The tension in the room was palpable as Amanda and Julie faced each other. Amanda’s face was flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. She wrung her hands nervously.

“I couldn’t stand it any longer,” Amanda confessed, her voice breaking. “I told him to leave, disowned him. I told him never to show his face here again, and that I was leaving for the South the next day. He went to his room without a word, and I immediately dismissed the staff, giving them only a few minutes to gather their things and leave. I locked myself in my room until he was gone. He tried to reach me, knocked on my door begging to see me, but I wouldn’t let him in. Heaven forgive me! I just couldn’t face him. So he must have left that note.”

She covered her face with her hands, her body trembling. “I never knew about it until today. If I had—”

Before she could finish, a loud, urgent knock echoed through the house, making them jump. It came from the front door, a sound so unexpected that they stared at each other, momentarily frozen.

Another series of knocks followed, more insistent this time.

Julie was the first to move, her face showing a mix of concern and curiosity. “I should check it out. Someone might have seen the little boarded-up door open. Did you leave it open?” she asked Mrs. Collingwood.

“I believe I did,” Mrs. Collingwood admitted, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I was too flustered when I came in to think about it.”

“That must be it,” Julie said, moving quickly towards the front door. “Someone probably saw it open and stopped by to see if everything was alright.”

Julie struggled with the heavy door, finally managing to pull it open. Standing on the threshold was a tall, distinguished man with iron-gray curls and sharp, inquisitive eyes. His presence exuded an air of old-world charm and sophistication.

“Pardon me,” he began, his voice warm but edged with urgency. “Can you tell me if anyone is living in this house at the moment?”

Julie hesitated, confused. “Well, no... that is, the house is empty, except for today.”

“I see,” the stranger said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I noticed the outer door ajar and it struck me as odd. I used to know the people who lived here quite well, and I wondered if they still owned the property. It appeared vacant.”

Julie’s interest piqued as she scrutinized him more closely. “You knew the family?”

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“Yes,” he replied with a knowing smile. “The Collingwoods. I knew them quite well. May I come in for a moment to look around? Only if it’s convenient, of course. I understand if the house is being shown to potential buyers.”

Julie, momentarily flummoxed, considered the situation. The house was in a state of upheaval, and the presence of Mrs. Collingwood and Amanda made things awkward. Still, she felt a pang of sympathy for the stranger’s curiosity. An idea sparked in her mind.

“There is a member of the family here today on... business,” Julie said carefully. “If you give me your name, I can ask if that person would be willing to meet with you.”

“Ah, it’s hardly necessary,” the man said quickly. “My name is Calthorpe. I doubt they would remember me after all this time, and I don’t want to trouble them.” As he spoke, Julie turned away to fetch Mrs. Collingwood’s opinion.

When Julie relayed the name to Mrs. Collingwood, the latter’s face turned pale. “Calthorpe? I don’t recall anyone by that name. But we shouldn’t be inhospitable. Miss Amanda and I will retreat to the library. You can show him to the drawing-room.”

Julie nodded and returned to the front door. “If you’d like to look around the drawing-room, you’re welcome to,” she said. The stranger accepted the invitation, stepping inside with an air of restrained anticipation.

As they entered the drawing-room, the man’s reaction was immediate and intense. “How strange,” he murmured, taking in the room with a sense of disbelief. “Everything is just as it was. It’s as if time stood still.”

Julie watched him with growing intrigue. “Did you visit here often?”

“Yes, indeed,” he said, his gaze lingering on the room’s details. “I was almost like a resident here.”

He moved slowly, almost reverently, through the room, pausing in front of a portrait of the twins. His expression softened as he studied their faces.

Julie ventured, “You must have known Mr. Fairfax well, then. He’s in the portrait to the right.”

The man glanced at her, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Indeed, I knew him well. But you seem quite knowledgeable about the Collingwoods. Are you a relative?”

“Oh, no,” Julie said, slightly flustered. “Just a friend. I’ve heard a lot about them.”

The man nodded thoughtfully. “An unhappy family,” was his only comment. He continued his tour around the room, stopping in front of an old piano. He touched a silk scarf draped over it, then ran his fingers over the yellowed keys, producing a discordant yet oddly melodic sound. He began to hum softly, then sang the opening line of a song:

“There never was a sweetheart like this mother fair of mine—”

At that moment, Mrs. Collingwood appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide and face drained of color. “Who—who are you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The stranger’s eyes widened in recognition. “Arthur—Arthur Calthorpe!”

“No—you can’t be!” Mrs. Collingwood’s voice was a mix of disbelief and hope.

They moved toward each other as if drawn by an unseen force, their movements almost dreamlike. “No one—no one ever knew that song but—” Mrs. Collingwood’s voice trailed off as she took a step closer, her face a mixture of joy and shock.

“My son!” she finally exclaimed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Mother!” Calthorpe responded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Julie and Amanda watched in stunned silence as the long-separated pair embraced, their reunion a poignant and unexpected twist in the day’s events.