Page 31 of The Gentleman's Deception

Lavinia stood, the tableau unfolding around her as though she were in a play, her head buzzing. Her dear elderly friends’ faces were contorted by shock, but Lavinia could only watch. She couldn’t move a muscle.

She’d thought she had the solution for them all, but instead, she’d led them out of London toward . . . nothing.

Oh, what horrible predicament had she created for her poor friends? Here they were, in the middle of nowhere, facing a sodden farm as their only means of living. The dilapidated building didn’t even have the dignity of being a house anymore. It appeared to have been converted into some sort of outbuilding intended for use by the farm laborers employed here—except there hadn’t been any farm laborers for years, by the look of things.

Mr. Grimes led Delia to a fallen log, and she sat, ghostlike, her eyes closed, her face ashen while Hannah fanned her and Artie alternately paced about and patted Delia’s hand, murmuring words of reassurance.

Lavinia rested her forehead against Lucas’s chest, barely aware that at some point, she’d clutched his lapels like a lifeline. His hands were still on her waist. She might have collapsed if not for that.

“It’s a sorry sight, and that’s a fact,” Hannah said from her position by Delia.

What an understatement, Lavinia thought.

Letting down Hannah was the worst part of it. Steady, reliable Hannah, who’d taken care of her for as long as Lavinia could remember. She’d been the constant in Lavinia’s life. Hannah had changed her nappies and fed her and kept her safely away from her father’s bawdy women and his drunken fits of temper and had comforted her when he’d died. Hannah, who’d sewn Lavinia’s clothes and welcomed Artie and Delia when Lavinia had learned the troupe manager planned to sack them.

Hannah had always given Lavinia the sturdy support she’d needed. And Lavinia had failed her.

“Courage, Lavinia,” Lucas whispered to her, his hands moving to her shoulders. “You are strong, and you will rise above this challenge. Of that I have no doubt.”

“Oh, Lucas,” she said with a sigh.

“Ho, there,” a voice called out. Lucas’s hands dropped away, and Lavinia saw a man on an old nag a ways off, waving his cap in the air as he approached.

Lucas waved in acknowledgment, which was just as well since Lavinia, despite having acted on and offstage her entire life, wasn’t sure she could rein in her emotions and respond in a normal fashion.

“Don’t get many visitors out this way,” the man said, dismounting. “Got me curious-like when I saw the coach here back on the road. Thought I’d see if I could be of service. Name’s Allard.”

“Lucas Jennings, Mr. Allard, and this is Miss Lavinia Fernley,” Lucas said, reaching out to shake the man’s hand.

Lavinia smoothed her expression as best she could and turned to face Mr. Allard, extending her hand to him as well, despite the gloom that threatened to swallow her whole. “How do you do, Mr. Allard? I’m the new owner of Primrose Farm.”

“Pleased to make yer acquaintance, ma’am,” Mr. Allard said, removing his hat and bowing over her hand.

He was being utterly respectful toward her without the typical reaction she was so accustomed to. It was surprising and a relief. “I was recently informedI inherited Primrose Farm from my late great-aunt,” Lavinia said, pressing forward. “A Miss Martha Harrison, my grandmother’s sister.”

“Indeed, Mr. Allard, we arrived here under the assumption that Primrose Farm was a working farm, not a derelict,” Lucas added.

“Aye, that it was. Two hundred acres and a good piece of land, too, whenit’s drained proper-like,” Mr. Allard said. “Been a few years though.” Hescratched his bristled chin in thought. “Five or six, I’m thinking.”

Two hundred acres? And it hadn’t been worked in that long a time? Lavinia didn’t remember the solicitor mentioning its size or its condition in his letter to her. He’d been negligent in that regard, to say the least—not that Lavinia had thought to ask. But then, since it had apparently taken the solicitor time to find her father and then three more years after that to locate Lavinia after her father’s passing, she supposed the man had tired of the whole business and had simply been glad to be done with it.

“Jennings, eh?” Mr. Allard said, turning his attention deliberately from Lavinia to Lucas. “There be Jennings hereabout, family of the Viscount Thurlby. You any relation?”

“His son, actually.”

“Ah, well, ahem.” He tugged deferentially at his forelock again. “Don’t know the viscount personally, o’ course. Fine family. Well respected hereabouts.”

“Good to hear it,” Lucas replied.

“Mr. Allard,” Lavinia said, beginning to feel steadier. “What more can you tell us about Primrose Farm? Why was it left to decay in this manner? I can’t imagine an elderly woman such as my great-aunt would have managed the farm on her own. She must have had a man of business. Why would that have ended upon her death?”

“Don’t know the particulars, ma’am,” Allard said. “What I heard tell was there was a falling out between what parties was involved, if you catch my meaning. People what worked the farm needed their income, and when the old lady died, the wages stopped, so they left. Couldn’t legally work the farm and keep the profits, you know. And that was that. Sad, it was.”

Why had Lavinia thought that Primrose Farm would be an idyllic cottage with a bit a land for growing vegetables? She hadn’t even considered that the farm was more of a commercial entity than a family farm. Her education in these matters was sorely lacking.

She was a landowner with two hundred acres to her name—good heavens!—except the land had to be reclaimed and cultivated and the house restored, and the physical labor resources at her disposal included two retired thespians and a middle-aged seamstress and herself. She wasn’t afraid of work, but she could hardly undertake all this on her own.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. I’m off to see the wife,” Mr. Allard said. “Time for luncheon, and then I’m back to work. You’re welcome to come along, if you like. The missus is a good cook, and kind.”

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