“Daisy’s in no danger. She knows the whole of the estate backward and forward. She’s been showing it to me.”

“Anyplace in particular?” he asked as he offered her his arm.

Julia took it, accompanying him back up the uneven dirt drive at a leisurely pace. “We visited her mother’s grave.”

“Of course you did.” Jasper couldn’t prevent a surge of bitterness from coloring his words. It seemed that every inch of progress he made with his new bride was doomed to be undone by constant reminders of the past. “I suppose Daisy gave you an earful.”

“She did.” Julia walked with him in silence for several steps before asking, “Was the children’s mother not good to them?”

“Not in the usual way of mothers. She had her own survival to think of. Everything else was an afterthought.”

“I’m not asking if she was neglectful. I’m asking if she was cruel.”

Ah. Daisy had been talking.

Jasper gave Julia a thoughtful look. “You must have made quite an impression on Daisy for her to confide in you.”

“I like her,” she said. “I truly do. I very much want her to like me.”

“She does. She thinks you extraordinarily beautiful.” His mouth twisted in a fleeting smile. “She’s not the only one.”

Julia squeezed his arm in acknowledgment of the compliment. But she wouldn’t be distracted. “Was their mother cruel?”

Up ahead, the drive divided into two separate branches. The first led up to the front of the Hall. The second curved around to the opposite side, a distance away, toward the outbuildings that were presently housing the horses.

Jasper guided Julia down the second path, his mouth set in a grim line. “At times,” he said. “Near the end, especially. She blamed them for a great deal that had gone wrong in her life. I did my best to keep them clear of her.”

Julia frowned. “And yet you’ve buried her here with all reverence, as though she were a saint.”

Good Lord. Is that how it appeared?

Dolly Carvel had been no saint. When she’d first appeared at the Hall six years ago, Jasper had been disposed to think her a devil. It was true, he had buried her here, and he had marked her grave with an angel. But it hadn’t been for her benefit. It had been for Charlie, Alfred, and Daisy.

“What purpose would it serve to tear down the children’s memory of her?” he asked.

“A false memory, it would seem,” Julia said.

Jasper couldn’t dispute the fact. “If the children wish to reflect on Dolly’s petty cruelties, they may do so in their own time. I’ll not be the one to remind them of her faults.”

“You’d rather they make a fiction out of her?”

“If that’s what they prefer,” he said. “No doubt it’s better that way.”

Julia’s wide silk skirts brushed his leg. “Can a lie ever be better than the truth?”

He inwardly flinched. “Sometimes, yes. I believe it can. If it’s in a good cause.”