The Gentleman's Deception

by Tuft, Karen

  “There’s no time! You must come at once.”

  “Is she awake? Oh, good, you are awake. You simply won’t believe what has happened!” This was Susan, who had burst into Lavinia’s room like she’d been shot from a cannon.

  “Then tell me,” Lavinia said with a touch of impatience. She would have been in a perfectly good mood after the decision she’d finally made in the middle of the night if she hadn’t been jarred awake so suddenly.

  “You must see for yourself,” Susan said, pulling her to her feet while Rebecca began threading Lavinia’s arm through the sleeve of her dressing gown.

  “I can do that myself,” she said, tugging the sleeve from Rebecca’s grasp and sliding her arm through it. And then she realized there was more commotion coming from outside her door in the corridor.

  Delia! Lavinia thought, panicking. No!

  She brushed away Rebecca’s hands as the girl fumbled to button Lavinia’s dressing gown. “Truly, I’m awake now, Rebecca. I can manage on my own.”

  “Here are your slippers. Quickly!”

  Fighting back tears, she hurried with the sisters toward Delia’s room. There was already a small cluster of people gathered outside the door. Lucas came toward her and took her hands in his.

  “Lavinia,” he began—

  “I must see her!” she cried. “Oh, my dear, sweet Delia—”

  “Yes?” a familiar voice from within the room called.

  Lavinia looked at Lucas, her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Lavinia, is that you?” the voice called out again.

  Lavinia’s heart began to race. She turned, letting go of Lucas, and walked as though in a trance toward the bedroom door. She pushed it completely open and blinked . . .

  There sat Delia. Sat. In the bed. As wide awake and alive—alive—as she could possibly be, a beaming Artie sitting proudly in the chair next to her, where he’d been holding vigil for the past twenty-four hours, give or take the few times Lady Thurlby had been successful in prying him away.

  A maid scurried past Lavinia, carrying a tray of hot chocolate and scones, from the looks and smell of it, and set it on Delia’s lap.

  “She’s hungry,” Artie said triumphantly.

  “Well, she would be,” Susan retorted. “She’s the size of a hummingbird and hasn’t eaten in over a day.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lavinia said, shaking her head, then crossing to Delia’s bedside and embracing her. She felt so thin and frail. “Oh, my dear, you have come back to us! We were so worried!”

  “There, there, now, dearie. ‘All’s well that ends well,’ as the playwright wisely said.” Delia patted Lavinia fondly before taking a bite of scone. “Would you care for a scone, Livvy? Artie?”

  “No, thank you,” Lavinia said, still feeling a bit dazed.

  “I would,” Artie said.

  Lavinia wandered back over to Lucas’s side. “We all took turns sitting by her bedside,” she whispered. “She never moved, never smiled. Nothing. And now she’s wide awake, acting as if nothing had even happened.”

  “Mama sent for the doctor. Perhaps he can shed some light on the situation.”

  Lavinia nodded and then grabbed Lucas’s arm. “Where is Hannah? I must tell Hannah.”

  “I sent one of the maids to wake her,” Susan said. She and Rebecca were still in the doorway, with Isobel and Clara standing behind them. She remembered now that Lucas’s brothers—all of them—and his father had also been in the corridor when she’d arrived. They’d all had smiles on their faces, as had Rebecca and Susan when they’d awakened her. If she’d but noticed, she could have spared herself a great deal of anxiety, especially considering how truly radiant Delia currently looked. She was nowhere near death’s door.

  Artie suddenly popped out of his chair. “Excuse me, Delia, my dearest love. I shall be right back.” He bowed with a flourish and kissed the hand she held out for him. It was all accomplished with such pageantry that Lavinia wanted to laugh—if she hadn’t wanted to cry.

  “Lavinia, Lucas, I hope you will congratulate us on our good news. Delia and I are to be married.” He looked about to burst his buttons with pride.

  “What?” Lavinia asked, although it was more of a rhetorical question; after what she’d observed in the middle of the night, it seemed only natural that something like this would have occurred between the two of them, finally.

  “No surprise there, sir,” Lucas said. “A hearty congratulations to you both. I’m so pleased Delia has made such a remarkable recovery.”

  “You must hear the entire story,” Artie said. “Delia, we must tell these two our story, don’t you agree?”

  “Of course, Arthur dear, but it might be better to wait just a bit. For Hannah, you know, and perhaps we can include Dr. Ellis too.”

  “Good idea! Splendid idea! Oh, it is such a grand story, Livvy. Such a wonderful day it is!”

  Artie blew a kiss to Delia and then strutted out the door to share his news with Lucas’s family. He could hardly contain himself, so joyful he was; Lavinia couldn’t help but smile. She could hear the hearty congratulations and backslaps from Lucas’s brothers and the well-wishes of his sisters and sisters-in-law—for both Delia’s return to health and the announced betrothal.

  Lady Thurlby arrived with the doctor at nearly the same time Hannah arrived. They joined Lavinia, Lucas, and Artie in Delia’s room and closed the door behind them. “Lord Thurlby has sent the rest of the family about their business. They have heard the news and given you their congratulations, I am sure.” She gestured toward Delia. “Here is our patient, Dr. Ellis, looking as fit as ever, as you can plainly see.” Lady Thurlby said, a twinkle in her eye.

  “I hope you can explain what has happened,” Lavinia said. “Delia’s recovery is nothing short of miraculous.”

  “I know precisely what has happened. I was able to diagnose her correctly yesterday when I was here.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I knew there was something amiss, and my private examination quickly confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Thurlby said, fighting back a smile.

  “And it worked, Dr. Ellis, as I told you it would,” Delia said, beaming.

  “What worked?” Lavinia asked, feeling as if an entire conversation was eluding her.

  “Why don’t you tell them?” Dr. Ellis said, smiling at Delia.

  Delia straightened up against the pillows and shot a victorious look at Artie. “Sleeping Beauty, that’s what,” she said.

  Lucas began to chuckle.

  “Sleeping Beauty?” Lavinia repeated. Sleeping Beauty? And then it suddenly dawned on her. She turned and glared at Delia. “I knew it! You little schemer.” She shot an accusing look at the doctor. “And you are telling me you knew she wasn’t unconscious? That she was acting? And you didn’t tell us!”

  Dr. Ellis smiled. “Miss Weston is a most charming and persuasive patient, Miss Fernley. She is also ticklish. It was easy enough to uncover her deception when I examined her more thoroughly, but then she begged Lady Thurlby and me to keep her secret for a little while. It seems she’d had a reluctant suitor for several years now and felt it was time to give him a push. Congratulations, by the way, Miss Weston, Mr. Drake.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Artie said, reaching over to pump the doctor’s hand in a vigorous handshake. “I am the most fortunate of men.”

  Lucas was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. “Well done, Mama. Conspiring with Delia and Dr. Ellis in this. I commend you!”

  “I recognized Miss Weston, shortly after your arrival at Alderwood,” Lady Thurlby explained. “I thought she looked familiar, and I eventually recalled that I had seen her onstage during my first Season in London. Lady Macbeth, she was back then. Wonderful. But it was all so many years ago, it took me awhile to sort it out.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Lady Thurlby,” Delia said before taking a bite of scone.

  “I did inform your f
ather, I would have you know, Lucas, although the secret will remain between him and those of us in this room, if you please. And it was quite a chore, even if it was for only a single day and night. Mr. Drake was most insistent about staying with Miss Weston at all times. I could barely coax him out of the room so the poor woman could eat and use the necessary on occasion.”

  “My sincerest apologies, Lady Thurlby,” Artie said.

  Lady Thurlby waved her hand in dismissal. “Quite all right. It all worked out rather well in the end, and it was great fun to be in on the deception. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years.”

  Lavinia felt dizzy and confused—and slightly queasy—as though she’d taken a blow to the head. “You knew you were playing host to actors all along, then? But what of the scandal it could have caused the family? What of that?”

  “I knew I was playing host to the great Delia Weston, acclaimed actress and leading lady of the London stage, and her rather eccentric relatives. I did not know until Miss Weston feigned her illness that Mr. Drake was not a relative but a reluctant suitor. And I definitely did not know you were an actress who starred in breeches roles, Lavinia.”

  Lavinia blushed at the mild set down before remembering she was still angry. “I cannot dismiss all of this quite so easily as the rest of you seem to be doing. You had us—me—terrified, Delia. Why are you not angry at what Delia did, Artie? I believe I have been good to you. I deserve more of an explanation than this.”

  “And you shall have one,” Delia said.

  “Indeed, you shall, Livvy,” Artie added. “And it is a grand story, Livvy. You will not be disappointed.”

  * * *

  Lucas put his arm around the back of Lavinia’s chair and rested his hand on her shoulder, hoping it would offer her support. She seemed to be in a bit of a daze.

  Artie cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention.

  “As a young lad, I always dreamt of being onstage,” Artie began. “I was most fortunate in that my parents, while poor, insisted upon educating their children, which is why my sister and I could read. I still remember the first time—”

  “Best skip over the childhood parts, Arthur, or we’ll be here until supper,” Delia interjected.

  “Understood, my dearest.”

  Lucas bit his lip to avoid laughing.

  Artie cleared his throat again. “Once there was a beautiful lady, the fairest in all the land, and the leading actress of her age.”

  “This is going to take forever,” Delia said. “I believe I shall give it a try, Arthur.”

  “As long as I can still add in my bits,” Artie said.

  “Certainly. As you may have guessed,” she said, directing her words to the others in the room, “I have felt an attachment for Arthur Drake for many years, and I thought he may have had a similar attachment to me.”

  “Oh, I did, I did,” Artie insisted.

  “But try as I might, I simply could not get him to speak his heart. I tried everything I could think of.”

  “What do you mean?” Lavinia asked. “What did you try?”

  “Oh, you know.” Delia fluttered her hand in the air. “Rehearsing love scenes together, for example, or feigning injuries, like the one during the carriage accident on our way out of London.”

  “But you were hurt,” Lucas said. “I could tell you’d been hurt.”

  “A bit,” she conceded. “But not very, at least not as much as I led you to believe. I’m an excellent actress, if you haven’t noticed by now. I was at my wit’s end—and then the lovely children here asked for a story.”

  “Sleeping Beauty,” Lavinia said.

  “Exactly. Well, a couple of old thespians can’t simply tell a story, now, can we? We must act, so I was the sleeping princess, and Arthur was my prince. And he kissed me . . .” She paused dramatically. “But it didn’t change anything! Even after that most romantic of kisses, Arthur still did not declare himself to me.”

  “I think we can fill in the rest of the story,” Lucas said. “You allowed life to imitate art: you pretended to be dying; your hero, distraught that he may actually lose you, declared his love; and then, as required by the fairy tale, he awakened you with a kiss.”

  “This time it worked,” Delia answered triumphantly. “And I was not pretending, Lucas. I was acting. There is a big difference.”

  “What I don’t understand is why?” Lavinia said. “Why this elaborate deception when you are always so direct with people and Artie has been your devoted friend for so long?”

  “Why, indeed?” Delia replied, looking straight at Lucas.

  Lucas shifted in his seat.

  “Because we are afraid of the pain the truth may hold,” Delia said, answering her own question. “You see, I am not Delia Weston any more than you are Ruby Chadwick, dearie. My real name is Minnie Hopgood.”

  “It is?” Artie said, his initial shock turning into excitement. “Why, mine is really Johnny Grimmett! Ho, ho, my dear! What a fine coincidence! I had to change my name, you know, for who wants a leading man named Johnny Grimmett, I ask you?”

  “I never felt equal to a man named Arthur Drake,” Delia—Minnie—said, clasping her hands to her breast. “But I can be the equal of a Johnny Grimmett.”

  “It appears we are two of a kind, a couple of sparrows who have pretended all these years to be swans. ‘A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.’ And while I will apologize on behalf of my dear Delia—or would you prefer Minnie?”

  “Delia. I haven’t been Minnie in a while.”

  Artie—Johnny—nodded his approval. “I do hope you will forgive her, Livvy, for she has given me the most splendid gift a man who has devoted his life to the theater could ever hope for. I have seen many great performances over the years—thrilling, moving, wonderful performances—but I have never seen such convincing acting in all my life until now. And she did it all for me!”

  “Here, here,” Dr. Ellis said.

  “True love, indeed. We’ve gotten a taste of our own medicine, have we not?” Lucas said quietly to Lavinia. “But would you look at Artie’s face?”

  The elderly man had finally won the woman of his dreams, and Lucas had rarely seen anything so beautiful.

  * * *

  For several minutes, everyone congratulated the ecstatic couple. Eventually, Dr. Ellis took his leave, Hannah went to her room to get some rest, and Lady Thurlby left to consult with her housekeeper.

  It was as good a time as any, Lavinia thought, to resolve a little matter of her own. She laid a hand on Lucas’s arm as they left the room, immediately drawing his attention.

  He smiled at her. “What a couple of characters they are!” he said. “I’m not sure what names we address them by now though. Is she Delia or Minnie? Is he Arthur, as Delia calls him, or Artie or Johnny? When they marry, I suspect they will have to do so under their real names. I wonder what Isaac would have to say about that?”

  “I’m sure he’d agree with you.” Now that the moment had arrived, Lavinia found that her carefully thought-out speech had fled. “My guess is that they will go by Artie and Delia, since that is who they have been for decades.”

  “You’re undoubtedly right,” Lucas said.

  Lavinia swallowed.

  “Was there something else?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Yes. I—” Her heart was racing, and she was having difficulty breathing. “I am terrified, Lucas,” she whispered. “But I have discovered that, after all, there are a few honorable men in the world, and you are one of them. And, heaven help me, but I am willing to take a risk on love . . . if you are.”

  He closed his eyes as if in benediction. “Thank God.” And then he took her hands in his and kissed each one and then kissed her. “It seems we have a real announcement to make to my family, then.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “And a confession.”

  “Amen,” he said.

  * * *

  That evening at dinner, after everyone was seated at
the table and toasts had been made to Delia and Artie, the newly betrothed couple, Lucas stood. “There is more news to share,” he said, raising his voice in order to be heard over the convivial noise in the room. When everyone had quieted down, he continued. “I must come clean to all of you. After my time in Spain, my pride got the better of me, and rather than return home empty-handed, I announced to you all that I was betrothed to this remarkable woman.” He gestured toward a radiant Lavinia, who was seated across the table from him. “She and her friends were gracious enough to go along with my deception and spare me the humiliation of confessing my lie so soon upon my arrival home. But I, for one, have learned my lesson.”

  “Something about pride going before a fall?” Isaac suggested, earning a few laughs.

  “And honesty being the best policy,” Lucas said. “The happy reality is that despite my failings, Lavinia has looked beyond them and has agreed to marry me in truth. She is to be my wife. I am the happiest of men.”

  “Second happiest,” Artie crowed, making everyone laugh as they all once again raised their goblets in a toast.

  “Happiest,” Lucas said to Lavinia.

  And then they ate and talked and enjoyed being a family together with friends, and afterward, he and Lavinia joyfully accepted hugs and good wishes from everyone.

  Epilogue

  Three weeks later, two couples stood at the altar of St. Alfred’s Church of the village of Lower Alderwood. It was three weeks because the elder of the two brides had always dreamed of a traditional wedding, so the vicar of St. Alfred’s, the Reverend Isaac Jennings, by name, had been instructed to have the banns officially read and published.

  The younger of the two grooms would have preferred to ride all night long in a rainstorm if necessary to procure a special license and marry his bride the following day, but it was not to be. He found the patience required during the three weeks before his wedding by doing hard physical labor at the farm his beautiful bride was bringing with her to the marriage. It would be their home, and he intended it to be the sort of place where a man and his wife, together, could build a prosperous life and provide for a family.