A Nightingale Sang Page 8

  “I hope you are right,” the Duke answered him. “At the same time it will be a great responsibility.”

  “I think you’ll find it’ll be well worth your while.”

  The American knew the Duke understood that it would make him independent of any fortune brought to him by his wife.

  Mr. Wardolf was a shrewd enough businessman not to press a point he had already made, but to leave a proposition to be assimilated and he rose to his feet.

  “I have strict instructions from Lucy-May not to tire you, but think over what I have suggested. I’ve a feelin’ it’ll be very interestin’ for you and an education for my American-minded daughter.”

  He left the bedroom before his guest could speak and, when he had gone, the Duke sat looking with unseeing eyes out of the window.

  Strangely enough he was not thinking of what his American host had proposed to him, but of something very different.

  He sat almost motionless for some time before the door opened and Mrs. Abbott came in.

  “I was just wonderin’, Your Grace, how you’re feelin’,” she said. “The doctor said that you could stay up as long as you wanted, but if you’re tired I should slip back to bed.”

  “I am not tired,” the Duke replied, “not yet at any rate. If you want the truth, Mrs. Abbott, I am looking forward to tomorrow when I can go downstairs.”

  “I’m sure you are, Your Grace. No gentleman likes to be an invalid for long.”

  “That is true. Meanwhile I would be grateful if you could tell me something.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Mrs. Abbott crossed her arms over her black silk apron and stood waiting respectfully.

  She was thinking to herself that the Duke was not only a very nice-looking gentleman, but well-spoken and very pleasant to serve.

  “What I was wondering,” the Duke said slowly as if he was choosing his words, “is who looked after me the first night after the accident. I understand from the nurse who left this morning that she only arrived the following day after I had been smashed up in the car.”

  “That’s true, Your Grace.”

  “Then who was with me on the first night?”

  There was a pause as if Mrs. Abbott was thinking.

  Then she said,

  “It’s really slipped my mind, Your Grace, but I think it must have been either Rose or Ethel who was with you.”

  Her eyes shifted slightly as she spoke and the Duke knew that she was lying.

  *

  Lucy-May came down the steps and, glancing across the lake, thought that the early morning mist rising from the water made it look more attractive than at any other time.

  ‘I might swim later,’ she told herself and then looked at the two horses that were waiting for her.

  To her surprise there was a groom she had not seen before riding the second horse.

  “Where is Mr. Dunstan?” she asked.

  The groom who was holding her mount replied,

  “He sent Jem this mornin’, miss.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t rightly know, miss. He jest told Jem to ride with you.”

  “And where is Mr. Dunstan now?”

  “He be in the stables, miss.”

  Lucy-May mounted her horse, which was fidgety and ready to go, but rode not towards the Park but round the side of the house towards the stables.

  When she reached them, she saw Harry glance in her direction and then disappear into one of the stalls.

  She rode up to it and, as an elderly groom came towards her, touching his forelock respectfully, she said sharply,

  “Tell Mr. Dunstan I want to speak to him.”

  The groom walked into the stable and Lucy-May waited, tapping her boot impatiently with her riding whip.

  A few minutes later Harry came from the stable.

  “Good morning, Miss Wardolf. Is anything wrong?” he asked.

  “Why are you not ridin’ with me?”

  “I’m rather busy.”

  “I want you to come with me, as you always do.”

  “You’ll find that Jem is a good rider.”

  “I’m not interested in Jem. I want you to ride with me. In fact it’s an order!”

  As Lucy-May spoke, she saw Harry’s lips tighten and realised that she had made a mistake.

  “Please – ” she said in a very different tone of voice. “Please come with me.”

  He looked up at her and she thought that he was about to refuse. Then, as if he felt their conversation was embarrassing in front of the grooms, he said with a not particularly good grace,

  “Very well, if that is what you wish.”

  As if he had anticipated what might happen, Jem had already dismounted and Harry flung himself into the saddle. Without waiting for Lucy-May to go first he rode down the stable yard and out through the arched gate.

  She caught him up, glanced at the somewhat grim expression on his face and said nothing.

  Only as they crossed the bridge over the lake and reached the Park did she touch her horse with the riding whip and the next moment they were both galloping neck-to-neck, thundering over the soft ground, turfs flying out behind them.

  They galloped for nearly a mile, until, as they let their horses slow down a little, there was a sudden spatter of raindrops.

  Harry looked up at the sky.

  Rain clouds obscured the glimmer of the sun and it seemed obvious that they were in for a storm.

  He looked at Lucy-May, who as usual was riding bareheaded and wearing only an open-necked shirt.

  “You are going to get wet,” he said. “It may only be a scud, but there’s a hay barn at the end of the next field.”

  Lucy-May flashed him a smile and then they were off again galloping frantically through the rain, which was getting heavier every second.

  They were both breathless when they reached the old barn. It was in a somewhat dilapidated condition, but nevertheless was large and empty enough to provide shelter for both them and the horses.

  They went in through the open door, which had lost one of its hinges, bending their heads as they did so.

  Then Harry quickly dismounted and went to Lucy-May’s side to help her from the saddle, but she had slipped to the ground before he could assist her.

  He looked at her in consternation.

  “You are wet,” he said. “Here, take my coat.”

  He pulled off his tweed riding jacket as he spoke.

  As he did so, her horse wandered away, as Harry’s own mount had done, to where in a corner of the barn there was still some hay stored from the previous year.

  “I’m all right,” Lucy-May said as Harry put his coat over her shoulders.

  Then she looked up at him and their faces were very close to each other’s.

  She looked into his eyes and knew that he was about to turn away.

  Then without really thinking she put her arm round his neck and her lips were on his.

  For a moment it seemed as if Harry was frozen into immobility, before instinctively his arms went round her and for one moment he held her close and his lips possessed hers.

  Then abruptly he pushed her away, the coat he had put over her shoulders falling to the ground as he did so.

  “You had no right to do that!”

  His voice was deep and at the same time sharp as if he forced himself to speak harshly.

  “I’ve wanted to do it for a long time,” Lucy-May replied.

  “That’s why I decided we should not ride together.”

  “I had to see you, Harry.”

  “That’s an absurd remark and you know it! In future you will ride with your friends or with the grooms, but not with me.”

  Another girl might have been abashed by the firm way that Harry spoke, but Lucy-May was different.

  With one step she was close to him, looking up into his face.

  “Listen, Harry,” she said, “I want to be with you and I know you want to be with me. Why are you being difficult?”


  “I am not being difficult, but honourable,” he replied. “I am your father’s employee and I should not make clandestine assignations with his daughter behind his back!”

  Lucy-May gave a little laugh.

  “You make it sound very dashin’ and romantic! All I want is to be with you, Harry, and that we should ride together and talk together. You know as well as I do that it’s only early in the mornin’ that we can be alone.”

  “That is what we must not be,” Harry said positively. “Leave me alone and marry your Duke! I am not the sort of man who enjoys amorous intrigue with a woman who belongs to somebody else.”

  “I belong to no one but myself,” Lucy-May retorted. “As for the Duke, it was Poppa’s idea that I should marry him – not mine!”

  “Nevertheless you’ll enjoy yourself as a Duchess,” Harry said. “Think how envious all your American friends will be when you tell them you have been received at Buckingham Palace and have attended the Opening of Parliament glittering with diamonds.”

  There was no mistaking now the cynical sarcasm in his voice and again Lucy-May laughed.

  “Do you think that’s all I want of life?” she asked. “I would enjoy havin’ a ride with you far more than watchin’ a King puffin’ about in his crown.”

  Harry did not speak for a moment.

  Then he turned to look down at Lucy-May to say firmly,

  “Let’s get this straight. You have your life and I have mine.”

  “That’s not true,” Lucy-May said. “We’ve met and, however much you may deny it, Harry, we mean somethin’ to each other.”

  “If we do, it is something that has to stop immediately!” Harry snapped. “As I have said, you have your life and I have no place in it.”

  “But you have! And nothin’ you can say can alter that.”

  There was something very soft in her voice now and, as Harry looked at her and their eyes met, it seemed as though words were superfluous and their hearts were saying things that could never be expressed by their lips.

  Then suddenly, he was not certain whether Lucy-May moved first or he did, she was close in his arms and he was kissing her wildly and passionately, so that the barn swung round them both and there was nothing in the whole world but the closeness of each to the other.

  Suddenly Harry pushed her to one side.

  “Damn you!” he exclaimed. “You are making things impossible, as you well know.”

  “Why?” Lucy-May asked.

  She looked exceedingly pretty, her eyes shining with excitement, the colour in her cheeks, her lips crimson from the roughness of his kisses.

  He did not answer, but walked to the door of the barn to look out.

  “It has nearly stopped raining,” he said, “and I am taking you home. Understand this, once and for all, I am not coming out with you again, so don’t ask me.”

  Lucy-May ran across the barn towards him.

  “I’ll not listen to you! I can’t lose you – I can’t!”

  “You have to,” he said, “and, if you persist in being tiresome, I shall have to leave, which is something I have no wish to do.”

  “You mean – leave your job because of me?”

  “I mean I shall leave Kings Wayte and, if you are not careful, I shall tell your father why.”

  “Now you’re threatenin’ me,” Lucy-May retorted. “I love you Harry and you love me! What are we arguin’ about?”

  “You’re too young to know what love is,” Harry said sharply. “Besides, as you are well aware, your father has plans that will not be circumvented, whatever you may say in the matter.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong!” Lucy-May said. “Whatever Poppa may or may not say, I have no intention of marryin’ a man I have no wish to marry.”

  “At the same time you wish to be a Duchess.”

  “For God’s sake don’t keep on sayin’ that!”

  “Put on my coat! Rain or no rain, we are going back to the house.”

  “You’re orderin’ me about and I don’t like it!” Lucy-May protested. “Besides, I want to talk to you – about us.”

  “There is no question of ‘us’,” Harry said. “You are the daughter of a millionaire who has paid a very considerable sum to rent this house, the estate and the services of those who administer it. It is neither right nor proper that you should concern yourself with me in a manner that is extremely reprehensible of us both.”

  “There’s nothing reprehensible about my feelings for you,” Lucy-May replied. “I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you by the lake when you were so shocked by my bathin’ dress.”

  “You’re not to say such things!”

  “But it’s true,” Lucy-May insisted. “You can’t help love – it just happens. I thought you looked attractive ridin’ under the trees and when you came near I knew I was right and you were very attractive – so attractive I’ve been able to think of no one else since.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is true!”

  “If it is, there is nothing we can do about it.”

  “Why not?” Lucy-May asked. “However stiff-necked and pompous you are being, you know you love me.”

  Harry made a sound that was curiously like a groan.

  He looked through the open door to where in the far distance he could just see the roofs of Kings Wayte.

  “Whatever we may feel,” he said after a long pause, “we have to forget it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have no intention of deceiving your father and you know as well as I do that to do so would only make us more unhappy than we are already.”

  “Are you unhappy?” Lucy-May asked quickly.

  “I am not going to answer that question.”

  “Then I’ll answer it for you. You love me, Harry, as I love you! We belong to each other and nothin’ Poppa or any other person can say can alter that.”

  “We have to forget all this nonsense,” Harry urged her. “As I have told you, if you persist in being difficult, I shall have to leave Kings Wayte.”

  “If you go away, I shall follow you.”

  “Be sensible!” he pleaded. “Try to understand that to go on as we are will make life completely intolerable.”

  “It might make it that for you,” Lucy-May flashed, “but for me it would be wonderful! I want to see you, I want to be with you, I want you to kiss me again.”

  She moved a little nearer to him.

  As she spoke, Harry took a step sideways saying as he did so,

  “Will you behave yourself? I am trying to act like a gentleman, Lucy-May, but you are making it damned hard!”

  Lucy-May gave a little cry of delight.

  “At last you have called me by my own name!” she said. “I wondered what it would sound like on your lips. Oh, Harry, I just love your English accent!”

  “I don’t have an accent – ” Harry began.

  Then he laughed as if he could not help it.

  “Please be sensible,” he asked. “We are getting deeper and deeper into a morass that will prove disastrous unless we stop.”

  “All I want is to be with you.”

  “Which is what you can’t be,” Harry said. “Oh, my dear, you have to believe me when I tell you we are both playing with fire and that is something I cannot permit you, at any rate, to do.”

  “Why not – if I want to?”

  “Because I’m older than you, because I can see the danger, because, if you like, I am too fond of you to want you to suffer.”

  “What you are really saying is that you love me.”

  “I have not said it.”

  “But that is what you feel.”

  Harry gave a sigh.

  “You are making things very difficult.”

  “I want to make them difficult, if I can have my own way.”

  “That is something I don’t intend you to have and incidentally I dislike bossy authoritative women.”

  “Then I’ll be soft, clinging
and feminine, if only you’ll love me.”

  Harry laughed again somewhat reluctantly.

  Then he said,

  “I don’t know what to do with you. I have never met anyone like you and I suppose I’m bewildered and bewitched. That’s why I have to be strong enough for both of us.”

  “Strong about what?”

  “About our future behaviour. It is extremely regrettable that things have gone as far as they have. We will be more circumspect in the future.”

  “Are you sayin’ again in rather grand words that you won’t see me again?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Then I refuse to have you dictate to me. I shall be bossy, authoritative, overbearin’, if you like, but I’m goin’ to see you, Harry, because I can’t bear not to.”

  To her surprise Harry put his hands on her shoulders, holding her firm as he said,

  “Now listen to me! I was born a gentleman and I have every intention of trying to behave like one. Whatever you may say, however much you may tempt me, I refuse to be alone with you again. I swear that if you persist in doing what you have done this morning, then I shall leave Kings Wayte and I shall arrange for another man to take my place.”

  There was something in the forceful way he spoke that made Lucy-May realise he was in earnest and she gave a cry of despair.

  “Oh, Harry, no!” she said. “I can’t bear it! I can’t lose you!”

  She held out her arms and, before he could prevent her, she had put them round his neck and was pressing herself against him.

  “I love you, Harry! I love you! I know now that you mean more to me than I ever dreamt you could.”

  She lifted her face to his, trying to pull his head down to hers as she did so, but Harry resisted her.

  He unclasped her hands from behind his neck.

  “It’s no use, Lucy-May,” he said and now his voice was sad. “In other circumstances perhaps we might have found a wonderful happiness together but, because you are you and I am me, it is impossible.”

  He looked at her for a long moment and then he lifted her hand and touched it with his lips.

  “This is goodbye, my sweet,” he said, “and you must accept the inevitable.”

  “I can’t – I won’t!” Lucy-May began.

  But Harry had turned away from her and walked to the end of the barn to bring back the horses.