Chapter Thirty-Six

Madame Moreau beamed. "Oui, d'accord! This is Helene. Helene Lavigne."

I looked at the girl in the picture. Side by side with Lucy, the two of them could be sisters. The images of their faces were small, a little grainy, and yet in Helene's face – the real Helene – I would swear that I could see some of that mischief, that furious energy that I had seen in the portrait of her as a child.

In contrast, the girl I now knew was Lucy Brown smiled out from the photograph utterly without guile, eyes wide and innocent. Well, I thought, fury coming rapidly to the surface and humming through my veins, looks could be deceiving.

Oliver crashed back into the chair behind him, and I sat too, realizing that my own legs were shaking. But I needed to remain calm. Oliver was clearly in no state to ask questions, so it was up to me. I tried to consider what Mrs Finch would do.

"Madame Moreau," I said finally. "Can you tell us more about Lucy Brown?"

"Lucy?" Her eyebrows lifted as she returned to her own seat. She rested her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers. "Lucy was a sweet girl. Shy, quiet, nervous, but a good student. She was extremely diligent, with an eye for art and a beautiful singing voice."

"And she and Helene," I asked, "were they friends?"

"Oh, yes. Those two were as close as sisters." Madame Moreau smiled fondly. "Such different personalities, but the best of friends. I believe the other girls called them les jumelles – the twins."

Here, finally, was the piece we had been missing. The Helene we knew was a fraud. In reality, she was the real Helene's childhood friend … and it would seem that she was David Brown's daughter.

"What about Lucy's parents?" I asked. "Did you know much about them?"

Madame Moreau's nose wrinkled in distaste. "I should not say it, really, but the Browns were not precisely … respectable. Lucy attended the school for six years, and I do not believe she returned home for a single holiday during that time. In fact, she spent many of them with the Lavignes. It is my understanding that the Browns moved around a lot… Something to do with Mr Brown's business. They showed scant interest in their daughter and their account with us was almost always overdue. Sad as it was, this school was her only home, and I hope that in these walls she found some of the security she was missing from her family. Lucy was a good girl."

I had to keep myself from scoffing at that. It seemed to me that Lucy Brown had tripped along quite happily in her parents' criminal footsteps, after all.

"We have to go." Oliver suddenly jerked back to life, shaking off some of the daze he had been in, and he was already on his feet.

I jumped up after him. If Madame Moreau was startled by Oliver's abruptness, she covered it behind her immaculate manners.

"Of course," she said. "I am sorry I could not be more helpful. I wish you both luck with your search. Helene is a special girl. I would be glad to think she had found the part of her history that was missing."

"Thank you," I replied, shaking her hand. "You have been more help than you can imagine. I am sure now that finding Helene cannot be far away."

We left the school in silence; Oliver set a pace so brisk that I had to scurry to keep up.

"So, now we know," I said when we were back in the buggy and pulling away. "Most of it, anyway."

"But not where my sister is," Oliver said through gritted teeth.

"We'll find her."

"Oh, I know we'll find her." Oliver smiled without humour. "Because I'm going to tear pieces off David Brown until he tells me where she is."

"As tempting as that sounds," I said, "it is not likely to be our best plan."

Oliver made a noise that could only be described as a snarl. He was driving so fast that we bounced furiously down the road, and I gripped the side of the buggy hard enough to hurt.

"It explains why Lucy knew all about Helene," I said. "The girls were like sisters. She would know the childhood stories, she would know about the scar…"

"What did they do with her?" muttered Oliver. "What have they done with my sister?"

"It is entirely possible that Helene knows nothing of all this," I said soothingly. "That she has never been involved or placed in danger. That she is simply somewhere living her life. David Brown may not know where she is. He just saw an opportunity and took it."

"Only one way to find out," Oliver said with steel in his voice.

"That is not true either. If anyone has information on Helene it will be Lucy, and if you start using your fists on her father I doubt you'll get very far. Stop a moment. Think."

With that, we finally began to slow down. I peeled my fingers away from the side of the buggy with a sigh of relief.

"So what do you suggest?" Oliver asked, turning to look at me. It seemed that Sylla was right, and I was going to have to start making my own plans sooner rather than later.

"We must separate Lucy from her parents, and deliver her to the Finches, of course." I pulled my watch from my pocket. "It is gone three o'clock. If you drop me back at the hotel, I will find some pretence to get Lucy to come to my room alone. You go to Café Fleur and wait for the others. Get them back to the hotel as soon as possible. The sooner we question Lucy Brown, the better."

"Fine." Oliver nodded. "But if that doesn't work…"

"If that doesn't work, we can take it in turns punching David Brown in the face."

His eyes slid to me. "I haven't seen this side of you before, Bloom," he said. "Bloodthirsty. I like it."

"Every rose has its thorn, Lockhart," I replied coolly. "The Aviary is no ladies' social club, after all."