The Ashgrove drawing room was all cream silk and cold light. Rosamund stood in the doorway with her hands folded, the way she always did when they called her up from the kitchen.
Serena: Come in, Rosamund. We have a small matter to settle.
Serena did not offer her a chair. Yvette sat beside her mother, smiling at nothing.
Serena: Yvette is putting a piece into the Lumen auction this year. A locket.
Yvette: The one around your neck.
Rosamund's fingers found the locket before she could stop them. It was the only thing she had brought with her into this house.
Serena: Take it off.
Rosamund: It isn't yours.
Serena: Nothing in this house is yours. You eat here because I allow it.
Lyle: Don't be thick. You're the charity case, not the heiress.
Lyle said it without heat, the way he might mention the weather.
Serena: You have a room, a uniform, a place. All of it comes from me. Refuse me now and you can carry your little trinket out the gate.
Yvette held out her hand, palm up, as if Rosamund were a shop girl who owed her change.
Yvette: It's old and ugly. But the auctioneer says old things sell.
Yvette: Give it here.
Serena slid a paper across the table. A single page, typed and stamped.
Serena: It's a deed of gift. Sign it, and if anyone asks where the locket came from, you'll say you found it in the rubbish.
Rosamund read it slowly. The words said she gave the locket freely, with love, and asked for nothing in return.
Her hand did not shake.
She lifted the chain over her head and set the locket on the polished wood. It made a small, final click.
Rosamund: There. Take it.
Yvette's hand darted forward. Rosamund laid two fingers on the locket first.
Rosamund: Take it. I did not say I gave it.
Serena: What did you say to me?
Rosamund: I set it down. I won't sign it away.
Lyle: Sign the paper, you little tramp, or I'll hold your hand and do it for you.
He stepped close enough that she could smell his cologne. She did not step back.
Rosamund: You can hold my hand. You cannot make it write my name.
Her voice was quiet. The room had gone very still.
Serena: You will regret this. Every door in this city will close on you.
Rosamund: Then I'll learn to open them.
Something almost like a smile touched her mouth. She turned the deed face down and slid it back.
Rosamund: Sell it if you like. The buyer will want its history.
Serena: What history?
Rosamund: The kind you can't sign away.
Serena's face went pale under her powder.
Serena: Get out of my sight.
Rosamund walked out with her back straight. Behind her, Yvette was already asking whether the chain was real gold.
In the hall, out of sight, she stopped and pressed her empty hand to her chest. Her heart went like a bird in a box.
But her chin was still up.
Outside the gate, a dark car idled with its engine off. Tiernan Ravell sat in the back with an old photograph in his hand.
Tiernan: Ashgrove house. She's in there.
Tiernan: My sister.