“Your husband didn’t just get sick, Eleanor,” Mr. Vance said, looking toward the window.

“He had some tests run privately.”

“And the results are in that box.”

I reached out, my fingers touching the cold red wax of the seal.

The grandfather clock in the hall began to chime the quarter hour.

Outside, a pair of headlights cut through the gathering gloom of the driveway.

A dark sedan I had never seen before pulled up to the front steps.

Mr. Vance stood up and parted the lace curtains, his face suddenly going pale.

“Thomas?” I asked, my hand tightening around the envelope. “Who is that?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared down at the driveway as the car doors opened.

“It is Victoria and Charles,” Mr. Vance said, his hand dropping from the lace curtain.

“They brought Arthur Pendelton with them.”

“Who is Pendelton?” I asked, my thumb tracing the hard edge of the wax seal.

“Their corporate counsel,” Mr. Vance said.

He turned back to the mahogany desk and picked up a thick, blue-backed document.

“We do not have much time before they walk through that door, Eleanor.”