The House of Hardie (23 page)

‘Good idea,' he said, tugging at the bell pull and giving the order. ‘You looked pale last night. As though you could do with a bit of sun.'

‘It's odd,' she commented, turning back to face him. ‘I'm used to getting up early. I'm used to working hard. I chose to be a schoolmistress because I knew I should enjoy it. And I
do
enjoy it. But at the end of every day … I have to supervise an hour's prep after supper every evening, and I can hardly keep my eyes open, I'm so tired.'

‘Any new job is a strain,' suggested Will. ‘Getting to know a fresh lot of people and having to treat them right even before you know them. And wondering all the time whether you're up to the work. When I came to Oxford … So many mistakes to be made! As if I were on a tightrope above a pit of crocodiles.'

‘I didn't realize,' said Midge, troubled. ‘I ought to have been more … more …'

‘More nothing.' Will brushed the apology aside. ‘You were exactly what I needed. Your father and brother naturally had to keep an eye on me, to see that I got off on the right foot. But you simply took it for granted that I knew what I was doing. I was the Oxford manager, so I
must be able to manage. You didn't even notice that I was a mass of quivering jelly my first day in the High Street. So it wasn't too long before I stopped quaking and became what you always thought I was – dignified, efficient, perfect!'

Midge knew that she ought to be ashamed. She had not noticed Will's problems because she had been too engrossed in her own. But his grin allowed of no apology, so instead she joined in his self-mocking laughter.

‘You're right about meeting new people,' she agreed. ‘Causing the strain, I mean. There are so
many
people in a school – colleagues and pupils, changing every forty minutes. Such a long day, and never a moment to oneself. That's the real shock, I suppose: never being alone. Well, I can enjoy an hour of that luxury now.'

He pulled a disappointed face. Had he hoped to accompany her into the garden, or was he teasing again, playing his comic act? She lacked the energy to find out, but instead made her way out through the French doors to the chair and table which were just being set out for her. Although she carried a book, she was too lazy even to read; content instead simply to sip her coffee and listen to the sounds of the garden.

This idyll was interrupted by a different sound – that of an angry voice in the drawing-room. It was not Will's voice, because she could hear him, more quietly, protesting. It seemed to Midge, as she listened, that she knew who it was.

Drawn by curiosity, although recognizing that she would be wiser to keep her distance, she walked towards the open doors of the drawing-room. As she had thought, it was Archie Yates whose wrath was breaking over Will's head. As Midge was about to step back, out of sight, he turned and saw her.

‘Miss Hardie!' he exclaimed, his lack of politeness making it clear that he was overcome with anger. ‘I must speak with your father at once.'

Midge looked at him in astonishment. Had he forgotten that this was their first meeting since the writing and reading of the letter which at the time had seemed to break her heart – the first meeting since the afternoon when he had carried her to his rooms in Magdalen? How was it possible that he could treat her as though she were merely a casual acquaintance? His anger must be great indeed if it could override in such a way what should have been at the very least a social awkwardness.

Well, if he could forget, so could she. ‘I'm afraid my father's not at home, Mr Yates.'

‘So your servants have tried to tell me, but I'm not in a mood to be put off.'

‘My father doesn't play social games. If he's not at home, it means that he's somewhere else. If you have business with him, I suggest you make an appointment at his office tomorrow.'

‘My business is not of that kind. Where is your brother, Miss Hardie?'

‘He's abroad. Or at least, on his way.'

‘And when did he leave?'

Really, thought Midge, this is insupportable. ‘I hardly think that his travel arrangements are any concern of yours, Mr Yates,' she said coldly.

‘He has run off with my sister. You'll allow, I hope, that
that
is my concern.'

Midge considered this statement in silence. At her last meeting with Gordon, just before she left to take up her post in Cheltenham, he had told her definitely that he had written to release Lucy from her engagement and would be travelling alone. Nevertheless … She turned towards
Will. ‘Perhaps you would leave us to discuss a family matter,' she suggested.

The expression on Will's face changed from puzzlement to doubt, but he accepted his instructions and withdrew. It was odd, Midge thought, that had she still been in love with Archie she would have realized the impropriety of deliberately closeting herself with him. But because he was angry, and she no longer cared for him, there could be no harm in it. It was a good indication of the fact that she was cured of her attack of love.

She sat down and indicated a chair to Archie, but he was too perturbed to keep still.

‘Well?' he demanded.

It was tempting to repeat that Gordon's movements were none of Archie's business. But Midge could tell that her visitor's anger was fuelled by genuine anxiety. Her willingness to be helpful did not, of course, make it any more possible for her to produce the information he was seeking.

‘It's certainly true that your sister engaged herself to marry my brother,' she said. ‘But when he learned that you and your grandfather were opposed to the marriage and had refused the consent that was necessary, Gordon wrote to release her from her engagement. He didn't think it reasonable that she should spend three years bound to someone who would be so far away for the whole of that time. That was the last communication between them.'

‘It was certainly the last one that we were intended to see. But there must have been some later, secret message.'

‘I think not. My brother and I are open with each other. I'm sure he would have told me of such a major change in his plans. And besides, my father saw him off.
He inspected Gordon's cabin and gave us a description of the gentleman who would be sharing it. You must be mistaken.'

‘How can I have mistaken the fact that my sister has disappeared? She has not been seen by any member of the household except her personal maid since Wednesday night; and this morning it was discovered that the maid herself left Castlemere during the night. I received a message from my grandfather an hour ago. He is as certain as I am that Lucy has run away with your brother. You are not suggesting, I imagine, that she would do so without an invitation. Plans must have been made.'

‘My acquaintance with your sister is limited to the afternoon which we spent together on the Magdalen barge,' said Midge. ‘But my impression was of a spirited young woman with a fervent desire for excitement and, in particular, for travel. Might she not have made the plans herself?'

‘She is eighteen years old!' exclaimed Archie. ‘She knows nothing of the world. You cannot seriously be suggesting that she would leave her home and family, forfeiting any prospect of the kind of income and establishment to which her birth and beauty entitle her, and all without encouragement!'

‘Young women in love have been known to behave foolishly.' The bitterness which Midge had done her best to control squeezed itself out at last and pulled Archie up short, as though until that moment he had forgotten that she had once been more to him than merely Gordon Hardie's sister. She shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the thought from her mind. ‘Well, I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr Yates. I don't believe that my brother planned any elopement. But if Miss Yates has acted impulsively
and thrown herself on his protection, he will see that she comes to no harm.'

‘She has come to harm already, simply by placing herself in this position.'

Midge had had enough of the discussion. Her voice became even colder as she dismissed the subject. ‘Then there's nothing more to be done, is there?'

‘There's a good deal more to be said. How a man who had the blasted cheek to accuse
me
of not behaving like a gentleman in respect of
his
sister can then take it on himself –'

Midge stood up slowly and stared at him, hardly believing her ears. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'm talking about the way Mr Gordon Hardie arrived at Castlemere and tried to teach me my own business. I knocked him down for it – but I don't suppose he told you
that
part of the story.'

‘He told me nothing of the incident at all. He was not authorized … He had promised to forget what I told him.'

‘So he's not as open with you as you claimed! Well, next time you're in contact with him you may send a message from my grandfather and myself. To the effect that if Lucy thinks she can ever return to Castlemere or expect –'

‘You may send your own messages, Mr Yates,' Midge interrupted icily. ‘I'm not your errand-boy. You appear to have mislaid your manners. Kindly leave.' She rang the bell and waited in silence, as angry as himself, until he had been shown out.

When the door closed behind him, Midge was at first incapable of giving any further consideration to the unlikely idea that Lucy Yates had run away from home with the intention of travelling to China – and the even
more extraordinary possibility that she had made her plans without Gordon's help or even knowledge. Instead, she found herself trembling with emotion on her own account. How could she ever have believed herself to be in love with Archie Yates?

Within a few moments of Archie's departure, Will Witney returned to the room, the troubled expression on his face contrasting oddly with his comic bottle-brush of ginger hair. Midge was in no mood to talk to him, or to anyone else, but could tell that he was resolved to interrupt her thoughts.

‘I have to beg your pardon,' he said. ‘Your visitor seemed in such a high old temper that I didn't like to go far away, in case you should need assistance.'

‘Oh, I don't think it would have come to blows,' Midge assured him, still
distraite
. Then her cheeks flushed as she realized what his words implied. ‘You mean that you overheard our conversation?'

‘I felt that there might be a need to interrupt, so I listened, yes. Quite unforgivable, I see now. Will you forgive me all the same? I do apologize. I shall forget everything I heard straight away.'

‘There's no need to do that.' Midge gave a careless toss of her head. ‘Mr Yates told you what he thought had happened to his sister before you left the room. And for the rest – if you were left with the impression that I had once had a close relationship with Mr Yates, you would be right. But since that's entirely a thing of the past, I don't in the least mind your knowing.' She hoped, nevertheless, that nothing had been said which could reveal just how close the relationship had been.

‘I'm glad,' said Will gravely. ‘Glad that it's a thing of the past, that's to say.'

‘What do you mean?' Had Midge been less distracted, she would have held her tongue – because even while she was asking the question she guessed what he meant, but did not want to hear him put it into words.

‘I mean that I enormously admire you. No, I don't mean that at all. I mean that I'm head over heels in love with you. I see every other man in the country as a potential rival. So if one of them's been ruled out, that's marvellous news. Only a few million left to go. Your father said –'

‘My father! You've been talking to him about me?'

Will looked momentarily abashed. ‘Well,' he said. ‘Fathers always have to come into this sort of discussion at some point. I know it's more usual for the lady herself to be sounded out first. But in this case – he's my employer, after all. He might have said, “You're getting above yourself, my lad. Hands off.”'

‘And what would you have done then?' Now that Midge had had time to recover from her surprise at the course of the conversation, and to shrug off the confusion aroused by Archie's unexpected arrival, she was prepared to give Will her full attention – relieved to realize that, at least on the surface, he was prepared to keep his manner light.

‘It wouldn't have made much difference to what I
did
. Only to what I should say. Instead of “Would you be willing to marry one of your father's employees?” it would have to be “Would you consider marrying a man without a job?” Doesn't sound too good either way, does it?'

Midge could hardly prevent herself from laughing at his doleful face. ‘And what
did
my father say?' she enquired.

‘Nothing helpful. Just that you appeared to be a sensible sort of girl with a mind of your own. That he was reconciled to the fact that one of these days he'd have to pay all the bills for your wedding; but if you'd be willing
to leave the choice of champagne to him, he was prepared in return to leave the choice of bridegroom to you. I have to admit, I took that as an invitation – no, that's a bit strong – as permission to try my luck.'

In the silence which followed Midge was conscious of Will holding his breath as he waited for the encouragement which she was not able to provide. She gave a little grimace of regret. ‘I'm not sure that you've been wise in choosing today to raise the subject,' she said.

‘I agree that moonlight in the conservatory would have created a better atmosphere; but it's a fortnight to the next full moon. I looked it up in the almanac. I thought this would be as good as I could hope for. Your parents out. Yourself tired and strained from your work, perhaps considering that there was something to be said for the life of a lady of leisure, with only a home to run. Although I've only got my salary –'