The House of Hardie

by Anne Melville

  That evening, over a game of billiards with his grandfather, Archie mentioned his sister’s request. The tightening of the marquess’s lips in annoyance confirmed his guess that Lucy had gone first to her grandfather for permission to marry.

  ‘You told her not to be a little fool, I hope,’ growled the marquess.

  ‘Of course, sir. But I wondered – she’s a headstrong girl – I wondered whether it might be as well to make her a ward of court.’

  ‘Waste of money. Chancery proceedings would eat up a far larger fortune than Lucy can expect. That sort of business is for heiresses on the grand scale, with no relatives, or else quarrelling ones. To protect her from fortune-hunters. You and I can agree on Lucy’s well-being, I take it. And what fortune has she got? On her twenty-first birthday she’ll come in for a few pennies from the money I put into her mother’s marriage settlement. As for the rest – if she makes a sensible marriage she can hope for a settlement of her own, and a bit more when I’m gone. But that’s not money in her hands now. No call to let the Chancery get its hands on the family affairs. The Hardie boy won’t give up his China ambitions just for the sake of the girl. He’s due to sail soon – in October, I believe he said. We should be able to keep Lucy under our eyes until he’s gone. After that – by the time he comes back in three years or so, she’ll have forgotten him.’

  ‘Perhaps it would be a good idea for her to accompany me to Scotland when I visit Aunt Anna next week; and to stay for a month or two.’

  ‘Not Scotland!’ exclaimed the marquess. ‘Brougham may have put an end to all this wedding-by-handshake business at Gretna Green, but they still have some outlandish laws up there. She’s over sixteen, so she’d only need twenty-one days’ residence north of the border and she could marry any Tom, Dick or Harry without needing permission from anyone. Hardie’s no fool. He’d be on to that fast enough. Certainly not Scotland. She’ll do better here, where I can keep an eye on her myself. I’ll put an end to any correspondence, for a start.’

  Archie nodded his approval. ‘You mentioned our mother’s marriage settlement,’ he said tentatively. ‘When I was talking to Lucy just now, I saw no reason to speak of that. It seemed better to make her recognize that she could have no expectations at all if she were to behave foolishly.’

  The marquess, concentrating on a successful series of cannons, made no comment, but from his manner seemed not to disagree.

  ‘I’d like to go further, with your permission, sir,’ said Archie. ‘I think it should be made clear to both Lucy and Hardie that should this marriage ever take place, they couldn’t expect you or myself to recognize it, and certainly they could never hope for any financial help – whether in the form of gifts or of legacies.’

  ‘Doubt if that will make much difference,’ grunted the marquess, marking up his score as the break came to an end. ‘Young girls in love think they can live on air. And as for young Hardie – doesn’t know his place, but that doesn’t mean he’s a fortune-hunter. Probably reckons he can afford to keep a wife – and so he can, no doubt, in a way. Not the way I want for Lucy, that’s all.’

  ‘Even so.’ Archie pressed doggedly on. ‘I would be glad to have your agreement on this, sir. If Lucy understands that both the men she should most respect are adamant in refusing permission for her to marry, she might think again. And the best way to indicate firmness would be in the way I suggest. It would be a support to me if I could have your word that if she is disobedient to your wishes you will give her nothing during your lifetime and leave her nothing when you die.’

  ‘It won’t come to that. You’re right – when she sees that the two of us are of one mind … But yes, you can tell her that by all means, if she comes to you again. My word on it.’

  Chapter Nine

  On each of the first five days after his return to Oxford, Gordon received a letter from Lucy. She wrote of her love for him, and her plans and preparations; she asked how she could find a way to learn Chinese. The letters bubbled with her youthful vivacity, bringing a smile to Gordon’s lips as he read them.

  On the sixth day, however, her tone had changed, bringing a thoughtful frown to his forehead. Archie was being horrid and stubborn and had refused to give his consent to any marriage on her part. And her grandfather, who had by now returned from Scotland, was taking longer than usual to respond to her blandishments. He would come round in the end, of course, to give his own consent and order Archie to follow suit: Gordon was not to worry.

  Midge must have taken note of the flurry of letters from Castlemere. No doubt at the time of her friendship with Archie she had learned to look out for the distinctive seal. She made no comment until the servants had withdrawn and her parents and Will Witney had all left the table. ‘Is the marquess proving to be a demanding patron?’ she enquired then as Gordon read the latest epistle through for a second time.

  ‘I think I must expect that he will withdraw his patronage,’ Gordon told her. ‘Although not for any reason connected with the plants he instructed me to provide for his garden.’

  ‘Why then?’

  Gordon hesitated. Would Midge be upset if he told her what had happened? Well, she would have to know at some point. He gave a rueful smile as he confessed.

  ‘I’ve had the presumption to ask Miss Lucy Yates if she will marry me. And she has had the sweetness to accept my proposal. She will be sailing with me to China.’

  It was easy enough to interpret the expression on his sister’s face. She was astonished – but she was also hurt. He hurried to make it clear that he had not gained the acceptance earlier refused to herself. ‘His lordship is no more approving in this case than he was in yours. But there’s a difference. Archie Yates depends on his grandfather to set him up in the world. Otherwise – heaven forbid! – he might find himself forced to work for a living. Without family approval, he has no hope of being able to support a wife. But Lucy … if Lucy is prepared to accept a more modest way of living than that of Castlemere, then she may accept the support of a husband and snap her fingers at her grandfather and brother.’

  ‘My impression, when we met, was that she was strongly attached to them.’

  ‘Yes. So we hope that they can both be brought round, if only by the realization that she cannot be turned from her decision. It’s only the marquess, though, whose good opinion I would like. It would give me a certain satisfaction to marry Lucy against the wishes of her brother.’

  ‘You’re not, I hope …’ Midge looked down at the table, her fingers playing with the unused cutlery. ‘It was love for Miss Yates, I take it, which prompted your proposal? Not any wish to take revenge on her brother? Not anything to do with myself?’

  ‘How can you think such a thing?’ Midge’s suspicions came so close to the truth that it was necessary for Gordon to be vehement. ‘You’ve seen how beautiful she is.

  You’ve learned from speaking to her how delightful her enthusiasms are, and how sweet her nature.’

  Midge nodded her agreement, but did not abandon the argument. ‘I also remember how clearly you set out your views on marriage to me. You would not dream of looking for a wife until after your return from China. And even then, you would first of all check all contenders for the post in terms of their suitability before deciding with which one to fall in love.’

  ‘Was I so pompous?’

  ‘Only because you were playing the part of the big brother. But that gives me the right, as little sister, to remember it.’

  ‘Well, I was saying what I believed. To tell the truth …’ Gordon hesitated before proceeding to an indiscretion. Midge would laugh – but why should he rob her of that amusement? ‘To tell you the truth, I hadn’t intended to make any proposal of marriage before I left. It was Lucy herself –’

  ‘She asked you?’ As Gordon had expected, Midge laughed delightedly. ‘How my opinion of her rises! A young lady not just sweet and pretty, but prepared to speak her mind.’

  ‘Not in so many words. She merely made it very clear th
at she wished to accompany me. And you see … I would have found it possible to sail off without saying anything at all of my feelings for her. Then at least I could have indulged in dreams that she might still be free when I returned. But once it had been put to me in such a way that I must say Yes or No – why, how could I say No and rob myself of all hope?’

  ‘But you could just have asked her to wait for your return,’ Midge pointed out.

  Gordon shook his head. ‘She loves me as an explorer rather than as a wine merchant.’ There was a silence between them as they both at the same moment realized the significance of what he had said. ‘I must get to work,’ he added hastily.

  He spent that day at The House of Hardie, sitting at a table with Will Witney and going through the ledgers. Within a few weeks a new generation of undergraduates would arrive at the start of the academic year. Before that fluster of activity began it was as well to notice which of the old accounts were overdue for payment and to consider how best to treat the young debtors. Gordon gave the new manager what amounted to a thumbnail character sketch of each of his customers.

  So efficiently had Will already taken over the office that Gordon wondered as their session ended whether there would be any place for himself in the business after his return from China. The Oxford establishment was now in good hands, whilst John Hardie himself would not expect to hand over the general management of the business for a good many years yet. Gordon could not extend his first expedition beyond the three years he had planned, because his patrons would expect him to return with their promised plants, but there seemed no reason why he should not contemplate a second exploration before too long.

  It was not hard to guess what had led him to this thought. Did Lucy Yates realize that she would be marrying a vintner who would only for a very short period of his life be free to travel abroad? Gordon felt no false humility about his social position. Lucy might be the granddaughter of a marquess, but her father had been only an army captain at the time of her birth, and she had neither title nor fortune in her own right. She would not, in Gordon’s opinion, be demeaning herself by marrying into a family which had earned a comfortable livelihood for all its members by two and a half centuries of honest hard work. She needed her family’s permission to marry while she was still under age, because that was the law; but she was not being asked to bring a dowry with her.

  So from Gordon’s point of view there were no hidden problems – but had Lucy, he wondered, considered the life she would be expected to lead when she returned to England? He ought to bring her to see his home, to meet his family, but he had not even suggested such a visit. Was that because he knew that she would not be allowed to come, or because he was afraid that she might be dismayed by what she saw? Or could it be – something he had not dared to admit to himself – that he almost hoped she would be shocked, but only when it was too late for her to escape: when she was tied to the Hardies by marriage and estranged from her own family by disobedience?

  His conversation with Midge at the breakfast table had found its mark. Gordon’s desire for Lucy was genuine enough – but so was his belief that a female companion could only be an impediment to his travels; the two balanced each other out. Some extra emotion had been required to tip the balance, and there could be little doubt that Archie had provided this. Gordon did indeed feel a wish to score off that conceited and insensitive young gentleman – to hurt his pride by proving that an alliance with The House of Hardie was not after all unthinkable. What was unthinkable, as Gordon belatedly realized, was that he should sacrifice an inexperienced girl to such a discreditable impulse.

  It was not an easy conclusion to draw; and Gordon did not come to it within a single day. His decision was made easier, though, by the fact that no further letters arrived from Castlemere. Lucy, he felt sure, had continued to write. What appeared as silence could only mean that her family was blocking all further communication. They would take precautions, as well, to prevent Lucy from running away, should she have any ideas of that kind. But since they would also have prevented his own letters from reaching her, she was more likely to be unhappily believing that he had forgotten her than making romantic plans for escape. It would be better for everyone if the situation were to be drawn to a tidy end. Without pausing to consider any longer whether he was regretful or relieved, Gordon sat down to write one last letter.

  Chapter Ten

  Lucy did not allow herself to become downcast by her family’s opposition to her marriage. Her grandfather could not bear to see her miserable and would soon, she was sure, change his mind. Meanwhile, there was no time to be wasted if she was to be well prepared for the great journey.

  During the eighteen years of her life at Castlemere Lucy had needed to make few decisions about her own affairs. Her grandfather issued orders and the machinery of the household ensured that they were carried out. If a dinner party was to be arranged, Lucy would discuss the menu with the cook and the flowers with the gardeners, but she was not required to solve any problems which might arise. She could order ices to be served on the hottest day of summer without needing to trouble herself about details – it was enough that an ice house existed and that somebody had presumably at the right time of year remembered to do whatever should be done with it. So it came as a surprise even to herself when she discovered that she was capable of being practical.

  Another – more regrettable – discovery was that she could carry off deceit. It was only for a little while, she assured herself. As soon as her grandfather relented she would describe to him everything she had done, and they would laugh about it together. Concealment began even with the reading which encouraged her to make her plans. The adventures of Miss Marianne North, who had travelled all over the world, became her bible. Had the marquess realized that Miss North was an explorer, he would have frowned. But because the purpose of her explorations was to depict the plants she found in every country, Lucy could openly admire her botanical artistry – a skill of which no young lady need be ashamed.

  Lucy’s packing list began, in fact, with her painting equipment. Gathering together the most necessary items, she took note of Miss North’s hints, collecting jars with tightly-fitting lids in which to carry water, and commissioning the estate carpenter to construct a light-weight folding support to replace her unwieldy easel. Complaining of a headache, she visited a pharmacist and spent a fascinating hour discussing with him the contents of a medical pack which, she said, was to be given to a friend just about to embark on a long journey. Together they envisaged every possible illness and accident and listed a cure for each – and, if possible, a preventive.

  ‘And Keating’s powder against fleas,’ added Lucy, when it seemed that nothing could have been overlooked.

  ‘And a poison for cockroaches?’ suggested the pharmacist.

  Lucy hesitated. ‘We shall – I mean, he will be camping in the open as a rule. A poison is for use in a kitchen, I imagine. Besides, in some emergency, groping in the dark for a medicine …’ She shook her head. ‘No. No poison. The list, I think, is long enough already.’ She left the pharmacist to collect all the items together and arrange directly for the local saddler to make a leather and canvas roll for them, easier to carry than a wooden box.

  The pharmacist entered cheerfully into the spirit of the adventure, but Lucy found it more difficult to persuade the dressmaker that she was not joking when she asked for several divided skirts to be made for her. ‘They are the latest fashion for playing games such as croquet and lawn tennis,’ Lucy assured her firmly and untruthfully. ‘And they should be a little shorter than is usual.’

  ‘In white, or in cream?’ asked the dressmaker, preparing to measure Lucy in case she had grown taller since the most recent fitting.

  ‘Two in black and one dark brown. One of the black ones should be of a thin stuff which will dry quickly if it becomes soaked. The others should be of the warmest possible quality, to wear in the coldest weather.’

  ‘For croquet!’ exc
laimed the dressmaker. She had known Lucy all her life. In the end, of course, she always obeyed instructions. But there had been times when as a child or a very young woman Lucy had demanded something so unsuitable that a word of warning was necessary, and it must have seemed that this was just such an occasion. Lucy herself saw the absurdity of her request and burst into laughter – but without altering her requirements.

  ‘Well, you must keep a secret,’ she said. ‘I intend to surprise my brother by abandoning my side-saddle. He will never be persuaded that a woman can ride as well over hedges as a man. I propose to appear at the hunt one day and amaze him by my new style of horsemanship.’

  Part of her explanation was true, and the secret – although not of course the reason for it – was one which she was forced to share also with the grooms. But although they might gossip amongst themselves, there was no reason why they should discuss her affairs with the marquess – who would not in any case have listened to tittle-tattle. Lucy did not expect that she would need to ride fast in the course of the expedition. But she would certainly have to spend long hours in the saddle, and it was unlikely that a Chinese muleteer would saddle his animals in the manner taken for granted by ladies of quality. There would be new muscles to stretch and a new habit of balance to acquire. It was only sensible to practise now rather than to develop aches and pains at the outset of her travels with Gordon.