A Nightingale Sang

by Barbara Cartland

The footman glanced around desperately as if he thought that help would come from some other quarter.

  There was no other person in the hall except another footman and after a moment he capitulated.

  “I’ll show you the way, sir.”

  “You had better do so, if you value your job,” Mr. Wardolf said grimly.

  They walked up the stairway and went through the baize door and up the next two flights of stairs.

  It said something for the amount of exercise that Mr. Wardolf always took out riding and when he had the chance in a gymnasium that he was not breathless when they reached the third floor.

  As he stepped onto the landing, the footman said in a voice that showed he was frightened,

  “That be Mr. Dunstan’s room, sir.”

  He pointed to the door and then scuttled down the staircase.

  Mr. Wardolf did not waste time in thinking that the servant was behaving in a very strange manner, he merely walked up to the door and opened it.

  It was quite a pleasant room that obviously had once belonged to a child, for there were pictures of gnomes and fairies on the walls.

  The man he knew as Dunstan was packing a leather trunk, while sitting on the bed watching him and Mr. Wardolf thought arguing with him, was one of the loveliest young women he had ever seen in his life.

  As he entered the room it seemed as if the two young people were suddenly frozen into immobility as they looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

  Mr. Wardolf spoke first.

  “I sent a message askin’ to see you, Dunstan.”

  “I received it, sir, but I regret to say that I am leaving. I have business to attend to in London.”

  Mr. Wardolf was obviously not troubling to listen, his eyes were on Aleta.

  “Who is this?” he asked. “Your wife?”

  He saw the expression in Aleta’s large eyes and Harry replied sharply,

  “She is my sister!”

  “And you are both livin’ here in the house I rent? I had the idea that you were stayin’ somewhere on the estate.”

  “We run the house for you,” Harry replied, “but one of the conditions, although you may not be aware of it, was that you should retain my services as manager. As it happens, because I own the house, it was a very satisfactory arrangement from my point of view.”

  “You own the house?” Mr. Wardolf questioned.

  “Yes, but it might have been embarrassing for you to have known that, so I changed my name which is in fact Wayte.”

  “You mean – you are Sir Harry Wayte?”

  “Yes. And this is my sister, Aleta!”

  For a moment Mr. Wardolf was nonplussed. Then his business acumen came to the rescue and he said,

  “I can understand your motives for this deception, but it’s on a different matter altogether that I wish to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing to be said,” Harry replied sharply.

  “I think there is,” Mr. Wardolf retorted.

  He looked towards Aleta.

  “I wonder if you’d be kind enough to leave me alone with your brother?”

  “Yes – of course.”

  Aleta had seemed almost mesmerised by Mr. Wardolf’s sudden appearance, but now she rose swiftly to her feet and moved towards the door on the other side of the room.

  Before she reached it, she paused.

  “You’ll not go without telling me, Harry?”

  “No, of course not,” her brother replied.

  Mr. Wardolf waited until she had disappeared and then he said,

  “Now listen, Dun – I mean Wayte. You’ve made my daughter extremely unhappy.”

  “I can only express my regret both to you and Miss Wardolf,” Harry said in a cold voice.

  Mr. Wardolf sat down on the bed that Aleta had just vacated.

  “You’ll understand that I’m a little bewildered at the turn of events,” he said, “firstly that my daughter should be almost suicidal.”

  He saw Harry stiffen and there was an expression of concern in his eyes, before he went on,

  “Secondly, that I should find you are not, as I’d thought, the manager of this magnificent house, but its owner. Why did you rent it to me?”

  “I should have thought that was obvious,” Harry replied. “I have no money, none at all, and I either had to watch my home crumble into ruins or try to do something about it. Your offer to rent it for a year at a very generous sum came at exactly the right moment.”

  “Now I understand a lot of things that have puzzled me before,” Mr. Wardolf said. “But let’s get back to the problem of Lucy-May.”

  “You can understand that is something I have no wish to discuss,” Harry said. “And I am doing the only thing possible by leaving Kings Wayte.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You have some sort of employment in mind?”

  “No, but I’ll send for my sister later.”

  “You seem to have thought of yourself and your family, if that is what you can call your sister, but what about my daughter?”

  “What about her?” Harry asked in an uncompromising voice. “I imagine, sir, that she’s your problem.”

  “On the contrary,” Mr. Wardolf said. “You have brought her to a state of unhappiness that I’ve never seen before and that’s something I can’t allow.”

  “I’ve no wish to make her unhappy,” Harry said in a low voice, “it’s just something that happened. So I am now doing what I believe to be the right thing in going away.”

  “It just might look as if you’re runnin’ away,” Mr. Wardolf commented.

  “What else can I do?” Harry asked.

  For the first time there was something young and rather lost in his voice.

  “Perhaps we could discuss it with Lucy-May,” Mr. Wardolf suggested.

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “She told me that she asked you to marry her.”

  “She doesn’t understand.”

  “What doesn’t she understand?”

  “That it would be impossible for me, whether as Dunstan or as myself, to contemplate life with anyone like your daughter.”

  “Is that meant to be an insult?” Mr. Wardolf enquired.

  “No, of course not! “ Harry said quickly. “I thought I had made it quite plain – the reason why I wish to leave the house is that I have no money at all – none! I have sold a great deal of the contents to meet my father’s Death Duties and now, unless I am to let the place fall down and fail to keep up the wages of the old servants who could never find another job and pay the pensioners until they die, I shall have to sell the rest of the contents bit by bit.”

  “It seems rather a pity,” Mr. Wardolf remarked.

  “Of course, it’s a pity,” Harry replied savagely, “but that’s what war does. It bankrupts not only the conquered but also the conqueror. There is nothing one can do about it except try to survive.”

  “Have you told Lucy-May who you are?”

  “No. What would be the point? She thinks I am in your employment. But it does not really matter who I am, the position is just the same.”

  “On the contrary, I think there’s a great deal of difference between being somebody unknown called Dunstan and Sir Harry Wayte, who, if I’m not mistaken, is the eleventh Baronet.”

  “And, I expect, the last,” Harry answered bitterly. “As I have said before, I shall never be able to afford to have a son to inherit.”

  There was silence and then Mr. Wardolf said quietly,

  “Lucy-May tells me that she wished to marry you.”

  He saw by the expression on Harry’s face that he was astonished that she should have mentioned it.

  Then he replied,

  “I have already told your daughter that it is an impossible idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because whoever I am, I have some pride. I would not marry a woman for her money or be beholden to my wife for every penny I spend.”
/>
  “Very commendable!” Mr. Wardolf remarked, “but it doesn’t make Lucy-May any happier.”

  “I hate to make her unhappy,” Harry said, “but one day she’ll thank me. Besides I understood she is to marry the Duke.”

  “She has just informed me that he is the last person in the world she would marry and, if you don’t marry her, she’ll remain unmarried until she dies.”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  “She had also asked me,” Mr. Wardolf went on, as though Harry had not spoken, “to cut her off without a cent!”

  The room seemed suddenly very quiet and Harry looked at Mr. Wardolf as if he felt he had not heard him correctly.

  “Is that – something you would do?” he asked, after a moment.

  “I’d do anythin’,” Mr. Wardolf replied, “if it would make my daughter the happy laughin’ girl she was before she fell in love with you!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lucy-May was standing gazing out of the window in the Queen’s anteroom.

  The gardens were beautiful in the sunshine, but she could see only darkness and despair.

  She turned round quickly as the door opened and her father saw that, although she had washed her eyes, her expression was still woebegone.

  Then, as she saw who was standing behind him, her face was transformed by a light that seemed to radiate from her whole being.

  “Harry!”

  She barely breathed the word between her lips.

  Mr. Wardolf came into the room and walked towards his daughter, but he realised as he reached her that she was looking at Harry as if he was a being from another planet and there was no mistaking the adoration in her eyes.

  “I’ve brought Sir Harry Wayte with me,” Mr. Wardolf said slowly, “so that we can have a talk.”

  He saw Lucy-May’s astonishment and said with a wry smile,

  “This, my dear, is the owner of Kings Wayte and a rather more important person than we thought him to be.”

  “It doesn’t – matter who he – is,” Lucy-May answered in a voice he could hardly hear, “as long as he – doesn’t leave.”

  “I don’t think he’ll do that,” Mr. Wardolf said dryly, “and I have a proposition to put to both of you.”

  His daughter looked at him apprehensively and he continued,

  “Suppose you both sit down while you listen to me?”

  As it they were only too glad to obey his command, Lucy-May and Harry sat on the chairs nearest to them.

  They were not close to each other, but their eyes said things that only they could understand and Mr. Wardolf had the impression that it would be difficult for him to hold their attention.

  “I had intended,” he said in a louder voice, “to make a suggestion to Dunstan, as I believed him to be, that I thought he would find interestin’, but which I hope will still commend itself in somewhat different circumstances.”

  Harry turned his face towards Mr. Wardolf, but Lucy-May continued to gaze at Harry.

  “I was very impressed,” Mr. Wardolf went on, “by your choice of the horses you bought for me, by the expertise you have shown in managin’ them and, of course, in the way you ride.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Harry said quietly.

  “I realised the horses that you had bought for my stable here were exactly what I require for my ranches in America, not only to ride but to breed from.”

  He paused before continuing more slowly,

  “I think that you would find it a profitable occupation to select the sort of animals I need and also to acquire breedin’ mares and arrange for them to be sired by the best bloodstock in the country.”

  He saw a sudden excitement in Harry’s expression as he went on,

  “I have many friends and acquaintances who would also like to buy horses whose pedigree and performance would be beyond question.”

  Mr. Wardolf smiled.

  “I was going to offer a very large retainin’ fee for your services, but I think in the present circumstances we might go into partnership. I will finance the enterprise and you on your part will buy, train and supervise our operations. You could also provide a perfect headquarters for the whole business at Kings Wayte.”

  It seemed, as he finished speaking, that he had captured not only Harry’s full attention but also Lucy-May’s.

  She gave a little cry and exclaimed,

  “Oh, Poppa! Do you mean that? It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever ever heard!”

  Mr. Wardolf was still looking at Harry as he went on,

  “I imagine from what you’ll make from this arrangement, Wayte, you’ll be able to keep a wife with just a small dress allowance in comparative comfort.”

  Lucy-May drew in her breath.

  Now she was gazing again at Harry. There was an expression of undeniable pleading in her eyes and her hands were clasped together until the knuckles showed white.

  There was silence for a moment, a silence which to Lucy-May seemed to last a century of agonising suspense.

  Then Harry said as if he found his voice with difficulty,

  “Do you really – mean that, sir?”

  “I am not in the habit of sayin’ things I don’t mean,” Mr. Wardolf replied, “and while I want my daughter’s happiness, I don’t think it would do her any harm to learn the value of money and to understand what it means when her husband holds the purse-strings.”

  His words released the tension in Lucy-May and she sprang to her feet.

  Then it seemed as if her voice was almost strangled in her throat as she said,

  “Oh – Harry – please – Harry – ”

  She was pleading with him in a manner that her father thought any young man would find irresistible and he was not surprised when Harry turned to her with a smile that swept away the last vestige of the darkness that had been in his face when Mr. Wardolf had found him packing.

  The two of them stood looking at each other for what seemed a long moment.

  Then Harry asked a little unsteadily,

  “Will you – marry me – Lucy-May? I’ll do my best to make you happy.”

  She made a sound that was one of sheer happiness, then she ran towards him and, as she hid her face against his shoulder, his arms went round her.

  It seemed as if they had both forgotten Mr. Wardolf’s very existence until Harry said in a voice that was curiously hoarse,

  “I don’t know how to thank you, sir.”

  “You can do that later,” Mr. Wardolf replied, “but I guess right now you and Lucy-May have a lot to say to each other.”

  He walked across the room as he spoke and knew as he stepped out into the passage and closed the door behind him that the couple he had left behind him had forgotten everything but themselves.

  It was impossible not to feel a twinge of jealousy, for Lucy-May had been whole-heartedly his for the last four years since her mother had died.

  Yet he told himself philosophically that doubtless there would be compensations in his grandchildren, who would not only take up a large part of his personal life but also become a part of his vast Empire.

  As he walked along the corridor and down the staircase, he was already planning what further improvements he could make to Kings Wayte.

  One thing that was very important was to buy back the pictures and furniture that Harry had admitted to selling and which must be restored to the place where they belonged.

  Thinking of how this could be accomplished inevitably brought the Duke to his mind.

  Tybalt would know how to approach the sales rooms and find out who the purchasers had been of the pictures that had been sold. Unless they had been acquired by some Art Gallery there should be no difficulty if one was prepared to pay handsomely in buying them back.

  He remembered suddenly that the Duke had to be told that he had lost Lucy-May and her fortune, which undoubtedly would have been of great advantage to him.

  ‘It’s his own fault,’ Mr. Wardolf thought, as if he wished to fin
d excuses for his daughter’s behaviour. ‘He should have been a bit quicker off the mark in makin’ her a proper proposal and, more important, in makin’ sure that she fell in love with him.’

  As he walked across the hall, he was regretting that Lucy-May would not hold the rank of Duchess that he had envisaged for her.

  At the same time with the facility of a shrewd and clever businessman in cutting his losses without unnecessary regrets, Mr. Wardolf told himself that he had in fact acquired a son-in-law of whom he could be proud and who undoubtedly possessed one of the finest houses he had ever seen in his life.

  That still left the Duke to contend with and, as he opened the library door, Mr. Wardolf was hoping that Tybalt Stadhampton, for whom he had a genuine liking, would not feel that he had been betrayed.

  Just as Lucy-May had been staring out of the window when he had entered the Queen’s anteroom, so the Duke was doing the same.

  The library overlooked the smooth green lawns that swept down to the lake and the Duke was thinking that Aleta was as lovely as the iris growing golden beside the water and the shafts of sunlight as they percolated through the thick leaves of the oak trees in the Park and looked in the distance like nymphs or immortals from another world.

  He heard the library door open and stiffened as if he braced himself for something unpleasant.

  Then, as Mr. Wardolf came to his side, he said,

  “I have something to tell you, which I am afraid you will not be pleased to hear.”

  The Duke hesitated over his choice of words and Mr. Wardolf looked at him in surprise.

  He knew that he had just been about to say exactly the same thing, but he repressed the words that were already on his lips and said instead,

  “I’m listenin’, Tybalt.”

  “It is, quite briefly,” the Duke said, “that, while I deeply appreciate that you have made it obvious you would welcome me as a son-in-law, I find myself unable to propose marriage to Lucy-May.”

  He spoke quietly and there was a dignity about him that Mr. Wardolf respected.

  There was a little pause before he asked,

  “Are you prepared to give me a reason for what appears, although I may be mistaken, to be a change of heart?”

  The Duke looked greatly embarrassed.

  “I will be honest,” he replied, “and say I had thought that such an arrangement might work out, but now I know it is impossible.”