She realised that she was right in thinking that the income she received from her present capital would merely be a drop in the ocean.
A veritable fortune was required to restore the house to what it had been originally.
Of course, the money was there as her mother’s fortune was enormous and to restore the house, the garden and the estate would not noticeably deplete what would be hers on her father’s death.
On the first floor they went from State room to State room.
The huge four-posters, canopied beds with curtains falling from a gold corona, must have at one time been very lovely.
Now it was difficult to appreciate them, as everything was so shabby.
There were panes of glass missing in the windows and in some rooms the curtains were in tatters.
And of course there was dust everywhere.
It would have been impossible, as Safina knew, for the old couple to cope. As the only servants the Duke had left, they could only try to cook him what food was available.
Banks was over seventy-five and his wife was only a year or two younger and Safina gathered that they had seldom gone farther than from the kitchen to the dining room and the hall.
The rest of the house would just had to look after itself.
‘At least,’ she thought to herself, ‘I can pay for several younger servants.’
And it was obviously essential to have someone to assist Mrs. Banks in the kitchen.
Safina was thinking that she must buy food not only for the Duke and herself, but also for the two servants.
When they had finished what was only a quick inspection of the house, the Duke took Safina to the stables.
It was equally painful to see how the roof had fallen in in several places and the stalls, which had once been spacious and worthy of fine horseflesh, were filled with dirty straw and manure.
The Duke had two horses, both of which were pretty old and Safina saw at once that they were both in need of grooming.
“I used to have a boy from the village to help me,” the Duke admitted as if she had asked the question, “but he found a better paid job, and who should blame him?”
They walked from the stables back into the courtyard in front of the house.
Safina looked at the long drive up that she had driven down the previous day.
The trees on each side of it were old but, she thought, they at least, because they were oaks, seemed to be flourishing.
There was a lake directly below the house and she could see that there were several ducks on it.
“There used to be swans,” the Duke told her as he followed the direction of her eyes, “but they flew away because they were hungry. The ducks, as you can well imagine, are a benefit that I am extremely grateful for.”
“You are not shooting at the moment?” Safina asked quickly.
She realised before she spoke that several of the ducks had small ducklings swimming behind them.
“No, of course not,” he replied, “and we will certainly need the new additions later on in the year.”
“If nothing else, the money I have will provide us with good food,” Safina said, “and I was also thinking that it would pay for some more servants.”
The Duke looked angry.
She knew without his saying so that he was furious that he could not provide these things himself.
“If you are going to be proud,” she said without thinking, “it will make things more difficult than they are already.”
“‘Difficult’ is not the right word,” he retorted. “‘Intolerable is better!”
Feeling as if he had snubbed her, she did not reply but only walked down over what had once been a lawn towards the lake.
When she reached it, the Duke joined her and she could feel the anger and frustration pouring out of him.
To change the subject, she quizzed him,
“I can see that your lake is very deep. Do you ever swim here?”
“Yes, often,” the Duke answered, “and it’s certainly easier than trying to have a bath in the house!”
Again his voice seemed raw and Safina said,
“You are lucky. I have always wanted to swim but Mama thought that it would be immodest at Wick Park since there were always so many people about. Of course the nuns in Florence would have been completely shocked at the idea.”
“Well, you will have to learn to swim here,” the Duke said, “or go without a bath!”
He turned away from the lake as he spoke and Safina stood looking at the ducks, seeing that there were more of them than she had seen from the courtyard.
She was also thinking the irises and kingcups growing thickly at the bottom of the high banks were beautiful.
Then she was aware that the Duke was walking back towards the house and turned to follow him.
Things certainly were in a terrible state, but at the same time she thought that he was making the very worst of it.
They had almost reached the garden when she saw a large oak tree. It was growing beside what had once been, she thought, a bowling alley.
The tree seemed somewhat incongruous amongst weed-filled flowerbeds and what she recognised had been laid out as a Rose Garden with a sundial in the centre of it.
Then, as she walked on a little farther, she saw that there was a woman under the oak tree.
The Duke had stopped to speak to her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hewins,” he said, “were you wanting to see me?”
“No, Your Grace,” she replied, “I comes ’ere to pick a few leaves from the Magic Tree for my daughter.”
She paused before continuing,
“’Er be gettin’ married tomorrow and the one thing ’er says that ’er wants better than any present be the leaves that’ll bring ’er good luck and make sure ’er has fine babies.”
As Safina reached the Duke, she saw that he was smiling.
“Do you really believe, Mrs. Hewins,” he said, “that the leaves of King Charles’s oak will do all that?”
“Oh, it does, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hewins said positively. “It saved me ’usband last year when the doctor despaired of ’im and when Mary Chance, Your Grace remembers ’er, ’ad been married for six years without a baby and had one nine months to the day after ’er carried one of the oak leaves in ’er breast.”
Mrs. Hewins stopped for breath and then she added,
“Four children ’er ’as now, three sons and a daughter, all due ’er says to Your Grace’s Magic Oak leaves!”
The Duke laughed.
“Well, you are certainly a convincing enthusiast for them, Mrs. Hewins. Please give your daughter my very good wishes.”
Mrs. Hewins bobbed a curtsey.
“I’ll tell ’er what you says, Your Grace, and very pleased ’er’ll be and grateful too for what I’ll be takin’ for ’er from the tree.”
“Help yourself,” the Duke said, “and, of course, that goes for anybody else in the village.”
They walked on towards the house and, as Safina moved beside him, she said,
“Do tell me about the tree and why it is magical.”
“That is what they believe locally,” he replied, “but it certainly has not brought me any luck!”
“You said it was King Charles’s tree. Do you mean Charles II?”
“My ancestor, the third Earl of Dallwyn, was a staunch Royalist,” the Duke replied.
“What happened?” Safina questioned.
“When the Restoration came and King Charles II took the throne, one of the first places he visited was Wyn Park.”
“How interesting,” Safina murmured. “I do wish that I had been here then.”
“When I was a boy, I used to wish the same,” the Duke replied. “Apparently there were great feastings and festivities and before he left King Charles planted the oak tree.”
Safina glanced back at it as the Duke spoke and he went on,
“It is reported that His Majesty said, ‘you have brought me good luck, Da
llwyn, and I therefore plant this tree, hoping it will bring you luck as well and everyone else who shelters under it’.”
The Duke paused before he added,
“I doubt that those were his actual words, but my family and those who live on the estate believe them literally. They really believe that the leaves from King Charles’s oak will solve all of their problems.”
“And do they?” Safina asked.
“You heard what Mrs. Hewins said,” the Duke answered, “but, although I own the tree, it has never done anything for me.”
Now he was being bitter again and Safina felt that it was not surprising.
When they reached the house there seemed to be no question of their having any tea.
She was therefore glad when the Duke suggested that they should dine early.
“There will not be much to eat,” he said, “and as the Bankses like to go to bed early, I usually have something at seven o’clock.”
“That will suit me,” Safina replied.
She went to her room and walked over to her window.
‘At least I have a magnificent view,’ she told herself.
The sun was sinking and was turning the lake to gold and there was a crimson glow behind the oak trees.
‘It could all be so beautiful if only he had enough money,’ Safina thought.
It struck her that to endure years of listening to the Duke’s bitterness and frustration would make her very unhappy.
“I am sure I can persuade Papa to give me some money,” she said aloud.
But she knew that she was being over-optimistic and forgetting her stepmother.
She remembered too that the Duke was not only bitter because of his house.
If Isobel was to be believed, he was in love with the French Ambassador’s wife.
‘I must talk to him sometime as to whether we stay here indefinitely or go to London,’ she told herself.
She thought it might be easier if they did not have the gloom of dilapidation staring at them all the time.
She felt, however, that it was too soon for her to discuss his movements. Nor should she ask him whether he had any plans as to what they could do.
‘It’s not quite as frightening as I thought,’ she decided, ‘and there is one thing we must have and that is horses!’
She then thought that her father would not refuse to give her some from his very large stables and even her stepmother could not prevent that.
She changed into one of the simple evening gowns that she had bought in Florence.
As she did so, she thought that Wyn Park and the Duke were a challenge and she felt as if her mother was telling her that she had to do something about them both.
‘You will have to help me, Mama,’ she said in her heart. ‘It’s not going to be easy and I feel that he will resent my help because I am a wife he does not want.’
She had to unpack her own gown for the evening and she found in her bedroom the two trunks that she had brought with her from Florence.
She was certain that Banks would not have been able to carry them upstairs and he must have persuaded her stepmother’s coachman and footman to do so before they left.
Otherwise, she told herself, she would have had to unpack the trunks in the hall or ask the Duke to bring them upstairs.
Now there was another problem that she would have to solve one way or another. When her trunks were empty, somebody would have to take them away.
She then looked at herself in the mirror and thought that perhaps the Duke would admire her dress. It was made of the beautiful Florentine silk that was the finest in Italy.
Safina had, however, deliberately not bought many gowns before she left.
As she was to be a debutante, she was sure that her father would wish her to buy a great number of gowns from the best dressmakers in London.
The clothes she had were those that she had worn for her last year at school with the addition of just three or four dresses she had purchased so that she would not look too dowdy on her first days at home.
‘Perhaps I shall eventually be as dilapidated and threadbare as this house,’ she told her reflection, ‘but I will try not to be bitter about it.’
She walked downstairs with her head held high and found the Duke waiting for her in the study.
It was still only April, so someone, she suspected that it must have been the Duke himself, had lit a fire in the grate.
It was smoking a little, as if the chimney was dirty, but it made the room seem more cheerful.
Then, as she looked at the Duke, she saw that he had changed for dinner and, despite the fact that his cut-away coat showed signs of wear, he looked very smart.
To her surprise, when she joined him at the fireplace, he handed her a glass.
“Champagne!” Safina exclaimed.
“You will hardly believe it,” he answered, “but apparently your stepmother left behind the bottle and what remained of the food she carried with her on your journey here.”
He gave a short laugh before he went on,
“I think that she meant to be insulting, but personally I am thankful for small mercies, this wine being one of them!”
As he finished speaking, he raised his glass.
“To a reluctant bride,” he toasted, “whom I must commend for the very brave way that she has confronted what must seem an incredible marriage.”
“Thank you,” Safina answered. “I must respond with my good wishes to a reluctant bridegroom.”
They both drank a little from their glasses and then the Duke said,
“Now I will take you in to dinner and I will bring the bottle with us. We must not waste anything so delicious!”
“Of course not,” Safina agreed.
They walked along the passage and across the hall to the dining room.
Banks was waiting for them and Safina realised that he had made a tremendous effort and brought out some of the best silver for the occasion.
There were four Georgian candlesticks, which had obviously been cleaned very hastily.
There was a large silver rose bowl in the centre of the table in which he had rather clumsily arranged some white flowers.
“It looks lovely!” she exclaimed. “Thank you for making my first dinner here so attractive.”
Banks was delighted.
As the Duke and Safina sat down, he shuffled away to bring them their food.
There was, thanks to Isobel, an excellent pâté that Safina had eaten the previous night.
It was followed by nearly half a cold salmon, which she thought had also been in Isobel’s hamper.
For dessert there was a pudding that was not very appetising and it had obviously been made by Mrs. Banks with the few ingredients she had available.
As Banks took away the plates, he said in what was meant to be a whisper to the Duke,
“That be all, Your Grace, we ain’t got anythin’ else to eat.”
“I hope you and Mrs. Banks will enjoy what is left of the pâté and the salmon,” the Duke said.
Safina saw the old man’s face light up. They had obviously expected that what was left had to be kept for what they called ‘the gentry’.
“One thing is quite obvious,” Safina said as soon as Banks had left the room. “We shall either have to go shopping tomorrow or you will have to go shooting!”
She saw his lips tighten, as if he was annoyed at there being so little food in the house.
And then he said,
“I expect, being a woman, you will want to take over the kitchen if nothing else.”
“I will certainly try,” Safina answered him, “and actually I myself can cook.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows.
“Is that really one of the subjects taught at a Finishing School?”
“Not to all the pupils,” but because Papa was, as he said himself, an epicure and a gourmet, we always had a very talented chef at Wick Park.”
She saw that the Duke was listening and so she went
on,
“I was only five when I first tried to cook because it fascinated me and I was always hanging around in the kitchen. To keep me out of their way the chefs would give me some ingredients to work at a table by myself.”
She smiled as she continued,
“Later Mama built me a Wendy House with a stove on which I could cook dishes for her and my Governesses.”
“Well, that is certainly a way that you can earn your living if all else fails,” the Duke said. “Unfortunately I have no saleable talents.”
“How can you be certain of that?” Safina asked. “I am sure that you are a good rider, so you could become a Riding Master or perhaps a Shooting Instructor.”
“And how much would I earn in either of those capacities?” the Duke asked. “Not enough to pay for the dinner we have just eaten.”
He was back to being dismal again and Safina rose to her feet.
“If there is no port for you to drink,” she said, “you had better bring your glass and what is left in the champagne bottle to the study. So we can go on talking in front of the fire.”
She thought, as she spoke, that it was cold in the dining room and she decided that another night she would bring a wrap downstairs with her.
She suspected that behind the drawn curtains there were broken panes of glass that let in the wind and rain and the dining room itself was large enough to seat forty people without being crowded.
The Duke did not reply, but followed her from the dining room, carrying the bottle of champagne and two glasses.
When, however, they reached the study, Safina said she wanted no more to drink as she was feeling sleepy already.
“I hope you will sleep well,” the Duke said. “If nothing else, the mattresses in this house are made of the best goose-feathers and are therefore extremely comfortable.”
As he finished speaking, he sat down and said,
“I think, Safina, you have behaved with admirable composure today and, as I said in my toast, you have been very brave.”
“Thank you,” Safina replied. “I think we have both been commendably dignified.”
“I was thinking when I was dressing,” the Duke said, “that the best thing we can do is to behave as naturally as possible.”
“Yes, of course,” Safina agreed, “and although it seems impossible at the moment, perhaps things will not be quite as difficult as now they appear to be.”
Magic From the Heart Page 6
