acknowledged the butler with a nod.
Kemp almost smiled. “It’s a pleasure to see you downstairs, sir.”
Godfrey sat, and Maggie claimed the chair to his right, with Morris on her right, next to Ellie, seated at the table’s foot.
Harry came to sit opposite Godfrey, with Pyne on his left, on Ellie’s other side.
Resigning himself to not being able to converse with Ellie, Godfrey nevertheless was surrounded by Hinckleys.
The meal began with a hearty pheasant soup. His mind returning to the statue by the door, Godfrey asked whether the Hinckleys had many ancestors who had traveled as widely as the Henry Hinckley who had bought the Albertinelli.
He was promptly regaled with tales of Henry’s three brothers. “All of them got bitten by the traveling bug and spent years roaming about, mainly on the Continent,” Matthew said.
“I remember,” Maggie put in, “that Aunt Tabitha—Papa’s sister—told me that one of the brothers—Francis, I think—even traveled into Russia.”
“I don’t think any of them went as far as the Orient, though,” Harry said.
“Still,” Godfrey observed, “they sound as if they traveled far and wide.”
Mr. Hinckley nodded. “They did, indeed. They made quite a competition of it, between them.”
Godfrey had to wonder what else—what other amazing and revealing documents—he might find languishing in the Hinckley archives. He glanced down the table and saw that Ellie was successfully entertaining Morris and Pyne.
As the soup plates were removed, Harry asked whether Godfrey had traveled beyond England and, if so, to where. That resulted in a discussion that lasted through the main course and on as they tackled a sumptuous Queen of Puddings made with luscious blackcurrant jam.
When his dish was scraped clean, Godfrey laid down his spoon and sat back with a satisfied sigh. “That was delicious.” To Mr. Hinckley, he said, “Your cook is a treasure.”
Hinckley grinned. “Aye, she’s been with us forever—born on the estate. Lucky for us, she likes it here, and nothing will tempt her away.” He met Godfrey’s eyes. “I hope the company lived up to the meal—you’ve been patient with all our questions.”
“Not at all.” Only then, thinking about it, did Godfrey realize how relaxed and positively comfortable he felt. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the evening.”
Maggie trained her inquisitive gaze on his face. “You come from a rather different, much more wealthy family—what are your family dinners like?”
He blinked. “These days?” He tipped his head in thought, then offered, “Truth to tell, not being married, I don’t actually attend many family dinners as such. The most similar experience would be when I and my siblings get together, and then there’s so many of us—” He broke off to explain to Mr. Hinckley, “I have four siblings, and they’re all married, and some of their children are now old enough to join us.” He turned back to Maggie and concluded, “With everyone around a single table, it’s rather noisy and riotous.”
“But happy?” Maggie insisted.
He smiled and nodded. “These days, yes.” Thinking of the past, however…
Sobering, he met Maggie’s eyes, then looked across the table at Harry. “But when I was your age and younger…no.” He recalled the distinctly chilly dinners he’d endured as a boy, when his father had been alive and they’d all lived at Raventhorne House. Then after his father had died and he and his siblings had moved to live with his mother at her London house, the atmosphere about the dining table had been distinctly tense and often fraught. “In those years,” he said, “our family dinners were nothing like this—not warm at all, and we younger ones all kept quiet and hardly said a word. We kept our eyes on our plates and only spoke to answer questions an older person directed our way.”
Maggie stared at him. “That sounds awful.”
He nodded. “It was.” He forced himself to smile, even if the gesture was a touch grim. “Which goes to show that having wealth doesn’t mean”—he gestured about them—“laughter and warmth. Ease and comfort.” He glanced again at Harry, then looked back at Maggie. “The family is what makes family dinners enjoyable, and in all honesty, I envy you what you have, what you experience here every day.”
Maggie studied him for a moment, then said, “So money truly doesn’t buy happiness.”
He smiled wryly. “No, it doesn’t.”
At the other end of the table, Ellie rose. “Maggie? Papa, please don’t dally too long.”
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll dally at all, my dear.” Mr. Hinckley exchanged a glance with Morris and Pyne, then looked at Godfrey. “What say we take our brandies in the