A Nightingale Sang Read online

  It would save the water being carried up the long stairs from the kitchen by servants who, growing old, found it more and more difficult.

  It would save long walks down draughty corridors in the winter to the two bathrooms there were at the moment, one of which had a gas geyser that alternately refused to work at all or appeared to be in the process of blowing up.

  Suddenly, for the first time, he was genuinely glad that the Wardolfs had come to Kings Wayte.

  Although he had tried to repress it, he had still been feeling a little resentment that his house should be invaded by strangers who, however much they paid him, were still alien to the English way of life and foreigners as far as he and Aleta were concerned.

  He realised that Lucy-May was waiting for him to speak and with a smile that illuminated his face and made him look extremely handsome, he said,

  “You shall have your bathrooms, Miss Wardolf, just as quickly as I can supply them, and to celebrate I’ll race you to the end of this field!”

  *

  Aleta walked down the backstairs to the housekeeper’s room where she knew that she would find Mrs. Abbott.

  Sure enough, the old woman was sitting in a comfortable armchair, a cup of tea in her hand and her feet up on a stool in front of the fire.

  “Don’t move, Abby,” Aleta said quickly. “I want to talk to you, but you must rest whenever you have the chance.”

  “It doesn’t seem right, Miss Aleta,” Mrs. Abbott replied, “but to tell the truth, my legs kept me awake half the night, achin’ terrible they were.”

  “That’s why you must put them up when you have the chance,” Aleta said, “and do try to save yourself from going up and down the stairs. I am sure that Rose is beginning to understand what is required.”

  “They’re all doin’ their best, miss,” Mrs. Abbott replied, “but though these young girls are willin’ enough, you ‘can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear’, as my old mother used to say.”

  “They will learn,” Aleta said confidently, “and I can’t believe the young ladies in this party are half as fastidious or demanding as the ladies who were our guests in Grandpapa’s time.”

  “No, indeed, miss. And their dresses are nothin’ like the same, either. Would you believe – ”

  Mrs. Abbott lowered her voice as she added in a shocked tone,

  “ – they wear very little underneath, very little indeed!”

  Aleta smiled to herself, but aloud she said,

  “That saves extra work and I imagine from the sound of the gramophone drifting up the stairs they’re quite happy dancing.”

  “Dancin’!” Mrs. Abbott snorted. “That’s all they ever do! Dancin’ after breakfast they were this mornin’! Did you ever hear anythin’ like it? Her Ladyship would never have believed it possible! ”

  Aleta knew that the reference to ‘her Ladyship’ was not to her mother but to her grandmother, for Mrs. Abbott lived very much in the past in the days when she ruled the inside of the great house with a rod of iron and everything was done in the same way as at Woburn, Chatsworth or Knowle.

  In fact, Mrs. Abbott’s proud boast in the past had always been that the guests at Kings Wayte said that they were more comfortable there than at any other house they stayed at.

  “As long as everyone’s happy, I don’t think anything else matters,” Aleta said aloud.

  “New clothes or not,” Mrs. Abbott said sharply, “the young ladies leave their rooms lookin’ like pigsties! Things thrown about everywhere and would you believe it, miss, face powder scattered all over the dressin’ tables!”

  This had obviously shocked Mrs. Abbott even more than the lack of underclothes and Aleta said soothingly,

  “When I was in London, I found that all the girls wore face powder and lipstick.”

  Mrs. Abbott held up her hands in horror.

  “I don’t know what the world’s comin’ to, miss, that I don’t! I can tell you, a lady who used lipstick before the war was considered no better than she should be!”

  Aleta was aware that this was the final condemnation and to change the subject she said,

  “It will be exciting to have a ball here again. It will seem just like old times.”

  “That’s what I thought when I hears about it,” Mrs. Abbott said, “but I suppose you know already, miss, that they’re thinkin’ of engagin’ a black band!”

  This was obviously so horrifying that the housekeeper’s voice was hardly above a whisper.

  “They’re very popular in London,” Aleta said quickly.

  “A black band at Kings Wayte is somethin’ I never expected to see in all me born days!” Mrs. Abbott said firmly.

  This was obviously a dangerous subject and Aleta sheared off it.

  “I shall listen to the music and wish I could go to the ball myself,” she said. “And do you know, I think I shall be able to watch, although Sir Harry said I could not do so.”

  “Watch, miss? How is that possible?” Mrs. Abbott enquired.

  “Well, the band is very unlikely to sit in the Musicians’ Gallery as they did in the old days,” Aleta said. “Everything is very intimate now and bands are always on the same level as the dancers. So I shall be able to creep into the Musicians’ Gallery and see everyone dancing beneath me.”

  “Now you be careful, miss,” Mrs. Abbott said. “You don’t want anyone recognisin’ you.”

  “There are only a few people coming who would,” Aleta replied.

  She spoke a little wistfully and Mrs. Abbott said quickly,

  “When this is all over, miss, and these Americans have gone away, you and Master Harry can have some parties of your own – not a ball perhaps, but your friends in for dinner.”

  “Yes, of course,” Aleta agreed, “and that will be very exciting. Now I must leave you to have a rest. Is there anything that is wanted?”

  Mrs. Abbott, as if she had waited for this cue, went through a long recitation of how stupid several of the girls from the village had been and how she had shown them a dozen times how to turn down the beds properly and lay out the ladies’ nightgowns.

  She was also indignant because the footmen had spilt some water that they were bringing upstairs for those who had a bath in their own bedrooms.

  While the gentlemen who had stayed at Kings Wayte in the past had used the bathrooms, inadequate though they were, the ladies had always used hip-baths in front of their bedroom fires.

  In fact Aleta knew that her mother would have been horrified at the idea of walking about the corridors in her dressing gown and both she and her grandmother would have thought it an impossible idea for either of them to use a communal bath.

  Things had changed, Aleta knew, with the war, and she and her Governess had had to cope with the unpredictable geyser for the simple reason that there was no one left in the house who was capable of carrying heavy cans of hot water up the stairs.

  She was thinking that it was nice to have young housemaids and footmen to wait on them again, when she heard Mrs. Abbott say something about ‘His Grace’ and listened more attentively.

  “Fussin’, the American gentleman was, whether the Queen’s room was good enough for His Grace,” the old housekeeper was saying. “I felt like sayin’ to him, if ’twas good enough for Queen Anne, it’s good enough for any modern Duke! But there, these Americans don’t understand, do they, miss?”

  “Mr. Wardolf is very anxious that the Duke should enjoy himself,” Aleta said, “because he is to marry Miss Lucy-May.”

  “That’s what I heard,” Mrs. Abbott said, “and if you ask me, miss, it’s a pity a Nobleman like His Grace has to sell himself, so to speak, just to keep things goin’.”

  Aleta was surprised at Mrs. Abbott’s knowledge of the situation. Then she remembered that nothing could ever be kept from the servants.

  “I expect the Duke is as hard up as we are,” she said quietly.

  “I’m prayin’ that Master Harry doesn’t have to marry an American,” Mrs. Abbott
said sharply. “Their money’s all right, but if you ask me, miss, they don’t know how to behave, not like us.”

  Aleta repressed a smile and responded,

  “Their way of life is, of course, different from ours, Mrs. Abbott, but whether they are American, French or even German, they are still people.”

  “Them Germans!” Mrs. Abbott sniffed. “They’re not people, they’re beasts in human form, that’s what I thinks.”

  Aleta knew that this was her hobby horse and, rising from her chair, she said,

  “While everyone’s dancing downstairs, I’ll slip along and see that the rooms are all right, so you need not bother. Promise me you will stay here and rest and perhaps have a nap.”

  “You’re very kind, Miss Aleta,” Mrs. Abbott said, “and I does feel a bit tired.”

  “Then I’ll see to everything,” Aleta said, “and report back later.”

  She left the housekeeper’s room and went along the passage and through the green baize door that led to the main part of the house.

  Here the music from downstairs was very loud and she recognised the tune that they were playing.

  It was I’m just wild about Harry and she thought how appropriate it was to the household even though no one else realised it.

  She began to hum to herself as she walked along the corridor that led to the State bedrooms, which had been repaired and redecorated first.

  There was still a lot to be done, but nevertheless with a quick coat of paint and new curtains they looked very different from the drab, dusty and dilapidated rooms that had so horrified Harry when he returned from France.

  Aleta peeped into several to find that they had been left tidy by the housemaids and, as she had instructed, there was a vase of flowers on each dressing table.

  Then she reached the Queen’s room and, as she opened the door, it made her think of her mother.

  The King’s room where her father had slept and the Queen’s room formed a suite of their own and she had supposed that Lucy-May would occupy what was known as the Queen’s room while her father would be in the Master bedroom.

  But Mr. Wardolf had made it very clear that after his own room the Duke of Stadhampton was to have the next best and that must be the room that had been occupied by Queen Anne when she made a State Visit to Kings Wayte in 1710.

  It was a large room with a four-poster bed draped with finely embroidered curtains and with a ceiling rioting with Gods and Goddesses that had been much improved by a hasty clean.

  It was a room that Aleta had always loved and she felt as if her mother’s presence was still there, so that she found herself thinking that even the fragrance of the roses that stood on a beautifully inlaid chest of drawers was somehow redolent of her childhood.

  Whatever else in the house had been sold, Aleta had been determined that nothing should be taken from this room.

  Now her eyes went appreciatively to the French furniture with its chased gold handles, the carved gilt mirrors and the Dresden china that decorated the mantelpiece.

  ‘At least the Duke will appreciate what this room contains,’ she thought and tried to remember what she knew about his house.

  It was a familiar name, but she had never heard him spoken about either by her friends or by Harry, although they had often talked of the wonders of Chatsworth and, when she had been in London, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire had invited her Godmother and her to a dance at Devonshire House.

  Aleta had been unable to go because the day before the ball was to take place she had learned of her father’s illness and had rushed back to Kings Wayte.

  After that she had never left it again, but she sometimes regretted not seeing more of London and its great houses, which were slowly beginning to reopen after the war but, she was told, with much of their grandeur diminished or lost.

  ‘Perhaps the Duke is in the same position as we are,’ she mused.

  Then she was sure that that was the reason why he was coming to stay at Kings Wayte.

  It was to marry in order to save his house and his estate as perhaps eventually Harry might have to do, because once their rich tenants had left they would be facing the same problems that they had faced before.

  ‘Always money, money, money!’ Aleta said to herself miserably.

  With a last glance round the room she returned to the corridor and started to walk back the way she had come.

  She had just reached the landing overlooking the marble hall and was hurrying in case anyone should see her before she reached the safety of the baize door that led into the servants’ quarters when she heard a car drive up to the front door.

  Because she was curious she instinctively moved to the landing to see who it might be.

  Then, as the footman on duty went down to greet the newcomer, she heard a man’s voice say sharply,

  “I have to speak to Mr. Wardolf, and quickly! There’s been an accident!”

  Aleta stood still.

  It sprang to her mind that something had happened to Harry.

  She saw Barlow come into the hall and walk out without hurrying towards the rather tough-looking man who was just coming through the front door.

  “Did I hear you say there’s been an accident, sir?” he enquired, his voice calm and respectfully modulated.

  “Yes, you did,” the newcomer answered, “and to one of Mr. Wardolf’s guests. There be two gentlemen in the car, but was a Duke I understands, as was hurt.”

  “I very much regret to hear that,” Barlow said, “and I know that Mr. Wardolf will be deeply distressed. If you will wait a moment, sir, I’ll inform him of your arrival.”

  Aleta could see the man who had come in the car by now and realised from his clothes and his accent that he was a farmer or a countryman of some sort.

  She knew that Barlow had already sized him up and because he was not a gentleman was prepared to leave him standing in the hall while he went away in search of Mr. Wardolf.

  One of the footmen asked,

  “Was it a bad accident, sir?”

  Excited by what had occurred and only too ready to be garrulous the farmer replied,

  “Goin’ too fast, they were, but young men never do anythin’ else. They rounds the comer in Marsh Lane and would’ve collided head on with a farm wagon if the driver had not turned the car into the hedge.”

  “The hedge!” one of the footmen ejaculated.

  “That wouldn’t have mattered, except he struck a tree so that the gentleman in the passenger seat banged his head against the windscreen. You couldn’t expect anythin’ else.”

  “No, of course not,” the footman agreed. “What sort of car was it, sir?”

  “Car?” the farmer repeated scratching his head. “One of them new-fangled ones, as travels far too fast for my likin’. I knows – it were a Bentley!”

  “A Bentley!” the footman repeated obviously impressed.

  He was just about to ask some more questions when Barlow returned with Mr. Wardolf.

  “What’s this? What’s happened?” the American asked. “An accident to the Duke? How could such a thing have occurred?”

  The farmer explained the sequence of events all over again while Mr. Wardolf fired staccato questions at him.

  Then he asked,

  “Where is the Duke? What’s happened to him?”

  “They’re bringin’ him here, sir, on the hay cart. They thought it’d be too bumpy in my little bus.”

  “Quite right! Quite right!” Mr. Wardolf said. “A doctor! We need a doctor.

  “Dr. Goodwin’s on holiday, sir, but there’s a stranger taking his place until he returns.”

  “A doctor?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. I believes so.”

  “Then fetch him! Fetch him right away!”

  “I’ll do that,” the farmer said.

  But Mr. Wardolf was not listening, he was giving orders.

  “Tell the housekeeper to see that the Duke’s room is ready for him and have bandages and whatever else he’s lik
ely to require ready. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  One of the footmen came hurrying up the front stairs and Aleta met him as he turned towards the green baize door.

  “It’s all right, James,” she said. “I heard what has happened. I’ll see to everything. Just make sure that Sir Harry – I mean Mr. Dunstan – is told what has occurred as soon as he comes back from riding. You can leave a message for him in the stable yard.”

  “I’ll do that, miss.”

  Aleta slipped away hearing as she did so, Mr. Wardolf still booming out orders in the front hall.

  ‘This will upset things for him,’ she reflected.

  But she did not feel very sorry either for the American or for the Duke who was wooing his daughter.

  ‘They’ll both have to put up with trouble and difficulties like everyone else,’ she thought and hurried along the passage to tell Mrs. Abbott the news.

  *

  The Duke felt as if he was at the end of a long dark tunnel, but he could hear voices. What they were saying made no sense and it was only irritating that they should have disturbed him when obviously he had been asleep.

  Then a soft voice said,

  “It’s all right, Abby, don’t fuss. The doctor said he was unlikely to regain consciousness for at least twenty-four hours and tomorrow a nurse will be arriving from London.”

  “It’s not right that you should sit up alone with a gentleman, miss, as well you know!” an elderly voice said severely.

  There was a faint little gurgle of laughter.

  “If you are worrying about my not being chaperoned, Abby, I can assure you that I am quite safe!”

  “Your lady mother would not approve, miss, as well you know!”

  There was silence for a moment and then Aleta said,

  “I feel as I am here in Mama’s room that she will look after me very effectively. So go to bed, Abby dear, and you can take over first thing tomorrow morning before anyone is awake.”

  “I don’t like it, miss. I don’t like it at all!” Mrs. Abbott reiterated.

  “It’s only for one night,” Aleta replied patiently, “and the doctor said that someone must be with him. You know as well as I do that Ethel and Rose are too old, and the girls are all too young, so there’s only me. I shall very likely doze quietly in the chair and tomorrow when you are in charge I’ll sleep just as long as you want me to.”