A Collector of Hearts by Sally Quilford Page A

if she has it – and I do not believe she has.” He
bowed slightly to Caroline. “She will be more than happy to hand it back to
you.”
                “Very well. Caroline, come with me.” Mrs Oakengate swept
up the stairs, with her head held high. Caroline hesitated, before following
her.

 
    Mrs Oakengate sat on the
edge of her bed, playing with one of the sequins on her dress. Once again she
looked old and frail. Caroline almost felt sorry for her, until she remembered
that Mrs Oakengate had branded her a thief.
                “Well?” Caroline stood with her arms folded.
                “You can be rather frightening, you know, Caroline,” said
Mrs Oakengate. “I’ve never been afraid of my companions before. I’ve always
managed quite well to bully them into submission – until they rebelled. And
they always rebel in the end.” Her face assumed a wistful look. “You have never
been afraid of me, and that makes me afraid. I don’t have the control I used to
have. Do you understand what that does to a woman like me, who has always had
things her own way? I’m not only older and less pretty than I used to be, but
I’m no longer a force to be reckoned with in any other way. It reminds me that
one day I will be completely helpless and therefore at the mercy of an
unscrupulous companion. Even more terrifying is that I now wonder if that day
has arrived already.”
                “I’m not a thief, Mrs Oakengate, and if righteous
indignation makes me frightening, then I don’t feel I have any apology to make.
Count Chlomsky said you knew the truth about something. What is it?”
                “If I tell you, then I will lose all the control I have.”
                “No you won’t. You’ll just have told the truth. That
should empower people. Though I understand that around here, it’s not always
the case. There are so many secrets in this house. And not just yours.”
                “Very well, I’ll tell you. I’m no longer a very wealthy
woman, Caroline. I used to be. My husband left me well provided for, but I live
… lived … too well, forgetting that I neither have a career or a husband to
support me anymore.”
                “I don’t understand. What has this got to do with
anything? Is it an insurance scam? Is that what you’re telling me? Did you
arrange to have the Cariastan Heart stolen in order to get the insurance?”       
                “No, good Lord. I would never do anything like that. The
truth is, as Count Chlomsky seems to have realised – he was sitting close to me
tonight so I daresay he was able to tell – Oh well, you might as well know. I
sold the real Cariastan Heart many years ago. The one I was wearing tonight is a
fake.”
                “A fake!”
                “Yes. A fake. It’s worth no more than a couple of hundred
pounds as costume jewellery. If that.”
                “But surely the sale would have made the headlines,” said
Caroline.
                “Not if the buyer wanted to keep it private, and so was
happy for me to pretend I still had it. It was an ideal remedy for me. I don’t
even know who bought it. The sale allowed me to keep my status as the Heart’s
owner, whilst the money I got from selling it has funded my lifestyle and
should, if I am sensible – which I’m sure you know I am not – keep me into my
dotage.”
                “I see. I had no idea, Mrs Oakengate, really.”
                “So now you know that, will you give it back to me?” Mrs
Oakengate’s voice had lost its imperious tone. Caroline began to understand why
it meant so much to her to be the Heart’s owner and keep the secret.
                She once again felt sympathy for the elderly lady sitting
on the bed. She shook her head, sadly. “I honestly don’t have it, Mrs
Oakengate. I don’t