Free The House of Hardie by Anne Melville Page A

floating grandstand. Youcan watch the races from the top and then go down for tea and ices.’
    It was something else to which Lucy could look forward. On Saturday afternoon, wearing another new dress – this time of white muslin embroidered with yellow buttercups – and carrying a matching parasol, she saw with pleasure that the top viewing deck of the barge was already crowded with the young men who had danced with her at the ball, today wearing blazers and boaters. They pressed around her, delighted when she remembered their names, and repeated all the explanations of the day’s events which Archie had already given her.
    The marquess, leaving her in her brother’s care, went off to the Christ Church barge to meet his own friends and cheer on his own Eight. Miss Jarrold hovered unobtrusively in the background, not needed until it was time for Archie to change into his rowing clothes. Lucy tried to take an interest in the racing, but found that there was little to see. Most of the bumps, if there were any, took place out of sight, long before the boats rounded the bend and approached the finishing line. The intervals between the races were long, and it was too early yet for tea.
    It was while she was staring across the river, waiting for something to happen, that her eye was caught by a face amongst the crowds thronging the towpath. So loudly did her heart start to beat that she felt sure her brother must hear it. From the first moment of her arrival in Oxford, she had been hoping for some chance encounter with the young man who had intruded on her in the herb garden at Castlemere two months earlier. He had returned three days after that to continue their conversation, as though he had been aware of the invitation which she knew she must not put into words; but then had taken his leave in amanner suggesting that they could not expect to meet again.
    During the past two days, as she loitered along Oxford’s High Street on the excuse of looking at the shops, she had lingered as long as she dared near the bow windows of The House of Hardie, hoping that at any moment Gordon Hardie might emerge on some errand and catch sight of her. She wanted him to know that she was in the same city; nothing more. But she had not succeeded in glimpsing him – until now. ‘Could we walk for a little?’ she asked her brother, disguising her eagerness with a pretence of nonchalance. ‘Over there, on the other bank?’
    Archie looked briefly doubtful. ‘They’re mostly town people there,’ he said. ‘But if you like.’ He helped her down the steps and offered his arm. Together they crossed Folly Bridge and began to stroll along the towpath.
    Strolling, rather than brisk walking, was the general activity on this hot summer day, so Lucy had been right to suppose that the couple she had seen walking away would before too long retrace their steps towards the bridge. She felt her cheeks flushing as she straightened her back and twirled her parasol and chatted to her brother with even more than her usual animation. She was not precisely flirting – indeed, she could not have explained to herself what her true motive was. She merely wanted – yes, that was it: she wanted Mr Gordon Hardie to reflect as he passed her that although his companion was good-looking in her way, Miss Lucy Yates was prettier.
    No sooner had Lucy formulated the thought than she was ashamed of it. There was still time to turn back. Although she could identify the approaching couple by the thin red stripes on the dress which she had noted from the opposite bank, neither of them would be expecting tosee her here and only one of them would recognize her. But even as she turned to Archie, ready to suggest a return, he came to a halt of his own accord. Not, however, in order to retreat. Instead, to Lucy’s amazement, he was smiling, raising his boater, holding out a hand.
    â€˜Miss Hardie! How frightfully