SambucaOnFire

FLUFF

Family:

Baby Steps by @threepwoodmarley

A New Library by @peacehopeandrats

Wilderness by @peacehopeandrats

Bouquet by @peacehopeandrats

Stacks by @peacehopeandrats

Breakfast by @peacehopeandrats

Finding the Fun by @tinytorso

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Comfort:

Illness by @peacehopeandrats

Blast by @peacehopeandrats

Struck By a Golden Arrow by @Otava

A Present of Love by @reolf

Snow and Heat by @hypatia3

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Fix-it:

Haunted by @chick-with-wifi

Everyone Has a Choice by @taich

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Reunion:

Finding You by @silwenworld

A Dream Is a Wish by @rowofstars

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SMUT

Kink/BDSM:

Talking on the Telephone by @kelyon

Shop by @peacehopeandrats

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Romance:

Memory by @peacehopeandrats

Two Could by @eirian-houpe

Star Crossed by @threepwoodmarley

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Comedy:

By Hook or By Crook by @beeeinyourbonnet

Bare Facts by @barpurplewrites

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Best First Time:

Confluence by @goldenwingediris

Stay by @goldenwingediris

Curfew by @emospritelet

The Good Sort by @wonderwoundedhearers

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PWP:

Sunshine by @peacehopeandrats

Home by @peacehopeandrats

In the Dark and Wicked Hours by @rowofstars

Beasts: A Golden Cuffs Story by @kelyon

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ANGST

Death:

I Touched Your Face (and All Life Was Erased) by @deliriumsdelight7

Too Late by @amrei

The Hole In His Heart by @peacehopeandrats

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Hurts So Good:

On Whose Hands by @eirian-houpe

What If the Storm Ends and Leaves Us Nothing by @chickwithwifi

His Ray of Light by @ace-cf-cups

Too Late by @amrei

Waiting by @peacehopeandrats

Illness by @peacehopeandrats

Sent by @peacehopeandrats

Overnight by @peacehopeandrats

Road by @peacehopeandrats

Recovery by @peacehopeandrats

Falls by @peacehopeandrats

Depths by @peacehopeandrats

Never Let Me Go by @TheRavenclawBitch

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Misunderstanding:

Requiem by @once-upon-a-rewrite

On Whose Hands by @eirian-houpe

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ROMANCE

Best Date (Overall)

Meal by @peacehopeandrats

Down to the River by @barefootandbookish

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Best Courtship:

Calm by @peacehopeandrats

Cactus by @eirian-houpe

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Best First Meeting:

Stiltskin Abbey by @threepwoodmarley

Midnight Flowers by @SerenaLyon

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GENERAL

Best One Shot:

The Siren by @beeeinyourbonnet

Gilded by @beeeinyourbonnet

The Angel and the Devil by @peacehopeandrats

Warming the Chill by @peacehopeandrats

Bed by @peacehopeandrats

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Best Series:

The Language of Flowers by @eirian-houpe

Golden Dreams by @peacehopeandrats

Growing Up by @peacehopeandrats

Monthly Rumbelling 2021 by @peacehopeandrats

The Finfolk's Bride by @chippedcupwrites

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Best Novel Length:

Courtship: A Golden Rings Story by @kelyon

A Knack for Losing Everything by @antikryptonite

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Best Short Fic:

The Goblin King by @killingkueen

Sacred Promise by @ace-cf-cups

The Message by @peacehopeandrats

Warming the Chill by @peacehopeandrats

Tea by @peacehopeandrats

Recovery by @peacehopeandrats

Wild by @peacehopeandrats

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Best Holiday Centric:

O' Solstice Tree, O' Solstice Tree by @bearrycool

Snow Bunnies by @peacehopeandrats

Christmas Secrets by @peacehopeandrats

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Best Crossover:

The Beginning of a New Book by @beeeinyourbonnet

Theorems and Thorns by @eirian-houpe

Pop-ins by @peacehopeandrats

Last Night on Earth by @peacehopeandrats

Dark Science by @peacehopeandrats

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Best Dark Castle:

Confluence by @goldenwingediris

The Midwife's Tale by @threepwoodmarley

Premonition by @ace-cf-cups

The Oldest Door by @peacehopeandrats

Tea by @peacehopeandrats

Storm by @peacehopeandrats

Garden by @peacehopeandrats

Frost by @peacehopeandrats

Spy by @peacehopeandrats

Maid by @peacehopeandrats

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Best Storybrooke:

A Moment Alone by @threepwoodmarley

The Meeting by @peacehopeandrats

War In Pieces by @peacehopeandrats

Golden Thread by @chickwithwifi

~~

One of Cora’s few virtues was her tendency to follow her own advice. Gold knew what she told the young women she trained, of how to make a man feel special: A girl must always look pleasing, but when she sees a gentleman she must look pleasured. Down to her core. As though just by laying eyes on a man she is already halfway to a climax. Gold had seen enough of Cora’s pleasures that he almost believed what she offered him.    

He took her hands, offered a kiss on each of her powdered cheeks, and let her lead him inside. The grand hall smelled of flowers, or at least of floral perfumes. Light trills of a pianoforte wafted in from another room. The scents and sounds each served the same purpose: to offer a pleasant distraction from any noisy or odoriferous activities that might be happening out of sight.

“What do you think of it?” Cora spread her arms wide. Now her eyes shone with her only true pleasure, pride. Pride at her own accomplishments, at her own trappings of wealth and success, pride at all the power she held over others. 

Pride Gold rarely allowed her to indulge in.

“There’s soot all over the fireplace,” he pointed out a detail that Cora had overlooked. “All these women and not one good housekeeper among you?”

Cora’s smile did not waver. If anything, it deepened. “It’s been too long, Mr. Gold. I curse the business that kept you away from the city.”

He gave her a small grin of his own. “You’ll be grateful for the success I’ve had in my dealings, and the capital it allows me to invest in your pursuits.”

“Grateful enough just to have you near, sir.” Her voice lowered. “This house is always open to you. Everything is.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, Mrs. Mills.”

He handed his coat and cane to a gray-haired man who waited in the front hall. One might have been forgiven for thinking him a servant, but Gold knew him as Henry Mills, a man who knew exactly where he fell in his wife’s regard. Gold exchanged a nod with the man, while Cora brushed past them both.

“This is the parlor,” she announced. “Where we entertain our guests.”

This was where the music had come from. Some slip of a girl was playing a piano in the far corner. The rest of the large room was occupied with young women. They lounged on the plush sofas, gossiping and playing cards while they waited for their services to be called upon.

Lacking jewels, the girls wore dark ribbons around their necks, a typical marker of their trade. Typical, too, were the crumpled skirts and loosened stays. Heavy powder on the face, but only a smear of red around the lips. Some of them had already been used at least once this evening, and were ready to be used again. 

A few men stood around the room, drinking wine and talking to each other. Only occasionally did they acknowledge the female bodies pressed against their own. If a girl had already claimed her man, there was no need for the man to make an effort to keep her. Hands would squeeze a bosom or a thigh over the dress, but that was anticipation, not action. Nothing would happen in this room that might require attention from local constabulary, if any were to stop in unexpectedly. 

On the whole, the parlor held an air of expectation, the constant possibility of licentiousness. Delirious pleasures might have happened already, or might be about to happen at any time.  This cast a tawdry light on activities that might otherwise have been perfectly ordinary. The girls tried to seem like respectable young ladies, but everything about them was just a touch too much. Their gowns were too colorful, their laughter too bright, their composure too carefree to be completely moral. Anyone who walked into this room would know what these girls were, even if nothing illegal was in sight. 

Cora was looking at Gold, expectant of his opinion. He cleared his throat. “Your little walled garden has managed to sprout some lovely blossoms, I must say.”

“Would you like to meet some?”

Without waiting for a reply, Cora called two of her girls over to them. The one in a red dress looked at him directly, with a calculation common to women in her profession. She was measuring the complex ratio of how much a man would spend for a woman against how much trouble he could be to her. The girl in blue--who was clearly trying to hide her pregnancy--didn’t look at him at all.

“Mr. Gold, these are Ruby and Ella, two of my sweetest berries.”

“Sweet?” Gold reached out and touched the bold girl under her chin. “This red seems a strong and heady wine, yes, but is she sweet?”  

The girl--Ruby--knew better than to back away or even flinch at a stranger’s touch. Nor did she try to change her manner. Under such close scrutiny, a sudden smile would have seemed just as hollow as it was. Instead, she locked eyes with him. Slowly, her lips parted, and she gave him a wolfish grin. 

“I am strong, sir,” she said. “If you need a girl to be rough with, I’d be happy to have you test my endurance.”

Gold rewarded Ruby with a grin. He tilted her face towards Cora. “You have a prize in this one,” he said. “There is a wildness in her that calls out to be tamed. Try not to break her too quickly.”

Dropping Ruby, he turned to the girl in blue, the girl who had obviously already been broken. She was sweet, pretty as a cherub, with watery blue eyes and ringlets of yellow hair. The ribbon at her neck was the only darkness about her. Gold made a show of looking at her belly and tutting. 

“How can it be that a creature with such an innocent air could be caught in something so wicked?” He didn’t even pretend to ask the girl herself, but addressed his question directly to Cora.

“Love can ruin anyone,” Cora said smugly. “Can’t it, Ella?”

The girl flinched at the sound of Cora’s voice. “Yes, Mrs. Mills.”

“And when a girl is ruined, no one cares what happens to her, do they?”

“No, Mrs. Mills.” From the girl’s rote responses, Gold gathered that this was a lesson she had been taught many times.

Cora only smirked at Ella’s cowed obedience. “I want you girls to spread the word. Mr. Gold is a friend to the house. All of you are to give him anything he wants. Is that understood?”

Both girls nodded, and curtsied in unison. Cora waved them away. The door opened in the front hall and boisterous male voices penetrated the house. Cora left Gold’s side for just a moment, to usher the gentlemen callers into the parlor. 

Gold backed under the eave of the staircase. He blended in with the shadows and listened to various pairs of feet go up and down the stairs to the second story.  

When Cora found him again, she took his arm and showed him the other rooms on the first floor. 

“In a few months, I’m going to need you to make that baby disappear,” Cora told him once they were in the privacy of the library. 

“At your service,” Gold nodded. “I assume you want it done the profitable way?”

“More than that. I want the child easily found, if a situation might arise where it would be useful to bring it back into dear Ella’s life.”

That gave Gold pause. It was nothing new for him to take an infant from a mother’s breast and find a home where it would be looked after--for a while, for a price. And if the child was never seen again after the money ran out, well that was the caretaker’s crime, not his. Certainly not Cora’s, or the mother’s. He knew of a dozen farms all over the city where a dozen babies might be kept in one room. Finding parents who were willing to pay to receive a child was a trickier task, but more profitable. And with a new name and no memories, the baby was just as gone as if it had never been born. But to make an infant disappear in a way that it could reappear at a moment’s notice was a feat of magic Gold had not yet been called upon to perform.

He turned to Cora. “Who’s child is it?”

“You know of Judge Herman?”

His eyebrows raised. “The honorable judge?”

“No, his worthless son Thomas. Sweet Ella was a scullery maid in their home.”

Gold nodded sagely. “A common temptation for a boy in the first fullness of youth.”

“The way she tells it, they were in love.” At Gold’s look, Cora nodded. “I know, I didn’t believe it either. But he’s visited her several times since she’s joined us, and paid for the privilege to do so. It’s gotten so bad that the judge himself is paying for me to keep things quiet--and to keep them apart.”

“Of course, you are doing neither.”

Cora let out a tasteful gasp. “Why, Mr. Gold, how could you? I am a woman of my word, as everyone knows. If young Master Herman is sneaking into my establishment, then he is doing so by sly and devilish means, entirely without my knowledge.”

Gold wrapped an arm around Cora’s waist as they walked from the library to the dining room. “Do you expect anyone to believe that, dearie?”

She placed her hand on his shoulder, where their bodies met. “Only people who don’t know what I’m capable of.” 

****

The second floor of this grand house was the area Gold was most familiar with. He had supervised the transformation of three large rooms into six small ones. All but one had the door closed. Various grunts and gasps emanated from the others. 

“Your girls are hard at work, it seems.”

Cora preened. “We’ve only been open here for a few months and are already making a name for ourselves. Of course, I have my ladies to thank for that, much more than the girls downstairs.”

With slow, almost reverent steps, Cora approached the bedroom with the open door. She turned to him, her head tilted coquettishly. “Would you like to see inside?”

He ignored the potential innuendo and walked past her into the room. A single lamp burned inside an orange shade, illuminating the darkness with a stifling warmth. It was furnished nicely--a washstand, a mirror, a valet where a gentleman might leave his clothes. The main attraction, of course, was the large bed that dominated the room. It was primly made, but there was a telltale indentation in the orange coverlet. The strong scent of  perfume--orange blossom, of course--fought a valiant battle against the lingering stink of bodies, sweat, and wine. From the walls on either side, Gold heard the thudding of furniture and some well-practiced but convincing moans.   

“They’re all done up in different colors,” Cora said as she made her way into the orange room. She stood behind Gold, almost pressing her gown against his body. Almost, but not quite. “I’d thought of dedicating each one to a different act, or a different specialty of desire. But aside from the red room of pain, I could never come up with a workable theme.”

“One shudders at the thought of the goings-on in the yellow room.”

Cora chuckled. She wound her arm around his. “It did enter my head to style a room all in gold and reserve it for only the most honored guest.”

Gold let out a quiet scoff. “But that wouldn’t be a profitable enough use of space, would it, dearie?”    

Before Cora could answer, a young girl walked into the room. It was the girl in the red dress, Ruby. She had her arm wound around the arm of a well-dressed blonde man. 

“Oh!” She started when she saw them. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mills. I thought this room was open.”

“It is, dear.” Cora smiled indulgently, a marked difference from how she had spoken to the girls in the parlor when there were no customers within earshot. “Mr. Gold and I were just leaving.” She let him go out first, then stopped to speak to the young man. “Hello again, Doctor. It’s always such a pleasure to have you in the house.”

The young man nodded, but clearly had other matters on his mind.  

“I do hope your visit doesn’t mean our Ruby is coming down with something?”

At this, the doctor cleared his throat and found his voice. “Not at all, Madame Cora. Tonight I’m here for pleasure, not business.” 

“As it should be. This is a house of pleasure.” She reached into the room and closed the door on the couple. Her bright smile lasted until she made eye contact with Gold. Only then did she allow herself a touch of genuine cynicism. “That fool will never get anywhere in this world until he realizes that business and pleasure are the same thing.”

Gold chuckled. “Remember, my dear, not everyone is cursed with your boundless ambition.”

Cora gazed upon her kingdom of closed doors, smug but never satisfied. She guided Gold to the landing of the third story. “I have more to show you up here.” 

****

The third story, Cora explained, was where the family lived and worked. 

“There’s an attic upstairs for the girls that stay in the house, but the ladies have private chambers. I couldn’t possibly ask my treasures to entertain their callers in the same rooms as anyone who walks in off the street.”

“Or anyone who walks the streets,” Gold mused.

“Not as many of those as before,” Cora said, clearly pleased with the improvement. “I still have a few girls who find men on their own and need to rent a bed, but most of our customers come here directly. We’re beginning to get a reputation, and a good one. Gentlemen know the quality of the house. That matters more than any individual occupant.”

Gold saw the advantage that gave Cora over her employees. If men came to the house instead of seeking a girl on their own, they would find that any one of Cora’s confections was just as sweet as all the others. The girls would become interchangeable, replaceable, significant only as much as they were attached to the house. That would make them all the more indebted to Cora, all the more obliging and fearful of her. The only exceptions would be for the people who had rooms on this floor.

She showed him the two suites reserved for the ladies of the house. One was furnished in mint green, the other in lavender, every surface gilded and cluttered with bric-a-brac. Each room opened into a sitting room that subtly led into a sumptuous bedchamber. 

The ladies were out for the evening, Cora said. They were expected to return at any moment, with whatever companions they had attracted at the various parties and events they’d attended that night. Gold wondered how the ladies chose which of their new friends would be brought up to these inner sanctums, and which would be left downstairs in the parlor, for lesser girls to bring up to the rainbow of bedrooms on the second story. Of course, the house would profit either way. 

“My bedchamber is the smallest of the three, as it sees the least activity.”

Gold spared a thought for Henry Mills. Did the man ever sample the merchandise that was bought and sold in his home? His devotion to Cora knew no bounds, Gold knew that well, but was he permitted his own indiscretions? Or did he want nothing more than to constantly forgive hers? 

In the midst of his musings, Gold noticed a door left ajar at the end of the hallway. A single door, smaller than any others in the house. It seemed to be the first room that Cora didn’t want to show off.

“What’s down there?”

“Oh, that’s just a place where we keep things we don’t need.” She waved her hand as though swatting at a fly. “Come, let me show you my study.”    

Unlike the rest of the house’s bright colors and competing noises, the study was dark and quiet. It appealed to Gold, though it took him a moment to understand why: This room was modeled in the same fashion as the offices where he did business. The rooms where he had taught Cora everything she knew.

The desk was large and polished, stately in its grandeur.  Account books and correspondence were stacked neatly to one side. The chair behind the desk was more distinguished than most, with a tall back and clawed arms. The dark walnut wood and carved ornamentation put Gold in mind of a throne.  

“Sit,” Cora insisted.

Gold did as she bid him, sinking down into the seat of power. He surveyed the desk and the room--and Cora, looking at him with a dark hunger in her eyes. Cora had grown up starving, and she had never stopped being hungry. With claws and teeth, she had fought for every scrap she’d ever gotten--for power, for wealth, for respect. She had come far from where she started. If she were sensible, she would be content with what she had already accomplished.

But contentment was not in the nature of Cora Mills. 

“It suits you,” she murmured. “Power suits you.”

He scoffed. “My power extends far beyond a house and a handful of working women.”

“I know,” Cora said.

Putting her hands on the arms of the chair, she turned him to face her. Her eyes stayed on his, as she slowly sank to the ground. Her fine gown crumpled and billowed out around her.

“You’re the only man I ever get on my knees for, Mr. Gold.” 

Despite his better judgment, Gold’s body reacted to her invitation just as she knew it would. He damned her for it. He loved her for it. 

Cora knew him well, but he knew her too. This little display wasn’t her giving up her power. She would never do that--but she would appear to, for a price. As much as she said that everything in the house was his, all that really meant was that he could take what he wanted now, and pay for it when she needed him to. The queen of the castle would allow him to live like a king, as long as her bills were paid. He knew Cora, he had made her into what she was. No move of hers was unplanned, no gift came without strings attached.

She was still on her knees, licking her lips.

“Your husband is downstairs.” Gold pointed out the fact with cool detachment.

She grinned. “That’s never stopped us before.” Delicately, she placed her hands on his knees. Resting her weight on him, she leaned up. “Don’t you remember the Baroness’s ball? You knew he was on the balcony while we were in the garden.”

Gold did remember that night, years and years ago. He’d covered Cora’s mouth with one hand while making her scream with the other, against a garden wall, where anyone could have heard her, and probably several people did.

“You can’t know how many nights I’ve laid in bed next to him, dreaming of you bursting in and taking what belongs to you.”

She meant it. That was the worst part. He knew when Cora was lying and at that moment she was achingly sincere. She wanted him. Just as much as she wanted his money and his influence, she wanted him. And she would pay any price to obtain his favor.

Deliberately, but without force, Gold lifted Cora’s hands off of his body. He wheeled the chair out of her reach, and stood up. 

That was the trick for dealing with a whore. You had to remember who was buying and who was selling.

He helped her get to her feet. Cora smoothed out her skirts and took his rejection with icy grace.

“That’s the trouble with being a woman,” she said, not looking at him. “Our charms fade so much faster than a man’s.”

Before Gold could say another word, there was a knock at the study door.

“Come in,” Cora said.

A young girl entered the room. She was a tiny thing, pale and solemn, in a faded gown the same pale blue as her eyes. From across the room, Gold examined her. If it weren’t for the black ribbon at her throat, he never would have pinned her as a member of this house. Nothing about her was too bright or too loud. She was light, yes, but soft, and wavering. A delicate flame. When she spoke to Cora, her voice was so low Gold had to lean in to hear her. 

“Mrs. Mills, the ladies have returned.”

Cora nodded briskly. “Send them up here, and bring refreshments as well.”

The girl bobbed a curtsy, and closed the door behind her when she left. 

Gold had to swallow before he could trust himself to speak. “Who was that?”

“Oh that’s Belle. She came with the house.”

Something about her seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Is she a housemaid, or…?”

“Both,” Cora smirked. “She does anything she’s told to. This isn’t a house for girls who say no.”

At last, he knew where he had seen her before. “She was playing the piano in the parlor.”

But there was something more to it, wasn’t there? The thought kept niggling at the back of his mind. A girl that lovely, that demure, what was she doing here?

“You should hear the ladies play,” Cora artfully maneuvered the conversation. “They have excellent voices as well. And they dance, and converse with perfect elegance. Just wait until you meet them.”

He didn’t have to wait long. Without a knock, the door to the study opened and a tall young woman in a poison green dress exploded into the room.

“Mama, the evening was absolutely splendid! I had five gentlemen offer me their calling cards and three others followed us back to the house.”

Cora greeted her eldest daughter with a performative kiss on both cheeks. “These men, are they lords or are they lawyers?”

The lady’s jaw dropped as she was momentarily lost for words. When she spoke again, her voice was even shriller than it had been. “How am I supposed to know?”

Cora shook her head, not angry, just disappointed. “I should have gone with you. How will you find proper support if you don’t even know what you’re looking for?”

Another girl had followed behind the first. She slouched against the wall of the study, lilac-gloved arms folded over her chest.

“And you, dear?” Cora asked.

“Duke Leopold invited me to sit with him at the opera tonight.” The girl sounded utterly resigned. “We stayed in his box for three hours. He kept trying to talk to me about the music and the story and the performances. Who goes to the opera for what’s happening on stage?”

“The Duke is a man of taste and culture,” Cora said. “Exactly who I want you ladies attracting.”

“But Mother, he barely even looked at me! I could have been a statue and he would have kept prattling on!”

“Good,” Cora said decisively. “Less work for more reward. That is exactly the life I want for you.”

“Hardly much ‘reward,’” the girl in green snapped at her sister. “I brought in eight new customers. Duke Leopold hasn’t even seen the house.” 

“And hopefully he never will,” Cora said calmly. She cradled her younger daughter’s face. “If all goes well, he’ll invite Regina to his house and then do anything he can to ensure she never leaves.”

Under her mother’s scrutiny, Regina tried to hide her disgust at that prospect. The other girl did a far worse job of concealing her jealousy. Leaning back against the desk, Gold watched the drama play out in amusement. He’d never been more glad that the thought of family life had never appealed to him.

“Ladies!” Cora clapped her hands together. “I want to introduce you both to Mr. Gold. He’s been my benefactor for many years now, and it is my sincere wish that our relationship will continue into the next generation.”

There was little resemblance between the three women--until the whole family looked at Gold with the same expression. The flash in the eyes, shiny as coins dropping into a purse. The baring of teeth that could almost be a smile, but was really only the thrill of the hunt. The flush of the cheeks, the catch of the breath. There was blood in the water, and it was his own.

The older girl stepped forward first. She curtsied low, pushing out her meager decolletage. She had red hair--which she wore under a ludicrous small hat--and red eyelashes that batted over green eyes. “What a pleasure!”

Gold bowed politely. “Miss Mills.”

“That is Zelena,” Cora said, as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t remember Cora giving gin to a red-headed infant to make sure she stayed asleep in her cradle while they made good use of the bed. 

“And this is Regina.”

Regina acted with less desperation than her sister, which instantly made her more palatable. She had dark hair, and eyes that held the anger her smile tried to hide.

Gold smirked at Regina, but spoke to Cora. “This is the one you swore up and down wasn’t mine, yes?”

In an instant, Regina’s smile vanished and only the anger remained. He liked her even better that way. Somehow, she kept her voice even. “Please don’t say such things about my father, Mr. Gold.”

She cared more for dear Henry’s honor than she did her mother’s? Interesting. 

He gave her a bow as well. “My apologies, Miss Mills. Incidentally, if you would like to research notable operas, I have some books--”

The door opened. Gold stopped speaking to watch the girl from before. Belle--yes, that was her name, why did it seem familiar?--carried a tray of wine and glasses into the room. 

“Finally,” Cora huffed. “Serve us quickly, I want to make a toast.”

“What are we toasting, Mama?” Zelena asked. 

“Mr. Gold, of course,” Cora said. “We’re welcoming him to the house. Celebrating his contribution to our success. Offering him his choice of all we have.”

The ladies straightened up at the subtle reminder of their true purpose. Of his true purpose, as far as Cora was concerned. It was both flattering and humiliating, that she would offer him the means to satisfy every appetite his mind could imagine and his body could perform--and that she would expect him to jump at the opportunity to do so. Everyone in this room was a trained animal in Cora’s circus. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Quiet as a falling feather, Belle appeared at his side with a wine glass in her hand.

“Thank you,” he said. He tried to read her face, but she kept her eyes down. Softly, she left him, and went to serve the others.

Unwilling to stare at the glorified meat market in front of him, Gold examined his wine glass. It was fine crystal--better than Cora should have been able to afford. The base was etched with a circular design of roses surrounding the letter F. That explained it; they were second-hand. Like the house itself, Cora had bought these glasses out of someone else’s tragedy--death, disease, or destitution. Idly, Gold wondered who the F family was, and what had happened to them.

“To Mr. Gold!” Cora lifted her glass. “The founder of the feast. And to whichever lucky lady he chooses tonight.”

“Here, here!” The ladies copied their mother, clinked their glasses and drank.

Belle had not left the room. She stayed in a corner, waiting to be called upon again.

Gold drank his wine, a dry French red. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

French. 

“Cora,” he broke through the bickering and chatter. “What was the name of the first owner of this house?” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Belle. He saw her body tighten, saw her bite her lower lip. He twisted the knife. “It was French, wasn’t it?”

“No, he wasn’t a Frenchman, but the name was--” 

“It was French.” Newly invigorated, Gold stood. “Maurice French.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Cora’s smile was blank. She didn’t understand what he was getting at.

He crossed the space that had separated himself from the women. He stood between Cora and Belle. “There was a girl, too, wasn’t there? When you bought the house. A sad little heiress to a kingdom of debts.”

In her corner, Belle had balled her hands into fists. All of them were between her  and the door. Otherwise, Gold was sure she would have bolted. 

Cora’s expression had become more even. “Buying debt was one of the first business lessons you ever taught me, Mr. Gold.”