"He has been draining the stud for years," Mr. Bell said quietly. Alexander gazed at the figures. The debts Vane used to justify selling Eastmere's breeding horses had not been entirely caused by bad seasons and expensive feed. Some had been created by payments that never reached the estate. "If Blackthorn were declared unfit," Eleanor added, tracing the proposed sale with her finger, "the value of the remaining stock would fall. Sir Lionel could purchase the whole enterprise cheaply, and Mr. Vane could call the loss unavoidable."
Eleanor found herself relieved when Alexander asked for independent evidence before accusing anyone. She had imagined that powerful men decided the truth in a moment of emotion, as his father had done when Edward was dismissed. But Alexander returned to the stable before supper to ask how Blackthorn was healing, and he listened when Eleanor explained that the stallion would need time before anyone tried to saddle him again. He stood beside her in the clean straw, their shoulders almost touching, and said, "You make it sound as if kindness is a form of knowledge."
"Sometimes it is the first form," she answered. "My father taught me not to confuse obedience with trust. A frightened horse may obey once because it has no choice, but that tells you very little about what it will do when it thinks it can escape." Alexander looked toward Blackthorn, who had finally begun eating without flinching at every footstep. "I fear that lesson applies to more than horses," he said. Eleanor did not smile, though the corners of her mouth softened in spite of herself.
Before they left, Alexander asked whether she might remain at Eastmere for a few weeks to supervise Blackthorn's recovery and advise Mr. Sayer. He offered a fair wage, lodgings for her aunt if needed, and a written agreement placing her work under the surgeon's professional supervision without pretending she lacked knowledge of her own. Eleanor was tempted. The cottage needed repairs, and she had never truly stopped missing the rhythm of a working stable. But she asked for one condition: the investigation into her father would continue even if Blackthorn improved and the immediate crisis faded.
"It will," Alexander said. "And you shall have the agreement in writing." She studied him for a long moment. "Then I will come in the morning." The words were a beginning, not forgiveness, and she was grateful that he seemed to understand the difference.
That night a hard rain passed over Eastmere. The household slept, but Thomas woke Eleanor with a hurried knock on the door of the little room she had been given near Lady Marianne's apartments. He stood in the passage with his boots soaked and his voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Vane has ordered the old tack burned," he said. "He told the men it might spread disease, but he has sent no word to Mr. Sayer. I thought you should know before it is gone."
Eleanor dressed without waiting for a maid. In the yard, rain shone across the cobbles, and a lantern moved beside the open door of the saddlery. She found Vane standing near a pile of discarded leather while two reluctant grooms waited for his instructions. The incriminating girth had been placed on top. "You are destroying evidence," she said, stepping into the light. Vane's mouth tightened, and for the first time he made no attempt to disguise his dislike.