Something tugged at her memory as he smiled at her again.
“My sisters are out at the moment, but they should return soon. If you would feel more comfortable speaking with a woman, we could wait for them?”
“No indeed, I have no issue discussing this with you.”
“Know that whatever is discussed in this room will not be told to anyone else without your permission. Now take your time, Miss Brown, and begin when you are ready. If you have no problem with it, I will take notes.”
“I’m not sure where to start actually, and I have no problem with you taking notes.”
“I find the beginning is always a good point. Start with when you realized you needed my help. What prompted you to come here today?”
“My father passed away.”
“You have my condolences.”
“H-He was a good man.” Whenever she thought of her father, she felt the pressure build behind her eyes. “I thought he was my father, but it turns out he isn’t. My brother, who is not actually my brother…” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m confusing you.”
“Not at all. Just tell the whole of it, then I will ask you some questions.”
“My brother made me leave our family home when my father died. I took his Bible, because my father made me promise I would, and in it was a note from my aunt to him. Not actually my aunt, but I thought at the time she was.”
“A note?”
Dimity dug into her reticule, then handed the rumpled paper over. Mr. Sinclair read the words that had changed her life.
“And you believe you are the child stated in here?”
“There is no one it can be but me.” She reached up and unclasped the locket she’d always worn from her neck. “I think this must be something from my past also. You see, my father always told me it was my mother’s.”
He took the gold locket, turning it over to inspect the engraving on the back.
“Your father had a wife who you thought was your mother. What happened to her?”
“She died when I was young.”
“And you don’t think she was your mother?”
“No. My aunt’s words negate that.”
“Did you ask your father about the origins of this locket?”
“He simply said it was given to me by my mother and nothing further.”
Mr. Sinclair read the letter once more.
“Does your aunt still live?”
“No, she passed ten years ago.”
He nodded, looking at the locket now. “I would like to get my sister to sketch this, if you will allow it?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know what these words say?” he asked her.
“No. I asked my father, but he said he couldn’t read it.”
She watched Mr. Sinclair take out a magnifying glass from his desk drawer and examine the writing on the locket.
