Jeffers rose, as did Godfrey and Harry and, rather more reluctantly, Masterton. The men shook hands, then Jeffers bowed over Ellie’s and thanked her prettily before nodding to Maggie and, at the last, turning to exchange a more specific farewell with his host.
Watching Jeffers take his leave of Mr. Hinckley, Godfrey could not fault the man’s manners, demeanor, or behavior. On the subject of Jeffers, his instincts remained entirely quiescent; he felt confident Jeffers posed no threat to the Hinckleys, even though Godfrey was perfectly certain that Jeffers was nowhere near as harmless as he seemed.
Regardless, Godfrey’s well-honed talent informed him that Jeffers hadn’t lied, not once. He might be concealing things, but nothing of what he’d revealed had been false.
Harry had rung for Jeffers’s horse to be saddled and brought to the door. Kemp appeared to say the horse was waiting, and with final good wishes all around, Jeffers departed.
The family, Godfrey, and Masterton resettled, but the conversation soon flagged.
Given the hour was sliding toward three o’clock, no one was surprised when Masterton rose and announced that he, too, should leave. To Mr. Hinckley, he said, “I know you would put me up, Matthew, but I need to get back to Ripon tonight.”
“Of course, Michael.” Mr. Hinckley shook Masterton’s hand. “Safe journey.”
With nods for the rest of them, Masterton left. In the front hall, he called for his horse. Minutes later, they heard the front door shut, then rapid hoofbeats faded down the drive.
Godfrey swiveled and looked out of the window. The afternoon light, while not strong, hadn’t yet started to wane. He looked at Ellie, then at Maggie and Harry. “I haven’t seen much of your park, although from the history books, I understand it’s quite extensive. I gathered there are stone pathways wending through it.” He arched his brows at Harry and Maggie. “Can I tempt you to show me the best views?”
“Of course! I’ll show you.” Maggie bounced to her feet.
“Capital idea.” Harry beamed. “I’ll come, too.”
Ellie shot Godfrey a laughing smile. “I’ll come as well.” She, too, swiveled to look out of the window at the sky. “There’s no sign of rain, and after days of being cooped up inside, we could all do with some exercise.”
Smiling benignly, Mr. Hinckley waved them away. “I’ll be in the library when you get back.” Harry rose and summoned a footman to assist his father. To Godfrey, Mr. Hinckley said, “I’ll be interested in hearing your opinion of the park, even half buried by snow.”
Godfrey tipped him a salute and followed the three younger Hinckleys into the front hall. After donning coats, scarves, gloves, and in Maggie’s and Ellie’s cases, muffs and galoshes, they left the house through a garden hall, the door of which, Maggie informed Godfrey, gave directly onto the major path that would take them all the way through the park, eventually returning them to the terrace on the other side of the house. “We can then get in through the morning room door,” she said.
Godfrey looked up at the still-clear blue sky. “How long will it take?”
“About half an hour or so,” Ellie replied.
He smiled at her and offered his arm. She looped her arm in his, and they set off, pacing along the path in Maggie and Harry’s wake.
The path proved to be solid stone, about a yard wide and firm and stable beneath a crust of lingering snow.
Maggie skipped ahead, pausing to point at a robin flitting through the trees. Harry thrust his hands into his pockets and plowed along, halting here and there to direct Godfrey’s attention to some ornamental feature—a statue standing in a grove, an urn spilling snow-crusted ivy to wreathe about the base of its pedestal.
Godfrey looked, then glanced around. “I take it the grounds were landscaped at some point.”
“In our grandparents’ time,” Ellie confirmed. “A man from Scotland came down and laid out the paths and built the bridges.”
“Bridges? More than one?”
Harry pointed. “If you peer through the trees over there, you can just make out the bridge that leads over the river and into the woods.”
Godfrey peered and spotted the dull gray of twin stone posts sitting up amid the snow, anchoring graceful stone arches that spanned the width of the river.
Harry went on, “And a little way along, we’ll come to a tributary that runs through the grounds. This path cuts across it, and the second bridge is there.”
It was as plain as the proverbial pikestaff that Harry was proud of his home; the look on his face as he trudged through the snow said it all.
As well as the expected firs and spruces, the park contained many different trees; oaks, beeches, aspens, and many more were artfully scattered in clumps and stands and strategically planted on what, in summer, would be expansive lawns. At one point, Godfrey paused and looked back at the house. “This must be very pretty in summer.”
Ellie smiled. “It’s wonderful—green and cool and restful.”
They shared smiles of appreciative understanding and walked on.
Maggie had sped around the next bend, and as Harry followed, she ambushed him with a snowball.
Harry gasped and shook the snow from his head and shoulders, then whooped and gave chase. Laughing and shrieking, the pair rushed on, over the bridge across the tributary and along the next section of path that curved through stands of winter-bare trees to eventually take them back toward the house.
Watching her siblings, Ellie chuckled. “They’ve been very restrained over the past week of being trapped inside.” She glanced at Godfrey. “Thank you for suggesting this walk—we all needed it.”
Closing his hand over hers where it rested on his sleeve, he lightly squeezed. “Thank you for consenting to come—for me, this interlude is truly a pleasure.”
Her gaze lingered on his face, as if confirming what he’d implied but hadn’t said: that the walk would not have been such a pleasure without her company.
He met her gaze readily, willing her to see that and more.
After a second, her lashes veiled her eyes, and she looked forward.
They neared the smaller stone bridge that spanned the narrow dip at the bottom of which a small stream tinkled with bell-like clarity, still running beneath a deep covering of snow.
The snow lay thicker on the bridge than on the path, with a solid layer of ice beneath. They started across, treading in Maggie’s and Harry’s footsteps. Godfrey looked ahead, but the younger pair had disappeared around the curve in the path.
“Oh!” Ellie clutched his arm.
He snapped his gaze to her as she dragged on his arm, struggling to stay upright as her galoshes slid on the underlying ice.
He planted his feet and hauled her to him; she landed breast to chest, hip to thigh, against him.
She stilled.
Gently, he freed his sleeve from her grip, wrapped his arms around her, and steadied her against him. “I’ve got you.”
Her thick coat and his greatcoat cushioned the contact, yet he still felt her warm softness filling his arms, a very welcome sensation in the prevailing cold.
After several seconds during which he didn’t think she breathed, she looked up. Her eyes met his, her gaze open and direct, and he saw in the medley of woodland greens and golds an awareness and something more than curiosity.