The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,40
the task of assembling all the bits and pieces of information he’d gleaned about his hosts.
One early conclusion was that he should consider his hosts to be the whole Hinckley family and not just Mr. Matthew Hinckley.
He’d yet to gain sufficient facts to form any image, much less understanding, of Matthew Hinckley himself, but his view of Ellie was sharp and clear. She was plainly the anchor for both family and household, the lynchpin about which both revolved. She carried that responsibility as both duty and right and with a confidence that spoke of long years in the role. Of the staff, he’d as yet met only Mrs. Kemp, but the respect that worthy accorded Ellie spoke volumes; the staff would follow Ellie into battle if need be.
As for Harry… Godfrey had never had a younger brother, but from his own experience, he knew young men like Harry—quiet yet sensitive to the expectations of those about them—went through a stage of not being sure of their path. Of not knowing what they wanted of life as opposed to what others thought they should want. Having returned home after his years at Oxford, Harry, Godfrey sensed, stood poised on the cusp of making that decision.
The quiet steadiness that ran beneath Harry’s youthful exterior made Godfrey reasonably certain Harry would choose wisely.
Maggie, however, remained something of an enigma. On the one hand, she seemed relatively carefree, yet also willful, the sort of young lady who might require more protection than most, yet contradicting that, he’d sensed she was unusually clear-eyed and rather insightful. She understood what people didn’t say as well as what they did.
So much for the family.
Now that he’d met Pyne and Morris and learned of their long friendship with Matthew Hinckley, Godfrey viewed their association with the Hinckley household as unremarkable—merely what might be expected, even to Morris’s clumsy attempt to warn him away from Ellie. With respect to her and Godfrey, Morris might well see himself as acting in Matthew Hinckley’s stead.
That left Masterton as the only above-stairs person Godfrey had yet to pigeonhole. He reviewed what little he’d learned from others plus what he’d observed during Masterton’s visit. The man presented as a respectable country gentleman and, apparently, was some Hinckley connection.
“Connection” could mean anything. Other than Masterton living “locally”—presumably meaning somewhere within an hour or so’s ride—Godfrey knew precious little about him.
Most importantly, he had no idea why Masterton had his eye on Ellie.
On arriving with Godfrey’s afternoon tea, Wally promptly reported, “The snow’s feet deep, and the freeze is on. Even where they’ve shoveled paths, the way’s all icy and slippery. No going anywhere until some of it—a good deal of it—thaws.”
“I see.” Godfrey poured his tea, then reached for a slice of fruitcake. “How are things below stairs?”
“Very comfortable, truth be told.” Wally dropped onto the straight-backed chair. “The Kemps are firm but fair, and Cook’s a right wonder. The staff seem nicely settled—no sniping or anything like that.”
“I gather that after his accident, Mr. Hinckley can no longer walk.”
“Aye, that’s right. He can only manage a few steps on his own, but ’parently, after his fall, it was feared he’d never walk again at all, so everyone’s pleased he’s still with them, as it were. His man’s devoted, from all I’ve seen.”
Godfrey nodded and sipped. “What about Masterton? I take it he’s still here.”
“Aye—he’s stuck like the rest of us. All I’ve heard about him is he’s some sort of connection of Mr. Hinckley’s and came to live in the area about five years ago. He started turning up here, at the Hall, regular-like, about then, and at the start, the staff worried he was trying to ingratiate himself with Mr. Hinckley and Miss Hinckley for some nefarious purpose, but nothing ever happened, and they—the staff—say that, over the years, he’s been helpful to the family.” Wally shot Godfrey a searching glance. “You doing your usual trick of trying to work out how everyone fits together?”
Godfrey shrugged and set down his empty cup. “It helps to pass the time.”
Wally nodded at the now-empty plate on the tray. “That fruitcake’s another thing as helps pass the time—you’ve polished off both slices, and they were thick ones, too.”
Godfrey smiled. “Tell Cook they were delicious.”
“Aye, I will.” Wally stood and hefted the tray. “What I won’t tell her is that you’re buttering her up because you like to eat and have hollow legs.”
Godfrey grinned and relaxed against the pillows. “Reticence on that point might be wise.”