by Tuft, Karen
“Perhaps that is a conversation suited to another time, Alice,” the viscount said.
“For we’d much rather discuss the latest frills on this year’s fashions,” Susan said with perfectly placed irony.
“I was directing my question to Lucas, who, rather than spend his first full day here in the bosom of his family, left us once again to return to this Primrose Farm,” Lady Thurlby said, her earlier tears gone, her eyes gleaming.
“You will have noticed that our mother is not fearful of speaking her mind,” Lucas whispered to Lavinia.
“Thank goodness for that,” Susan whispered, overhearing his words.
“It’s no wonder you haven’t found a husband,” Thomas tossed into the hushed conversation.
“You’re quite correct, Thomas,” Susan said more loudly. “But it isn’t for a lack of offers, you’ll recall.”
“Primrose Farm,” Lucas said, pitching his voice above Susan’s, “can be brought into good shape incrementally, we concluded, Mama. The priorities are to get the farmhouse habitable for my bride and me”—he glanced at Lavinia—“and gradually bring the acreage into full use. Any other details, I will refrain from sharing until I have discussed them with Lavinia, as I promised her I would.”
“How unusual,” Isobel said, “for a woman to wish to know the details that accompany the running of an estate. I, for one, am grateful I have Thomas to see to such tedious things—with Father Jennings, of course. And Finch’s invaluable assistance.”
“I understand your point,” Lavinia replied, hoping she wasn’t about to say something better left unsaid. She looked adoringly at Lucas, as was her role to perform, also hoping it would mitigate her next comment. “But Primrose Farm, for the time being at least, belongs to me. And since any work that must proceed must have my signature attached, I prefer to sign my name with full knowledge. Lucas and I are in full agreement on this.” Lavinia wasn’t going to make a friend of Isobel with her comment, but it couldn’t be helped. It was the best answer possible without blurting out that the betrothal was all a sham.
Isobel looked at Lavinia with a feigned admiration Lavinia was able to see straight through. “How perfectly brave of you. Lucas, you have found a true gem. I’m so relieved.”
Thomas and Lucas shared a look then that spoke volumes. Did Thomas know he’d stolen Isobel from his brother? He must. And Lucas had told Lavinia he’d gotten over his feelings for Isobel, but had he? The shared look suggested they had unfinished business.
Lavinia’s presence here had somehow made things worse for everyone.
“I am curious about the individuals in the portraits I’ll be viewing later,” she said, hoping to take the conversation into more genial areas. “Perhaps you all can tell me about them so I’m prepared when I meet them face-to-face.”
“Excellent idea,” Viscount Thurlby said, giving her a look of approval, which surprised and pleased Lavinia. “My favorite portrait is of Edmund Jennings, first Viscount Thurlby, for whom our little Edmund is named. He was rather pivotal in these parts during the Glorious Revolution and the ascension of William and Mary to the monarchy. A colorful character, from what I’ve read. But I believe you will enjoy yourself much more, Lavinia, if Lucas tells you of the rest of his ancestors when you are actually able to put a face with a name.”
“And with that introduction, we ladies will depart,” Lady Thurlby announced. She rose, and Lucas’s sisters and sisters-in-law followed suit. “Do be sure to ask your cousins if they will provide a small encore performance for us tomorrow evening, after they have rested? Such quaint people they are. Miss Weston in particular seems almost familiar to me for some reason.”
“Thank you, Lady Thurlby; I shall,” Lavinia said.
“Come, then, Lavinia,” Lucas said, rising to his feet as well. “It is time for you to meet the rest of the family, so to speak.”
Chapter 15
The portrait gallery at Alderwood was a long, narrow room on the top floor of the manor house, in the opposite wing of the private sleeping quarters. Its walls were lined with paintings of varying sizes, some in gilded frames, others in ornately carved wooden ones. Lavinia was enthralled by the sense of history the room held and envious of its homage to family.
“Here is Edmund Jennings, the first Viscount Thurlby, whom my father mentioned,” Lucas said, pointing out one of the larger portraits in the room. The gentleman depicted wore a long, dark wig and was elaborately dressed in an embroidered jacket.
“I don’t see much family resemblance,” Lavinia said, studying the painting closely. Now that she and Lucas were alone, she could relax and step out of character for a moment.
“Nor would you,” Lucas replied. “Sometime during the mid-eighteenth century, the viscountcy passed to a second cousin—the gentleman over here, in fact”—he pointed to a particular portrait—“and has continued unbroken from father to son ever since.”
“Yes, I can see the resemblance now.”
“Going back to the first viscount, however, according to family legend, he became a wealthy man through farming and sheepherding and supported Parliament financially during the Glorious Revolution.”
“I don’t know much about such things,” Lavinia said. “I’m afraid my education is lacking when it comes to the particulars of England’s history—unless it’s covered in one of Shakespeare’s plays, that is. And I doubt those are entirely accurate. But I should like to learn.”
“You’re exceedingly clever, Lavinia, and I have no doubt you would soon be an expert in whatever you choose to study if one were only to put the right books in your hands. Let’s concentrate on more recent history for the time being, shall we? Over here is the seventh Viscount Thurlby, with his first wife and their son, my grandfather.” Lucas proceeded to share tidbits of his grandfather’s life, but Lavinia kept repeating the compliment he’d given her in her mind. He’d called her exceedingly clever. No man had ever said such a thing to her. Any compliments she had ever received had revolved around her appearance and had merely been a means of gaining her favors.
Oh, she wanted to believe he had meant the words.
“Lavinia?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts. “What is it? What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing, truly,” she answered, smiling up at him. “Perhaps being surrounded by so many of your ancestors conjured up ghosts of my own.”
He took her by the hand and led her to a sofa between two windows. He did not let go of her hand. “Tell me of these ghosts. Allow me to help, if I can.”
And there it was again—a kindness toward her that seemed genuine and not self-serving. “I’m not sure I can explain myself so that you will understand.”
“We can’t know that for certain until you try.”
Her lungs felt constricted, so dearly did she want his kindness to have a pure motive but unwilling to unburden her heart to him quite yet. “I envy you your family—both living and dead.” She gestured about the room. “This room is filled with riches, Lucas. A heritage that has helped define who you are. And you have parents and brothers and sisters who love you and rejoice that you have returned to them.”
“I’m not certain they all—”
“Even Thomas loves you, Lucas, although he is hurting and angry and unsure how to resolve things with you. He is aware that Isobel has not cut all the silken threads she wove around you when you were young. It wasn’t as troubling to him while you were gone, I suspect, but now that you are back, he is afraid he has a rival.”
“He has no rival.”
“Does he not?” she asked softly. “You have told me this is so, and yet something still remains between you and Isobel.”
He stood and walked a few paces away before turning to face her. She feared she had angered him. “Very well,” he said. “You speak of ghosts; Isobel and I have ghosts too. Mine came from the shock of a first love betrayed when it encountered temptation—hers, not mine. Perhaps I flattered myself in thinking her attachment was equal to mine, alt
hough I had no reason not to believe the words of love she spoke to me. The simple reality is that Thomas is the heir, not me. Someday she will be a viscountess.
“Thomas knew of our friendship and perhaps even our attachment but chose to court her anyway, and she chose to accept. I do not blame either of them for their choices any longer. But they are choices that must be lived with. If anything remains unresolved, it is on their part, not mine. I wish them only happiness together.”
“And yet, when she came out of the house to greet our carriage, you suddenly had need of a bride, did you not? One, if I may speak so boldly, with an appearance that might put the beautiful Isobel in her place?”
He turned away from her. “I arrived here with nothing, Lavinia,” he said. “Nothing. No living, no wife, nothing to account for all the years I’d been away. Oh, I had managed to save some earnings, due to the generosity of my friend, Anthony. Pittance compared to my brothers, who completed their university studies and are gainfully employed in positions worthy of their status as gentlemen. Even my youngest brother, Simon, has completed his studies.”
“Your mother thinks you saw him during your time in London.”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave Anthony, who still had much healing to do after our return from Spain. Afterward, I simply . . . couldn’t.”
He returned to her and sat, taking her hand in his. “I’m ashamed, Lavinia. Because of my pride, I pulled you into a lie and took advantage of you for my own purposes. I received a letter from Isobel, encouraging me to return home. It was an entirely decent letter, I suppose, and yet it made me feel . . . small . . . as though I, who had impetuously enlisted in the army, had not gotten over her properly, while she had moved on. I was angry.” He kissed her hand. “I am no better than any of the other men you have encountered in your life. I intend to right this wrong I have done to you.”
“But not yet, I think,” Lavinia said. “You have only just arrived home, Lucas. If you were to confess to your family now, I worry it would damage your relationship with them, and they only just got you back. I wouldn’t for the world want them to think ill of you. No. It is better to proceed as we are for a little while longer, and in the meantime, we will get Primrose Farm livable. I must have a secure place for my friends, you see. Once Delia and Artie and Hannah and I are there, you can inform your family that I ended our betrothal. Or better yet, I will write a letter you can share with them, so they can see it for themselves and conclude that I was the one who ended it.” She blinked back sudden tears that threatened to escape. “Tomorrow, you and Finch will fill me in on the particulars of repairing the farmhouse. There. That is our plan. I believe it is the best one, for everyone’s sakes.”
“I can’t do that to you, Lavinia.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face, nearly undoing her resolve.
“Think, Lucas. How will your family perceive the others and me if you tell them I am not your betrothed? We all went along with it.”
“But only so I would not be embarrassed. They will understand.”
“They will reach the conclusion that we are not who we claim to be, and they will be correct. You will have exchanged a gently raised bride and her eccentric relatives and friend for three actors and a costume maker. Your family is respectable, Lucas. We are not.”
“You are utterly respectable and honorable in my eyes, Lavinia. Delia and Artie are a trifle eccentric, I’ll grant you, but also kind, and Hannah is true and loyal. My family will understand.” He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “Lavinia,” he said softly.
“Yes?” She could barely utter the word.
He brought his face close to hers, close enough that she could feel his breath mingle with hers, and her heart quickened. “May I kiss you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His mouth found hers.
Lavinia had never experienced such heaven. He gave of himself and, at the same time, received from her, never taking. Eventually, and far too soon, he drew back and simply held her. He demanded nothing, not even her words, and for that she was relieved and exceedingly grateful. She couldn’t have found the words to express what she was feeling.
They remained that way for several minutes before Lucas finally spoke in a barely audible voice. “I watched the war in Spain turn men into animals,” he said. “War is a terrible business for everyone involved, but it is the women and children who suffer most, I think.”
He rested his head against hers. “I witnessed firsthand, Lavinia, what women are subjected to by selfish, unthinking men. It angered me. I resolved even further to be a champion of the gentler sex. My brothers and I were reared to respect womanhood and motherhood by our father, who has always loved our mother. I have sisters and nieces, and I would do violence to any man who ill-used one of them.
“I desire you, Lavinia; I cannot lie. But I also care deeply for you. I have feared that you have been subjected to such ungentlemanly treatment. And yet I have done the same by pulling you unwittingly into my ruse.”
“It is not the same, Lucas,” she said. “It is not nearly the same.”
“It is to me,” he whispered. “And I will make it right. I promise you that.”
She raised her head. “Lucas, will you kiss me again?” she asked.
“Gladly,” he said.
And then he pressed his lips to hers and said no more.
* * *
The following morning, Lavinia sat through a wholly uncomfortable meeting with Lucas, Thomas, Mr. Finch, and Viscount Thurlby. Isaac, she’d been informed, had ridden out early to his vicarage on some church business and would be back later that day.
If Lavinia hadn’t already known that her insistence on being part of the proceedings wasn’t a huge breach of propriety, the meeting would have swiftly clarified that particular point.
Before Lavinia had entered Viscount Thurlby’s study, Susan had pulled her into a small anteroom. “Don’t let them bully you. You are clever and learn quickly. I have observed this about you in the short time you have been with us at Alderwood. And until you marry my brother, the property is yours. They will huff and puff—especially Thomas and Finch—and make you think they are the noblest of gentlemen, freeing you from horribly unladylike undertakings, but you must hold your ground.”
“I’ll do my best, but they are at the advantage in that they understand such things. I have no experience with restoring a farm.”
“I daresay none of them have had the actual experience of restoring a farm themselves.” She’d squeezed Lavinia’s hands. “Now, go remind them you are a woman of property to be taken seriously. If anyone can do that, it’s you.”
“Thank you, Susan.”
An hour later, Lavinia wasn’t so sure Susan’s confidence had been well placed.
“You were brilliant,” Lucas said as he escorted Lavinia from the study to a sitting room and ordered tea.
“Hardly,” she replied. Mr. Finch had begun the proceedings by outlining each project that would need to be undertaken, followed by its estimated cost. At the mention of each project by Mr. Finch, Thomas had gone into a detailed description for her benefit in what Lavinia considered a patronizing tone. She had observed that during his pontifications, he’d occasionally shot pointed looks at Lucas, which had suggested to Lavinia that Thomas, as heir to Alderwood, knew of such things in fine detail, but a former soldier couldn’t begin to comprehend the complexities of land stewardship, nor could his betrothed, ignorant female that she was.
“I repeat: you were brilliant, Lavinia. I am personally resolved to remain respectful of your abilities if ever we have occasion to disagree in the future. You were utterly dignified, you would have put a duchess to shame with your impeccable manners, and yet you managed to ask the most salient questions at just the right moments. I wanted to stand and applaud you in more than one instance.”
“I’ve had enough applause in my day, Lucas. And I didn’t precisely endear myself to Thomas, did I? He thinks me impertinent. But it is my
farm and my home now, so if I must be impertinent, I shall. But so many details, Lucas! My mind is a blur.”
“And that is precisely why I suggested Finch make a copy of his notes for you. He should have thought of it beforehand and done it already.”
A serving girl arrived with tea, and Lavinia poured them each a cup after she left. “This afternoon, I will write to my banker and arrange for the necessary funds to be made available so work on the farmhouse can begin,” she said after she’d poured milk into her cup of tea. “Would you like milk? Or sugar?”
“No, thank you. As to the funds, Father is going to put them up so work can begin today. Allard is already busy talking to carpenters and the like and is just waiting for word. We can send a message to him this afternoon.”
“Oh, no, Lucas! I will not have your father paying for it. I won’t be beholden to him in that way, especially since he is playing host to us under false pretenses. I simply can’t—don’t you see? We will have to wait for the funds. It should only take a day or two.”
“Lavinia, be reasonable. My father is not doing this to curry favor, except, possibly, with me. Perhaps he missed me while I was gone; who knows? At any rate, this wasn’t a declaration of orders; it was an offer. A sensible one I urge you to consider.”
He finished off his tea and set the cup and saucer on the table. “Come,” he said, standing. “A distraction is what you need. How about a nice stroll in the garden and some fresh air?”
“I should like that,” she said. “You’re right—a distraction would be just the thing I need to clear my mind.”
“There’s a particular spot not far from the formal gardens that is so breathtakingly romantic that a young lady cannot resist kissing the gentleman she is with—at least that is what I have been told.”
“Indeed?” she asked, biting her lip in order to stay serious.
“I can only relate what I’ve heard on the matter,” he said solemnly. “It may be exaggerated rumor.”