"Mr. Kestrel," Eleanor said, her voice as level as it had been the night she first read the cipher aloud, "you are welcome to bring whatever challenge you please before whatever court you please. Though I would remind you that the original letter in my husband's father's own unmistakable hand remains in our possession, along with Mr. Blythe's own written confirmation of the trust's existence drawn from the bank's own ledgers, rather than the memory of a clerk who left that bank's employ, I understand, under circumstances your own investigation has conveniently declined to mention."
Silas's smile flickered very slightly. "You are remarkably well informed for a woman married a mere four months, Miss Marsh."
"I read a great deal, Mr. Kestrel," Eleanor said. "It has become something of a habit. I find that a person who takes the trouble to actually investigate a matter thoroughly, rather than simply construct the story most convenient to his own ambitions, tends to arrive at rather more reliable conclusions."
She reached into the small writing case beside her chair and produced a folder of papers she had, in fact, spent the better part of the last month quietly assembling, ever since the first whispers of Silas's intentions had reached her through the estate's own network of tenants and tradesmen, who had learned in the space of a few short months that the new duchess was worth bringing gossip to.
"Your former clerk, a Mr. Dunmore, left Mr. Blythe's employment eleven months ago after a rather serious discrepancy was discovered in his own handling of client funds—a matter that was resolved quietly out of respect for the bank's reputation, but resolved nonetheless with Mr. Dunmore's dismissal and a formal notice to the Edinburgh Law Society. I have here a copy of that notice, along with a sworn statement from Mr. Blythe himself dated last week confirming the trust's establishment sixty-two years ago under the sixth duchess's own signature, which I would be very happy to have compared against any specimen of her hand your solicitors care to produce."
She laid the papers on the small table between them with the same unhurried care she had once used to unfold a cipher, and watched Silas Kestrel's carefully composed confidence begin very visibly to crack.
"You will find additionally," Eleanor continued, "that I took the liberty, upon learning of your intentions three weeks ago, of writing to the Court of Chancery's own registrar to inquire what standard of proof might be required in such a matter, and was informed that a sworn bank statement combined with an original holographic letter in the deceased's own hand, verified by two independent witnesses to his handwriting, would very likely satisfy any reasonable judge. I have secured both. I would be glad to know, Mr. Kestrel, exactly what evidence you intend to offer in support of your own claim, beyond the recollections of a dismissed clerk with an obvious grievance against the bank that discharged him."
The silence that followed was, in its way, considerably more satisfying than any shouted confrontation could have been.
Silas Kestrel's solicitor leaned toward his client and murmured something low and urgent, and Silas, his sharp features gone suddenly pinched, gathered his papers with considerably less composure than he had arrived with.
"This is not finished," Silas said, rising.
"I rather think it is, Mr. Kestrel," Alexander said, finding his voice at last. And there was beneath the words the particular quiet menace of a man who has just watched his wife dismantle an enemy with nothing but patience and paperwork, and has never in his life felt more entirely certain of his own good fortune. "You are welcome to bring your challenge before the Court of Chancery if you believe a judge will find your dismissed clerk more credible than a sworn bank statement and my father's own hand. But I would think very carefully before you do about what it will do to your own reputation in London when the whole of it comes to light, as my wife has just demonstrated it very thoroughly will."
Silas Kestrel left Blackwood Court within the hour and did not in the end pursue the matter before any court at all, having evidently concluded upon reflection that a legal challenge built on a disgruntled clerk's grudge was unlikely to survive contact with a duchess who had already anticipated and dismantled every argument he might raise before he had even finished raising it.
He was not seen at Blackwood Court again, though Eleanor heard some years later that he had married a wealthy widow in Bristol and abandoned his claim on the family's affections entirely, which suited both her and Alexander considerably better than any grand reconciliation might have.
Alexander, watching his wife gather her papers back into their neat folder once the receiving room had emptied, found himself struck by a fresh and entirely undiminished wonder at exactly what sort of woman he had married.
"You anticipated all of that a month ago," he said. "You knew Silas would come, and you prepared for it in silence without troubling me with a word of your worry."
"I did not wish to trouble you before I had something useful to offer instead of mere alarm," Eleanor said. "There seemed little point in frightening you with a threat before I had already built the answer to it. I have found, Your Grace, that most fears shrink considerably once you have done the work of meeting them properly prepared."
"You are going to spend the whole of our marriage quietly solving problems before I have even noticed they exist, aren't you?" Alexander said, and it was not entirely a question.
"I should think so, Your Grace," Eleanor said. "It has become something of a habit."