Grace Hardie Read Online Free

propose to go there by bicycle for the exercise. Ever since I returned home I’ve been sitting at a desk. Would you care to come too?’
    â€˜Certainly I would.’ They set off together across Magdalen Bridge and took the old road leading towards London. Although Midge was fit, the steepness of the hill which led up towards Shotover proved too much for her. Gordon dismounted to walk at her side.
    â€˜Did Lucy tell you about the land?’ he asked.
    â€˜Lucy had no time to tell me anything. I came straight to see you.’
    â€˜It’s a gift from the old marquess. That’s to say, he gave the money to buy it.’
    â€˜Lucy told me that they’d been reconciled before he died, and that he’d been very generous.’
    â€˜His generosity was actually directed at Grace. Don’t know why. The old man set up a trust fund. All the money has to be spent within three years on buying or building a house which will become Grace’s sole property on her twenty-first birthday. Lucy and I and the boys will be graciously allowed to live in it until then!’
    His tone of voice was light enough, but Midge could guess that he found it humiliating to have been excluded from managing his daughter’s affairs.
    â€˜So you’ll have to shoulder all the running costs?’
    â€˜There’s no problem there,’ said Gordon. ‘The House of Hardie can afford to keep the family in greater stylethan any of us has ever bothered about. The only thing that annoyed me was that Lucy wasn’t allowed to wait for my return before buying the land. Her grandfather sent his land agent to help her choose, but I’m not sure, all the same, that she’s got it right. We’ll have to see what the architect says.’
    By now they had left behind them the stone walls and cottages of Headington Quarry, and arrived in unspoiled country. The old road continued up to the summit of Shotover Hill, but Gordon indicated that they should turn right along a rough track.
    â€˜This first stretch of woodland belongs to one of the colleges,’ he said. ‘But the bridlepath is a public right of way, and leads us to our boundary here.’ He leaned his bicycle against a stone wall, next to a five-barred gate.
    Midge followed his example and studied the land in front of them with interest. A wide swathe of neglected woodland clothed the lower slope of the hill. So thick was the undergrowth and so rampant the brambles and ivies which clung to every tree that it was impossible to see more than a few yards in that direction. On the other side, looking up the hill, the view was more open. The ground near the gate was overgrown with scrub, but as it rose higher it opened into rough grassland. She had no time, though, to consider the site more carefully, for at that moment she saw someone walking down the hill towards them: a tall, fair-haired man of about thirty, wearing a green tweed knickerbocker suit.
    â€˜Ah, good; you’ve been having a look round already!’ exclaimed Gordon. ‘Midge, this is Mr Patrick Faraday. Mr Faraday, my sister, Miss Hardie. We’ll go up to the top.’ He opened the gate and strode ahead through a spinney, over the rough scrub and up the slope of the hill. Midge, who could not match his long stride, was unable to keepup, and grateful for Mr Faraday’s politeness in remaining at her side.
    â€˜My brother has only lately returned from an expedition to the Himalayas,’ she explained. ‘After surviving landslides and earthquakes, it’s not to be expected that he should be held up by mere nettles or brambles. And he’s accustomed to lead a caravan of sure-footed mules rather than a townswoman like myself.’
    â€˜This may be tame by Himalayan standards,’ commented the architect. ‘But as a site for a house and gardens it must be considered very rough. And steep. There will be problems.’
    As though it had occurred to