Page 74 of The Gentleman's Deception

“Do you hear a magpie squawking, Lavinia?” Delia said as she entered the room, flicking a disdainful hand in Artie’s direction. “Such noisy creatures, magpies, don’t you think? They squawk and squawk, making a ruckus that drowns out the songbirds and giving people headaches with their noise.”

Oh dear. Whatever it was that had these two longtime friends pecking at each other in such a way had apparently not resolved itself yet.

Artie pulled out the chair next to Lavinia for Delia to sit in. “Let me fetch you some tea, Delia,” Artie said, being as solicitous as he could possibly be. “And then I shall fill a plate for you. A bit of toast and some eggs—”

“Noteggs, Arthur, unless they arecoddledeggs. For you knowwe eggsare best when treated delicately. We like to be coddled.”

Lavinia looked at Delia in surprise at such an ill-natured comment; she wasn’t acting like herself at all.

“Here’s a nice cup of tea, Delia, just the way you like it, with milk and sugar,” Artie said, setting the teacup in front of her. “Piping hot too.” He didn’t wait for a reply but went back to the side table to fix a plate of food for her.

“I’m tired,” Delia murmured to herself.

Lavinia wasn’t sure now if she should tell them they’d be leaving tomorrow. “I don’t understand this talk of eggs. What is going on?”

“Here you go,” Artie said too cheerily, setting a filled plate in front of Delia. “Toast and some nice grilled kidneys—no eggs of any kind, you’ll be happy to observe, and some herrings. Just the thing, eh?”

“The magpie told me I reminded him of an egg. I’m anegg, Lavinia,” Delia said, ignoring the plate in front of her.

“Now, Delia,” Artie said.

“Why an egg, Artie? Of all the things to call someone, it seems an unlikelychoice,” Lavinia said, trying to understand what was going on.

“But Ilikeeggs, you see? Coddled eggs are very fine, you know, but they need proper care. Boil an egg, you can take it with you anywhere. It’s handy food that way. Small—doesn’t take up much space. Very convenient. Add a pinch of salt—you’ve got yourself a nice enough meal. But then youmustboil them, see, if you’re to take them along with you. Can’t otherwise, else the shell will crack open, and then it’s a mess you’ve got.”

“Like coddled eggs, because they aren’t all hard inside,” Delia said. “Too much of a bother, coddled eggs are. Like me. I need coddling, apparently, or else I am a bother.”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth, Delia. You’re not a bother. I said no such thing. You were the one who pointed outcoddleandcoddle, not I. An egg is a very fine thing.”

“It’s always in the words, Arthur. It’s always in the words. The murderers inMacbethcalled Lady MacDuff’s son an egg, and then they killed the poor lad.”

“Delia, eggs can be good as well, you know, if one would only take a moment to understand theintent—”

“‘Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps,’” Delia said, ignoring Artie’s plea.

A manservant discreetly cleared his throat, and a still confused Lavinia turned her head to acknowledge him. “I was instructed to give this to you.” He handed her a folded note.

“Thank you.” She unfolded the note and read it. It was from Lucas, informing her that the meeting with his parents had been arranged and apologizing that he was unable to deliver the message in person. “The meeting is set for this afternoon. It is done, then,” she said quietly.

“Meeting?” Delia asked, turning sharply to look at Lavinia, as did Artie.

“Yes. Lucas and I decided to tell his parents the truth before it goes any further. I think it best that we pack our things, the four of us, and return to Sleaford tomorrow until Primrose Farm is ready for us next week.”

How two people could wilt in the space of an instant, Lavinia didn’t know, but Delia and Artie managed it.

“I see,” Delia said so softly Lavinia could barely hear her. She’d gone alarmingly pale at Lavinia’s words.

“We are on the move again, eh? Well, that’s what we old thespians are used to doing,” Artie said, mustering a shred of fortitude. “Delia, you must eat more than one bite of kidney, you know. We have a farm to run starting next week. Eat up; there’s a good girl.”

Delia took another small nibble and set her fork down. “Arthur, I—” she managed to say. And then she collapsed, sliding off her chair and crumpling to the floor.

---