Charles looked at him.
Samuel continued.
“Not after the government contracts.”
“Not after the Caribbean routes reopened.”
“Not after Harrow Shipping purchased three ships in 1818.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
“You have studied me.”
“I studied what my father helped build.”
Samuel opened the packet farther.
Newspaper clippings.
Shipping notices.
Insurance registrations.
Public records.
He had done more than arrive with anger.
He had built an account.
Samuel continued.
“You may have needed the money in 1813.”
“You did not need to keep his share forever.”
Charles looked down.
That was harder to answer.
Eleanor looked toward the company portrait.
“What did you tell people about Elias?”
Charles became still.
Samuel answered.
“That he mishandled funds.”
Eleanor turned.
“What?”
Samuel nodded.
“By 1815, newspapers referred to my father as the partner whose speculative losses nearly ruined the house.”
Charles said:
“I never printed that.”
“No.”
Samuel looked at him.
“You only failed to correct it.”
Charles’s voice sharpened.
“I had creditors.”
“Investors.”
“Insurers.”
“If the market believed the partnership books were disputed—”
“You protected the company.”
Samuel finished.
“Yes.”
Charles stared.
Samuel continued.
“With my father’s name.”
No one spoke.
That was the center of it.
Not the money alone.
A business survived.
A reputation did not.
Charles sat heavily in a chair.
For the first time that night, he looked tired rather than powerful.
Henry asked:
“What would the thirty-five percent have been worth when the partnership reorganized?”
Charles looked up.
“Do not involve your family.”
Henry’s expression changed.
“My family’s bank handled the redemption.”
“That was fifteen years ago.”
“My father may have records.”
Charles laughed without humor.
“Of course he does.”
Eleanor turned toward Henry.
“Will you ask?”
He hesitated.
Only slightly.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
Samuel looked surprised.
Henry met his eyes.
“If my father’s bank has records relevant to your claim, I will ask.”
Charles stood again.
“No.”
Everyone looked.
Charles continued.
“There will be no parade through Boston with half-understood papers.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened.
Charles raised one hand.
“Listen.”
“I will open the original books.”
Eleanor froze.
Samuel did too.
Charles looked toward him.
“Here.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“You may bring one accountant or attorney.”
“I will have one.”
Samuel stared.
“Why?”
Charles’s face hardened.
“Because if I am going to be accused of stealing my partner’s company, I will have the accusation tested properly.”
Samuel nodded.
“Good.”
Charles looked toward Eleanor.
“You will not attend.”