Another contained payments to a physician named Augustus Felton.
A third described legal authority over Beatrice's property as something that required ongoing management.
Eleanor understood enough accounting to recognize that the papers raised serious questions.
She also understood that the documents belonged to a private family archive, and that taking them without permission could create legal trouble.
But she was frightened.
If she left everything in her father's study, he could destroy the records or refuse to show them to anyone independent.
So she made copies of several pages.
Then retained the original letter bearing Edmund's signature.
That decision would later become central to the accusation Graves made in the church.
Eleanor didn't pretend she'd acted without risk.
But she had made the choice after concluding the evidence might be concealed before Beatrice could obtain help.
She took the papers to Edmund.
"He didn't deny she was alive."
Silas stared.
"What did he say?"
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"He told me I'd misunderstood."
She remembered standing in Edmund's drawing room while rain struck the windows.
He wore a dark-green smoking jacket.
A decanter stood beside him.
And when she asked whether Beatrice was living at Brookmere House, his expression hardened.
He didn't look ashamed.
He looked irritated that she had discovered something he believed women were too foolish to understand.
He told her the matter was complicated.
That Beatrice had been unwell.
That discussing her condition would be improper.
Then Eleanor placed the letter on the table.
Edmund read the first paragraph.
His face changed.
For a moment, he stared at her.
Then he asked where she'd found it.
Eleanor refused to answer.
She asked whether he'd paid a physician to support a false assessment.
Edmund set down the paper.
Then smiled.
Not warmly.
With the indulgent contempt of a man addressing an inconvenient child.
He told her she didn't understand how families protected their property.
Eleanor remembered her hands trembling.
She asked whether Beatrice had been examined by someone independent of Edmund's financial arrangements.
He shrugged.
Then said a sentence she would never forget.
"Your father knows."
Silas watched Eleanor's face.
Her eyes were wet.
She continued quietly.
"That was when I understood there was no point begging Edmund to explain. He believed Father had already settled the matter."
Silas took a slow breath.
"What happened when you confronted your father?"
Eleanor gave a painful little smile.
"He told me the marriage was too important to be interrupted by private concerns."
She stared toward the fire.
"I asked him whether Beatrice had been wrongfully deprived of her freedom."
Her voice tightened.
"He told me respectable men were better equipped than emotional women to make such judgments."
Silas's hands closed into fists.
Eleanor continued.
"I asked what would happen if I married Edmund and later questioned something he did."
She looked directly at Silas.
"My father said a good wife had no reason to question her husband's financial decisions."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Silas asked quietly, "Is that when you left?"
"That night."