Page 86 of A Season for Scandal

“You’re all mad,” Oliver snapped. “Thankfully, I feel fine.” On that note, he suddenly staggered, grabbing on to the side of the table. “Just dizzy.” He looked at me, and I saw alarm flare in his eyes.

“Drink this now.” I thrust a glass of water at him. I had emptied the entire jar of dried barberry into it.

Thankfully, he didn’t question me, only knocked the water back, then sat heavily on the sofa. “What now?” he asked.

“You’re not going to like it.” I summoned a quavering smile for him.

Mrs Finch emptied the heavy gold coal scuttle into the fireplace and brought it over, holding it out to Oliver.

“What’s that for?” he said suspiciously.

“It’s for your vomit,” Winnie said, peering into the coffee pot with interest. “I should take a sample of this for later,” she said.

“For my—” Oliver didn’t get any further with that outraged exclamation because he was too busy retching into the coal scuttle.

“So, you’re the sister, I take it,” Sylla said, as we all politely ignored him.

“Yes, I’m Helene Lavigne,” Helene said. She and Lucy looked rather dazed. “Um. Nice to meet you.”

I poured Oliver a glass of water, as Sylla performed a round of introductions, and then I helped him lie back on the sofa. He was pale, but I put my fingers to his wrist and felt the strong, reassuring flutter of his pulse.

“Well, will I live?” he asked me, dry as sand.

I sank to the floor beside him, my knees well and truly giving out, and gently brushed a lock of dark hair away from his forehead. “I think you should be fine. You didn’t drink much of the coffee, and now that you’ve purged so quickly…”

“Purged!” Oliver groaned. “Let’s not talk about purging any more.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr Lockhart.” Lucy appeared at my side, looking down at him, her eyes wide. “This is all my fault – my parents and I…”

“Yes,Miss Brown.” Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “I’d be very interested to hear about your parents.”

“Oliver, don’t be angry with Lucy,” Helene said softly, rounding the sofa herself to take the other woman’s hand. “If anyone knows how difficult it is to live with parents who are far less than we deserve, it is you and me.”

A sigh moved through Oliver’s body. “I suppose so,” he said grudgingly. He looked at his sister. “I am sorry that we are reuniting like this. Ever since I found out you were still alive, I imagined it would be … well, different.”

“Different from you being poisoned and then vomiting repeatedly into a coal scuttle?” Helene said, and when her mouth pulled up at the corners, I saw the resemblance between her and her brother.

Helene held out her hand, and after a moment Oliver took it in his own. They only looked at each other for a long while.

“There is much we need to talk about,” Helene said finally.

“We have time,” Oliver replied softly.

My eyes filled, and Oliver’s gaze shifted to me. “Good grief, Bloom. Don’t go telling me you need my handkerchief again. For someone who claims not to cry very often, you are a veritable watering pot.”

“Don’t worry,” I sniffled, reaching into my sleeve. “I have one.” I dabbed at my eyes with the handkerchief that Oliver had given me on the moors. When I looked back at him, he was watching me with a reluctant fondness.

Mrs Finch cleared her throat. “While Oliver and his sister may have all the time in the world to catch up, I’m afraid the issue of the Browns is a touch more urgent. Marigold, I assume that with this turn of events the Browns have managed to get their hands on more forged documents?”

I stared at her, stunned. “Yes! But how on earth didyouknow that?”

“I followed your lead to Ménilmontant. One of my contacts there knows of a very good forger – I have even used his services myself a time or two – and she had heard whisperings about a job that he had taken on.” Mrs Finch nodded her head towards Winnie and Maud. “These two followed the Browns all day and saw them stop in at the watchmaker’s, which is a front for his more illegal practices. The Browns must have worried that being in France would soon lead to the discovery of their deception, so such a step makes perfect sense. Oliver had already presented Lucy to all the guests at his party as his sister. If he suffered a tragic accident, then who would question Lucy’s right to inherit everything if she also held a new will drawn up in her favour?” Mrs Finch hummed with something close to approval. “Quite a tidy plan, actually.”

“Oh yes, very tidy,” Oliver scoffed. “Especially the part where I am got rid of.”

“Thankfully they did not reckon with Marigold Bloom.” Mrs Finch smiled.

“Thankfully they did not reckon with the Aviary,” I corrected her.