Chapter Twenty-Seven

"I have been thinking, Mr Lockhart," Mrs Lavigne said the next day when the company was gathered in the drawing room, "about our visit to York."

Rain drummed against the windows, and we had all settled there with our own entertainments. Helene had her eyes down, focused on her embroidery. Meanwhile, Mrs Finch sat at a small table, dashing off several letters, and Mr Lavigne had embroiled Oliver in a game of chess that he didn't seem particularly invested in.

"What about it?" Oliver asked, carelessly moving one of his pawns and looking incredibly bored when Mr Lavigne chided him over the folly of the decision.

"Well…" Mrs Lavigne cast aside the periodical she was reading in favour of gifting him with the full weight of her attention. "We are all excessively grateful for your continued hospitality in allowing us to remain at Lockhart Hall…"

"This is my sister's home too," Oliver said shortly. "It is hardly hospitality on my part. She is as entitled as I am to be here." Helene's eyes lifted to his at this, and Oliver's face softened. "I would not want to lose her company a second time."

A look I was coming to recognize passed over Helene's face. It was as if she expected no kindness from Oliver at all; as if every time he offered it, she was taken aback.

"Of course, of course," Mrs Lavigne simpered, "and that is greatly to your credit. But I wondered if you had given any thought to Helene's future?"

"Mother," Helene murmured, but Mrs Lavigne ignored her, only keeping her attention fixed on Oliver.

"I suppose Helene's future is up to her," Oliver answered.

"What a man he is, Miss Bloom!" She laughed, drawing me into the conversation. "Mr Lockhart doesn't understand what I am hinting at, but I'm sure you do."

I set aside the letter from Daisy that I had been rereading for the third time, guilt crawling over me.

There have been one or two small problems, she wrote, but nothing for you to worry about; I'm sure it will all be set right in no time. Mrs Payne did kick up quite a fuss about her delivery, but then how was I supposed to know that lilies are fatal to cats?? And we removed the flowers so quickly that the feline wasn't even in the same room as them, but the way she was carrying on, you would have thought I had been trying to murder the wretched animal.

And naturally it is unfortunate that Robbie is laid up after his accident at the flower market on Thursday (it was hardly his fault that that silly man's horse decided to bolt in the middle of a crowd despite what that nosy flower seller had to say!).

However, Grandfather and I have taken to attending together and I must say I find the whole thing thrilling.

Scout asked me to send you a list of questions, which I enclose separately because half of them include Latin of which I can't make head nor tail. I'm afraid that Grandfather doesn't hold out great hopes for the newest of the hybrid roses, but perhaps you will be able to work your magic on them once you are home!

Tearing my attention away, I tried to focus on what Mrs Lavigne had said.

"I believe Mrs Lavigne means that you should consider introducing Helene into society," I managed.

"Society can go hang," Oliver said succinctly.

Mrs Lavigne's smile began to look a touch frozen. "But surely, sir, you can see that without your introduction it will be very hard for Helene to meet people her own age, to make friendships … perhaps to form an attachment of her own."

"Mother," Helene said again, softly, and she and Mrs Lavigne had one of those wordless exchanges that mother and daughter can share with only a glance.

"You know I only care for your happiness, dear," Mrs Lavigne insisted, and the words held a steel that had Helene's shoulders slumping with defeat.

"Mrs Lavigne is quite right," Mrs Finch piped up unexpectedly, and all eyes swung in her direction. She smiled at Oliver, and it was a smile full of schemes. "At the very least, you really do need to introduce Helene to the local gentry as soon as possible. You can't expect the poor girl to stay cooped up in this house indefinitely!"

"I'm sure Mr Lockhart has no intention of keeping Helene to himself for ever," Mr Lavigne chimed in.

"Exactly," Mrs Finch said, "so why rest on our laurels when there is so much to celebrate? You must throw a dinner to celebrate your engagement, Mr Lockhart, while we are still here to enjoy it!"

"I can't think that is necessary," he said, glaring daggers at Mrs Finch.

"Surely, there is not time…" Mrs Lavigne began, clearly not wanting the spotlight of their first social event to be on anyone but Helene. "I believe you said you were planning to stay for only a few more days?"

Mrs Finch waved her hand. "Oh, plenty of time for something informal. Dinner, dancing, just a handful of guests." Oliver's expression darkened with every word out of her mouth. "Why, I'm certain we could pull such an event together in a couple of days."

"A couple of days!" Mrs Lavigne exclaimed.

"Yes." Mrs Finch nodded, and like a magician pulling a white rabbit from her hat, she presented her trump card. "I have received a letter today, informing me that the Duke and Duchess of Roxton are passing through Yorkshire in two days' time, taking a tour of the north, and I know that they are close friends of yours, Mr Lockhart… What better opportunity to celebrate your engagement and introduce them to your lovely sister?"

A brief, dazzled silence followed this announcement.

"The Duke and Duchess of Roxton?" Mrs Lavigne uttered, once she had picked her jaw up from the floor. "I – I had no idea you were acquainted, Mr Lockhart."

Oliver cast another dark look at Mrs Finch. "Yes, we are acquainted, though I wouldn't say…"

"Roxton, Roxton," Mr Lavigne murmured, his tone thoughtful. "Now, didn't I read something about his marriage in the society papers recently?"

"Indeed you did!" Mrs Lavigne exclaimed with some agitation. "It was the social event of the decade! A double wedding, with the St Clairs, at St George's no less. Why, even the Prince of Wales attended!"

"It was a miserable crush," Oliver grumbled, and then reared back at Mrs Lavigne's high-pitched reaction to these words.

"You attended the wedding?" she screeched.

Before he could reply, Mrs Finch cut in. "I believe Mr Lockhart was part of the bridal party."

"Only because that damned fool Max—"

Oliver was stopped short here, by Mrs Lavigne murmuring "Max" in awed tones.

"From what I heard," Mrs Finch said sweetly, mischief in every word, "it was a beautiful service. Very emotional. Why, even the hardest heart might have been moved to shed a tear."

"The church was very dusty," Oliver said hotly.

"Well, well," Mrs Lavigne all but purred. "This does put quite a different light on the matter. The Duke of Roxton! It seems Helene will be moving in very high circles indeed." The naked calculation on her face was hard to miss.

"Oh, but surely I am not—" Helene began, colour high on her cheeks. "We shouldn't put Mr Lockhart to such trouble. I couldn't … that is … a duke!" This last word was spoken in such distress that one would think Mrs Finch had suggested Oliver introduce Helene to Lucifer himself.

"Nonsense." Mrs Lavigne dismissed this outburst with barely a flicker of acknowledgment. "But can an appropriate event really be put together in so short a time?"

"I'm sure with Mr Lockhart's resources nothing is impossible," Mrs Finch said. "Marigold and I will speak to Beth."

Clearly understanding – as I did – that there was a reason Max and Izzy needed to descend on the house, Oliver was left with little choice but to concede.

"It seems it is all decided," he said sourly.

Mrs Lavigne stood, flustered. "Thank heavens we went to York yesterday, for I have a whole new wardrobe on order, but I shall have to impress upon the dressmaker the urgency of my need!"

"Helene's too, I should imagine," Oliver said, his tone dry.

"Perhaps, Mr Lockhart, we may prevail upon you to borrow the carriage?" Mr Lavigne added smoothly, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "The women, you know, will have much to attend to!"

"Of course," Oliver agreed. "I shall have Barker bring it around."

With that, the Lavignes departed in a flutter of anticipation, Helene tugged along after them like a limp rag doll.

"What have you dragged me into now?" Oliver groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Years I live an unencumbered, quiet life in this house. Three days in your company, and apparently I'm throwing a party?" He said the word "party" as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"It will be good for you," Mrs Finch said. "This place could do with a bit of cheer. And you won't have to invite too many – thirty or forty or so of the local types."

"Forty people!" Oliver's stricken expression deepened.

"Just enough to fill out the dance floor," Mrs Finch explained.

"Dancing…" Oliver shuddered, and it seemed there was a worse word than "party", after all. "Why does it have to be dancing?"

"More to the point, why does it have to be anything?" I interrupted here. "What has Izzy discovered?"

"All I know is that she has information and she deemed it necessary to deliver it in person," said Mrs Finch. "I suggested the house party as an appropriate ruse. It will also give her an opportunity to meet the Lavignes herself."

"And you think there is more that they're hiding?" Oliver said, his posture stiffening. "Because of the advertisement you found in their belongings yesterday?"

He had been quiet when we told him about that last night, troubled and withdrawn.

I myself was uncertain. Helene seemed utterly convincing. And yet … and yet something worried at me. Something I couldn't put my finger on.

One thing was certain, however: it was getting easier and easier to pretend to be part of a newly engaged couple.

Whenever I had looked at Oliver over dinner the night before, it was to find his eyes already on me; something in them had made my heart beat faster. I had to firmly remind myself of several important things: that this whole romantic relationship was a ruse; that I had an important job to do for the Aviary, an organization in which I believed wholeheartedly that had invested in my training and were depending on me to be focused and clear-headed; that Oliver Lockhart was – according to the evidence I had seen so far – one of the richest men in the country, and decidedly not for me; and finally that – whatever my family may have said in the heat of the moment – Daisy's letter made it clear that I was not in a position to abandon my responsibilities to them, even if the offer did present itself.

Which it wasn't going to. For all the perfectly sensible aforementioned reasons.

"The advertisement, among other things." Mrs Finch sighed now. "All I can say is that I suspect the Lavignes are hiding something."

"Do you think she is Ellen?" Oliver turned to me. It was the first time he had asked me the question directly, and there was tension in every line of his body as he waited for my answer.

"I think the evidence suggests that she is," I said carefully, "but until we know the full story, how can any of us be sure? Mrs Finch is right that the Lavignes are keeping secrets. At the very least, their interest in returning Helene home is not as altruistic as they have claimed. But whether their ambitions extend to fraud is another question. Having more of our people here under the guise of the party can only be a good thing."

"And naturally Mrs Lavigne was suitably awed by the presence of the duke and duchess," Mrs Finch mused. "In cases such as this one, introducing elements that will unsettle or distract the subjects may lead them to accidentally reveal more than they intend. Mrs Lavigne's attention will be on them. She wants an advantageous match for her daughter."

"You think she wants to marry Helene off?" Oliver said.

"That part of the arrangement is not in the least suspicious," Mrs Finch said, her tone reproving. "With such limited opportunities open to women, I think you would find most mothers would want the same." She tilted her head. "But I do wonder…" She didn't finish the thought. "Let us suppose," she said finally, holding up a finger, "hypothetically of course, that Helene is an imposter, that the Lavignes are perpetrating a ruse of some kind. The possibility that they will get caught will increase dramatically the longer they are here. There would only be more opportunity for mistakes, for a lie to falter. But if Helene were established as your sister and then married, if they collected her inheritance and then left this house…"

"Then they would have the money without living in fear of discovery," Oliver said slowly.

"If you accept Helene as Ellen, she will have a fortune," I pointed out. "You have already made it very clear you intend to share your father's money with her – above and beyond what he left her himself. She is an heiress."

"Helene is a sweet, pretty young woman," Mrs Finch added. "A little old to be making her come out in society, but with all her advantages I think Mrs Lavigne can probably aim high. The Lavignes might not only get money out of such an arrangement – their daughter could gain a title. Their influence would grow."

Oliver looked miserable.

"We are making progress," I said with a confidence I didn't actually feel. "If we pull at enough threads, this whole thing will unravel soon enough." Unthinking, I rested my hand on his arm. "We don't know what information Izzy has already, nor what she and Max may observe that we might miss. If I have learned anything from the Aviary, it is that a charm of finches will always work better than any individual."

Oliver looked down to where my fingers gripped the soft fabric of his jacket.

"Then by all means," he said with a sigh, "let's throw a party."