The House of Hardie

by Anne Melville

  She ran her household efficiently and might well have proved herself as successful in business as her husband had the need ever arisen. Her daughter’s wish to study as an undergraduate naturally startled her at first; but, accepting it, she had ever since loyally defended Midge against the whisperings of more conventional mothers and daughters.

  She accepted without argument now Midge’s explanation of her first acquaintance and developing friendship with Archie: that they were both pupils of Dr Mackenzie. It was not to be expected that she should completely understand a relationship between two undergraduates, when the entry of young women into this society was so recent. ‘Have you something suitable to wear?’ she asked.

  ‘The red silk?’ suggested Midge.

  ‘White would be more suitable.’

  ‘But I look insipid in white.’ Although Midge’s hair was so dark, her complexion was milky white. From the moment when she was first allowed to choose her own clothes, she had picked colours which were either striking or severe; mere prettiness was not her style. The discussion became one of dressmakers and dates – for there was very little time. Midge interrupted it by laughing aloud.

  ‘I was trying to imagine myself dancing with Mr Yates,’ she explained. ‘What a ludicrous couple we shall make. He must be six foot at the very least. He will look so immensely elegant in his tails – and I shall be this tiny creature at his knees. He’ll look right over my head and hardly know that I’m there at all. Really, it’s not of the slightest importance how I dress – and if I talk about it any longer, I shall be late for my coaching.’ She had never mentioned to her mother – and did not do so now – that one reward for her Monday morning punctuality was a brief meeting with Archie Yates each week.

  The night of the ball arrived, and Midge, chaperoned by her mother, stepped into a different world. She had lived in Oxford all her life and knew every street and the outside of every building in the city. It was probably the delight she took in walking between high medieval walls – and on cobblestones which through the centuries had been trodden by so many students before her – that had first aroused her interest in history. During the past two years, allowed for the first time into some of the colleges, she had obtained her first glimpse of the academic world of the university. But the privileged life of the undergraduates remained a closed book to her. She often heard from her father of the damage they did in the course of their drunken revels, but was never on the streets to witness these herself.

  Now, suddenly, she found herself part of this other life – even though it might be only for a single night – and the beauty of it snatched her breath away. The paths through Magdalen’s old cloisters and gardens were lined with coloured lanterns, whilst torches flared on the river banks and in the deer park, and candles flickered on stone parapets. There was one marquee for dancing and another for supper, but the night was so warm that it was as pleasant to stroll in the grounds as to dance. All the chaperones seemed sensibly to have decided that they could not be continually jumping up to pace behind their charges, and remained clustered in the main marquee. So as Midge and her partner danced or walked, she felt no restriction on her conversation – except what was imposed by Archie’s choice of topics.

  He had no true interest in history, although he disguised this by laughing off the subject as one for working hours and not for relaxation. He did not read novels or poetry or even biography, and so could volunteer no opinion on the latest publications. When she enquired about his plans for the future, he supposed briefly that he would follow his father into the army – assuming that his grandfather would settle an allowance on him, since a fellow could not be expected to live on his pay. The prospect was still too remote for him to give it much attention. Instead of discussing it further, he asked Midge so many questions about her family, her years at the Oxford High School, and her way of life now, that she felt almost as though she were the native of some newly-discovered country under interrogation by the explorer who had stumbled upon her habitat.

  ‘I like to hear you talk,’ said Archie when she tried once more to escape from the subject of herself. His own enthusiasms were for games and horses, rowing and shooting – subjects about which Midge knew nothing. He lacked the fluency needed to describe what it was about these activities which made them so engrossing, and recognized this by merely stating his recreations and then brushing them aside as unworthy of further discussion. There was a moment, as they strolled in silence along the river walk, enjoying the rippled reflection of the moon, when Midge felt uneasy at the thought that they had so little in common. She was not well acquainted with many young men. Only with her brother was she accustomed to converse easily, and his enthusiasms, although different from her own, were as intense as articulately expressed – but perhaps, she told herself, brothers were always less inhibited.

  Certainly Archie appeared not to be embarrassed by the silence – and when he broke it, it was with a suggestion which illogically banished Midge’s doubts.

  ‘Although the Long Vacation begins tomorrow, there’s no need for me to return to Castlemere immediately,’ he said. ‘I could stay up for a few days – a week or two. If I could hope for your company, I’d certainly do that. You’ll be tired tomorrow, after the ball, I expect. But the next day, if the weather holds, we could take a picnic to Nuneham in one of the college boats.’

  ‘That would be delightful. I’ll ask my mother, and –’

  ‘Dash it all, you don’t need to trouble her again, do you?’

  ‘I’m afraid –’ Midge paused doubtfully. The chaperones paid by the Association which supervised the Oxford home students were provided for academic purposes only. Once the vacation began, she would have to rely on her family.

  ‘I mean that you don’t need to be chaperoned at all,’ Archie suggested. ‘Your mother, I take it, doesn’t accompany you every time you walk to the shops in Oxford. The river is a very public place – and a small boat enforces decorous behaviour if it’s not to capsize.’

  There are backwaters, thought Midge to herself, but to say that aloud would suggest that she did not trust Archie. ‘The rules of the Association are very strict,’ she reminded him instead.

  ‘But presumably apply only during the term. Still, if the idea doesn’t appeal –’

  ‘Oh, but it does!’ The thought that he might withdraw his invitation was unbearable. Midge realized that she would be risking her reputation if she were to accept. But she reminded herself at the same time that in choosing to become a student she had turned her back on the over-protected life that most of her friends, moving from a father’s house to that of a husband, would lead. She had determined that when she completed her own education she would use it to help other girls towards independence. Why should she not start now by taking responsibility for her own behaviour? She would come to no harm in Archie’s company – and if all she had to evade was gossip, a good deal could be accomplished by wearing a wide-brimmed hat and keeping her head down until the boat was out of sight of Magdalen Bridge. ‘I should love to picnic with you,’ she said.

  The days which followed were full of delights and deceptions. Midge and Archie did not stray far from the two rivers by which Oxford was almost surrounded. Sometimes they went out in a punt or rowing boat, sometimes they walked along the towpaths, and sometimes, as the July air became heavy with heat, they sat side by side in the shade of a weeping willow on the bank, cooled by the movement of the swirling water.

  It was the River Cherwell which was in the end Midge’s undoing. At the end of a long walk across the water meadows, she was standing with Archie in the centre of a small bridge, looking down at the ducks, when a large punt, laden with a family party, slid silently out from below. Midge was still looking down when one of the occupants looked up. It was the president of the Association whose rules governed Midge’s life as a student.

  Realizing at once that she had been recognized, Midge kept her head. Instead of attempting to dart out of sight, she smil
ed down with a calmness that she certainly did not feel. Only when the punt had disappeared round a bend in the river did she explain rapidly to Archie what had happened.

  ‘It’s very likely that she’ll make a call on my mother,’ she said. ‘Making some other excuse for it, no doubt, but intending to find out whose company I was in.’

  ‘What business is it of hers, interfering old hen?’ growled Archie.

  It was too complicated to explain to him the strictness of the rules by which she was bound. No doubt Magdalen had its own code which its members were supposed to obey, but when an undergraduate was caught climbing over the college wall long after the gate was closed, or behaving rowdily or drunkenly in the street, the penalty was nothing more serious than a fine. Midge, by contrast, knew that she could be prevented from completing her studies if her behaviour was known to be open to criticism. She set off at a brisk pace along the towpath which led towards the city.

  Archie’s long legs made it easy for him to catch up with her. He took hold of a hand to tug her to a halt. ‘My grandfather has written to summon me back to Castlemere,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we shan’t see each other until next term. Shall you miss me?’

  ‘Of course I shall. You won’t forget me, will you?’

  ‘How could I?’ Without warning, Archie pulled her closer and kissed her, almost lifting her off her feet. It was a clumsy kiss, the gesture of an inexperienced young man – but Midge was even less experienced, for she had never been kissed before. There was a moment in which she was dazed with delight: Archie had time to embrace her again. Only then did she look around anxiously to reassure herself that they had not been observed.

  ‘Until October then,’ she said. Using all the speed that she was accustomed to show on the hockey field, she picked up her skirts and ran.

  Chapter Ten

  Midge went straight to The House of Hardie, relieved to remember that her father would still be in London. ‘Will you walk with me for a few moments?’ she asked her brother breathlessly.

  Gordon looked surprised, but proved willing to stretch his legs after a long spell at his desk. ‘What are you looking so flustered about?’ he asked.

  ‘If Mrs Johnson should happen to call on Mother at home and should ask what I was doing this afternoon, may I say that I was with you?’

  Gordon stood still and looked seriously at his sister. ‘And where were you?’

  Half defiant and half ashamed, Midge told him, confessing the name of her companion and the circumstances of her discovery.

  ‘And suppose that Mrs Johnson were to catch a glimpse of me as she leaves the house – or even to study the family photographs on the piano? She would soon realize that the blond Mr Yates was not your black-haired brother.’

  ‘But you could have been with us. Standing a foot or two away, by the other balustrade of the bridge. She wouldn’t have been able to see from the river whether there was anyone there. And there could be no harm in my being with Mr Yates as long as some third person was with us.’

  ‘It’s not like you to tell lies, Midge.’

  Midge flushed at the well-deserved reproof. She had learned her lesson already and had no intention of misleading her mother again. But that resolve was for the future. Her need now was more immediate.

  ‘As for your choice of companion –’ Gordon, it seemed, was in a preaching mood. ‘What can you possibly see in someone like Mr Yates?’

  ‘He’s very good-looking.’

  ‘You’ve never been the fluttery sort of girl to be swept off your feet by that sort of thing, thank goodness. You’ve got brains. You must realize that he’s stupid.’

  Midge’s flush deepened. Gordon might be her elder brother, but that did not entitle him to take such an advantage of her need for help. ‘Even the least fluttery kind of girl likes to be admired,’ she said with spirit. ‘And an ability to pass examinations is not one which inspires much admiration amongst young men.. When someone like Mr Yates … He’s not just handsome, Gordon. He’s so good at everything. Playing games, and rowing, that kind of thing. He’ll be captain of rowing next year. Everyone in his college has such respect for him. Any girl in England would have felt honoured to be invited by him to a ball, and –’

  ‘And he chose you. So you are flattered, and you’ve let the flattery go to your head.’

  Midge stamped her foot with the exasperation of not being able to quarrel with her brother lest he should refuse her request. ‘Haven’t you ever been in love?’ she cried.

  Gordon’s expressive eyes looked at first surprised by what her question revealed, and then interested as he searched his mind for an answer to it. ‘No,’ he said at last.

  It was Midge’s turn now to be surprised. ‘But you must have met beautiful girls, fascinating girls.’

  ‘Beautiful girls, yes, one or two.’ He allowed himself a moment to think about them. ‘And naturally they arouse my admiration. A wish to be in their company. But –’ He was paying her the compliment of talking seriously, Midge realized, and she listened with interest. ‘I’ve no intention of marrying for a good many years yet. To fall in love now, when nothing could come of it, would be a waste of emotion. When the time comes, I shall choose someone who would make a good wife and then fall in love with her.’

  Midge looked suspiciously at her brother – wondering whether, as usual, he was teasing her. But for once he appeared to be speaking seriously. ‘That’s not how things happen,’ she said. ‘People fall in love because they find someone attractive – beautiful or handsome or kind. There’s a feeling – you must know it, Gordon – that someone is special. The person you’ve been waiting for. The one person in the world that you want to spend your life with. And if that one person feels the same about you … That’s the way things happen.’

  ‘You may be right to some extent. About the feelings, I mean. Perhaps a first reaction can’t be completely controlled. But you can check your emotions before they become too deep. To allow an infatuation to rule your life can’t be right. It’s only in books – the sort of books that I thought you despised – that two people who’ve been swept off their feet by outward appearances can spend the rest of their lives together without becoming bored. Just imagine yourself facing Archie Yates over the breakfast table every day for the next fifty years. What would you ever find to talk about?’

  ‘There’s more to marriage than just conversation.’

  ‘Of course there is,’ Gordon agreed. ‘But it’s through conversation that you can discover shared interests. What have you and Mr Yates got in common, Midge? You’re worth a dozen of him, and you ought to know it. Besides, I don’t think that my attitude to choosing a wife is as unusual as all that. Take the young gentleman we’ve just been discussing.’ The two of them had been standing still outside the University Church for the past few moments, but now walked on at a slow pace towards Carfax. ‘Mr Archie Yates will have no thought of marriage in his head now, at the age of twenty. When he does begin to entertain such thoughts, he’ll look for a wife amongst the families of his grandfather’s friends. That’s not to belittle any feelings which he may have for you. It’s a statement of fact – of what is certain to happen.’

  ‘I don’t –’

  Gordon waved aside her attempt to interrupt and continued with his argument. ‘The aristocracy brings its children up to study form and pedigree before they buy or back a horse,’ he pointed out. ‘And having discovered the system to be successful in the equine field, they apply it to human relationships as well. Mr Yates may not be an aristocrat in the sense of owning a title or a fortune or great estates, but his grandfather will have brought him up to pay attention to breeding.’

  ‘Breeding has nothing to do with worth,’ said Midge, a trace of defiance in her voice.

  ‘Of course it hasn’t, any more than what we may deserve has anything to do with the rewards we earn. But that won’t make any difference. I deal with these people all the time, Midge. They’re affable to me, and some of them genui
nely regard Father as a friend. But they live in a different world from us, and when it comes to marriage, they close the gates. Don’t fall in love with him, Midge. Nothing can come of it.’

  There was a long silence as Midge considered what he had said. Until that afternoon the thought of marriage to Archie had not entered her head. She had mapped out for herself two years earlier the kind of life that she hoped and expected to lead. It was to be a useful life – a life of service to her fellow-women. Even the admiration she felt for Archie’s good looks and – for Gordon was right about this – the flattery of being picked out by an undergraduate so eminent in his year, even this had not affected the way she saw her future. But he had kissed her, and now everything was different.

  The memory of that kiss was enough to make her body flush with heat and at the same time shiver with cold, as though she had a fever. It had told her that she was in love with Archie. And at the same time it had signified that he was in love with her – inexperienced though she might be in her relationships with young men, she was sure of that.

  Equally important was the fact that she had accepted his kiss without any reaction of displeasure. Midge’s pedigree might not seem impressive to someone like the Marquess of Ross, but her upbringing had been strict. Her mother had made it clear that she should never allow herself to be kissed until she was engaged to be married – indeed, that a kiss was in itself almost a token of such an engagement. It would be ridiculous to suppose that Archie had meant the gesture to hold such importance, but that was the only way in which Midge herself had been able to accept it.

  Even had she been sure of her own feelings, she would not have confessed them to Gordon. It was a deeply confused young woman who held her head and chin high as she tried to defend a position which her own mind had already deserted. ‘Can’t you believe that a young man and a young woman may enjoy a friendship which has nothing to do with the possibility of marriage?’