"If this concerns yesterday," she said, "I have already told your groom how to keep Blackthorn comfortable until the surgeon arrives." Alexander removed his hat. "It concerns your father." Her expression changed in an instant, becoming guarded and still. He told her about Lady Marianne's letter and asked whether she had any surviving notes that might confirm the transactions. Eleanor led him into a narrow sitting room where a faded drawing of her father on horseback hung above a shelf of carefully mended books.
"He copied everything," she said. "The date of every foaling, every payment, every injury worth recording. He believed memory was too easily made to serve whoever held the keys." From a small wooden chest she took several notebooks tied with blue ribbon. Most pages described horses in a patient, intimate detail that made Alexander ashamed of how little he knew his own animals. One volume, however, contained prices, names of buyers, and a repeated mark beside sales handled directly by Vane.
Eleanor opened it to a page dated four years earlier. Three mares had been transferred to a dealer in Cheltenham for a sum recorded here as nearly twice the amount that appeared in the estate's official accounts. There were notes about their lineage, the signatures of two grooms, and a letter asking the dealer to pay the balance to a private agent rather than to Eastmere. "Father made this copy before his book was taken," Eleanor said. "He remembered enough to reconstruct the transaction afterward, but no one would listen once the accusation had been spoken."
Alexander studied the entries. "Why have you not brought these to a solicitor?" Eleanor's reply was gentle, which made it worse. "We did. He said a poor man's notebook would not easily outweigh the ledgers of an earl's estate. We had no money to pursue the case and no witness willing to risk his position." She met Alexander's eyes. "My father did not die because he was dismissed, my lord. But he died believing no one with the power to ask questions had wanted to."
Alexander bowed his head. "I cannot undo that," he said. Eleanor waited, expecting the familiar promises that often followed a rich man's discomfort. Instead he continued, "But I can ask questions now, and I can see that they are answered. I would ask for your assistance, Miss Hale, though I have done very little to deserve it." She looked at the notebooks in her lap. "I will help Blackthorn," she said. "As for my father's name, I will believe in justice when I see what you do with the truth."