The House of Hardie

by Anne Melville

  By the time she regained her feet, snow had begun to fall again. The white flakes rested and glistened in the black fur which framed her face, and on her eyebrows and eyelashes. They softened her features, so that Archie, standing less steadily beside her, wondered how he could ever have thought of her merely as handsome. She was beautiful: a snow princess. His look must have spoken for him, for she lowered her gaze for a moment. Then, with her usual energy, she shook her skirts free of snow.

  ‘I must go back to my friends,’ she said, and made off without waiting for him. Archie, lost in admiration of her swift gliding movement, was slow to start in pursuit. Once he had pushed off, he did his best to catch her up, cursing the ungainly stiffness of his own movements which slowed him down and kept him at a distance.

  Midge was skating down the centre of the river channel, where the ice was smoothest. It was only near the banks that the ice had become thin; in the middle, even a well-built rowing man like Archie could hear no sound of cracking beneath his skates. But his eyes narrowed with anxiety as he saw the direction she was taking.

  Late on the previous evening a rowdy group of non-skaters had taken to the ice, each pushing a wooden chair for support in front of him. Their friends – of whom Archie was one – had entered with spirit into the horseplay, and before the evening was out the chairs were blazing in a huge bonfire which burned a hole in the ice near the river bank. During the night the area had frozen over again, but so thinly that for safety’s sake it had been broken up with sticks. For most of the day it had been obvious enough that the place was unsafe; but it was beginning to grow dark and the snow, which by now was falling heavily, might well have made the danger invisible. Midge would notice that no one was skating there, but might not guess why.

  ‘Miss Hardie!’ he shouted, doing his best to increase his speed. But she had too great a start; he could not hope to catch her up in time. Instead, he came to a halt and cupped his hands round his mouth, bellowing as though he were a towpath coach admonishing a rowing eight. ‘Miss Hardie! Come back!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Midge knew very well that she was behaving in an unladylike manner. Properly brought-up young ladies skated demurely in pairs, their hands tucked inside muffs, their backs straight, their feet moving gracefully but not too fast. They did not hold their skirts off the ground and lean forward, biting their skates into the ice as though they were racing some unseen competitor. But there was a reason for her present speed. She was hurrying back to rejoin the companions whom she should never have left, and if her head was thrusting forward, and turned down instead of being erect, it was not only because the position gave more power to her legs, but because by now the snow was falling thickly enough almost to blind her if she looked straight ahead.

  She followed the river’s curving course: it was less crowded than the meadow, because most of the merrymakers were nervous of the deep water below the ice. Faintly, from a distance, she heard Archie call her name: but he would not seriously expect her to stop. She sped on, past the Grove in which deer huddled round bales of hay, past Magdalen’s eighteenth-century New Building, and on towards the bridge.

  ‘Miss Hardie! Come back!’

  Half of Oxford must have heard the shout. Was Archie trying to embarrass her? She would have to wait for him, if only to remonstrate. It was another of Midge’s unladylike talents that she knew how to turn her feet and body sideways to make her skates judder to a halt within a few inches, however fast she might be going. She was just about to make the turn – but was still moving at speed – when she felt the ice give way beneath her. There was not even the sound of cracking to give her warning. One moment she was on thick ice and a minute later she was in the water.

  At the moment when she fell, her ankle was turning in one direction while the weight of her body moved in another. But she hardly had time to register the pain, for the chill of the water numbed her lower limbs. There was little danger of drowning, because it was near the river bank that the ice had given way. The water here was no more than two or three feet deep, and by flinging herself quickly forward she was able to grasp the exposed root of a tree. But the weight of her wet clothes pulled her down and the task of hauling herself on to the bank with her fingerless mittens seemed beyond her. Gasping with cold, she turned her head to see if anyone was near enough to help. The snow was falling in straight thick lines, forming a screen around her and deadening all sound. Less than half an hour earlier the whole area had seemed overcrowded, but now it was as though she were alone in the world.

  Through the screen Archie appeared, his face anxious and his movements awkward. It seemed as though he knew where he should look for her, and what he might find, for he leapt from the ice to the bank. Midge felt his hands beneath her shoulders, drawing her out of the water to lie for a few seconds on dry land.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘My right ankle, perhaps.’ Midge struggled into a sitting position. ‘Nothing serious, I’m sure.’

  ‘Hang on a second.’ It took him very little longer to find his ordinary boots and pull them on. Returning, he bent down and picked her up as though she weighed nothing at all before striding through the tall gates which led into his college.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘To a fire,’ said Archie briefly. ‘You could catch pneumonia unless we can get you warm again quickly.’

  Shivering uncontrollably, Midge lacked the strength to protest. Once or twice in the past she had indulged in daydreams of being carried away by this strong, handsome young man, but had always been able to laugh herself out of them. She was not that kind of weak, helpless girl. She could stand on her own feet and look after herself. So, at least, she had always believed. But now it was indeed welcome to feel that she was being looked after. Nevertheless, anxiety pricked at her mind when she realized that Archie was taking her towards the building in which he had his set of rooms. To be alone with an undergraduate on college premises was the most heinous crime which could be imagined by the Association for the Education of Women. She turned her head anxiously from side to side to see whether anyone in authority was watching. But the snow which had cut her off from help now served to make her invisible in a more useful manner. It was through a white, silent, uninhabited world that Archie was carrying her.

  He kicked open the door of his room and very carefully set her down, supporting her while he took off her cloak and then helping her to a chair. He threw more coals on to the smouldering fire and used the bellows to encourage it into flame. Then he crossed the room again and, before closing the door, pulled at a much heavier outer door and latched it shut.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Midge asked with chattering teeth.

  ‘Sporting my oak. Means I’m not to be disturbed. So that I won’t be interrupted while I’m working! It’ll be a surprise for my scout if he comes – the first time I’ve ever sported it.’ His smile of amusement changed to one of earnest explanation as he realized that his guest was anxious. ‘The thing is, it can’t be opened from the other side. But you can walk out whenever you choose, just by lifting the latch. Let me take your boot off before the ankle swells up. Which one is hurt?’

  Still shivering violently, Midge indicated her right foot. Archie held it firmly in position while easing off the boot; then, more swiftly, he removed the left one as well. Springing briskly to his feet, he considered what to do next.

  ‘You should take off that heavy skirt,’ he said. ‘Hang it over the fireguard to dry. You’ll never get warm while your clothes are soaking. I’m pretty wet myself.’ He took off his coat as he spoke. ‘Why don’t I change my clothes in my bedroom while you see what you can do in here to make yourself more comfortable?’

  ‘You’re very thoughtful, Mr Yates.’ Midge spoke sincerely. The heat of the fire was bringing her numbed legs back to life and her shivering had stopped. In a moment or two she would be warm again. Her skirts, which had begun to steam, would no doubt be uncomfortable for walking but she
had gone into the water only up to her knees. ‘I ought to rejoin my friends as soon as possible, though. They’ll be expecting to walk home with me, and they’re bound to be anxious if I don’t appear.’ In such heavy snow, all skating would have come to an end by now.

  ‘You can’t walk on that ankle.’

  ‘It’s only turned, not broken. If I rub it …’

  ‘I can do that.’ Archie went down on his knees beside her chair. ‘This sort of thing happens all the time on the rugger field.’ But on their way towards her ankle his hands gripped the hem of her skirt and squeezed the water out of a small section of it. ‘Hang it all,’ he said. ‘You can’t sit in this. Take it off and let me wring it out. Ten minutes’ drying it over the fireguard will make all the difference.’

  Midge swallowed the lump which was choking her throat and, without speaking, undid the fastenings of her skirt. She justified this to herself with the reminder that she was wearing a flannel petticoat which was just as thick and decent as her overskirt. And yet she knew that by her action she was allowing a situation which was already a breach of rules to change into something far more dangerous. She knew – but seemed unable to stop herself.

  ‘That’s better.’ Archie dealt briskly with the skirt before returning his attention to her ankle. She felt his thumbs pressing in, searching for the strained muscle and massaging it. His hands moved upward underneath the wet petticoat, rubbing her chilled calf back to life as well. He might even have explored further still had Midge not checked him with a breathless assurance.

  ‘I can stand now, I’m sure. Let me try.’

  She needed his support as she rose to her feet and tested the strength of her ankle. Archie kept his hands under her elbows and leaned forward and down towards her. In a moment he would be kissing her. Midge wanted him to do so, but at the same time knew that she must stop him, if only because she felt herself to be a prisoner.

  ‘Mr Yates! You’re taking advantage …’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Archie straightened himself at once. ‘But dash it all, you’ve let me kiss you before,’ he said soulfully.

  ‘I oughtn’t to have done. That sort of behaviour is only permissible if – if there is some kind of understanding.’

  ‘You mean, that we shall marry one day? Well, may we not share such an understanding? I’m not my own master yet, worse luck. But when I’m twenty-one, when I’ve finished at Oxford, when my grandfather has set me up – oh, I’m so much in love with you. You must know how I feel. And I hoped you might care for me just a bit.’

  ‘I do, but –’

  ‘Well then.’ He took her into his arms, kissing her with such force that Midge felt her lips bruising against her teeth. So much taller was he than herself that he almost lifted her off the ground. When, after a few moments, he relaxed his grip and her feet touched the carpet again, her injured ankle buckled under her weight. She staggered and fell sideways on to the silky rug which Archie had brought with him from Castlemere. Before she had time to pick herself up, Archie was lying on the floor beside her.

  ‘No!’ she said, but Archie’s kiss closed her lips. She felt his hands moving over her body, tugging at her clothes. She tried to struggle against the weight of his body, but her own movements excited her and became a part of his. Now he was kissing her neck, murmuring over and over again that he loved her. Midge knew that she must stop him, and knew that she could not.

  When at last he was still again she opened her eyes and saw Archie’s face still close to hers. His skin was flushed and, in the second before his eyes evaded her glance, she recognized that he was feeling now the same kind of anxiety that she had experienced a few moments earlier.

  Her own feelings were no longer complicated. She was ashamed. Shame kept her silent as Archie collected her clothes and helped her into his tiny bedroom to dress. Shame held back her tears. Had she been attacked by a stranger she could have cried with anger or regret. But although it was true that Archie was too strong for her to resist, she knew that she could have stopped him if she had been resolute enough before it was too late.

  How could she face him again? She was frightened of what might be the consequences of his own shame. Would he turn his back on her, without reason, just because she had done what he wanted her to do? Half an hour earlier he had talked tenderly – hadn’t he? – of marriage. She was too proud to ask for his reassurance now, but frightened lest he should fail to offer it. The pale face and collected demeanour with which she opened the bedroom door when she was ready concealed a terror which made her unable to move.

  Archie, smiling again in his usual good-natured and light-hearted way, ascribed her stillness only to the injured ankle. He had nothing on his mind, it seemed, except the best course of action to pursue.

  ‘Why don’t I carry you to The House of Hardie?’ he suggested. ‘It’s only a short distance, and your father can make sure that you have transport home. Then I’ll go back to find your friends. I’ll tell them that you’ve had a slight accident and have asked me to carry a message. They won’t know when you had the accident – nor how long you’ve been with your father. They won’t even need to know that I’m a friend of yours. In an emergency, any stranger would have helped you in the same way.’

  Midge nodded her head. Archie picked up her skates and gave them to her to carry. Once again he lifted her up in his arms.

  ‘I’d better be only an accidental passer-by when I deliver you to your father as well,’ he said. ‘So now, before we go … I’ve never known anyone like you, you know. I can hardly believe that you love me.’ He kissed her once more before arranging her cloak in such a way that it covered her completely. They both pretended that this was only to protect her from the snow, but it served its purpose in smuggling her unchallenged out of the college.

  The chief clerk jumped to his feet in alarm as Midge was carried into The House of Hardie and made comfortable on a chair. A messenger was sent off at once to find Mr Hardie, who was doing business in one of the colleges: Midge guessed that Archie would leave the premises before his return. She listened in silence as her rescuer gave the impression that he had found her by chance after her fall through the ice and had brought her straight there. He did not in so many words tell a lie, but his story was far from being the truth. Had Gordon been in the shop, he would have seen through it at once – but Gordon was in Portugal, negotiating with the suppliers of the firm’s port. Midge herself thanked Archie and told him where her friends would be waiting for her, but said nothing else.

  That night, unable to sleep, she passed the events of the afternoon over and over again through her memory. Ashamed and afraid, she searched for excuses for her own behaviour and for Archie’s, and could find none. She had committed the worst sin imaginable for a young woman. That fact was inescapable; all she could hope to escape were the consequences.

  Archie had said that he loved her, and it had been the truth; she was sure of that. He had said, too, that they should have an understanding to marry one day. Could she feel the same certainty there? Even at the time he had hedged the promise around with doubts. Had she believed him? Had he seduced her with an offer of marriage, or had it been solely the strength of her own desires which kept her in his arms?

  Midge, who never cried, began to cry now. She had been a fool – in the way that hundreds of girls every day, no doubt, were fools. Of course Archie would not marry her. Whatever the practical objections to an immediate engagement, there was no law which said that a young man must have reached his majority and graduated before asking his future wife to wait for him. Archie had chosen his words as carefully to her as he had later in the parlour of The House of Hardie. He was not by nature a deceitful young man. But no doubt he had managed to persuade himself that lies were to be found only in words spoken and not those left unsaid.

  But no, she told herself, she must not make Archie out to be a villain. He was good-natured and affectionate, and he loved her. There was no obstacle to their marriage. When he thought a
bout it, he would realize what he must do – and because he did love her, it would be no hardship.

  It did not occur to Midge at this moment of crisis in her life to ask herself seriously whether she wanted to be Archie’s wife. Gordon had once tried to persuade her that Archie was the wrong man for her, and when she was thinking sensibly she had recognized that this might be true. It was the touch of Archie’s fingers, the passion of Archie’s kisses, which had thrown common sense out of the window, banishing her doubts and convincing her that she could expect no greater joy than to spend the rest of her life in his company. It was too late now to call common sense back. She had allowed herself to be ruined by Archie, and Archie must see that there was, in honour, only one course open to him. He must marry her. He must.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Using the injury to her ankle as an excuse, Midge sent a note to Dr Mackenzie to say that she would be unable to attend the last Monday coaching of the term, enclosing the essay which she would have read aloud to him. In return she received his comments on it and a reading list for the Easter vacation, when in preparation for her Finals she must begin to revise all the work of the past three years. The icy weather had brought colds or broken bones to so many people that there was nothing in the least remarkable about this exchange of correspondence. Only Midge knew its real meaning.

  She was frightened of meeting Archie again. Or rather, she did not want to encounter him in the presence of Mrs Lindsay, as he came away from his tutorial. Part of the pleasure of their weekly exchange of bows had been the pretence – for the chaperone’s sake – that they hardly knew each other. But if he were to treat her now as a mere acquaintance, it would be hard to bear the uncertainty of wondering whether this still was, as it had been previously, a joke between two people whose friendship went far deeper.