The Hardie Inheritance

by Anne Melville

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. If Trish can spare you for a moment, Miss Hardie, there’s something I’d like to ask you.’

  Chapter Nine

  Grace followed her guest to one of her favourite stone carvings; a twisted figure of eight.

  ‘Let’s sit down for a moment,’ Ellis said. He looked around to make sure that there was no one within hearing. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you told me. And there are two suggestions I’d like to make. The first one concerns money. You said you didn’t have any, but have you ever considered selling any of your carvings?’

  ‘Who’d want to buy them?’

  ‘I consider them very fine. Full of emotion, and most pleasing to the eye. Not to everyone’s taste, of course, but it would only need one person to admire a piece. There’s another woman – does the name of Barbara Hepworth mean anything to you?’

  Grace shook her head.

  ‘She’s also experimenting with abstract sculpture, and selling some of it. There are others, as well. A group which calls itself the Seven and Five. And one or two of the London galleries are sympathetic to new ideas. If you would like me to, I could show some of my photographs to the Leicester Galleries and ask whether they’d include you in a show. And then, you see, if they sold something, you could afford to have your pregnancy terminated. Even if you decided not to, you would have had a choice.’

  ‘I can’t believe …’ But it was stupid to challenge Ellis’s opinion when she had no personal knowledge of the London art world. She concentrated instead on the secondary point of what she might do with money if she had it.

  The answer was surprisingly clear. She was not like little Trish, prepared to make something and then destroy it. The pleasure of creation had always lain in the knowledge that what she made would endure and outlive her. If she felt that so strongly about a lump of stone or wood, how much more must it be true of her own baby?

  ‘I should be very grateful for any help of that sort you could give me,’ she said. ‘I shall need money. But to buy things for the baby, not to kill it.’

  ‘So you’re determined to go through with it?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be sorry if there were to be some kind of accident,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not going to the sort of doctor you mentioned; no.’

  ‘Good. Then I come to my second suggestion. Will you marry me?’

  ‘What did you say?’ She could hardly believe her ears.

  ‘It’s just as well, isn’t it, that I made you sit down before I asked you. But it’s a serious question. I would very much like to marry you.’

  ‘You hardly know me, Mr Faraday.’

  ‘Ellis, please. I agree that our acquaintance isn’t a long one. But everything that I know, I like. I’m not pretending that this would be a love match. A marriage of convenience, I suppose you’d say – but the convenience on both sides would be very great.’

  ‘I can see that you’d be nobly doing me a favour. Making a respectable woman of me, as they say. But I couldn’t possibly allow –’

  ‘Put yourself in my shoes for a moment,’ he said. ‘For you, marriage would have the one small convenience of giving your baby a name. But for me …! To start with, Trish needs a woman’s care, so straightaway, you see, I’d be asking for more than you’d be getting. And just as your reputation would be helped by a wedding, so would mine. It’s a problem I have to keep continually in mind. The society ladies who ask me to photograph their daughters would feel much happier dealing with a married man.’

  ‘But you’re free, aren’t you, to marry someone you love. Not someone like me.’

  There was a long silence while Ellis chose his words carefully.

  ‘This will shock you, I’m afraid. Something that I’ve never admitted to anyone. I’m putting myself in your power, because of course it’s against the law. I shall never be able to marry the person I love, because he’s a man. He acts as housekeeper for me in London. I would have to make it clear – I’m making it clear now – that although I think you and I could live very happily together as friends, I shouldn’t want to consummate the marriage. But that – let me assure you – has nothing to do with your attractiveness. You’re a very handsome woman.’

  ‘I really don’t know what to say.’ The arrangement he had in mind for herself was clear enough and the limitations he proposed were acceptable in themselves. She had taught herself to live without a man’s love, and since her single lapse had had such disastrous results she felt no urge to repeat it. But that did not make the simple fact of his proposal anything but extraordinary, and she had no idea what he meant about his housekeeper.

  ‘You’ll be wanting time to consider it,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the past couple of hours, but I must have taken you by surprise. And you do have to be quite clear that I’m asking for a great deal more than I’m offering. I’ll leave you to think about it. There’s no hurry on my part, although you may feel that there is on yours.’

  ‘Not today,’ said Grace. ‘I can’t possibly –’

  ‘Of course not. Could I persuade you to come to London next week, say? We could do the rounds of the galleries, look at the sort of work I was telling you about earlier. You’d be interested, I do believe.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’d like that.’

  ‘And then we could have another chat.’

  Grace nodded. She had no notion what her decision would be, but in Ellis, she had found someone she could talk to.

  Almost from the first moment of meeting him she had felt that. It was probably because neither of them would pretend to be in love that she felt sure they could discuss their future without embarrassment.

  ‘Yes,’ she said again. ‘And Ellis – thank you very much. It’s like your first suggestion, about the money. It’s such a marvellous relief to feel that there’s a choice.’ It had not been merely terror that she had felt earlier, but anger that something alien had taken control of her body and that there was nothing she could do about it. Ellis had given her the power to make her own decisions, and she would always be grateful for that.

  She soon discovered that he had taken the precaution of weighting the balance as heavily in his favour as possible. After he and Trish had taken their leave, Grace went into the kitchen to make herself useful and found her mother in a high state of excitement.

  ‘Grace, darling, I’m so happy for you. What a charming man! And dear little Trish. I shall love having a child in Greystones again. I told Mr Faraday, Ellis, that a grandchild is just what I need. I see David’s family so rarely, and the rest of you have been most remiss about producing a new generation.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Mother?’ asked Grace. She knew the answer, of course. But Ellis ought surely to have kept his proposal secret until it had been answered.

  ‘Well, naturally Ellis told me that he wanted to marry you. In the normal way, it’s a girl’s father who is asked for permission, but –’

  ‘I’m hardly a girl. Really, Mother!’

  ‘So of course I told him that you would make up your own mind. I think he mentioned the matter to me partly to reassure me about money. Trish would go to school, so we shan’t need a governess, but we shall be able to have some help in the house again. He’d like to see the entertaining rooms back in use, and –’

  ‘Don’t go too fast, Mother. We hardly know him. It’s far too soon to make up my mind.’

  ‘But you will accept him, won’t you? I never understood why you broke your engagement to Christopher at the end of the war. But you’ve had plenty of time since then to realize that it’s not easy for someone of your generation to find an eligible husband after so many men were killed in the fighting.’

  ‘I decided that I didn’t want to be married. I’ve never felt ashamed of being a spinster, on the shelf. I’ve been very happy living here just with you and Philip.’ She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. Was this the moment to confess that her way of life was about to be changed whether she liked it
or not? It was not a secret which could be kept for long. But in the astonishment of hearing Ellis’s proposal she had failed to ask a good many important questions. Her mother would want to know who the baby’s father was. What should the answer be? Ellis proposed to claim paternity as far as the outside world was concerned, but would he want members of the family, and later the child himself, to know the truth? Probably not; but she ought not to risk making a wrong guess.

  ‘I’ll be going up to London next week,’ she said instead. ‘I’ll see Ellis there. There’s a lot to be considered. To start with, what should I wear?’ The question, she knew, would divert her mother’s attention from the larger matter – but it was a genuine one. There was nothing in her wardrobe which would look respectable in the West End, but she must try not to disgrace her suitor.

  ‘A well-cut suit never dates,’ said Mrs Hardie with a confidence which came from a lack of any interest in current fashions. ‘What a good thing we’re the same height. Let’s go and see what I can lend you.’ They went upstairs together.

  Since Grace had as little idea as her mother whether the outfits she was offered would be considered old-fashioned, she allowed quality of fabric and unfussy styling to guide her choice. The peach colour of a wild silk suit did not suit her complexion; but the tight-fitting skirt and loose jacket – for she was smaller in the bust than her mother had ever been – gave her an unaccustomed air of sophistication. Under protest she allowed herself to be bullied into wearing the matching hat and agreed that she would have to endure the discomfort of her only pair of smart shoes.

  The effect was to make her feel a stranger to herself when she took the train to London, increasing the impression that this whole drama was happening to someone else. Perhaps it was a dream. But no; there was Ellis waiting for her at Paddington, and his look of approving admiration brought a smile to her own face. It was a very long time indeed since anyone had last noticed her appearance favourably.

  ‘Where’s Trish?’ she asked, to start the conversation on a safe subject.

  ‘I asked Alan to take her to the Zoo. I was afraid she might find our day too tiring. I do take her to look at pictures quite often, in the National Gallery mostly, but I only let her look at a few each time, so that it stays a treat. Now, let’s find a taxi. Private shows before lunch, I thought, and the Tate afterwards.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  It was an educational morning. There was not a great deal of sculpture to be seen in the galleries clustered around Bond Street, and what there was proved to be small in scale. But it was interesting to discover how many modern figurative paintings were sculptural in style, depicting limbs so thick and solid that they might have been carved from stone. Even more interesting were the abstract paintings in which she could often recognize the same sense of movement that she was trying to create herself.

  Most interesting of all, however, was the fact that all the gallery owners knew Ellis by name. When he introduced Grace to them, and mentioned her work, it was with the authority of a man who was already acquainted with most of the artists whose work was on show. He was in the swim of London’s art world; and was offering her the opportunity to step into the current beside him.

  Until a few weeks ago Grace would have said that she wanted nothing better than to continue in a way of life which most people would consider to be dull and solitary – and she was still not discontented with it. But Andy and Rupert and Ellis himself had converged on Greystones to jolt her out of a routine which for fourteen years had been pleasurable but unstimulating. They had opened the doors of her imagination on to different worlds – France, Castlemere and London – preparing her for the possibility of stepping out of her narrow rut.

  In the excitement of today’s new experience she was even able to forget for a little while the personal disaster which would shatter her existing routine whether she liked it or not. A meal in a restaurant was one of her rarest treats and her eyes were as bright as a child’s as she pointed to her choice of hors d’oeuvres from the dishes which a waiter revolved on a trolley. Ellis’s eyes were bright as well; but with amusement.

  ‘This is only a first course,’ he warned her. ‘There’ll be something more substantial to come.’

  ‘Oh!’ Aghast at what must seem to be her greed, she put her hand up to her mouth. ‘What a real provincial you must think me!’

  ‘What I think is that you mustn’t ever change,’ he said. ‘These shapes that you’re carving and modelling emerge from your own personality. It would be a mistake, in my opinion, for you to turn yourself into a metropolitan person. If you marry me, I hope you’ll go on living in exactly the same way as before, boiler suit and all. I can handle any dealings with these people – gallery owners and critics – for you, to build up your reputation and get a bit of money. It’s something I’d very much like to do. So that I could feel I was putting something back in return for what Trish was getting. Have you thought any more about it, Grace? Will you take the plunge and marry me?’

  Grace looked up from her overloaded plate and stared into her companion’s eyes. He was still little more than a stranger, but did that matter when he was not expecting intimacy? He was sympathetic and considerate, sharing many of her own interests with an enthusiasm which excited her. He was a man of taste, sophisticated but not snobbish – and he was more competent to manage business affairs than any of the present occupants of Greystones. She liked him; and she liked his daughter.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I would be very happy to marry you.’

  Chapter Ten

  It was all over. On a cold Sunday morning in March 1933, Mrs Hardie collapsed at last into a chair in the kitchen, as exhausted as though she, and not her daughter, had spent the night in labour. Ellis was sitting with his wife whilst the midwife looked after the newly-born little boy. Mrs Hardie had made tea for them all, and gave Philip a tray to carry upstairs.

  Her youngest son, Jay, who was spending the weekend at Greystones, came to join her, shivering but elegant in a silk dressing gown.

  ‘Gracious, what a commotion!’

  ‘I thought you were managing to sleep all through it.’

  ‘Faint hope. It’s just that I didn’t see much point in adding to the confusion by appearing. No one is likely to ask me to portray a woman giving birth on the London stage, thank God. All well?’

  ‘Yes. A dear little boy. Nine pounds.’

  ‘Is that good or bad?’

  ‘It’s heavy, especially for a boy.’

  ‘And especially for a baby who’s supposed to be premature?’

  Mrs Hardie refrained from making any comment. On the day when Grace returned from London to announce that she had accepted Ellis’s proposal, she had confessed that she was already pregnant, but naturally enough had asked that the fact should be kept secret.

  ‘Is Ellis up with her now?’ Jay asked.

  ‘Yes. She’s very tired. Most women are much younger when they have their first babies, of course. But she’ll be all right. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Thanks.’ But instead of enjoying it peacefully, Jay began to pace around the kitchen. ‘How well did Grace know Ellis before they got married, Mother? The wedding was arranged in such a rush, while I was on tour, that I didn’t have a chance to say anything.’

  ‘Say anything about what, dear?’

  ‘Well, it’s just that … well, he and I have a good many friends in common.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘No, I mean … I didn’t actually know him before I met him here, but I knew his name, and his friends.’

  ‘So you just said.’ What was it that Jay was trying to explain? As an actor he was accustomed to declaim the lines written for him fluently, but seemed to be having trouble in expressing his own thoughts. She waited patiently.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought he was the sort of man to fall in love with Grace. In fact, I wouldn’t have expected him to want to get married at all.’

  ‘Well, p
erhaps they didn’t fall in love in the way that two younger people might have done.’ She paused for a moment, remembering the passion which had driven her at the age of eighteen to defy her family and run away from home without even being sure that the man she loved wanted to marry her. Grace had made no pretence of feeling anything like that. Indeed, she had retained the use of the bedroom in the tower which had been hers ever since the house was built, and had provided her husband with a room of his own some distance away. ‘It’s more of an affectionate friendship. Companionship. They like talking to each other. They admire each other’s work.’

  ‘You don’t have to marry in order to chat. Still, I suppose it’s a good sort of camouflage. As long as Grace realizes–’

  ‘Camouflage? What does that mean? I don’t understand what you’re getting at, dear.’ She would have pressed further, but at that moment there was an interruption. Trish came running into the kitchen.

  ‘Grandmother, the baby’s cold.’

  ‘What do you mean, darling?’

  ‘I thought I heard a kitten mewing, but it was the new baby crying. I went into the room just to have a peep. The window’s open and the room’s freezing cold and the baby hasn’t got any clothes on.’

  Almost unable to believe her ears, Mrs Hardie stood up so abruptly that her chair toppled backwards. Leaving Jay to pick it up, she hurried upstairs. She could hear Trish running behind her, but did not wait for the little girl to keep up.

  Grace had moved into a guest bedroom in the last two months of her pregnancy, when she began to find the spiral staircase of the tower too steep and narrow. Mrs Hardie glanced quickly through the open door as she passed. The new mother, looking pale and tired, was lying in bed with her eyes closed, while Ellis, at the side of the bed, held her hand. The midwife was in a corner of the room, rolling stained sheets into a bundle.