Page 55 of A Season for Scandal

“Thankfully the Lavignes are tidy sorts,” Mrs Finch said, looking around. “This should be relatively straightforward.”

The room was similar in layout to my own, and while Mrs Finch moved towards the two large trunks that stood at the foot of the bed, I headed for the armoire, where both Mr and Mrs Lavigne’s clothes hung.

“The scar on Helene’s hand was real,” I said, feeling carefully along all the seams in the first of Mrs Lavigne’s gowns.

Mrs Finch nodded, tapping inside the empty trunks, in search of any hidden compartments. “Yes,” she said. “And old too. I’m no expert but it must be at least several years for the skin to have paled as it has.”

“Which would imply sheisEllen,” I whispered, moving on to the next dress.

“So it would seem.” Mrs Finch’s lips pressed together.

“But you’re not convinced.”

She hesitated. “I can’t like the Lavignes,” she admitted. “And there is something about Helene that I can’t put my finger on…” She sighed. “I don’t know. It is like a tickle at the back of my brain.”

“You are very good at reading people yourself, Mrs Finch,” I said.

She smiled. “Well, Mari, you and I have much in common, don’t we? I’d say we’re both clever, successful businesswomen. We both have a sense of when something is, shall we say … off kilter.”

I nodded, pleased. “Exactly. That is how I have felt too. I’m not sure Helene is lying precisely, but sometimes … there is something…”

“Yes,” Mrs Finch agreed. “Something. Of course, there are the strawberries to consider as well.”

“Is it possible she outgrew her reaction to them?” I asked, moving further down the rail.

“Possible?” Mrs Finch shrugged. “I suppose so, but the intensity of the attacks she used to suffer as Oliver described them make it seem unlikely to me. I had Barker telegraph Winnie first thing this morning, as well as sending messages to Sylla and Izzy.”

“Sylla is in Paris now?” I asked.

“Yes, and I have directed her to visit this Lycée Sainte-Geneviève, to see if the story there matches up with what the Lavignes have told us.”

I moved on to searching Mr Lavigne’s clothes – a more time-consuming job, thanks to the incredible number of pockets men seem entitled to. I wondered not for the first time why women are not afforded the same luxury.

“I’m not sure what it would take for Oliver to feel reassured that it is her,” I mused.

“Whatever he needs he shall have it,” Mrs Finch said. “After all that Oliver has done for the Aviary, it is the least he deserves from us.”

“After all he’s done for the Aviary?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

Mrs Finch only treated me to a long look. “That is for Oliver to tell you, I think. Have you found anything?”

“Some tobacco, ticket stubs, nothing important,” I admitted. “You?”

“There are hidden compartments in both the trunks,” Mrs Finch said thoughtfully. She tipped the case so that I could see the small drawer in the false bottom. “They are empty, but it does beg the question why the Lavignes needed them.”

“Wait.” I felt my hands fold round a piece of paper and pulled it from one of Mr Lavigne’s pockets. “It’s the advert!” I exclaimed, smoothing it out. “The one Oliver’s private investigator placed.”

Mrs Finch came to look over my shoulder. “The one they claimed they hadn’t seen,” she said thoughtfully.

“So they lied,” I murmured. “They knew that Ellen had money waiting for her. It was no coincidence that they turned up now at all.”

Mrs Finch pursed her lips. “It is certainly interesting. Although it doesn’t prove anything. Helene may be the real Ellen, and her parents didn’t previously think there was a strong enough incentive to return her to her home in England – perhaps they avoided doing so if they feared they might be parted from their daughter before she came of age. She is turned twenty-one now, and free to do as she chooses.”

“I find it hard to imagine Mrs Lavigne wouldn’t have been on the first boat over, if she thought there was a chance of installing her daughter here. She’s certainly made herself very at home, hasn’t she?” I said.

Mrs Finch nodded. “It is clear that woman is particularly displeased by your presence, Mari. I imagine she thought she would be running the house on her daughter’s behalf before the year was out.”

“She’s ambitious,” I said.