went back to reading my book, but then I saw Masterton and Mr. Jeffers walking through the park.”
“We couldn’t think where they were going,” Harry said. “We watched and—”
“We saw them going into the old wing.” Remembered excitement filled Maggie’s voice.
Harry threw her a disapproving look. “We couldn’t imagine what they were doing.”
Undeterred, Maggie blurted, “So we rushed around, into the old wing.”
“We were in time to hear them going up the attic stairs,” Harry said.
“We crept along behind.” Maggie paused, her expression sobering. “When we got to the attic door, we heard Masterton ordering Mr. Jeffers to shoot Ellie and Godfrey. We huddled on the landing and tried to think what to do.”
“But then everything happened at once—a shot rang out, and we ran in to see what was happening and stop it.” Harry faintly grimaced. “Masterton pointed the gun at us.” Harry looked at Maggie, then at his father. “Masterton would have shot us, but Godfrey knocked the gun up, and the shot went into the roof.”
Harry blew out a breath and looked at Godfrey. “And then we all set-to with Masterton.”
Pyne was nodding. “We thought we heard a shot—two, in fact—but we couldn’t imagine from where.”
Ellie’s father humphed. “Old houses like this have very thick walls. We thought it might be hunters in the woods.”
Kemp entered the room, circled to Ellie’s side, and bent to quietly inquire, “What would you like to do about dinner, miss?”
She looked at the clock and realized it was already past six. A glance at the windows confirmed that night had fallen long since.
She turned to the others. “Papa, as we’ve yet to decide what to do about Masterton, might I suggest that Mr. Morris, Mr. Pyne, and Mr. Jeffers join us at table and we continue our deliberations over dinner?”
Her suggestion was approved by all.
When appealed to, Kemp confirmed that the first course could be served immediately. As everyone rose, Ellie murmured to Godfrey, “I’m going upstairs to change my gown.”
He met her eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
What she saw in his golden-brown gaze warmed her, banishing the last of her lingering chill. “Yes.” She squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before anyone misses me.”
He grunted. “I already miss you.”
She so wanted to kiss him, but contented herself with patting his chest. “Just hold the fort.”
“Always.”
She slipped out of the library ahead of everyone else and rushed for the stairs.
Godfrey watched her depart, then claimed the right to push Mr. Hinckley into the dining room.
Ellie returned as Kemp and a footman were circling the table, placing a bowl of thick oyster soup before each guest. Once she, now a vision in a plum-silk gown, sat, Mr. Hinckley said grace, and everyone set about appeasing their appetites, which, given the excitement of the last hours, were considerable.
The soup was delicious and warming, yet as he sat on Ellie’s right and supped, Godfrey felt warmth of a different kind sinking all the way to his bones.
Masterton had been exposed, and Ellie, Harry, Maggie, Mr. Hinckley, and Jeffers, too, were safe. As was Godfrey.
Today had been a triumph for them all; they’d won through, and now all that remained was to tie up the loose ends.
For him, however, he would argue the triumph was even greater. Through solving the mystery of the Albertinelli and the consequent action of the past days, he’d found the place in which he could be…all he could be.
Here, with Ellie, with her family, he could reach for his most precious dream and have a real chance of achieving it.
Here, with Ellie, he could and would live a full and satisfying life.
The prospect filled him with such eagerness, such impatient joy, that just thinking about it left him giddy. As he laid aside his soupspoon, he couldn’t stop smiling.
From the head of the table, Mr. Hinckley looked at Jeffers, seated opposite Godfrey. “It seems that Masterton sold a painting of our family’s that”—Mr. Hinckley glanced at Godfrey—“I assume would have raised a considerable sum.”
Godfrey nodded. “Anything up to three thousand pounds or even more.”
Mr. Hinckley returned his gaze to Jeffers. “We believe that was about three years ago. Yet Masterton is still in debt and apparently needs more cash. Do you have any idea what he did with such a sum?”
“Not as such,” Jeffers replied. “But what I can tell you is that Cawley’s records show that Masterton paid two and a half thousand off his slate…” Jeffers squinted, clearly trying to remember. “And yes, that