Page 82 of A Season for Scandal

“And they realized there was a scheme to be hatched?” I guessed.

“Exactly.” Lucy’s sigh was weary. “Later that day they both confronted me. They had opened the letter and read the full contents, and they saw an opportunity to claim Helene’s inheritance for themselves. You don’t know what they’re like,” she said, eyes wide as she gripped my hand again. “The way they bully and belittle and wheedle until I hardly know what they’re saying. They said that Helene had hidden from her family all these years, and clearly didn’twantto be found. All that money was only sitting there; it was a victimless crime. Mr Lockhart would be happy to have his sister back and we’d be able to stop moving around, stop running. I would finally have a normal life, and we’d beprotectingHelene, helping her to keep her secret. They made it sound…” She hesitated here. “Almost … reasonable.

“Only once we arrived in England, things seemed different. Mr Lockhart was so kind, so obviously concerned about his sister. Not what I had expected at all. I couldn’t stand it. And then Mother began all that talk about marrying me off to someone with a title and I realized that I would be trapped in this lie for ever, that Lucy Brown would fade away and I would have to pretend to be Helene to a husband, to children, for the rest of my life…” Her words were tight, breathless, pain written in every line of her face.

“Lucy,” I said quietly. “All that is done now. But I need to ask you … do you know where Helene is?”

“Helene?” Lucy repeated. “Of course I do. She is here in Paris.”

“She’s here,” I breathed, but I was cut short by Lucy, who leaped suddenly to her feet, her face transformed into a mask of fear.

“Oh God, Helene!” she cried. “I forgot… My head… I was distracted… I can’t believe…”

“Lucy,” I said again as calmly as I could manage. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s my parents!” Lucy choked out, already halfway to the door. “I overheard them. Making plans. They said they wanted toeliminate any threat to the plan. Marigold!” Her eyes met mine, wide with panic. “They’re going to kill Helene!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“I was in my room and the door was ajar,” Lucy told me breathlessly, as we waited for the doorman to hail us a carriage.

I had checked, but there was no sign yet of Oliver and the rest of the Finches. I considered leaving them a message, but what would I say?I’ve found your sister, but she’s about to be murdered, so couldn’t hang about and wait for you??It seemed better just to go and deal with the situation as swiftly as possible.

“I heard them talking,” Lucy continued. “Mother said that being here in Paris was too risky, and there was a good chance we’d be discovered. Father mentioned a package from the chemist and that no one would taste it mixed in with coffee.ThenMother said it was good that theywere eliminating the threat, and that perhaps this trip to Paris had been a blessing in disguise. She said, with Helene out of the picture, nothing would stand in their way.”

My own pulse thundered in my ears as we clambered into the carriage, and Lucy gave the driver Helene’s address in Montmartre.

“Do you think we’re too late?” she asked tearfully.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, my thoughts turning painfully to Oliver, who had only just found out that his sister was really alive. Now it was possible he was going to lose her all over again. I willed the carriage to move faster as we wound through the busy traffic.

“I will never forgive myself if anything happens,” Lucy whispered. “Never, never.”

“We don’t know that anythinghashappened yet,” I snapped, nerves frayed. “Yes, they were ahead of us, but not by so much.”

We pulled up to an apartment building in the 18th arrondisement and jumped down. I flung money at the coach driver, and the sound he made led me to believe I had handed over far too much.

The building was on a quiet, cobbled street – tall and grey with shutters on the windows and one or two cheerful window boxes full of flowers on the sills. There was no one about, no sign of the Browns at all.

Lucy climbed the stairs and began frantically ringing the bell. There was no answer.

We waited. Lucy tried the bell again. The minutes crawled by.

“What do we do now?” Lucy asked.

“Now we break in,” I said grimly, opening my leather bag and pulling out the shiny lock picks that Mrs Finch had provided me with.

I set to work on the lock. It was not a complicated security measure, and Izzy would have had it open in the space of a deep breath. Unfortunately, I was not the talent that she was when it came to breaking into things. I tried to remember all our lessons, carefully manipulating the picks until I felt the pins inside the lock move.

It took two tries, and my hands were clammy, but finally the lock gave with a satisfying click, and we had the door open.

“It’s the top floor!” Lucy exclaimed, already running for the spiralling staircase that seemed to stretch up to the heavens.

“Of course it is!” I sighed, chasing after her.

By the time we reached the top we were both winded, pink and panting.

“Helene!” Lucy shouted, banging on the door. “Helene, it is me! It’s Lucy!”