a walnut document case, someone had added the initials E.W. in a hand different from Mrs. Bramwell's. The case had never been returned. In the margin was another entry: temporary transfer, Northbridge repairs. Helena felt a chill. Northbridge was the very name crossed out in her father's notes. "Was there a Northbridge property on the estate?" she asked. Mrs. Bramwell shook her head. "Not that I ever knew."
The earl arrived before noon. He had been informed that Helena was examining the records and, to her surprise, did not seem offended. When she showed him the entry, he took it to his father's former solicitor, Mr. Pritchard, a quiet man who had served the family for decades. Pritchard remembered authorizing repairs at a cottage near Northbridge, but the cottage had belonged to Sir Edmund Wycliffe, not to the estate trust. Its roof and stables had been rebuilt at a cost that made him frown even before Helena pointed out the repeated sums. "I was told these were expenses on properties that housed the trust's beneficiaries," he said. "If they were private improvements, the money was applied unlawfully." He asked for the original vouchers. Sir Edmund, unfortunately, still held them.
Several evenings later Nathaniel came to Rosebank Cottage without a carriage full of servants. He brought copies of two payment records that his solicitor had discovered in the county bank's archives. Both were written on behalf of the widow's trust, and both named Northbridge as the destination of the funds. Neither bore Jonathan Vale's signature. "The signatures are Sir Edmund's," Nathaniel said, "but he may argue that he acted upon instructions your father provided. We need the original ledger or testimony showing where the money went." Helena studied the papers at the kitchen table while Thomas pretended not to listen from the doorway. "Why are you helping us?" she asked. Nathaniel glanced at Caroline's worn shawl hanging beside the fire. "Because I am beginning to understand what my indifference cost you."
They spoke for another hour. Their conversation began with the missing money and moved, unexpectedly, toward their fathers. Nathaniel remembered a stern man who had considered kindness useful only when it could be kept out of the accounts. Helena remembered someone who gave the best portion of supper to whichever child seemed hungriest and pretended not to notice. Neither father had been perfect, and neither child could stop loving him simply because other people remembered him differently. When Nathaniel rose to leave, Thomas accompanied him to the gate. Helena watched from the doorway as the earl bent to hear the boy's quiet words. Later Thomas would tell her that he had warned Lord Larchmere not to promise things he did not intend to do. Nathaniel had answered, "That seems a fair warning."