Grace Hardie

by Anne Melville

  ‘That’s just what I’ve done,’ said Grace quietly.

  ‘Then you’re a silly little goose, and you’ll be sorry. And have you thought how much you must have hurt Christopher?’

  ‘Of course I have. But how much worse it would have been for both of us if I’d only found out that I didn’t want to be married when it was too late.’

  ‘You can’t possibly know that you don’t.’ Lucy did her best to conceal her irritation and speak more sympathetically. ‘All girls feel nervous as their wedding day approaches. Though I would have credited you with more courage, Grace. Well, it may not be too late. I’ll do what I can to mend your bridges for you, if you want me to. I’m sure they’ll understand that you were ill and not yourself. Think about it – and quickly, before Christopher discovers that there’s no shortage of pretty girls waiting to console a hero.’

  ‘That may have happened already.’ Grace walked across the studio to fetch a chair for Lucy. ‘When I told Christopher how I felt – I did it before he proposed again, so that he wouldn’t have to hear me say no – to start with he didn’t believe it. And then he was upset. And then he was angry.’

  ‘As he had a perfect right to be.’

  ‘Yes. Well, then I went to bed. I didn’t want to join in the New Year’s Eve celebrations, but I wasn’t well enough to travel. I suspect that Christopher made a show of enjoying the party just to make it clear that nothing was wrong. And I also think that by pretending to enjoy it, he really enjoyed it.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘Next day, when I said goodbye, he didn’t seem either angry or upset any longer. A little sad, perhaps. But I felt that I’d become just a part of his wartime life, and that he was almost glad to be putting all that behind him. If it hadn’t been for the war, I don’t believe he’d ever have been interested in a girl like me. Now he’ll find one of his own kind and be much happier.’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish, Grace.’

  ‘Am I? Well, I suppose I can only guess at Christopher’s feelings. But I’m sure of my own. I shan’t change my mind.’

  ‘And I shan’t change my arrangements.’ Lucy allowed her annoyance to reveal itself in her voice, but it was caused by her daughter’s foolishness rather than by any threat to her plans. ‘I shall stay here only as long as I originally intended, until after the date we’d settled for your wedding. If it doesn’t take place you’ll find yourself alone.’

  ‘I shall like that,’ said Grace softly. ‘Just till you come home again, I mean.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Grace. You can’t possibly manage –’

  ‘Mother, if I were just about to marry, then in a few weeks’ time I’d find myself engaging unknown servants and giving them instructions on how to run a strange house. I’d be expected to manage that. How much easier it will be to look after a house that I’ve always known. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be perfectly all right here.’

  Her eyes were bright with satisfaction as she turned back to her work. Pressing a piece of clay on to the model, she smoothed it with a wetted wooden tool. She was blurring still further the distinction between man and beast, making a shape which gave an impression of strength and speed. The movement was loving, almost sensuous. Lucy bit her lips in exasperation. How could she make her daughter see sense?

  There was no answer to that question. As Grace bent to stroke and pinch the clay, an absorbed smile played about her lips. She was happy, her mother realized in dismay; and happiness had closed her ears to reason.

  Part Seven

  Family Secrets 1920

  Chapter One

  In the spring of 1920 Grace received an unexpected letter from her aunt.

  ‘I’m taking leave of absence for the summer term,’ Midge wrote. ‘May I spend a few weeks with you at Greystones? There’s a special reason why I need to be near Oxford. I’ll explain when I see you – it will make you laugh.’

  Grace’s first thought was that with her mother away, Midge wanted to keep an eye on her; but in this she was wrong.

  ‘I need some coaching,’ her aunt told her on the first day of the visit. ‘I have the chance to take my degree at last.’

  ‘I thought you’d done that long ago. Weren’t you one of the very first women –?’

  Midge shook her head. ‘I was one of the first women allowed to take the same Final Examinations as the men. We qualified for degrees, but we were never in fact presented with them. The University of Oxford likes to move one step at a time, and only after prolonged thought. However, thirty years on, it’s been decided that a second step might not destroy the whole fabric of academic society. So this autumn the degree-giving ceremony will be open to women for the first time.’

  ‘Congratulations!’

  ‘Well, it’s not certain yet that I shall be able to attend. There’s a snag. But I can tell you, it’s going to be a very funny sight as women of every age up to my own mix with the twenty-one-year-olds who’ll be graduating straight after their examinations. I should think every teacher in England who qualifies will be there.’

  ‘You said there was a snag.’

  ‘Yes indeed. You see, although I took Finals at the end of my studies, I didn’t sit the intermediate exams which the men had to do. If I want to take my degree now, I’ve got to pass Diwers and Responsions first. That would have been hard enough work when I was eighteen, but at fifty-five …! I can work up Divinity well enough, and the Latin I need for Responsions won’t be too bad. But Greek! So I’ve arranged to have special coaching here – and I’m hoping that my beloved niece will agree to put up with a poor wandering scholar while I struggle with it.’

  ‘I shall love having you here.’ As her aunt had expected, Grace was amused by the thought of dozens of headmistresses preparing to sit down in an examination room again. She had not felt lonely since her mother’s departure, nor found time hanging heavily on her hands. But it would be a delight to have company.

  Had there been anything she could do to help, she would willingly have abandoned her work in the studio; but Midge rode off by bicycle at the beginning of every day and did not return until after tea. As well as her daily coaching, she needed a session in a library with a good lexicon in order to do the exercises she was set. In addition, she quickly made contact with two of her contemporaries who were in Oxford for the same reason. Over morning coffee or afternoon tea, or walking beside the river, the three headmistresses happily relived their student days.

  Midge also regularly called in at The House of Hardie. At first these visits were to fill in time between other engagements; but within a week or so she began to ask for a regular sandwich packet so that she could stroll across the High to the Botanic Garden with Mr Witney and sit for half an hour on the bank of the Cherwell.

  It was as a result of one of these lunch-hour interludes that she returned to Greystones in a more sombre mood than usual, and opened a conversation after dinner with a directness which was almost aggressive.

  ‘I suggested to you a year ago that you might interest yourself in the affairs of the family firm,’ she said. ‘For your own profit and that of the business. Have you given that possibility any further thought?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘When you put the idea forward, it was because my engagement had just been broken, and it was the very next day that I discovered the reason for that.’

  ‘But you’re not engaged now. Perhaps you should consider the matter again.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be any use, Aunt Midge. I remember what you said about being independent and having my own interests and all that kind of thing. But I’m not suited to business. It isn’t enough to be a Hardie, or even to have learned the difference between a claret and a burgundy. I couldn’t possibly negotiate contracts, and I have no head for business. It would be foolish of me to meddle.’

  ‘So you’ll continue to leave everything to Mr Witney? Do you realize, Grace, what a burden it is? Since your father left – or, at least, since
Frank died – there’s been no one to share the responsibility.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it in that way,’ said Grace. ‘When you first raised the subject, I thought it was for my sake, not Mr Witney’s.’

  ‘And so it was then. But now for the sake of the business something must be done.’

  ‘Perhaps David should be approached.’

  ‘Mr Witney raised the subject with him last Christmas. Your brother made it clear enough that he has become a professional man and that any involvement in trade would be frowned on by his father-in-law. But the business can’t just be left to drift. The problems created by the war have been enormous, and Mr Witney has been forced to solve them alone – to slave away on the family’s behalf without being more than an employee himself.’

  ‘Does he wish to be made a partner?’ Although such a possibility had never previously occurred to Grace, she saw that it would be equitable for a share of the profits of the business to be offered to someone who served it so well.

  ‘That question should have been asked years ago; when your father was planning to leave, if not before. It’s too late now. If the business goes bankrupt, a partner would be liable for its debts; whereas an employee can’t be asked to surrender more than his employment, his livelihood.’

  ‘Bankrupt!’ exclaimed Grace. ‘Is there really a danger of such a thing happening?’

  ‘He tells me that within the last few months the danger has become acute.’

  ‘Then why has he said nothing? If there are steps which ought to be taken –’

  ‘To whom should he speak? David has been discouraging, your mother is away, and you claim not to understand business. Besides, I suspect Mr Witney thinks that women should not be troubled with such matters, even when it’s their own income which is at risk. I told him that I would see if you had changed your mind. If you’re still unwilling to be more closely involved with The House of Hardie’s affairs, what about Philip?’

  ‘We oughtn’t to worry him with such problems,’ said Grace. In the course of her visits to the community in which her brother now lived she had come to understand that he had found peace and health only by cutting himself off from the world. It would be cruel as well as unprofitable to ask him to rescue an ailing business.

  ‘Then David must be apprised of the new situation at once and reminded of his responsibilities. There’s no need for him to soil his hands by actually touching the wine if he’s too good for us now. But his legal training should at least qualify him to understand the problems and perhaps see a solution. I should warn you, dear, that you may have to consider changes in your way of life. The servants’ wages and tradesmen’s bills are all paid out of the profits of The House of Hardie, and there may be no profits this year.’

  ‘Ever since Mother went away it has seemed ridiculous that one person should be served by so many,’ Grace admitted. ‘But we have fewer servants than before the war, and the house is so large that they’re all fully occupied, however many or few of the family are at home. Besides, except for the kitchenmaid, they’ve all been with us for years. It wouldn’t seem right to send them away.’

  ‘Rather than finding themselves put out of employment suddenly with no wages paid and nowhere to go, they might be glad of at least a warning –’

  ‘As Mr Witney should have warned me!’ There was indignation mixed with Grace’s alarm. ‘I don’t know anything about the laws of bankruptcy, but if Greystones belongs to my father and The House of Hardie belongs to my father – or his heirs if he’s presumed to be dead – then isn’t there a danger that one could be sold by order to pay the debts of the other? Shouldn’t I have known about that? It may be hard for a housemaid to find a new place at short notice, but where should I go if my home were to be snatched away? He ought, he most certainly ought –’

  Midge put a hand reassuringly on her niece’s arm. ‘It won’t be as bad as that,’ she said. ‘I may have exaggerated a little. I was indignant on Mr Witney’s behalf, after I heard what he had to tell me. Part of the trouble lies in the uncertainty about whether your father is still alive. David will find a solution to that part of the problem, and then it ought to be possible to borrow money and set the House of Hardie on its feet again. Certainly you’d be wise to reduce the costs of running the house as much as you can, but I’m sure there’s no danger of losing it altogether.’

  The soothing words came too late to soothe Grace’s beating heart. She had refused to let marriage take her away from Greystones. Might an ailing business now force her to go?

  Chapter Two

  What a serious young man David was! He had never been Grace’s favourite brother and when, in 1915, he began to wear spectacles, she had unkindly assumed that he was pretending poor eyesight to evade military service. But he still wore them five years later, their thick rims giving his face a squareness further emphasized by the close trim of his hair. His expression was grave as he explained what he had discovered about the affairs of The House of Hardie during the past few weeks. Midge had by now taken her examinations and returned to London to await the results, so he and his sister were dining alone.

  ‘Mr Witney should have brought the situation to our attention long before it reached its present serious state,’ he complained.

  ‘I understood that he had raised the subject with you last Christmas.’

  ‘He didn’t indicate that the problems were so serious. And he’s always seemed competent enough to keep the firm running smoothly. But not, it seems, to deal with such an unusually difficult period.’

  ‘What exactly has gone wrong?’ asked Grace.

  ‘A combination of misfortunes. The first one, of course, being Father’s disappearance. He left a power of attorney behind him so that Mr Witney would have the necessary authority, but this has run out of time. Some contracts could be challenged in the courts. The first thing I must do is apply for a certificate of presumption of death.’

  Grace frowned unhappily at the suggestion, and her brother, understanding her feelings, gave what reassurance he could.

  ‘It doesn’t make any difference to the fact of whether he’s dead or alive. It’s just that we shall have more power to take action for the good of the business.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. What sort of action?’

  ‘Well, let me tell you some of the problems. One of them is peculiar to the Oxford branch. You must have proved a good saleswoman whilst you were helping out in the High, Grace. Bottles of wine went out of the shop in a most satisfactory manner. The only trouble is that the money to pay for them didn’t roll in at quite the same speed.’

  ‘It was the firm’s policy, Mr Witney always said, not to press undergraduates for payment. It wasn’t a new idea of his.’

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t. However, he might have noticed that there was a new element in the situation. For five years the young men who had run up their debts in a traditional manner didn’t go on to inherit their father’s estates and become lifelong customers in the usual way. They got killed instead.’

  ‘And all honour –’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes,’ interrupted David. ‘There’s no shame to anyone in this. I’m merely pointing out that for five years The House of Hardie has been supplying some of its Oxford customers as though it were a charitable organization. Eventually, of course, it will be rewarded by goodwill; but the immediate effect is a lack of funds to purchase new stocks.’

  ‘Yes, I see.’

  ‘And there are other factors,’ he continued. ‘Naturally the war affected supplies. Disruption of shipping, looting of some of our stocks being held in cask in France, destruction of vineyards. Because we were well stocked when the war started, Mr Witney could fill a high proportion of orders. But he continued to calculate the prices he should ask on the basis of what those stocks originally cost, without taking account of how much it would take to replace them. The cash reserve may have looked healthy for a time, but only because it was impossible to spend it at the normal rate. Now that the o
pportunity to buy has returned – and I’m told that the 1919 burgundies may prove to be the best vintage for half a century – he simply hasn’t got the money with which to negotiate. You can never stand still in trade. How can you sell if you’re unable to buy?’

  ‘Surely Father had a reserve for emergencies.’

  ‘I thought so. But he seems to have taken more than was wise to finance his expedition.’

  ‘It was his own business. He was entitled to draw on it.’

  ‘If that had been all, yes. But there was another withdrawal at the same time. A large amount, which appears to have been transferred into a trust. I haven’t had time yet to find out about it. It may be that after Father has been presumed dead we shall be able to recover or use the money. But all these legal processes will take time, and The House of Hardie has no time to spare. We’re living on credit. Fortunately, after two hundred years of honest trading our credit is good. But we can’t extend it for ever. We need cash, and we need it quickly.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Until this moment neither Grace nor David had taken any notice of the parlourmaid who was serving the meal. They had grown up with the knowledge that everything they said at table would be overheard and, if interesting, repeated in the servants’ hall. In any case, Grace had already made the first reductions in the staff, as her aunt had advised, so this conversation would merely confirm a situation already known to the servants. But David now paused and then stood up.

  ‘Shall we take coffee in the drawing room?’ he said; and waited until the tray had been set down and the maid had left the room before answering his sister’s question.

  ‘I’ve been considering this carefully since Mr Witney approached me a few weeks ago,’ he said. ‘There’s one very simple way of raising capital. We could take out a mortgage on Greystones.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that we borrow a sum of money which we put to work in the business. We have to pay interest on the loan, but if the business is well run there’ll be no difficulty in covering the interest and still making a good profit.’