“I want it to be clear between us that the check you were given is the end of the road.” She spooned sugar—something Emmy hadn’t seen in months and months—into her cup and stirred. “There will be no more after this.”
“Pardon?”
Agnes laid the spoon carefully on the saucer that held her cup. “Your connection to this family—however small it may be—is done after this. We will not hear from you again. Is that understood?”
Blood rushed to Emmy’s cheeks as humiliation bloomed inside her. She fought to stay in control and not let this woman see her shame. Emmy needed answers. She deserved answers.
“No. It’s not understood, actually. I have a few questions.”
The woman looked up, surprised. And instantly furious. “You are not in a position to ask questions, Miss Downtree. You have my husband’s money. I suggest you take it and leave.”
“Why did it take four and a half years for me to learn that my father is dead?” Emmy asked.
Agnes sniffed, put her cup down, and stood. “I thought we could have a civilized conversation regarding this. But I see now that we cannot. You will not get another shilling from me. Not a one.”
Emmy was not leaving. Not yet. She stayed seated. “I don’t want anything of yours—you can be sure of that. I just want a few answers. Why did it take four and a half years for me to learn that my father is dead?”
The woman sat back down slowly. “It’s wartime. Very hard to locate people. You are no longer living at your last-known address. We couldn’t find you.”
She was being untruthful; Emmy felt sure of it. “You didn’t try to find me, did you?”
Agnes Thorne crossed one leg over the other. “Be careful whom you accuse of lying, Miss Downtree.”
Emmy saw hurt in the woman’s eyes when she said this. And it occurred to Emmy that this woman had been lied to for years. Henry Thorne had carried on his affair with Mum up until the day they both died. And this woman had never known. Emmy felt a strange and instant kinship with Agnes Thorne. Emmy had been lied to as well, about the very same thing.
“I didn’t know who he was,” Emmy said, her heart aching for the two of them in a way that astounded her. “Mum never said a word. I didn’t even know she was still seeing him.”
“Don’t you dare say a word about it,” Agnes said, enunciating the first three words as if they were arrows. “Not a word!”
“But I didn’t! I knew nothing.”
The woman’s chest was heaving as she locked her gaze on Emmy, her eyes wild with anger. “How could you not know? Do you think I am silly enough to believe you didn’t know where your clothes came from? And your food? And the rent for your flat? And every toy you got for Christmas! I’ve seen the hidden ledgers, Miss Downtree. I know exactly how much money he wasted on you and your whore of a mother all those years. He paid for it all. So don’t you tell me you didn’t know!”
Emmy’s mouth was open but no sound came out. She had no words to sling back in retaliation. She felt as though she had been tarred and feathered, right there in that beautiful room with its expensive furnishings.
The whore’s daughter.
Agnes Thorne could see that she had Emmy now, defenseless, in her grip. She leaned forward. “I don’t know how you found out about the will, but I am telling you, I am finished with you. You go to the press with this and I will spend every penny I have making your life as miserable as you’ve made mine.”
“I didn’t... I never... I was sent a letter informing me that I had money coming to me,” Emmy finally sputtered.
“Liar.”
“I swear it’s true!”
“You lie!”
“I didn’t even know his name until I got this letter. I didn’t know anything!”
Agnes Thorne was at the ready to denounce Emmy when a voice broke through the heated exchange.
“She’s telling the truth, Mother.”
Emmy turned toward the sound of the voice. A young man, perhaps a little younger than she was, stood in the doorway. He was the boy in the portrait, grown up.
“Colin!” Agnes sputtered. “What did you do?”
The man came into the room. Emmy could see that he favored his mother in looks. But his eyes were not full of hatred and disgust.
