The House of Hardie Read Free Page B

I mean. But you’re –how old is it now? Seventeen? So. Take whatever training your father has in mind to give you. Go to France if you can, see the vines growing and all the processes of making the wine. One of these days you may be able to bring two talents together, breed a new variety of grape. But don’t turn up your nose at the business of keeping accounts and getting to know your customers. One of these days, when The House of Hardie is yours, and thriving well enough to finance an expedition of your own, you may find you can put a manager in for a few years. But first of all you must have at your own fingertips everything you’ll want him to do. Take your training.’
    Their conversation was interrupted by a loud, repeated shout. Many times during the past two and a half years Gordon had listened as the orders for the mainsail to be lowered and furled were relayed upwards, and had felt the abrupt change from the wind’s full power to a more delicate, gliding propulsion. He had leaned against the rail, as he was leaning now, studying the coastline of a tropical island and wondering what treasures were hidden in the interior. Here the water was grey instead of a bright, clear blue, and instead of palm trees fingering the sunshine he could see only the misty outlines of cranes. After such an absence, the life that lay ahead of him was almost as hard to envisage as the life of the islanders who paddled their canoes out to the
Periwinkle
and led her to safe anchorage. The journey to Oxford would be the beginning of a different kind of exploration; but Sir Desmond had reminded him that this too could have a worthwhile goal.
    Twenty-four hours later, on the first Sunday of October 1877, Gordon Hardie strode along Oxford’s High Street and came to a halt opposite the bow windows of TheHouse of Hardie, with their small panes of bottle green glass. The premises would of course be unoccupied at this hour: he could stare at them without any danger of being seen and recognized. He would find his father and mother and sister, he hoped, at their home in Holywell. How would they greet him? As the prodigal son returning, to be welcomed and feasted, or as someone who had behaved heartlessly, disappointing their hopes – someone who could not be forgiven? His guess was that his mother would cry and Midge, his sister, would tease, and his father would be at first severe, but willing to be placated by promises of future good behaviour.
    So what promises could reasonably be made? Gordon tried to pierce the thick glass with his imagination, to see himself bending over ledgers, or rising to be polite to the son of a duke, who would one day be a duke – and a profitable customer – himself. It was not a prospect which gave him much pleasure. But any undertakings given to his father would be valueless if they were not performed with whole-hearted diligence. He would make another promise, this time to himself – a promise whose fulfilment would provide a reward for good behaviour. In ten years’ time his father would be only fifty years old; still well able to manage the business himself without his son’s help. There would be no more running away; on this occasion Gordon would ask with good warning for leave of absence. But as long as he was free to make plans in his head for some new expedition, he would be able to endure the slavery of business without complaint. Until October 1887, he would devote himself to the affairs of The House of Hardie. But only until then.

Chapter One
1885
    Eight years after Gordon Hardie’s return from his escapade in the South Seas, another young man arrived in the High and gazed at the bow windows of The House of Hardie. It was the first day of the Michaelmas term in 1885: the first day of Archie Yates’s new life as an Oxford undergraduate. His grandfather, the Marquess of Ross, had travelled with him from the great house of Castlemere in order to