Harry snorted. “He couldn’t have financially rescued a cow barn.”
Godfrey tipped his head. “But no one here knew that, and he would have taken great care that you never found out—not until you discovered he’d sold the Hall and, I daresay, vanished.”
Jeffers nodded. “That sounds about right. Cawley had a note on file that he believed Masterton had returned to York and Ripon because London got too dangerous for him.”
Silence fell. Kemp and the footman reappeared and set out dessert plates, a bowl of rhubarb trifle, a platter of meringues, an apple pie, and a jug of cream. At Ellie’s urging, everyone helped themselves, then settled to consume their selections.
The moment of gustatory reflection was broken by Mr. Hinckley. “I suppose,” he said, his tone resigned and harsh, “that one doesn’t need to ask how the blackguard thought to take control of the estate long enough to sell it.” He patted the arm of his chair. “So easy for a man confined to a chair to have an accident.”
No one contradicted the statement; the sense of betrayal hung heavy in the air.
Maggie had paled. “Papa, when are we going to decide what to do with Masterton? I don’t think any of us”—her gaze swept over those seated at the table and also over Kemp and the footman, standing mum against the wall, silent witnesses to the revelations—“want him in the house.”
The forthright assertion—with which no one disagreed—refocused everyone on their next step.
Ellie glanced around the table; everyone was laying down their spoons and napkins. “Perhaps we should continue our discussion in the drawing room.”
Her father nodded and pushed back from the table.
Everyone rose. Godfrey once again claimed the handles of her father’s chair, and in a group, they quit the dining room.
In the hall, Morris and Pyne exchanged looks, then halted. Obligingly, Godfrey halted her father’s chair, and when Ellie stopped alongside, Morris said, “Matthew, you and your family know that Walter and I will support you in whatever you decide to do about Masterton.”
“And,” Pyne put in, “you don’t need to ask if we’ll hold our tongues about this—of course we will.”
“Indeed. However,” Morris continued, “it’s late, and as the night is clear, we should both be off home. There’s also the fact that Masterton is family, and it might be better for all concerned if Walter and I weren’t present—there may be aspects of your deliberations you would prefer to keep strictly within the family.”
Her father grimaced. “Sadly, that’s true.” He held out his hand. “Thank you both. I appreciate your consideration.”
Morris, then Pyne, shook her father’s hand, then Godfrey’s when he offered it. As Kemp came up bearing their coats, Pyne grinned at her father. “You can tell us whatever you wish us to know when we call next week.”
With nods to Ellie, the pair donned their coats, wound their scarves about their necks, set their hats on their heads, and when Mike arrived with the news that their carriages were outside, waved and departed.
As Kemp shut the front door, her father huffed and glanced at her. “As I suspect we all agree with Maggie, we’d better get on with it.”
They turned toward the drawing room to discover that Jeffers, who had gone ahead with Harry and Maggie, had returned to stand in the doorway.
He tipped his head toward the front door. “I heard what they said, and they’re right. It might be best if I took my leave of you as well.”
“Actually, Jeffers,” her father replied, “if we might impose, I would like you to stay. You have experience of men like Masterton, and while I have no right to ask it, I would appreciate your advice.”
Jeffers hesitated, then gracefully half bowed. “I would be happy to provide whatever assistance I may. I admit to feeling somehow complicit in what occurred—my firm does, after all, hold Masterton’s IOUs, and it was his need to pay them off that precipitated all this.”
“You, sir, are no more to blame than I am,” her father declared. He waved Jeffers back into the drawing room. “Now let’s sit and discuss what to do with our blackguard.”
Godfrey propelled her father’s chair into the room and positioned it in his accustomed place, close by the hearth.
Ellie had followed. Harry and Maggie had claimed two of the armchairs and encouraged Jeffers to sit in the one between.
Stepping away from her father’s chair, Godfrey joined her. With a slight smile on his lips and a gently challenging look in his hawklike eyes, he appropriated her hand and guided her to sit on the sofa, then sat beside her, openly retaining possession of her hand.
She looked at him, considered drawing her fingers free, then inwardly shrugged and left her hand in his, savoring the reassurance and comfort that flowed from the simple contact.
Thinking of comfort… She looked at Jeffers. “Mr. Jeffers, I assume your horse is presently in our stable?”
He nodded. “I rode over with Masterton. His horse is there, too.”
“This house is large, and the road to Kirkby Malzeard will be cold and dark, especially on horseback.” She smiled at Jeffers. “I hope, sir, that in the circumstances, we can persuade you to accept our hospitality and remain overnight.”
Appreciation flickered in Jeffers’s eyes, but he looked at her father.
“My daughter is lady of the house,” her father said, “and she’s right. And as Lord Godfrey said, had you been another sort of man, today would have ended very differently for our family. You must allow us to show our appreciation and provide whatever comfort we may.”
After the barest hesitation, Jeffers inclined his head. “Thank you. You’re all very kind. I would be glad to remain overnight.”
“Good—that’s settled.” Her father thumped the arms of his chair. “Now”—both his tone and features hardened—“let’s decide what to do about Masterton.”
As Godfrey had suspected, Hinckley family decisions—those that affected the entire family—involved the active participation of all four members. From Maggie’s extreme view that Masterton should be sent straight to the gallows, to Harry’s determination that Masterton should be incarcerated for decades at the very least, to Mr. Hinckley’s suggestion of appealing to the local magistrate for advice, each proposal was explored—and all were rejected on the undeniable grounds that Masterton was known to be a cousin of sorts.
Eventually, Jeffers, who, like Godfrey, had listened without comment to the debate, glanced at Maggie and stated the problem clearly. “If the punishment you settle on is likely to become public knowledge, there will inevitably be a scandal—a large one, given this is North Yorkshire and not London—and society being what it is, deserved or not, that scandal will adversely impact the whole family.” With his gaze, Jeffers included Mr. Hinckley, Ellie, and Harry, too.
“Sadly,” Godfrey said, “Jeffers’s point is incontrovertible. Any besmirching of Masterton’s character will extend to all of you.”
Maggie flung herself back in her chair. “Then what are we to do?”
Harry protested, “We can’t just let him go!”
“Not, at least, without some degree of assurance and also retribution.” Godfrey looked at Mr. Hinckley. “You are by no means the first family to discover you have a bad apple in your midst. You are not the first to have faced the conundrum of how to punish the guilty party while protecting the innocent from collateral harm. I’ve been involved in such deliberations before and, if you wish, can make a suggestion.”