A Nightingale Sang Read online

  ‘That would be very satisfactory for you, sir,’ I replied.”

  As he repeated the conversation to Aleta, she laughed.

  “Did he really talk in that pompous manner? He must be really impressed by the Duke.”

  “He is,” Harry agreed. “So I don’t even have a chance of entering for that competition.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “I haven’t seen her yet. I expect she’s like all American girls. Hearty, rather brash and longing to see herself in a coronet. Dukes are a very desirable commodity at the moment in the eyes of Americans, the English taking precedence over the French.”

  Aleta laughed again.

  “You make it sound as if they are something in a shop window.”

  “That’s exactly what they are,” Harry said, “and they price themselves accordingly. I was told the other day what the Vanderbilts settled on their daughter, who married the Duke of Marlborough. I have forgotten exactly how much, but it was something astronomical!”

  Aleta made a little grimace.

  “I think it’s degrading selling your title – and selling yourself for one.”

  “Well, it’s something which will not happen to me or you, Aleta,” Harry asserted, “and if you want the truth I have no desire, poor though I am, to have a rich wife who would keep reminding me that it was her money whenever I bought something I wanted.”

  “I certainly cannot imagine that happening to you,” Aleta said. “At the same time, for her sake, I hope whoever you marry has enough to buy herself a few dresses.”

  “That would be different,” Harry said loftily. “It’s a good thing for a woman to have her own pin money. But anything more would make me feel humiliated, which is something I have no intention of feeling.”

  “No, of course not,” Aleta agreed, “but I am certain of one thing, Harry, any woman you love will love you for yourself. You are the nicest man I have ever met in my life.”

  She kissed her brother on the cheek as she spoke and he moved away in a rather embarrassed manner.

  “I had better go downstairs,” he said, “and see that everything is all right, although I am sure that Barlow is coping admirably.”

  “I am sure he is,” Aleta said, “and so will Mrs. Abbott. I shall go along to her room a little later to hear all the gossip. She will be able to tell me what Lucy-May is really like. Mrs. Abbott is a good judge of women.”

  “As Barlow is of men,” Harry returned. “He keeps telling me what a ‘perfect gentleman’ grandfather was and I have a feeling he does not think of me that way.”

  Aleta laughed and Harry was thinking of her laughter as he rode his horse a little slower.

  She had been wonderful over everything, he told himself and, if she had not co-operated, he would not at this moment be riding one of the finest mounts he had had for years, a horse he would give his back teeth to own himself.

  He rode slower still because he did not wish to get back to the stables where he was certain that there would be a host of problems waiting for his attention.

  Because he was posing as the manager, he had taken over the estate office which was on the ground floor of the house in the East wing and which had not been used since his grandfather’s time.

  His father had pensioned off the old agent and never replaced him, although he kept talking of doing so. Then had come the war and there had been no money for one and in fact little for him to do.

  But the office was there with its huge filing boxes, maps of the estate and a very impressive desk.

  “At least I shall look as though I am working,” Harry said when he had seen it and then found that there was no need for pretence. He had to work and work hard.

  ‘This is rather fun,’ he thought to himself. ‘Better than sitting being miserable and wondering where the next crust of bread is coming from.’

  He looked across at the house as Aleta had done and thought that any sacrifice was worth it, if they could keep Kings Wayte in the family and belong to it, as it belonged to them.

  ‘This has been a real stroke of luck,’ he thought.

  His eyes travelled from the house down to the gardens where the lawns, which had been like a hayfield a short while ago, were now regaining some of their clipped velvet softness that had been characteristic of the garden in the past.

  The irises round the lake needed cutting back, Harry noted, although they were picturesque, as were the kingcups reflected golden in the water.

  Then he saw something swimming in the centre of the lake and thought that it must be an otter. It was years since he had seen one and he turned his horse down towards the water.

  As he did so he realised that it was not an otter, but someone swimming.

  He looked with surprise and then as he reached the bank and sat watching, the head of the swimmer was raised and he saw to his astonishment that it was a woman.

  She saw him, smiled and with a few quick strokes came to the edge of the water near him.

  “Hi!” she said. “Who are you?”

  As she spoke, she stood up and began to walk the last few steps towards the bank.

  To Harry’s astonishment she was wearing a black bathing suit without a skirt which he thought was extremely becoming, at the same time, very revealing. In fact he was a little shocked.

  The woman climbed up the grass at his horse’s feet and pulled a tight black bathing cap from her head.

  Her bobbed hair was curly and dark red, the colour, Harry thought, that the Venetian painters had used in innumerable paintings.

  She looked up at him and realised that he was staring at her in a bemused fashion.

  “I asked you who you were?” she said. “I’m Lucy-May Wardolf, if you’re interested.”

  With difficulty Harry found his voice.

  “Good morning, Miss Wardolf. I am the manager for the estate – Harry Dunstan.”

  As he spoke, he dismounted and quite unperturbed that she was dripping wet and her black bathing dress was clinging to her, revealing every curve of her very attractive figure, Miss Wardolf held out her hand.

  “Glad to meet you,” she said. “Poppa told me there was a manager who was lookin’ after things in what he thought was an efficient manner. That’s high praise from my father!”

  “I am very gratified,” Harry said. “Do you always swim in this way?”

  “I’ve used more conventional pools,” Lucy-May replied, “but they were certainly not as pretty as this one.”

  Harry smiled.

  “It’s a long time since I’ve seen anyone swimming here, not since I did myself as a small boy.”

  He thought as he spoke that perhaps he had been indiscreet, but Lucy-May did not appear to notice.

  “Then you’d better join me one day,” she said. “I suggested to some of my guests that they might like to swim, but the English girls were horrified at the idea!”

  Harry was not surprised and he asked,

  “You must find it rather cold?”

  “No, it’s fine,” Lucy-May answered. “But my towel’s on the other side so I’ll have to swim back to get it.”

  She glanced across the lake and then said,

  “I want a ride later this mornin’ and I’ll want a decent horse.”

  “I’ll see that one is at the front door at whatever time you say,” Harry answered. “Will someone be escorting you?”

  “I expect so or you can join me, if you like. I can see you’re a fine rider.”

  “Thank you,” Harry said.

  “No – I mean that. I saw you comin’ through the Park and thought that you were ridin’ differently from a lot of men who prance up and down the Rotten Road or whatever that place in Hyde Park is called.”

  “Rotten Row!” Harry corrected.

  “Well, they’re not what I call horsemen,” Lucy-May said, “and I don’t think they’d fit in at Poppa’s ranch.”

  “Your father has a ranch?”

  “Several,” Lucy-May said. “The o
ne I like goin’ to best is where we’ve got the best horses. Give me somethin’ spirited this mornin’. I don’t want to kick an old mule along.”

  She smiled at him and without saying any more she pulled on her bathing cap and threw herself back into the water.

  She swam overarm in a way that Harry had never seen a woman swim before.

  Then he thought perhaps by staring at her he was being impertinent and he rode away feeling somewhat bewildered and equally rather intrigued.

  Lucy-May Wardolf was very different from what he had expected!

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mr. Wardolf looked with satisfaction at his daughter, Lucy-May, as she came into the room.

  She was wearing fringed suede Mexican chaps like those she wore on his ranch in California and a green shirt that accentuated the red of her hair and black boots with large gold spurs.

  He thought, as he had so often before, that he was lucky to have a daughter who not only had a great deal of his vitality and ‘go’ in her but was also extremely pretty.

  “I presume you’re goin’ ridin’?” he asked.

  “Yes, Pop, why don’t you come with me?”

  “I’m too busy getting’ to know this house,” he replied. “At the moment it seems rather like a maze and I keep losin’ myself in uncharted corridors.”

  Lucy-May laughed.

  “What you’re really thinkin’ is that you’d like to show it to some of our friends back home and see them go green with envy.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” her father replied.

  “Well, I’m goin’ to explore outside and I hope that your manager, or whatever he calls himself, has found me a horse worth ridin’.”

  “There should be one. I paid enough for ’em.”

  “He rides well himself, so he ought to be a good judge,” Lucy-May said reflectively as if she spoke to herself.

  “Now you leave young Dunstan alone,” her father admonished, “and concentrate on the Duke. Has he come up to scratch?”

  “If you mean by that, has he asked me in so many words to marry him,” Lucy-May replied, “the answer is ‘no’. But, from the way you briefed him, I imagine the whole thing is a foregone conclusion.”

  She thought as she spoke that her father seemed to relax and there was a smile on his face as he said,

  “I want to see you a Duchess. It means a lot over here and a great deal more in New York.”

  “I fancy the strawberry leaves will become me,” Lucy-May said. “At the same time, I’ve got to live with the Duke – not you.”

  “Hampton’s a very decent fellow and far more intelligent that the average young Englishman I’ve met.”

  “Don’t forget his name is Stadhampton now,” Lucy-May said. “I suppose the servants know that they should call him ‘Your Grace’?”

  “Are you tellin’ me that I have to instruct the English on how to address their own aristocrats?” Mr. Wardolf asked in a querulous tone. “I told Dunstan to see he was treated right and I’ll raise hell if he ain’t!”

  “Now, Pop, don’t work yourself up,” Lucy-May said soothingly. “Tybalt Stadhampton is no different from what he was when you picked him up at a party in New York and gave him a job for which he was sincerely grateful.”

  “So he ought to be! It’s not every man, especially an Englishman, that I’d trust in my business,” Mr. Wardolf said almost truculently.

  “It paid dividends on this occasion,” Lucy-May smiled, “and if he’s not impressed by Kings Wayte, he ought to be! Personally, I think it’s the most fascinatin’ house I’ve ever seen!”

  “We’ve got that fellow Cosgrove to thank for that,” her father replied, “and a pretty penny it cost me!”

  “And worth every cent of it,” Lucy-May said lightly, “Well, if you won’t join me, I’ll have to go on my own.”

  “I suppose someone is goin’ with you?” her father asked sharply.

  “Your Mr. Dunstan is,” Lucy-May said over her shoulder.

  She was halfway out of the door when her father shouted,

  “What’s happened to all your friends?”

  “They’re dancin’,” Lucy-May replied.

  As it happened, Harry asked the same thing as soon as their two horses, which had pranced skittishly around before they could start off, allowed them to speak.

  “I should have thought that your friends would have wished to accompany you,” he said.

  He spoke almost absent-mindedly, for his eyes were on Lucy-May’s slim figure, thinking that he had never seen such an extraordinary riding get-up before, but had to admit it was exceptionally becoming.

  The green open-neck blouse revealed her white skin and she wore no hat, but what really astounded him, more than her one-piece bathing dress had, was that she rode astride.

  When Harry had left England in the war, the only women he had seen wearing trousers of any sort were girls in the munitions factories who, as a concession to feminine modesty, wore long coats of the same material over them and frilled caps to protect their hair.

  He had never imagined that he would escort a lady who rode astride, but he had to admit that Lucy-May rode exceptionally well and his apprehension that the horse he had chosen for her might be too much for her to hold was groundless.

  They galloped to take some of the freshness out of their mounts and now they slowed to an easier pace moving side by side.

  “Was this your choice?” Lucy-May asked and he knew that she was referring to her horse.

  “It was,” he replied briefly.

  “Then I congratulate you on a good buy, whatever the actual cost.”

  “I hoped you would say that and there are several others in the stables that are just as good.”

  “Then I shall certainly enjoy myself at Kings Wayte!”

  “Didn’t you expect to?”

  “I wasn’t certain. I’ve always been told how stuffy and conventional the British are.”

  “We changed quite considerably during the war and you will find, as your father’s daughter, that people will be quite prepared to accept you as you are.”

  He spoke dryly, resenting for a moment the fact that any young woman should be so rich and so sure of herself.

  With a perception that he had not expected, Lucy-May knew what he was thinking.

  “Stop being envious!” she said sharply. “If we Americans can’t have blue blood and centuries of history, we have to have somethin’ – that’s only fair!”

  Because she had read his thoughts, Harry felt rather embarrassed.

  Then he said,

  “I am not really envious of you. It’s just that the whole structure of the world at the moment is a little unbalanced and I find it hard to be complacent at having to hold out the ‘begging bowl’.”

  “Is that what you’re doin’?” Lucy-May asked. “Well, I refuse to be sorry for you at the moment when what you should really be sayin’ is that you’re enjoyin’ yourself ridin’ with me in these very pleasant surroundings.”

  Harry threw back his head and laughed.

  “Do you always instruct your young men on how to pay you compliments?” he asked.

  “Certainly, when they are as slow as you are!”

  He laughed again.

  “What do you want me to say considering that you have shocked me twice today and I am not certain that this is not the third time?”

  “Shocked you?”

  Lucy-May looked at him in surprise from under her long dark eyelashes.

  “I know what you are referring to,” she said suddenly, “My bathing dress, my riding clothes and now, of course, my frankness.”

  She saw by Harry’s expression that her guess was right and she gave a little chuckle.

  “Remind me when we meet in the evening to simper behind my fan.”

  “You’re quite safe,” he replied. “That’s one time we won’t meet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m in charge of the estate. The outside worke
rs don’t come inside and vice versa.”

  “English rules?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then we shall have to see if we can break them. I presume it can be done?”

  “That is something you’ll never know.”

  “Are you prepared to bet on that?”

  “No. I am merely stating a fact. You must learn, Miss Wardolf, that in England the classes keep their place.”

  “And what class are you?”

  “I am, to all intents and purposes your father’s employee since I manage this estate, of which he is the tenant, on behalf of its owner.”

  “Who is its owner?”

  “A gentleman by the name of Sir Harry Wayte.”

  “Will I get to meet him?”

  “It’s very unlikely.”

  “I think I’d like to meet him. He must know he’s fortunate to own such a magnificent house.”

  “Which he cannot afford!”

  “So that’s why he has to let it?”

  “Exactly!”

  “I must say that there are quite a lot of things that want doing to it, the chief amongst them being the installation of some bathrooms. The English must be a very dirty race.”

  “Perhaps the Americans are over-clean!” Harry flashed. “Extensive washing can be attributed to a desire to ease a guilty conscience.”

  “Now you are either teasing me or being impertinent,” Lucy-May said, “and let me inform you, Mr. Dunstan, that my conscience is pleasantly relaxed and has no inhibitions of any sort.”

  “How many extra bathrooms do you want?” Harry enquired.

  “I should think about a dozen would do to start with,” Lucy-May replied.

  “You are joking!”

  “No. As a matter of fact I was discussin’ it with Poppa this morning’ and he’ll be givin’ you orders to get them installed right away.”

  For a moment Harry was speechless.

  He wanted to say that such an idea was ridiculous and unnecessary, considering that they had only taken the house for a year.

  Then it suddenly struck him that Cosgrove had been right in saying the extra benefits from letting the house would be just as important as the rent, astronomical as it was.

  He began to see what a tremendous advantage it would be to have the right plumbing installed all over Kings Wayte, new bathrooms and, he thought, basins in the powder rooms that were attached to many of the State bedrooms.