Silas frowned.
"But she hadn't?"
Eleanor shook her head.
"No."
She looked down at her hands.
"Her name is Beatrice Carrington. She was born Beatrice Hale. Her family owned textile mills in Massachusetts, and she inherited a substantial estate when her father died."
Silas leaned forward.
"What happened to her?"
"After she married Edmund, she began questioning certain transactions involving her inheritance. She wanted an independent examination of the accounts."
Eleanor swallowed.
"Not long afterward, Edmund claimed she suffered from severe mental instability."
Silas's expression hardened.
"He had her locked away?"
"She was placed in a private medical institution outside Boston. There were physician's certificates and legal proceedings concerning her capacity to manage property."
Eleanor looked toward him.
"Her husband gained control over important financial decisions."
For a moment, Silas stared into the fire.
Then asked, "And your father knew?"
Tears gathered in her eyes.
"That's the part I could barely believe."
She reached into the small cloth bag resting beside her chair.
Removed the folded letter from the church.
Then handed it to Silas.
He examined the paper.
The handwriting was elegant.
The phrasing formal.
But the meaning was unmistakable.
Edmund had written to Horace Whitmore concerning a financial arrangement connected to Beatrice's estate. He described the importance of maintaining the existing medical certification and preventing an independent physician from reopening the question of her competency.
Then came the sentence Eleanor could recite from memory.
Dr. Felton understands the commercial importance of his conclusions and has received the agreed consideration. No additional examination should be permitted to interfere with the transfer.
Silas read it twice.
His face became very still.
"Agreed consideration?"
Eleanor nodded.
"There are corresponding entries in the financial records. Payments made through a consulting account controlled by Edmund."
Silas looked up.
"To the doctor?"
"To an intermediary connected to him."
He frowned.
"That sounds like something a lawyer should examine."
"Exactly."
She leaned forward.
"The letters alone may not prove everything. But there are account statements, correspondence about Beatrice's objections, and records showing how the money moved."
Silas looked at the paper again.
Then asked, "How did you find it?"
Eleanor took a long breath.
Three weeks before the marriage her father arranged, she had been asked to organize several boxes of business correspondence in his study.
Horace wanted his personal secretary occupied with preparations for a large reception, so he gave Eleanor the seemingly harmless task of sorting older family papers.
She worked carefully.
Separated letters by date.
Arranged receipts.
And identified several misfiled documents.
Among them was a packet addressed to Edmund Carrington.
At first, she assumed it concerned wedding finances.
Her father had discussed marriage settlements and property arrangements almost from the moment Edmund began courting her.
But one letter mentioned Beatrice by name.
Then another referred to a medical certification.
Eleanor became troubled.
She knew Edmund's first wife was supposedly dead.
Why would the correspondence discuss her medical status as though she were alive?
She examined the records.
The dates didn't match the story she'd been told.
One document referred to an institution called Brookmere House.