“A sister?” No one read Bahorel’s confusion, continuing the conversation while he reflected.
“Apparently she died,” Jehan murmured, melancholia bleeding through his tone. He twirled his pen over the light of the candle, watching it flicker about the base.
“Yes, consumption,” Bossuet added, mostly thoughtless as he took a swig from Joly’s drink.
“Consumption?” Jehan furrowed his brow. Bahorel came out of his reverie long enough to shove Joly away from Bossuet when he dove at him for displacing his drink. Joly looked at Bahorel strangely, and the odd tension that claimed him seemed to spread across the table now. Jehan, placing both hands down, spoke quietly. ”He told me she drowned.”
“I was told it was an accident on horseback,” Joly said.
“I was told something else entirely…” Bahorel muttered, glancing across the room as though he expected to find an answer there.
Joly tried to smile for them, leaning in. ”Come now, why would he spread so many stories?”
“Perhaps we are mistaken,” Jehan agreed.
“I don’t know. I think it’s likely they’re fabrications,” Bossuet muttered, reaching for Joly’s drink again. ”After all, why does Grantaire do anything Grantaire does?”