Free The Hardie Inheritance by Anne Melville Page A

make up for her tactlessness by asking her guest to describe some of the other houses which his father had designed, and the evening passed as pleasantly as the day. It was at a much later hour than usual that Grace made her way up the spiral stairs which led to her tower bedroom. Her mind was still on photography and architecture as she opened the door – which made the shock all the greater as she saw Andy standing inside the room.
    â€˜Andy! What are you doing here? You shouldn’t –’
    â€˜I couldn’t keep away.’ He came towards her, his arms outstretched. ‘All day I’ve been waiting to see you again. Couldn’t think of anything else.’ Now he was almost touching her, and with half of her mind Grace wanted to feel herselfpulled into his arms. But the other half was stronger. She put up a hand to stop him.
    â€˜No. It’s not right. We mustn’t.’
    â€˜But last night–’
    â€˜You took me by surprise last night. It was wonderful. And I was glad … It was a proper finish, in a way, to something that was untidy.’ Grace knew that she was incapable of explaining exactly what she meant. Andy had disappeared from her life all those years ago in an unsatisfactory way. Had he been killed in the war, she would have grieved over his death but without feeling that her own inadequacy was somehow responsible for it. But the knowledge that he could have returned but was held in France by a wife and baby had been harder to bear. She had not, at their last parting, said a proper goodbye; but she could say it now. ‘You’re married, Andy. It would be wrong.’
    â€˜She’ll never know.’
    â€˜That doesn’t make it less wrong. And anyway, think of it from my point of view. You’ll be here for a week or two more, perhaps, and then you’ll go back to France. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering when you’re next coming to visit your mother – just hoping.’ It was as the cock crowed that morning that Grace had realized that the decision must be her own. If she did what Andy wanted – whatever that might be – she was certain in the end to find herself not just lonely but guilty. Only by sending him away at once could she retain her self-respect, even though the price would be unhappiness.
    Andy took no notice. Perhaps he thought that she wanted to be overruled, to be physically forced into a surrender which she could pretend was against her real wishes. Perhaps he was right! The shame of that thought spurred her to resist as he held her close, kissed her, pressed her back against the wall of the tower room, as yesterday he had pressed her against the boulder.
    She was as tall as he was, and very nearly as strong. Strong enough, certainly, to show him that her struggle to escapefrom his arms was more than a token. Pushing him off, she ran to the far side of the room and stood there, panting with the effort.
    â€˜Don’t you see, Andy, we’ve got no right. We’d never be able to meet again, if … Oh Andy, I do love you. You know that. I’m glad about yesterday. But it mustn’t ever happen again. And we must both
know
that it won’t. Please go away. Go away now.’
    It was a battle of wills, and Grace’s was the stronger. Andy’s freckled face paled with disappointment: perhaps with anger as well. For a few moments he seemed to be struggling to speak. But as though recognizing that no argument would change her mind, he turned abruptly away and went out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Seven
    Mrs Hardie remained unwilling to return to the house in which she had been brought up, but ten days after Rupert Beverley’s first visit to Greystones, his chauffeur returned to collect Grace for her visit to Castlemere. The rush of the wind in her hair as the motor car sped along the narrow lanes was thrilling enough to someone whose usual speed was that