Chapter Ten

The third time I arrived at the Aviary in the space of a single week, I felt a curious mixture of nerves and excitement. The summons I had received from Mrs Finch had been brief and to the point, asking me to come late in the afternoon – this was usually my free time when I would sleep before going to the market. I supposed that running a secret agency of female detectives meant the task of working out my schedule was fairly easy, but I was still impressed by her efficiency.

On this visit I found myself taken even higher up in the building – to the floor above the salon and into a well-ordered office that felt warm and inviting, lined with shelves full of books and various interesting objects – vases, paintings, a red jewel in a small glass case. An iron ring hung from a hook in the wall, and while I wasn't an expert, I'd guess that the long thin pieces of metal hanging from it were lock picks.

Mrs Finch sat behind an enormous desk, sifting through a stack of important-looking papers. The red-headed shop girl I had met before perched in a tall, straight-backed chair, and jumped to her feet when I entered.

"You're here." She grinned. "I'm glad you said yes. I thought that you would. I'm Maud, by the way; I should have introduced myself earlier." She held out a hand to me, and I shook it.

"You're one of the Finches too?" I asked.

"Oh yes, everyone who works in the shop is a Finch," Maud replied. "It makes life much easier, having an employer who doesn't mind about you coming and going."

I was relieved to hear that not everyone who worked for the Aviary was a duchess – that some of them at least were more like me, and that they had to balance the Aviary with other work.

"I'm in your charm, actually," Maud continued. "They explained the charms to you?"

I nodded. "Four people who work together."

"That's right. We've been down to three since Izzy started running her own group, and it's a relief they finally found someone to fill in."

"Why don't you take Marigold through to the lab and see if you can extract Winnie while we wait for Sylla to arrive?" Mrs Finch said, not lifting her eyes from the papers in front of her.

Maud scoffed. "Wish us luck with that. Win has been muttering something about electrical pulses all morning; I haven't got any sense out of her yet today. Still" – she turned to me – "might as well give you the tour, now that you're going to be one of us."

Before she could herd me back through the door, I stepped towards the desk and dropped the small bouquet I was carrying next to Mrs Finch's papers.

Her gaze flicked to the flowers and then up to me. Her mouth softened into that almost-smile. "Sweet peas? How lovely. Now, let me see if I remember…" She tapped a finger against the desk. "Thank you for a lovely time?"

I nodded. "That's right. Or in this case, simply thank you. Thank you for what you did for me. And for my family."

"It's what we do," Mrs Finch said, eyeing me steadily. The words carried an extra weight, and I knew now that the we included me.

"Go on," she said with a shooing gesture. "Go and get Winnie before she blows something up."

"Is she joking?" I asked Maud in a low voice as we left the room.

"Oh no," Maud replied cheerfully. "Win blows things up at least twice a month."

On this reassuring note, she led me back out on to the landing and down a narrow corridor.

"That's just a storage cupboard," she said, gesturing to the door beside Mrs Finch's office. "Then this is the training room." She pushed open the next door along.

I opened my mouth to ask what sort of training, but stopped when I took in the scene in front of me. It looked as though I'd be gaining a better understanding of Grandfather's boxing slang, after all. In the middle of the room was a small roped-off boxing ring. Leather punching bags hung from the ceiling on iron chains. My eyes widened when I noticed the large glass cabinet against one of the walls.

"Are those … swords?" I asked faintly.

Maud's cheerful demeanour didn't slip. "Fencing foils mostly. The odd sabre. I take it you don't fence yet? You'll learn. You'll learn a bit of everything here. Mrs Finch has some of the best instructors in the country to give us lessons. Fencing, boxing, knife-fighting…"

"Fighting … with knives?" I managed, the words an embarrassing squeak.

"Much easier to carry about than a sword," Maud pointed out practically. "What about shooting? Can you shoot?"

"No," I said, feeling as though I was already an enormous failure. But, really, how many young women knew how to win a knife fight or shoot? I was a florist for goodness' sake; I could tell you the flowering season for carnations or when to deadhead your roses, but I'd hardly been filling my non-existent spare time with target practice.

"Not to worry," Maud said, clearly reading my expression. "Most of the girls don't know how to do these things when they arrive. Within six months you'll be able to disarm a man and neatly slice out his kidney should the need present itself."

I didn't know whether to be thrilled or deeply disturbed by this information.

Both, I decided. Definitely both.

"And this down here is Winnie's lab. Winnie's in our charm too." Maud pulled me along to the next room.

This, it turned out, was a fully working science laboratory, and a slim, pale-haired young woman stood at the long wooden work surface that ran the length of the room. She was bent over a microscope, which she was using with intense concentration.

The walls above the work surface were piled high with hefty-looking scientific tomes, and I spotted several I had read on the subject of botany. The rest of the walls held mahogany cabinets similar to the ones in the haberdasher's downstairs, only these were labelled with the names of various chemicals.

"Win?" Maud said loudly. "Win, Marigold Bloom is here." She repeated herself three times, and finally the woman looked up, blinking huge blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, as though she was waking from a nap.

"Maud?" she murmured. "When did you get here?"

"Ages ago." Maud laughed, stepping forward and rubbing gently at a smudge on Winnie's cheek. There was something in that touch – something tender and easy that spoke to a relationship that went well beyond friendship. Lovers, I thought.

Winnie leaned into Maud's hand and looked at her adoringly. "You should have given me a shake."

"And risk blowing up our newest recruit?" Maud teased.

At this, Winnie's eyes turned to me. "You must be Miss Bloom!"

"Marigold," I corrected her, reaching out to shake her hand, which was soft and white but stained with black ink. "Mari, usually."

"The botanist," Winnie said.

"Florist," I replied.

"Your family owns Bloom's, don't they? I saw some fascinating hybrids on display in a friend's home from there last year. Would they have been your work?"

"Yes, I'm interested in breeding new roses. It gives us a competitive edge with our clients."

Winnie nodded. "A botanist then. And do you use Bennett's methods?"

I started in surprise. "Yes." I nodded, identifying a fellow enthusiast by the gleam in Winnie's eyes. "Although recently there has been some interesting research out of—"

"France," Winnie cut me off, her excitement clear. "I know, I read only the other day—"

"That's enough, you two," Maud broke in. "I can tell there's going to be plenty for you to discuss but we have other priorities at the moment."

Winnie beamed at me. "I must say I'm pleased to have someone to talk to about my experiments with the healing properties of plants … and their potential use as weapons too."

"Poisons, do you mean?" I asked, intrigued. "Because I've been focusing on herbal remedies, but—"

"Stop! Stop!" Maud laughed. "Sylla will be waiting and you know how she is."

Winnie made a quick sound of agreement at this, and the two of them ushered me out of the room.

We returned to Mrs Finch's office, where we found the final member of my new charm deep in conversation with Mrs Finch.

And just like that, any small amount of confidence I had felt grow during my brief conversation with Winnie wilted.

"Ahh, Marigold, let me introduce the leader of your charm – Sylla Banaji," Mrs Finch said.

I blinked. I knew Sylla Banaji. Well, I knew of her. Most people who came into contact with high society or the newspapers did.

The daughter of Lady Anne Stanton and Sir Dinshaw Banaji (she a member of a prominent family whose aristocratic roots can be traced back to the Norman conquest, he the Bombay-born, Oxford-educated, close personal friend of the Prince of Wales), Sylla was practically royalty. She was famous among the society gossips, an imperious beauty with a large following. Izzy may have been a duchess, but her unassuming manner had disarmed me. Sylla had all the regal bearing you'd expect of the queen herself.

I felt as though I should drop into a ridiculous curtsey but forced myself to stand straight under her scrutiny. And there was plenty of that.

Sylla stood in her beautiful ice-blue gown and eyed me the same way I scrutinized flowers at the market – weighing up if I was worth the asking price.

"So you're Izzy's florist," she said finally. "I suppose we shall see what can be made of you."

With that, she dropped gracefully into a chair, leaving Maud, Winnie and I to perch on the long, battered chesterfield sofa that took up one wall of the study. I exhaled slowly, knowing that I had just about scraped through some sort of test.

Mrs Finch settled herself behind her desk.

"As you know, we have been on the lookout for a new recruit to take Isobel's place in the charm." Mrs Finch twirled a pen between her fingers. "I feel confident we have found that person in Marigold. She has a unique set of skills that I think will add much to our organization."

I felt myself straighten at that, even as Sylla made a small scoffing sound.

"To begin, Mari, we offer all new members a six-month probationary period, during which they undertake any training we deem necessary – shooting, fighting, lock picking, basic medical skills, et cetera," Mrs Finch continued, as off-hand as if she were discussing the weather rather than arming me with weaponry. "During this period, the charm will take on smaller-scale jobs."

Sylla gave a disgruntled murmur at this, and Mrs Finch's eyes snapped to her. "A new recruit must be trained, Sylla. As you were."

Sylla gave an elegant shrug. "I certainly didn't require half a year before I could be put into the field."

"Yes you did," Mrs Finch replied neutrally. "And we will extend Marigold the same courtesy. Now." She turned to me. "You must have questions."

"Thousands," I said, glancing nervously at Sylla. "But I suppose the one weighing heaviest on me is how I will fit all this in. I have a business to run. My hours are not precisely my own, you see."

"Many of the Aviary's agents have other commitments. There is always a solution." Mrs Finch steepled her fingers. "Our suggestion is that Izzy, as the new Duchess of Roxton, will open an account with Bloom's. An extremely lucrative account that will require your personal attention and availability. And that will also account for your new salary." At this, Mrs Finch named a figure that had my jaw falling open.

Winnie and Sylla seemed unmoved, but Maud met my eye with a knowing smirk.

"Of course, this will mean you relinquishing some of your duties at the shop, delegating to others. Do you feel comfortable with that? It is no small thing for a woman to have built up the business you have, Marigold."

I thought about that. She was right: giving up some of my control at the shop would be difficult, but the challenge that the Aviary represented felt like an opportunity I hadn't even known I was waiting for. "I have employees I can trust to take on more responsibility." My mind went instantly to Suzy. "And with the increase from this … new account … I could even hire another if need be."

"If that is the case, please inform me," Mrs Finch said crisply. "The Aviary will absorb any cost in that area."

It seemed that working for the Aviary was also going to help Bloom's grow too. It felt almost miraculous given the state of affairs only days ago.

"I know that Izzy is a duchess, but will people really believe she needs Marigold running around at all hours on some sort of flower emergency?" Winnie said, wrinkling her nose.

I laughed. "That part is absolutely foolproof. You wouldn't believe some of the requests we get from the aristocracy, and the higher up they are, the more eccentric they can be. A duchess with a personal florist on retainer for all hours of the day and night? If anything, she'll set the fashion." An idea occurred to me. "And as part of the cover, I'll make sure her house is full of beautiful arrangements."

That may well end up bringing more business our way too, I thought. My mind raced ahead. If we did well, perhaps I'd be able to convince Grandfather to retire fully. He and Mother and Daisy could have a holiday – somewhere relaxing outside the city, with clean sea air, where he could get strong and healthy again… I wondered whether I might be able to drop them a small hint as to the truth of our good fortune.

"Your work at the Aviary must be kept secret, Marigold. You will not be able to reveal the truth to anyone else, not even your family," Mrs Finch said with that strange ability of hers to know just what I was thinking.

I twisted my hands in my lap. Here was the hardest part of the bargain. "I am not terribly good at lying," I admitted.

"You will learn," Sylla said, her words brooking no argument.

"I know it's necessary," I said quietly, "but lying to my family … I've never really done that before."

Sylla propped her elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her chin in her hands. Her dark eyes were sharp on my face. "Really?" she asked softly. "You didn't pretend that you were pleased to be engaged to that fool, Simon Earnshaw? You haven't protected them from hard realities about the business? Made difficult choices alone to spare their feelings?"

"I – I—" I stammered over this. It seemed that Sylla knew it all. "Those things were small omissions, for their own good."

"I believe your honesty is an admirable quality." Sylla leaned back in the chair, watching me. "But the work we do here is vital. It is not hyperbole to suggest that the Aviary saves lives. In all things we must measure the cost against the reward – you should understand this – you are a businesswoman, after all. Keeping secrets from your family may be difficult." Here, something like pain flickered across her expression, though it passed quickly. "However, those secrets are for their safety, as much as the safety of those we work to protect. You will lie because it is the right thing to do."

"Is it worth it?" I asked, looking at the women in front of me.

"Yes," Maud said instantly.

"Yes." Winnie's hand pressed mine.

"Absolutely." Sylla spoke the word with utter conviction.

Mrs Finch was watching us all closely. "What is your next question, Marigold?" she asked.

I took a deep breath, met her eyes and saw the spark burning there. Something settled over me then, a curious feeling of calm.

"Where do we begin?" I asked.