much about you.”

The boy’s features hardened. “He’s told us nothing about you.”

“Charlie.” Jasper’s voice held an unmistakable note of warning.

Charlie didn’t heed it. Without another word, he bolted off into the house.

Jasper’s muscles tensed as if he might follow him.

Julia squeezed his arm. “It’s all right.”

Jasper’s jaw tightened. It plainly wasn’t all right. Not as far as he was concerned. “Where are Alfred and Daisy?”

Mr. Beecham was shamefaced. “Run off, sir. I haven’t seen either of them since breakfast.”

Jasper’s already somber expression darkened. Without another word, he ushered Julia through the arched front door. Made of weather-beaten wood, it swung back on creaking iron hinges, opening into a slate-tiled hall.

Mr. Beecham accompanied them inside. “We’ve not had a chance to get anyone out to patch the leak in the nursery yet,” he said to Jasper in a low voice. “I only received your letter yesterday evening. McCready’s boy delivered it along with your telegraph. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I told Charlie he wasn’t to trouble you while you were in town.”

“Daisy’s not still sleeping in the nursery?”

“I’ve moved her to the adjoining room. It’s dry there, with less of the damp. She might do well to remain there permanently. Even with the money you sent, the repairs will—”

“We can discuss it later,” Jasper said.

“Yes, indeed,” Mr. Beecham replied. “You’ll be tired after your journey and wanting some refreshment.”

Julia’s gaze drifted over the entrance hall as the two men spoke.

An unnervingly steep staircase rose to the right, curving up to the floors above. To the left was a carved stone archway, leading into a sort of drawing room. After divesting her of her bonnet, cloak, and gloves—and removing his own rain-spattered outer garments—Jasper escorted her there, guiding her in front of a cavernous marble fireplace.

Sunk deep into the wall, it was as wide as it was tall. The largest fireplace Julia had ever seen. The roaring fire within its fathomless depths took the chill out of her limbs in record time.

The rest of the room was less imposing. To be sure, there was nothing very gothic about it. It was furnished neatly, if not lavishly, with a plain rug, upholstered sofas and chairs, and heavy draperies shrouding the tall windows.