The House of Hardie (27 page)

‘And you think he'll find it comforting to know that you are Mrs Gordon Hardie?'

‘Yes. It will make it possible for him to speak of me to his friends, if he wishes, when otherwise he might be too ashamed even to mention my name.'

‘I suspect that it may require more than a certificate of marriage to appease him. Of course you may write, Lucy, and for your sake I hope that you can persuade him to love you again. But I think you'll be unwise to count on his forgiveness.'

‘Well, I shall send just the one letter – and give him the address of the agent here so that he may reply if he chooses.' Lucy could not believe that her grandfather would remain cold for very long. ‘But once the letter is despatched, I shan't think of him, or my life in England, again.' She walked across to the window and stared down
into the street below. In this European area, only the wide straw hats and running bare feet of the rickshaw coolies told her that she was in China, but that was enough. She clapped her hands with excitement as she turned back to face her husband.

‘So, our adventure is beginning!' she exclaimed.

‘Something else may begin as well,' said Gordon. ‘An adventure of love as well as of travel.' He gestured with his head towards the bed. ‘Now at last we can be man and wife.'

Lucy looked at him uncertainly. It was one of the consequences of running away from home that she knew nothing about marriage. Had her life gone according to her grandfather's plan, she would have been presented at Court by one of her aunts who would also have organized her London Season and accompanied her through its social events. And when she became engaged to be married – the expected conclusion to the Season – the same aunt would no doubt have told her what to expect on her wedding-day. By depriving herself of the Season, Lucy had also deprived herself of what might be necessary information.

It had been impossible, after the captain of the
Parramatta
had married them on board, to change their cabins, for the ship had a full passenger list. But when they boarded their second ship at Bombay, they naturally as a married couple shared a cabin. It was, if anything, even tinier than the one on the
Parramatta
, with two very narrow berths which folded up against the wall during the day. On their first night aboard, Gordon had tried to sit on the edge of her berth while he kissed her but, finding there was no room, had given a rueful laugh before climbing up to his own bunk. In the days which followed they had kissed and embraced in a way which would
certainly not have been proper for an unmarried couple and Lucy, blissfully happy, had assumed that this was what marriage allowed. From Gordon's look now, as he held a hand out towards her, it seemed that there was more to come.

Whatever it might be, she trusted Gordon to know best, and felt herself once again overcome by love for him as he took her into his arms. Looking into her eyes, he gave an odd laugh.

‘What is it?' asked Lucy.

‘Just for a moment I was reminded of my sister. When Midge was your age, her eyes shone as brightly as yours are shining now. But by the time I left home, when she was twenty-one, somehow it seemed to me that the sparkle had faded. I'd like to add one more wedding vow to those I've already taken. I promise that I'll try always to keep the brightness in your eyes.'

It would not be a difficult promise to keep, Lucy thought as he kissed her again. If her eyes were sparkling, it was with the delight of loving and knowing herself to be loved in return; and her love, she was sure, would never fade.

One of Midge's duties at the Ladies' College was to coach and supervise hockey on Saturday afternoons. In compensation for this, she was excused the Sunday supervision of her pupils as they wrote their letters home and went for walks in crocodiles. So when her father wrote to propose a visit, she was able to offer some free time on a Sunday afternoon. It was a treat to sit down to tea and cream cakes in a hotel lounge and enjoy a gossip about the family and Oxford. Midge assumed that her father's reason for coming was to assure himself that she was happy and well cared for in her work; but it was not long before a different topic was raised.

‘When you were home last time, for half-term, did young Will Witney have a word with you?' he asked in a tone of voice which was too casual to be convincing.

‘If you ask that question, you obviously know that he did,' said Midge. ‘I hope you haven't been discussing me again.'

‘Only from a practical point of view. Your mother said to Will that she hoped he'd spend Christmas with us. He hasn't got anywhere else to go since his own mother died, so we took it for granted. But of course he knows that you'll be coming home for the holiday. He started mumbling about not wanting to intrude on a family Christmas, because you mightn't want to have him around. I thought I'd better just find out how things are between you.'

If Will himself had hinted at the situation, it would hardly be betraying a confidence to confirm her father's
suspicion. ‘He asked me to marry him,' she admitted. ‘You knew he intended to, didn't you?'

‘He was a bit bothered about it. Because of his position in the firm. He's still bothered, if it comes to that, because he hasn't given up hope yet. He's afraid you may be thinking – well, you know the sort of thing. Apprentice boy makes good by marrying master's daughter. It may be my fault to some extent. When I offered him the Oxford job, I made it clear that it was only for three years – just till Gordon got back again. We didn't talk about what might happen after that. I wanted to see how he got on, and where else there might be room for him.'

‘You mean,' said Midge carefully, ‘that he thinks that I think that he only proposed marriage to me in order to make sure that you don't throw him out when Gordon comes home? You're not suggesting, are you, Father, that I should accept his proposal simply in order to demonstrate that no thought could be further from my mind?' Although the subject was a serious one, she could not help laughing at the absurdity of the idea.

“Of course not,' said Mr Hardie. ‘I'm the one who's going to do some demonstrating. He's a good man, Will. We're lucky to have him. I'm prepared to tell him straight out that if he goes on as well as he's going now, there'll always be a place for him in the business.'

‘And you're also going to tell him that you've made the same announcement to me. So in the first place he doesn't need to marry me to keep his job, and in the second place I shall know that that's the case and therefore take any proposal that comes as being sincere. There's one extra point, of course. I can turn him down without having to worry that I may be losing him his job by doing so.'

‘I don't suppose you'd ever have considered that feeling
sorry for him was a good enough reason for getting married.'

Mr Hardie could see the ridiculous side of the conversation as clearly as Midge herself, but now he looked at her seriously. ‘He'd make you a good husband, Midge. Just because he comes from a poor family doesn't mean –'

‘Who cares about family?' demanded Midge. Her first love affair had ended because Archie's family was too good for her, and now she was supposed to consider the fact that Will's was not good enough.

‘Most mothers and fathers do,' said Mr Hardie mildly. ‘What I'm trying to tell you is that we don't. We both like Will. If you feel you could love him … Well, that's for you to decide. The only immediate question is, what do you feel about him spending Christmas with us?'

‘I didn't hear that question,' Midge replied. ‘If I were to say that of course he must regard our home as his own, since he hasn't any other, he might think I meant something more by that. It's for you and Mother to decide – and for Will himself to be sure that if he stays through the holiday it's just as a lodger and not as a prospective son-in-law.'

‘Do you mean –?'

‘I don't know what I mean,' said Midge honestly. ‘I shan't know what I feel until I hear what I say.'

She used that little piece of whimsy as an excuse for changing the subject, but of course it was not true. If Will was likely to propose to her for a second time, she must consider the possibility in advance and decide what she felt. Not now, though, when she had so short a time with her father. ‘Have you heard anything from Gordon, about Lucy?' she asked.

‘It's too soon yet. We weren't expecting him to write
before reaching Shanghai. If there's some special news to tell, he might send a letter from Bombay, but he'll only just about be arriving there now. We can't expect to hear for five or six weeks yet. Upon my word, I don't know what girls are coming to these days. Leaving home to run off with someone the family disapproves of. Or else leaving home to run away from someone the family would like to have as a son-in-law.'

‘I didn't –'

‘Of course you didn't.' Mr Hardie's eyes twinkled as merrily as his daughter's. ‘We'll say no more about it. Tell me about the Ladies' College.'

There was plenty to tell. For the rest of their time together Midge chattered about Miss Beale and the formidable discipline she imposed, and her efforts to improve the curriculum against the wishes of the girls' parents. Midge herself had to teach a new course called Chronology, which covered the whole of world history. Since her studies at Oxford had ignored any country outside Europe which was not part of the British Empire and any period before the Roman invasion of Britain, she was finding it a struggle to keep one lesson ahead of her classes. The pleasure of the struggle showed in her increasing animation as she described the subterfuges with which she concealed her notes or dealt with awkward questions. By the time her father had to go, they had been laughing together so freely that Midge had quite forgotten the earlier part of the conversation.

She had no reason to recall the subject until the Christmas holiday began. There had already been a moment at half-term when she felt as though she were a visitor in her own home, and Will a member of the family. On her second return, in December, this impression was even stronger, for it was clear that Mrs Hardie, with both
her children away, had begun to treat the lodger as though he were her own son. Midge was happy to join in the spirit of this arrangement by starting to treat Will like her brother.

Like most families, the Hardies had established an unchanging timetable for each Christmas Day. They continued the pattern this year, with Will taking Gordon's place. All together they went to church, walked to give themselves appetites, ate too much food and drank carefully selected wines, gave presents to the servants and exchanged others amongst themselves. Another part of the day had always been devoted to the playing of schoolroom board and card games, with a good deal of mock cheating and laughter. This custom too was continued, with Will proving himself to be as quick a learner here as he had been in business and education.

He was quick, too, in grasping the game that Midge was playing. By her friendly informality she was making it clear that she did not regard him as a suitor. To avoid spoiling the festivities, he made no comment on this over Christmas. It was on the last day of the year that Midge, just about to change for a New Year's Eve party, heard him calling her.

‘Have you seen this?'

He was standing at the entrance to the morning-room. Out of polite curiosity Midge went to see what he had to show her, and found herself without warning in his arms. Surprise snatched away her breath, while the strength of his embrace made her feel almost too weak to stand on her own feet. He was kissing her as only Archie had ever kissed her, his body trembling with the urgency of his need to prove how much he loved her. Yet when at last he let her go, it took him only a second or two to recapture the humour which was so much part of his character.
Instead of explaining or apologizing in words, he pointed up to the lintel of the door, to which was fastened a very small bunch of mistletoe. She had never noticed it there before. Clearly he had set the stage himself for his gesture.

‘Tradition excuses me, you see,' he said.

‘Is that what you wanted me to look at?' Midge, still breathless, tried to speak calmly.

‘Only after I'd put it to its proper use. I just wanted you to know –
really
know – that I love you. Last time I asked you to marry me, you said I'd chosen the wrong day. Could this be the right one? New year starting tomorrow. New life, all that sort of thing. There's nothing I want more – nothing I want at all – except to marry you. You're behaving as though I'm your brother, and that's very kind of you, I suppose, but I'm not your brother and I don't want to be. Will you be my wife? Please!'

Ever since the half-term holiday Midge had been trying, without great success, to decide what she would say if Will repeated his proposal. When it came to the point, she found that she could answer without hesitation.

‘I'm sorry, Will,' she said. ‘If I were going to marry anyone at all, I'm sure I couldn't find a better husband than you. But I'm not going to marry. I just don't want to.'

‘I know you're a freak among women.' Will was desperately trying to keep a joking lightness in his voice. ‘But you can't be as much of a freak as that. One day … I told you before, I'll wait.'

Midge shook her head. ‘You mustn't do that. I read through the wedding service, Will, after we spoke of this before. All those promises – I can't make them. I want to be free to take my own decisions. To work for my own living. Not just because someone allows me to, but
because no one has the right to stop me. I'm terribly sorry. This has nothing to do with you, really. I'm choosing a different way of life.'

For a little while longer he tried to persuade her, but the pain in his eyes was too great for her to bear. Although he might not suspect it, Midge knew how it felt to be overcome with love for someone who did not return that love, and to feel that life could never again hold any happiness. As soon as she could, she escaped to her bedroom. She had meant everything she said, but that did not prevent her from feeling anxious. The freedom to live her own life would carry with it responsibility for all the mistakes she might make. She would have no husband to guard her, or sympathize, or set things to rights. There was no reason why a woman should not be capable of managing her own affairs as competently as a man; but Midge knew only a few – her fellow-teachers, for example – who attempted to do so. She suspected that it was because they had never had the choice.