When the Colonel Came to the Estate

“What kind of threat?” Wesley asked.

Charles looked at him for a long time.

“The kind rich men used to make without raising their voices.”

Wesley stood.

His hands curled at his sides, then loosened, as if he were trying not to let anger become the only thing he felt.

“And you knew?”

“I was twenty-two,” Charles said. “Home from college. Afraid of my father. Afraid of losing everything. Afraid of becoming the next disappointment.” His eyes glistened. “Yes. I knew.”

Margaret sat back down slowly.

Dana spoke gently.

“Mr. Pembroke, when the note says, ‘Ask Charles what he buried before Wesley was born,’ is it referring to Eleanor’s disappearance?”

Charles shook his head.

“Eleanor didn’t disappear.”

A quiet gasp came from one of the aunts near the sofa.

Charles looked toward her.

“She left.”

The aunt’s face crumpled, just slightly, with the expression of someone whose private suspicion had finally been given shape.