He picked up his estimates and pushed the sheet containing the Bigfield House dates toward her.
He glanced up and saw she was frowning.
She met his eyes. “So we don’t need to decide anything now.” There was the faintest hint of not so much suspicion as question in her tone.
“No.” He tucked his list into his pocket. “I just wanted to make sure you were aware of how we’ll need to deal with the gypsies over the next weeks.”
Her lips formed an “Oh,” but he wasn’t sure she believed him. Time to move on. “Is Robert about? I wanted to ask him how he’s been finding the shooting hereabouts.”
She widened her eyes. “I don’t know that he’s taken a gun out recently, but regardless, he’s not at home.”
“Oh.” He managed not to grimace.
“He’s driven out with several local gentlemen his age—to Tunbridge Wells. I understand they intend to make a day of it.”
So Robert Martingale had, indeed, fallen in with the local young gentlemen. Chances were he would know of or even had attended the Goffard Hall events.
Pleased to have at least that much confirmed, Christopher refocused on Ellen and discovered she now looked troubled. “What is it?”
She met his eyes, then lightly grimaced. “I’m happy Robert has made friends among the local young men and is now invited to the usual events with which that group entertain themselves. And while I hope there’s no reason to be concerned about a visit to Tunbridge Wells, there are other entertainments—well, one sort primarily—about which I entertain significant reservations.”
She couldn’t mean… “Which particular entertainment is causing you concern?”
She studied him for only a second before replying, “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there are card parties held at Goffard Hall”—she waved to the west—“specifically for young gentlemen. Actually, exclusively for young gentlemen—no one else is invited. Over the past months, the parties have been held every two weeks—every second Friday.”
At her inquiring look, he admitted, “I haven’t spent much time in the locality over recent years. Although I know of Goffard Hall, I can’t recall meeting any of the family. And being no longer classed as a ‘young gentleman,’ I haven’t heard anything about these card parties.”
“I thought perhaps your brother…”
“Gregory is only a year younger than I am. He wouldn’t have been invited even were he here, which, as you heard earlier, he isn’t.”
She sighed, then shook her head. “I have a bad feeling about those parties.”
“What do you know about the household?”
“Not a great deal. As you doubtless gathered from our interlude in the drawing room, socially speaking, I’ve been playing least in sight over the months since we arrived. Nevertheless, I understand that the Kirkpatricks of Goffard Hall are not particularly active in local circles. Not so much recluses as not often seen at local events. I gather Mrs. Kirkpatrick—she’s Mr. Kirkpatrick’s second wife—prefers London society.”
Ellen sat back, brooding on what little she knew of the Goffard Hall household. “From what Emma and the local ladies—like Mrs. Carstairs and Mrs. Folliwell—have let fall, it seems they don’t think much of Mrs. Kirkpatrick, but that might be because she turns up her nose, albeit elegantly, at their company.”
“Who else is in the household?”
“Mr. Kirkpatrick, of course, but socially, he’s seen even less than his wife, although he and Julia, his daughter by his first wife, often attend Sunday service at St. George’s in the village.”
“If I recall correctly, Kirkpatrick’s first wife died some years ago.”
She nodded. “I gather he remarried about three years ago.” After a moment, she stirred and went on, “But you asked about other members of the household. In addition to the Kirkpatricks and Julia, Mrs. Kirkpatrick has invited two young cousins to stay, it seems more or less permanently—Matilda Fontenay, known as Tilly, who I’ve heard is eighteen, and her older brother, Nigel, who is much of an age with Robert.”
“Is Nigel a member of the group of young men with whom Robert associates?”
“I believe so.” Ellen brooded some more, then sighed in frustration. “I’ve even asked the staff here what they know of the Goffard Hall household, but while they do occasionally meet the Goffard Hall staff out and about, they say the Goffard Hall people are very reticent over gossiping about the family.”
Christopher studied her expression, noting the concern and the intelligence he could now clearly see. After a second, he asked, “Putting together all you’ve gleaned, if you were forced to render an opinion about the members of the Goffard Hall household, how would you describe them?”
Behind her doll-like façade, she was observant and shrewd about people; he honestly wanted to know what she thought.
She pressed her lips together, then shot him a look. “If I had to say…I think Mr. Kirkpatrick and his daughter, Julia, are reserved and honestly retiring in character. They are not the sort to do anything to invite attention. In contrast, Mrs. Kirkpatrick is a sharp and grasping lady, one who demands attention as her due and goes her own way in pursuing her desires. Nigel and Tilly are of much the same ilk, cut from the same cloth, and, I suspect, have been invited to stay to support Mrs. Kirkpatrick in her pursuits.” She paused, then went on, “I don’t know why these card parties of hers—limited to young gentlemen—are so important to her, but they seem to be an event she’s been very keen to establish and continue.”
She frowned. “I suppose that—not understanding why she’s so set on these card parties—is part of what’s feeding my unease over Robbie attending them.”
Christopher straightened. “Very likely.” She wasn’t just intelligent, she had sound instincts.
“I can’t even protest about his losses,” she grumbled. “Although he participates and takes his place at the tables, it seems he hasn’t—yet—lost enough to make any serious dent in his allowance.” Lips tight, she shook her head, setting her curls bouncing distractingly.
After a second more of patently unhappy introspection, she sat up. “Well, regardless of my thoughts on the matter, the next card party is tomorrow evening, and there’s no argument I can legitimately advance to dissuade Robbie from attending.” She met Christopher’s gaze and lightly grimaced. “And no, I’m not so silly as to try. A meddling older sister has no chance whatsoever of reining in a young gentleman of twenty.”
Christopher grinned. “I’ve only got one younger sister, but she was quite bad enough.”
Ellen huffed, then looked directly—measuringly—at him. “Actually, I was wondering… If you have the time, could you stay for luncheon? Believe it or not, Uncle Humphrey remembered you’d called, and yes, he remembered it was you and not your father. In the present circumstances, he doesn’t get to see many others beyond the family, the staff, and Vickers—he would, I’m sure, be glad of your company.”
Christopher smiled with entirely genuine pleasure. “I would be delighted to stay for luncheon.”