by Tuft, Karen
“If I may say something,” Isobel said, speaking for the first time. “For reasons of my own, which are no secret to anyone, I was concerned when Lucas arrived with a bride in tow. Concerned and protective. Thomas and I felt a heavy burden of guilt when Lucas enlisted, you see. I have observed Lavinia closely, and I find her to be clever and kind and even genuine, which, of course, seems an odd thing to say at this particular moment in time. But I see how she looks at Lucas—when she thinks no one is looking. So I, for one, am inclined to forgive who or what she was before she arrived at Alderwood. If she loves Lucas and will make him happy, she has my blessing.”
“I echo the words of my wife,” Thomas said.
“Thank you, Isobel, Thomas. That means a great deal to me,” Lucas said. “You will recall, Father, that it was I who announced we were betrothed. I hadn’t said anything to Lavinia beforehand—devil take it, I’d barely had the thought spring to mind before I’d blurted it out. To allow me to save face here at home, Lavinia and her friends followed my lead—even though they’d left their acting lives behind them in London. I take full responsibility for the deception.
“I do not know who Ruby Chadwick is. I never met her. But I do know Lavinia Fernley. I know her very well, in fact. I have seen her devotion and her courage and her strength. She is truly the most beautiful woman I have ever met, for she is beautiful inside and out. I have also discovered that I love her.” He’d never voiced the words aloud, hadn’t even spoken them to Lavinia yet, and here he’d blurted them out to his entire family. What a blundering fool he was! And yet they’d felt delicious rolling off his tongue. “I love her,” he repeated. “But she intends to leave Alderwood tomorrow with Hannah to spare us the scandal and humiliation should her past follow her here again. I do not want her to leave.”
“But what is to be done?” Mama asked. “She is who she is, Lucas. Can a leopard change its spots?”
“No, Mama, a leopard cannot, as we learn from the book of Jeremiah,” Isaac replied. “But Miss Fernley and her friends are not leopards; they are people. And people can change, can they not? Or else there is no hope for any of us.”
“Lavinia is determined to make a new life for herself and the others at Primrose Farm—”
“A daunting task for anyone, considering what we brothers observed when we visited the place,” James said. “But for a young woman such as Miss Fernley? It will take a great deal of fortitude for her to be successful, especially with that entourage of hers.”
“I wish to help her,” Lucas said. “I wish to marry her and make a life with her at Primrose Farm. The problem of her past has a simple solution, but only if all of you are willing to support it. With the permanent disappearance of the actress Ruby Chadwick, any concerns regarding actresses or breeches or scandal can disappear along with her. Lavinia is free to be Lavinia now. I hope you will all be willing to accept her as such and help me convince her to make our betrothal one in truth.”
He looked around the room, from sibling to sibling to his parents, trying to read their expressions as they pondered his words. Having their support was essential if he was to convince Lavinia to marry him. If his family still had misgivings about her, there was no hope to be had.
It was Clara who spoke first. “Oh, Lucas,” she said, a lone tear rolling down her face. “How moving your words are! Of course we will support you—and Lavinia too. And here I am, crying again.”
“Come, love, let me take you upstairs,” Isaac said. “You and our growing babe have had enough excitement for one day and need to rest. I am in agreement with Clara, Lucas. You have our support.”
“I may have to speak to her privately about the breeches first,” Mama said. “But you have my support as well. I have found myself rather attached to the girl. When I first saw her, I thought she would be intolerable to be around with those looks of hers. But she is kind, as Isobel remarked upon, and not proud at all.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Lucas said. “After the earl’s visit tonight, I fear it will not be easy to convince her. I need you all on my side if I am going to succeed in this.” He needed to go to her tonight, right now, to assure himself that she was all right after the confrontation with Cosgrove. “In fact, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to go to her now.”
“Whatever I can do to help, Lucas, you have only to ask,” Simon said.
“What of you, then, Father? What is your opinion on the matter?” Lucas asked.
His father was silent for a moment, studying Lucas, before he finally spoke. “It has been my observation that Miss Fernley has been a gracious and well-mannered guest while staying at Alderwood. I also found this evening to be especially enlightening. If her handling of the Earl of Cosgrove is any indication, she is a young lady of courage and conviction. And I daresay her friends are no more peculiar than old Brumby and his wife down in the village. You have my blessing.”
“Thank you, Father,” Lucas said.
“It appears we are all in accord, Lucas,” Father said. “We are at your service—but I fear the real convincing will have to come from you.”
“I agree, Father, and thank you. Thank you all.” Lucas excused himself and took the stairs two at a time to reach Lavinia as quickly as he could.
Chapter 22
Lavinia splashed water on her face and blotted it dry with a towel, then studied her reflection in the oval mirror on her washstand. She had to look calm and steady when she spoke to Hannah and Artie, whom she’d left at Delia’s side when she’d been summoned to the drawing room by Lord Thurlby. The reflection that stared back at her from the mirror wasn’t very convincing, but it would have to do.
She patted a few loose strands of hair back into place and straightened her skirt, praying that no one would be in the corridor when she left her room so she could slip into Delia’s room unnoticed. She needed to let the others know about the Earl of Cosgrove’s arrival at Alderwood and the resulting confrontation before they learned about it from someone else—a member of the family or, heaven forbid, one of the staff. Hannah and Artie deserved to hear about it from her.
She quietly unlocked the door and turned the knob—and the door flew open, nearly knocking her over in the process. Lucas slipped in and shut it behind him.
“You cannot be in here,” Lavinia hissed. “Your family has been scandalized enough this evening. I will not add to their discomfort by having their son discovered alone with me here in a private tête-à-tête.” She swung the door open wide and pointed. “Out. Now.” She was sorely hurt by his mistrust and inaction down in the drawing room, effectively leaving her on her own to face Lord Cosgrove and his insinuations.
“Fine,” he said, pointing as well. “We shall have this conversation in the corridor, then, but we shall have it. After you, Lavinia.”
She marched out of her room, relying on anger to get her past her grief, and then whirled about to face him. “Say what it is you have to say, Lucas, so I may get back to my packing.”
He shook his head at her, which only succeeded in fueling her anger further. “You are waiting for the rest of the list, no doubt. The men who sought my favor. Favors, to be more precise. Let me think”—she tapped her chin—“Sir John Ewell, Lord Bromley—”
He placed his fingers over her mouth, effectively silencing her. “Hush, Lavinia. Don’t do this to yourself. I confess I was shocked to discover there was one more rather large secret you had kept from me, Miss Ruby Chadwick, but it had more to do with the fact that I thought I had gained your trust and yet you had kept an important part of yourself from me.”
She pushed his fingers aside. “You left me on my own to face that horrid man in front of your entire family. I felt so alone and exposed, Lucas, like I’d been stripped bare by his words.”
“I’m sorry for that,” he said. “It was rather difficult to get a word in edgewise. But you were absolutely brilliant, like a virtuous, fiery goddess. I got rather caught up in the performance. It took every fiber of my being to keep from dashing
after you when you left, but I had to make sure Cosgrove left with certain understandings in place. I also wanted to explain what had been going on to my family—and to let them know that the deception surrounding our betrothal was of my doing. That it was my fault, not yours.”
He was so close, so close, and then his arms came about her. “I must tell you something,” he whispered in her ear, his cheek resting against her own. She shut her eyes. “A confession, I’m afraid. I am impetuous at times—perhaps you’ve noticed—and I said something to my family tonight I should have spoken with you about first.”
“What?” she whispered, caught up in the warmth of his body, fighting the enticing sense of security it gave. There was such power in intimacy, true intimacy. He had not even so much as kissed her, and yet the feeling of oneness with him nearly overwhelmed her with its sweetness.
“I told them I love you, for it is true. But I should have told you first. I love you, Lavinia Fernley, with all my heart. Please don’t leave.” He dropped to one knee, and Lavinia looked into his eyes and saw truth there. “Marry me. We shall work together to make Primrose Farm thrive, and we shall live as regular people—or we will return to London so you may be The Darling of Drury Lane if that is your choice. Only marry me—the sooner, the better.”
Oh, but it was tempting.
Could one learn to trust after so many years and so many poor examples warning her against it? Could she trust him? She dearly wanted to, but there was so much at stake.
She knew what she had to do.
He closed his eyes and brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss.
“Lucas,” she whispered. “I trust you more than I have ever trusted anyone, save Hannah. You said you spoke impetuously to your family. I cannot afford to be impetuous.”
“Lavinia, please—”
She cradled his face with her hands and made him look her in the eye. “I must have time to consider. I am not saying no; oh, please don’t think that, for I love you too. Oh, I do love you. But I need time. My father—”
“I understand, my love.” Lucas rested his forehead against hers. “Your father has much to account for with his Maker. I will be patient—and hopeful. I ask only that you remain here, where I can court you in earnest.”
She kissed him with her entire being, wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her tightly in his arms. “Lavinia,” he whispered, drawing back and looking at her with the eyes of a hungry lover, but this time Lavinia knew it was love that fueled the passion, not merely passion alone. “We must stop ourselves, my dearest love, or I will be riding off to obtain a special license this very minute. I’m hopeful your enthusiasm means your answer will eventually be yes.” He kissed her one last time and then took a deep breath. “You were going somewhere when I arrived at your room, I believe.”
“Yes, I was going to tell Hannah to pack her things.” She kissed him and then kissed him again.
“But you won’t tell her that now, surely?” he murmured.
“No. But, I still must let Hannah and Artie know what happened. They need to know.”
“Then I will accompany you to Delia’s room, if I may. Poor fellow, Artie; it breaks my heart to see him this way. He barely leaves Delia’s side, even for a moment.”
“I feel so helpless. It’s been longer than twenty-four hours, and she’s barely made a flutter. What if she doesn’t wake up?”
He caressed her cheek. “Then we will do what has to be done, my love. We will stay by her side until the end, we will be there for Artie and for Hannah, and we will grieve together.”
They arrived at Delia’s room and saw the door had been left open a crack. Inside, Delia lay still as death in her bed. Hannah sat nearby, a single candle providing illumination while she did her sewing. Artie was slumped in a chair by Delia’s side, his head on his chest, quietly snoring.
“He finally gave out,” Hannah whispered, setting her work aside. “I didn’t have the heart to leave him.”
“I’ll take him to his room,” Lucas said.
“He’ll only wake up and insist on staying if you try. Better he stay here and get what sleep he can,” Lavinia said. Hannah nodded her agreement.
“Very well.” He laid a soft kiss on Lavinia’s cheek. “I will bid you good night, then, my dearest Lavinia. I must retire to my room, as I expect to do a great deal of praying tonight—that should make Isaac happy to hear, don’t you think?”
Lavinia smiled. “Spare a few prayers for Delia while you’re at it.”
“I will—and for Artie too. He and I both know how it feels to wait while the women we love keep us in terrible suspense.” He kissed Lavinia one last time and nodded to Hannah. “Good night to you both.” And then he was gone.
“Seems I missed something important while I was up here keeping our Artie company,” Hannah murmured.
Lavinia crossed to where Hannah was seated and knelt on the floor next to her, then laid her head in Hannah’s lap. “He loves me, Hannah, and heaven help me, I love him. He has asked me to marry him—in truth this time. And I am sorely tempted.”
“Of course you are, luv.” Hannah stroked Lavinia’s head. “’Tis only to be expected.”
“But what am I to do? If I marry him, Primrose Farm will be his, and if he proves as untrustworthy as every other man I’ve ever met, we will have nothing.”
“Do you really think him the sort to do such a thing? And what’s all this about ‘every other man’ being untrustworthy? You’ve only to look across this very room to see one of the most devoted men there is.”
“Artie, yes; he’s a dear. And yet, for all his devotion, he’s never declared himself to Delia, has he? He’s never asked to marry her. They’ve known each other for years, and he’s never spoken the words.”
“Artie’s never felt worthy of our Delia, luv. Delia Weston—my, but she was a grand lady in her day, Livvy. Nearly as popular as your Ruby Chadwick, she was. Artie was a fair success himself, never quite the leading man, although he always had steady work doing lesser roles, but nothing like our Delia. Very few compared to our Delia back then.
“So there’s Artie for you—as fine an example of a devoted man as you could ever hope to find. And from the looks of things around here, there’s another devoted man or two—Mr. Isaac and Mr. Thomas seem to fit the bill, not to mention his lordship himself. They have wives what seem content enough, if you was to ask me.”
“Hmm,” Lavinia said.
Hannah gently patted Lavinia’s head, like she’d done so often when Lavinia was a child. “Now, luv, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be off to my bed. You should too. Artie will be well enough, asleep as he is, here at Delia’s side.”
Lavinia lifted her head from Hannah’s lap and stood, and Hannah rose from her chair and picked up her sewing basket. “You must do what you feel is right, and only you can answer that, luv. You can take a risk for a chance at happiness and find you made a mistake, or you can hold back out of fear and never know what you could have had. But I’m guessing right now, Artie’s wishing he’d chosen differently.”
* * *
Lavinia did not sleep a wink. She tossed and turned, she plumped the pillows, and then she tossed and turned some more. Her head was full of thoughts that plagued her all during the night:
Livvy, my girl, your looks are your prized possession and your poison. Have a care.
Forget marriage, my sweet. It’ll never happen. Be practical instead.
All will be well, I promise you, love.
Trust me.
Several hours later but long before dawn, feeling restless and uncomfortable, she got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. She may as well sneak down to Delia’s room and make sure Artie hadn’t toppled out of his chair at some point during the night.
She lit a candle and tiptoed down the corridor. All was dark and quiet; the house was asleep. Apparently, she was the only one who wasn’t.
She listened at Delia’s door for a moment or two before turning the kno
b and quietly opening the door a few inches.
And then she stopped.
Artie was kneeling on the floor next to Delia’s bed, holding one of her hands in his and speaking softly to her, unaware that he now had an audience in Lavinia. “Delia, if I could go back and do it all again, I’d tell you how I feel. I swear on bended knee I would,” he declared in a heartbreaking whisper.
He rested his head on the bed, not letting go of her hand. Delia, illuminated by the light of the moon shining through the window, looked like a sleeping angel. Artie sobbed quietly. “‘Is there no play, / To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?’” he said and sobbed again, his bony shoulders heaving.
Even in grief, the dear man must quote Shakespeare. How like Artie it was to do so.
“Come back to me, Delia,” he went on. “I love you, my sweet girl. Always have. And I don’t think I can bear it if you leave me without knowing how I feel. Please come back to me. Please. Oh, Delia.” He sobbed some more.
Lavinia quietly shut the door and returned to her room. She’d intruded on a private—even sacred—moment, for what was more sacred than pure love? But she could not be sorry for her intrusion. It had been a gift, and her heart was full.
She had her answer.
Chapter 23
Lavinia awakened with a start. Someone was shaking her—rather vigorously too. When she opened her bleary eyes, she saw to her surprise that it was Rebecca, of all people.
“Lavinia, you must wake up! Quickly!” Rebecca cried. “Oh, good, you’re awake now. Hurry! Here, put this on.” She grabbed Lavinia’s dressing gown and tossed in on top of her while Lavinia struggled to sit up.
“What is going on?” she said, still trying to get past the fog of sleep. She was going to need a nap later in the day, she was sure of it. “I think I’d prefer to dress.”