Demelza (42 page)

Her voice died as a knock came at the front door.

'Now gently, my love, gently. Take your time. That knock is not very peremptory, is it? They are not sure of themselves. We'll wait for another knock before making a light.'

He stood up, gathered together the clothes he had taken off and moved to the cupboard.

'No,' Demelza said, 'under the cot. If you can lift it carefully I'll slip them under.'

While they were doing this the knock came again, and louder.

'That should wake Gimlett,' said Ross, making a light himself. 'He'll think he is always being roused in the middle of the night.'

There was water in the room and Demelza hurriedly poured some in a bowl. As the light of the candle grew she took up a flannel and bathed his face and hands. When Gimlett came to the door Ross was just putting on his gown.

'What is it now?'

'If you please, sur, there's a sergeant o' the soldiery asking' to see you downstairs.'

'Confound it, this is a time to call! Ask him in the parlour, John. I'll be down very soon.'

MR ODGERS MIGHT have thought his pleas effective, for Sawle Feast passed barely marked. But in fact conditions preached the surest sermon.

And the soldiers still lay like a blight on the land. Everyone had been hoping for their going, but instead a contingent moved to Sawle and showed no signs of feeling themselves unwanted. They bivouacked in an open field just behind Dr Choake's house, and to everyone's disappointment the weather cleared again and no wind blew to strip them in sleep.

Ross had spent an uncomfortable few days. Apart from the chance of trouble over Mark Daniel, there was his breach with Francis. They had never quarrelled in this way before. Even during the ups and downs of these last years Francis and he had always held each other in mutual respect. Ross was not upset at being suspected of helping Verity to elope but at being disbelieved when he denied it. It would never have occurred to him to doubt Francis's word. But it had seemed as if Francis didn't want to believe the denial, almost as if he was afraid to believe it. It was all inexplicable and left a nasty taste.

On the Friday, Ross had to go to Trevaunance. Richard Tonkin was to be there, and they were to go into the general accounts before the general meeting that evening. Ever since the opening of the smelting works opposition to the working of the company had been fierce. Mines had been induced to boycott them, attempts made to squeeze them from the available markets for the refined product; they had been overbid again and again at the ticketings.

But so far they had ridden the storm.

This was the first time Ross had been out since Tuesday evening, and when he reached Grambler he was not overpleased to see a tall cavalry officer coming the other way.

'Why, Captain Poldark.' McNeil reined in his horse and bowed slightly. 'I was on my way to see ye. Can ye spare the time to turn back for a half-hour?'

'A pleasure I have been looking forward to,' Ross said, 'but I have a business appointment at Trevaunance. Can you ride with me that far?'

McNeil turned his horse. 'Aye, mebbe we can talk a wee bit as we go. I had intended calling on you airlier but I've been more than a little busy what with one thing and another.'

'Oh, yes,' said Ross, 'the smugglers.'

'Not only the smugglers. Ye'll remember there was the small matter of that mairderer's escape.'

'D'you think he has escaped?'

Captain McNeil screwed his moustache. 'Has he not! And from your cove, Captain, and in your boat!'

'Oh, that. I thought it was a brush with the free traders you'd had. The sergeant…'

'I think Sergeant Drummond left ye in no doubt as to his views.'

'I judged him mistaken.'

'May I ask why?'

'Well, I understand there were several men concerned. Murderers do not hunt in packs.'

'No, but he had the sympathy of the neighbourhood.'

They jogged along in silence.

'Well, it was a pity you did not catch one of the rascals. Were any of your troopers hurt?'

'Not as ye would say hurrt. Except in a small matter of dignity. It might have gone ill with one of the lawbreakers if he had been caught.'

'Ah,' said Ross. And, 'Do you know much of churches, Captain? Sawle Church reminds me of one I saw in Connecticut except that it is so badly preserved.'

'And then,' said the officer, 'there was the matter of the rowlocks. How do ye suppose they were got?'

'I should say Daniel - if it was he - stole a pair somewhere. Every man here is a fisherman in his spare time. There are always rowlocks about.'

'Ye do not seem very upset at the loss of your boat, Captain Poldark.'

'I am becoming philosophical,' Ross said. 'As one nears thirty I think it is a state of mind to be sought after. It is a protection, because one becomes more conscious of loss - loss of time, of dignity, of one's first ideals. I'm not happy to lose a good boat but sighing will not bring it back any more than yesterday's youth.'

'Your attitude does you credit,' McNeil said dryly. 'Might I, as a man a year or so your senior offer ye a word of advice?'

'Of course.'

'Be careful of the law, Captain. It is a cranky, twisty old thing and you may flout it a half dozen times. But let it once come to grips with ye, and ye will find it as hard to be loose from as a black squid. Mind you, I have a sympathy with your point of view. There's something about arrmy life that makes a man impatient of the Justice and the parish constable; I've felt it so myself, indeed I have... .' He gave a brief, sudden chuckle. 'But that…' He stopped.

Ross said: 'See those children, McNeil. It is the only beech copse round here, and they are gathering the leaves and will take them home to be cooked. It is not a very nourishing dish and makes their stomachs swell.'

'Yes,' said the captain grimly. 'I see them well.'

'I confess I sometimes feel impatient of a lot of things,' Ross said. 'Including the parish constable and the local magistrates. But I think it dates from earlier in my life than you imagine. I joined the Fifty-second Foot to escape them.'

'That's as may be. Once a rebel, always a rebel, you may say. But there are degrees of rebellion, Captain, just as there are degrees of misdemeanour, and when the parish constable comes to be supported by a troop of His Majesty's cavalry…'

'And a crack regiment at that.'

'And a crack regiment, as ye say; then recklessness becomes folly and is likely to lead to bad consequences. A military man out of uniform may be no respecter of perrsons. A military man in uniform will be still less so.'

They left Sawle Church behind and took the track past Trenwith.

Ross said: 'I feel we have a good deal in common, Captain McNeil.'

'That's one way of putting it.'

'Well, I have been in and out of scrapes a good part of my life, and I imagine you have been the same.'

The captain laughed, and a flock of birds rose from a neighbouring field.

'I think perhaps you will agree,' Ross said, 'that though we may revere the law in abstract, in practice there are considerations which take a higher place.'

'Such as?'

'Friendship.'

They rode on in silence. 'The law would not admit that.'

'Oh, I do not expect the law to admit it. I was asking you to admit it.'

The Scotsman screwed in his moustache. 'No, no, Captain Poldark. Oh, dear, no. You are out of uniform but I'm still in it. I'll not be manoeuvred into a corrner by such moral arguments.'

'But moral argument is the most potent force in the world, Captain. It was that more than force of arms which defeated us in America.'

'Well, next time you must try it on my troopers. They will appreciate the change.' McNeil reined in his horse. 'I think we have gone far enough, Captain.'

'It is another mile to Trevaunance yet.'

'But farther I doubt before we reach agreement. It's time we parted. I should have appreciated an assurance that ye had taken good heed of my warning '

'Oh, I have done that, I do assure you.'

'Then there's no more need be said - this time. It may be that we shall meet again - in different circumstances I should hope.'

'I shall look forward to it,' Ross said. 'If you are ever in these parts again consider my house at your disposal.'

'Thank you.' McNeil extended his hand.

Ross took off his glove and they shook hands.

'Have ye hurt your hand somewhere?' McNeil said, glancing down at the scarred knuckles.

'Yes,' said Ross, 'I caught it in a rabbit trap.'

They saluted and separated, Ross going on his way, McNeil turning back towards Sawle. As the soldier rode away he twisted his moustache vigorously and now and again a subdued laugh shook his big frame.

The smelting works now straggled up the side of Trevaunance Quay.

A long way off it was possible to see the immense volumes of smoke from the furnaces, and on this still day it hung in the valley shutting out the sun. Here was industry with a vengeance, with great piles of coal and heaps of ashes and an unending stream of mules and men busy about the copper house and the quay.

He dismounted first beside the works to look them over. Several reverberatory furnaces had been built, some for roasting and some for fusing the ore. The copper was roasted and then melted, whilst at intervals the waste was removed, until after twelve hours it was turned out in a molten state into a trough of water. This sudden cooling brought it to a mass of small grains, which were roasted for another twenty-four hours and again turned out, until eventually the coarse copper was run off into sand moulds to cool. This melting and refining had to take place several times before it reached a proper state of purity. The whole process averaged a fortnight. Small wonder, Ross thought, that it took three times as much coal to smelt a ton of copper as a ton of tin. And coal at fifty shillings a wey.

Although the place had been open only three months he noticed already how ill and wan many of the men were who worked there. The great heat and the fumes were too much for any but the strongest, and there was a higher sickness rate here than in the mines. A factor he had not foreseen. He had laboured long hours to bring this thing to pass, believing it meant prosperity for the district and perhaps salvation for the mines; but there did not seem much prosperity for the poor devils who worked here.

The fumes were blighting the vegetation in this pretty cove. The bracken was brown a month in advance of its time and the leaves of the trees were twisted and discoloured. Thoughtfully he rode up to Place House, which stood on the other side of the valley.

When he was shown in Sir John Trevaunance was still at breakfast and reading the
Spectator
.

'Ah, Poldark, take a seat. You're early. But then I'm late, what? I do not expect Tonkin for half an hour.' He flipped the paper. 'This is a confoundedly disturbing business, what?'

'You mean the riots in Paris?' said Ross. 'A little extravagant.'

Sir John put in a last mouthful of beef. 'But for the King to give way to them! Ecod he must be a lily! A round or two of grapeshot is what they wanted. It says the Comte d'Artois and several others have left France. To bolt at the first grumble of thunder!'

'Well, I fancy it should keep the French occupied with their own affairs,' Ross said. 'England should take the hint and put her own house in order.'

Sir John munched and read in silence for a while. Then he crumpled up the paper and threw it impatiently to the floor. The great boarhound by the fireplace rose and sniffed at the paper and then walked off, disliking the smell.

'That man Fox!' said the baronet. 'Damme, he's a fool if ever there was one! Going out of his way to praise a rabble such as that. One would think the gates of Heaven had opened!'

Ross got up and walked over to the window. Trevaunance stared after him.

'Come, man, don't tell me you're a Whig! Your family never was, not any of 'em.'

'I'm neither Whig nor Tory,' Ross said.

'Well, drot it, you must be something. Who d'you vote for?'

Ross was silent again for some time and bent and patted the hound. He seldom thought these things out.

'I'm not a Whig,' he said, 'nor ever could belong to a party that was for ever running down its own country and praising up the virtues of some other. The very thought of it sticks in my crop.'

'Hear, hear!' said Sir John, picking his teeth.

'But neither could I belong to a party which looks with complacency on the state of England as it is. So you'll see the difficulty I'm in.'

'Oh, I don't think…'

'And you must not forget,' Ross said, 'that it is but a few months since I stormed a gaol of my own. And one which held considerably more than the six prisoners of the Bastille. It is true I didn't parade the streets of Launceston with the gaoler's head stuck on a pole, but that was not for lack of feeling like it.'

'Hm!' said Sir John uncomfortably. 'Hrrrm! Well, if you will excuse me, Poldark, I'll change my gown to be ready for Tonkin.'

He left the room hastily and Ross continued to pat the head of the boarhound.

DEMELZA HAD BEEN wrestling with her conscience ever since Monday evening, and when Ross left on the Friday she knew she would have no peace unless she gave way.

So after he had gone she walked over to Trenwith. She was almost as nervous as she had ever been in her life, but there was no escape. She had hoped for a letter from Verity yesterday with the Mercury, but none had come.

Making the mistake of most early risers, she was surprised to find that Trenwith House had an unawakened look, and when she plucked at the doorbell Mary Bartle told her that Mrs Poldark was still in bed and that Mr Poldark was breakfasting alone in the winter parlour.

This might suit better than she had hoped and she said: 'Could I see him, if you please?'

'I'll go and ask, ma'am, if you'll wait here.'

Demelza wandered round the splendid hall, staring up at the pictures, able to take a longer view of them than she had ever done before. A strange crew, more than half of them Trenwiths, Ross said. She fancied she could detect the Poldark strain coming in, the stronger facial bones, the blue, heavy-lidded eyes, the wide mouth. Those early Trenwiths were the men with the looks, soft curling dark beards and sensitive faces, and the red-haired girl in a velvet gown of the style of William and Mary - but perhaps the Poldarks had given a new vigour. Was it they too who had brought the wild strain? Elizabeth had not been painted yet. That was a pity, in fairness Demelza had to admit it.