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“Like me or don’t,” Fiona says, showing me more of why Hendrick chose her. She’s strong and smart, and at her core, she has no fucks to give and he likes that. A dark wave of jealousy washes over me, but I ignore it.
“But the thing is, I bought the earrings because I was young, stupid and in love with a man who’d never be in love with me. The earrings are part of this silly legend.”
“The people who took me know about it,” I mutter, “and it makes no sense.”
Fiona frowns. “I got the earrings because they were part of the whole love’s soul series made by…I don’t even know the last name of the man. He made them for the woman he loved, Georgina, so it goes, and she had to hide them from her husband, a cruel man.”
“Sounds like a monster,” says Harry. “She should have gone for women. Hubert sounds okay, though. At least he has good taste in jewels.”
There’s a brief smile from Fiona. “Each piece is from the beginnings to the death of the relationship, and the death of her. It’s all silly, but it’s held together by a locket. Which was the very first piece. Cheap and meant to signify the key to love. The key and the lock. Silly, I know, but the woman wrote about them, and they were spread around and lost.”
“How the hell do you know this?”
Fiona reaches for her bag and pulls out an old diary, it’s stained and torn and faded, and very, very old. “Georgina was my great, great aunt. She ended the relationship, according to this, to save her love, Hubert—they were early twenties when they fell in love but she was married off. She stopped speaking to him and always wore the locket, but never any of the pieces. They kept coming, all seven of them to show his love, heart ache, obsession, devotion. The pieces were from all over, a couple commissioned, others bought, and some, like the Heart of Dark Desires even had a shady history back then. But he sent the pieces to her. And she gave them away to her friends. If they wore them she’d see his love reflected back.”
“Your locket…” Harry rushes across the room and collects the non-descript box she moved it to. It’s too big for just the locket, so I’m betting other pieces are in there. That’s when I notice the bags.
She opens the box and shows Fiona. “Also, you put the damn Heart of Dark Desires under the false bottom in the other jewel case your locket was in. You hid it in plain sight.”
“And you didn’t look because there’s nearly always something in that one.”
She nods.
With shaky hands, Fiona takes the locket. “Georgina wrote that she gave the locket in the end to her maid. She doesn’t say why. But she says Hubert became bitter, so maybe…”
Questions swirl in my head. How did my grandmother end up with it? Had her mother been that maid? Did she steal it?
Then, Fiona holds up the locket. “Look.”
“At?” I ask.
She holds it back out.
The front of it, is pretty in the etched curls and twists, but I don’t see anything extra special, not until she says, “Their initials.”
It’s not just old school fancy etching on the cheap thing.
It’s an H and a G, but with the G half over the H, so it’s not noticeable.
“Why the fuck do my kidnappers think all this’ll get them into the Quinate?”
“No idea. Wires crossed? It’s an old legend and most people don’t know about it.” Her voice drops. “Hubert was a founder of the initial Quinate, I think… But the legend isn’t about owning the Quinate or getting in. It’s about whoever has the pieces and can shoulder the weight of love has love. True love. It’s in here…”
She shows me.
“I bought the earrings as an anonymous buyer because I wanted something that had been in the family. And…” She breathes out. “A part of it was me being young and hurting while hoping that if I got them all, I’d get back together with Hendrick, but he was in love then with—”
“Lili.”
“I always felt bad for Jac,” she says. “He shoulders all the burden of his family and tried to shelter her. I mean, he did try and sleep with me after Lili died, and Hendrick and I got back together for a short period of time, but he took the no I gave him.”
Harry starts laughing, and I shoot her a dark look. “I’m sorry, but Lena, you heterosexuals lead soap opera lives.”
“And you don’t?” I cross my arms.
“No way.” She sniffs.
I point at Vicky. “Sleeping with your protector slash Jac-spy? You’re just missing the amnesia and evil twin. No offense, Vicky.”
