“I intended to settle with Elias.”
Samuel laughed once.
“When?”
Charles’s face tightened.
“When he returned.”
“He did return.”
“No.”
“He returned to America.”
“To Portsmouth.”
“Sick.”
“He wrote you.”
Charles looked away.
Samuel removed another letter.
Eleanor did not need to read it to understand.
Samuel did anyway.
“June second, eighteen fourteen.”
He read.
Charles,
I am told the firm survived and I am glad of it. I am also told my redemption payment was entered as operating capital and my interest remains in your name.
You know the security agreement did not permit that.
I am ill and cannot travel to Boston immediately.
Please correct the books before I come.
Elias
Samuel lowered the page.
Charles’s eyes stayed on the fire.
“What happened?”
Eleanor asked.
Samuel answered.
“My father died eleven days later.”
Silence.
Eleanor looked at Charles.
Her father suddenly looked older.
Not innocent.
Older.
Charles said:
“Consumption.”
Samuel nodded.
“Yes.”
“He had been sick for months.”
“Yes.”
Charles looked toward him.
“I did not kill your father.”
Samuel’s face hardened.
“I never said you did.”
Charles had revealed his fear without being accused.
Henry looked toward the floor.
Eleanor said:
“What did you do after he died?”
Charles took time.
“Abigail demanded an accounting.”
Samuel nodded.
“My mother was twenty-three.”
“Pregnant with my sister.”
“Already had me.”
Charles continued.
“She had no experience in commerce.”
“That is not an answer.”
Eleanor said it.
Charles looked at his daughter.
“I offered her a settlement.”
Samuel laughed bitterly.
“Three thousand dollars.”
“She had no liability for the partnership debts.”
“She had no liability because my father had redeemed his collateral.”
Charles slammed his hand against the desk.
“You keep saying redeemed as though paper could create ships.”
Samuel did not move.
“Paper created your ownership.”
That stopped him.
Samuel continued.
“You relied on the partnership agreement when my father pledged his interest.”
“You ignored it when he repaid.”
“You cannot make paper sacred only when it benefits you.”
Henry closed his eyes.
Charles stared.
Eleanor understood why her mother had kept writing Abigail.
Charlotte had known.
“How much did Mother know?”
Charles said nothing.
Eleanor’s voice cracked.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“She knew Elias sent the money.”
“Did she tell you to restore his share?”
Charles looked toward the portrait.
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“And you refused.”
“I told her the same thing I am telling you.”
“That the company would fail.”
“Would it?”
Charles hesitated.
Samuel saw.
“Not after 1816.”