Demelza (48 page)

'Which is?'

'Which is that - er - Sir John, after battling against the wind for twelve months, is now preparing to sail with it. He has lost a tidy sum over this project and is anxious to recoup himself. He does not wish to see the smelting works lying idle permanently.'

Ross thought of Sir John's voice that evening; he remembered Ray Penvenen's absence.

He got up. 'Do you mean he is selling out to the Warleggans?'

The little banker reached for his wine.

'I think he is willing to come to some accommodation with them. Beyond that I know nothing.'

'He and Penvenen are going to make a deal to cover their own losses while the rest of us go to the wall!'

'I imagine it likely,' said Pascoe, 'that some sort of a caretaker company will be formed, and that the Warleggans will have a representative on it.'

Ross was silent, staring at the books in the cabinet. 'Tell me,' he said, 'this evening I thought I saw Matthew Sanson boarding a ship in the docks. Could that be possible?'

'Yes, he has been back in Truro for several months.'

'He is allowed to come back here and trade as if nothing had happened? Are the Warleggans complete masters of the district?'

'No one cares sufficiently about Sanson to make a fuss. There are only four or five people whom he cheated, and they are not influential.'

'And the ship he sails in?'

'Yes, that is the property of a company controlled by the Warleggans. There's the
Queen Charlotte
and the
Lady Lyson
. No doubt they're a profitable side line.'

Ross said: 'If I were in your shoes I should tremble for my soul. Is there anyone besides you in the town they don't own from head to toe?'

Pascoe coloured. 'I like them little more than you. But you're t-taking an extreme view now. The average man in the district only knows them as rich and influential people. You know them as something more because you chose to challenge them on their own ground. I am only sorry - profoundly sorry - that you have not been more successful. If g-good will would have sufficed you would have triumphed without a doubt.'

'Whereas good will did not suffice,' Ross said. 'What we needed was good gold.'

'It was not my project,' said the banker, after a moment. 'I did what I could and will be the poorer for it.'

'I know,' Ross said. 'Failure puts an edge on one's tongue.' He sat down again. 'Well, now comes the reckoning. Let's get it over. The company will almost clear itself; so that leaves only our personal ends to be settled. What is my indebtedness to you?'

Harris Pascoe straightened his steel spectacles. 'Not a big sum - about n-nine hundred pounds or a little less. That is over and above the mortgage on your property.'

Ross said: 'The sale of my Wheal Leisure shares will meet most of that - together with the dividend we have just declared.'

'It will rather more than meet it. By chance I heard of someone enquiring for shares of Wheal Leisure only yesterday. They offered eight hundred and twenty-five pounds for sixty shares.'

'There is one other small matter,' Ross said. 'Harry Blewett of Wheal Maid is worse hit than I am. He fears going to prison and I don't wonder. The shares and the dividend will come to nearly a thousand and I want the extra to go to him. It's possible that with it he'll be able to keep his head up.'

'Then you wish me to sell the shares at that price?'

'If it's the best you can get.'

'It is better than you would receive if they were thrown on the open market. Thirteen pounds fifteen shillings a share is a good price for these days.'

'Thirteen pounds...'

The wineglass suddenly snapped in Ross's fingers and the red wine splashed over his hand.

Pascoe was standing beside him. 'What is wrong? Are you ill?'

'No,' said Ross. 'Not at all ill. Your glass has a delicate stem. I hope it was not an heirloom.'

'No. But something...'

Ross said: 'I have decided different. I do not sell the shares.'

'It was a m-man called Coke who approached me.'

Ross took out a handkerchief and wiped his hand. 'It was a man called Warleggan.'

'Oh, no, I assure you. What makes you…'

'I don't care what nominee they chose. It is their money and they shall not have the shares.'

Pascoe looked a little put out as he handed Ross another glass. 'I had no idea. I s-sympathize with your feeling. But it is a good offer.'

'It will not be taken,' Ross said. 'Not if I have to sell the house and the land. I'm sorry, Harris; you'll wait for your money whether you like it or not. You cannot force me for another month or so. Well, I'll get it before then - somehow. In the meantime, I'll keep my own mine smelling sweet if I go to gaol for it.'

MR NOTARY PEARCE was at home playing cribbage with his daughter when Ross was announced. Miss Pearce, a comely young woman of twenty-five who never made enough of her good looks, rose at once and excused herself; and Mr Pearce, pushing aside the table, poked at the huge fire with his curtain rod and invited Ross to sit down.

'Well, Captain Poldark; I declare this is quite an event. Can you stay for a hand of cribbage? Playing with Grace is always a little dull, for she will not hazard a penny on the outcome.'

Ross moved his chair farther from the fire. 'I need your advice and help.'

'Well, my dear sir, you may have them if they are mine to give.'

'I want a loan of a thousand pounds without security.'

Mr Pearce's eyebrows went up. Like the other shareholders of Wheal Leisure, he had stood aloof from the battle of the copper companies. But he knew very well which way it had gone. 'Hrr-hm. That is rather a severe proposition. Without security, you said? Yes, I thought so. Dear, dear.'

Ross said: 'I should be willing to pay a high rate of interest.'

Mr Pearce scratched himself. 'Without security. Have you tried Cary Warleggan?'

'No,' said Ross. 'Nor do I intend to.'

'Just so. Just so. But it will be very difficult. If you have no security, what can you offer?'

'My word.'

'Yes, yes. Yes, yes. But that would really amount to a friendly accommodation. Have you approached any of your friends?'

'No. I want it to be a business arrangement. I will pay for the privilege.'

'You will pay? You mean in interest? Yes…But the lender might be chiefly concerned for his capital. Why do you not sell your shares in Wheal Leisure if you need the money so badly?'

'Because that is what I am trying to avoid.'

'Ah, yes.' Mr Pearce's plum-coloured face was not encouraging. 'And your property?'

'Is already mortgaged.'

'For how much?'

Ross told him.

Mr Pearce took a pinch of snuff. 'I think the Warleggans would raise that figure if you transferred the mortgage to them.'

'Several times in recent years,' Ross said, 'the Warleggans have tried to interest themselves in my affairs. I mean to keep them out.'

It was on Mr Pearce's tongue to say that beggars could not be choosers, but he changed his mind.

'Have you thought of a second mortgage on the property? There are people - I know one or two who might be willing for the speculative risk.'

'Would that bring in sufficient?'

'It might. But naturally such a risk would be a short-term one, say for twelve or twenty-four months…'

'That would be agreeable.'

'- and would carry a very high interest rate. In the nature of forty percent.'

For a loan of a thousand pounds now he would have to find fourteen hundred by this time next year, in addition to his other commitments. A hopeless proposition - unless the price of copper continued to rise and Wheal Leisure struck another lode as rich as the present.

'Could you arrange such a loan? '

'I could try. It is a bad time for such things. There is no cheap money about.'

'That is not cheap money.'

'No, no. I quite agree. Well, I could, let you know in a day or two.'

'I should want to know tomorrow.'

Mr Pearce struggled out of his chair. 'Dear, dear, how stiff one gets. I have been better but there is still some gouty humour lurking in my constitution. I could let you know tomorrow possibly, though it might take a week or so to get the money.'

'That will do,' Ross said. 'I'll take that.'

On Tuesday he delayed leaving the town until five in the afternoon.

He and Johnson and Tonkin and Blewett wound up the Carnmore Copper Company before dinner. Ross did not pass on Harris Pascoe's hint of yesterday. There was nothing any of them could do now to prevent Sir John's entering into some agreement with the Warleggans if he chose to. There was nothing to prevent the smelting works from coming into the hands of the Warleggans or a new company being formed to exploit their own hard work. But the company would be one of the circle, and he would see that it did not force up prices for the benefit of the mines.

Although Tonkin was not ruined, Ross felt most sorry for him, for he liked him the best and knew the quite tireless work he had put in, arguing, persuading, contriving. Fifteen months of fanatical energy had gone into it, and he looked worn out. Harry Blewett, who had been the instigator and first supporter of the idea, had pledged his last penny, and today was the end of everything for him. The big, dour, hard-headed Johnson stood the failure more confidently than the others; he was a better loser because he had lost less.

After it was over Ross went to see Mr Pearce again, and learned that the money was forthcoming. He wondered if Mr Pearce himself had advanced it. The notary was an astute man and fast becoming a warm one. Then Ross went back to the Pascoes. The banker shook his head at the news. Such improvident borrowing was utterly against his principles. Better by far to cut your losses and start again than to plunge so deep in that there might be no getting out - merely to put off the evil day.

While he was there Ross wrote to Blewett saying he had placed two hundred and fifty pounds to his name at Pascoe's Bank. This was to be considered a five-year loan at four percent interest. He hoped it would tide him over.

The journey home in the dark took Ross about two hours. On the way down the dark combe, just before the lights of Nampara came in sight, he overtook a cloaked figure hurrying on ahead of him.

He had been feeling bitter and depressed, but at sight of Demelza he mustered up his spirits.

'Well, my dear. You are out late. Have you been visiting again?'

'Oh, Ross,' she said, 'I'm that glad you're not home before me. I was afraid you would have been.'

'Is anything wrong?'

'No, no. I'll tell you when we're home.'

'Come. Up beside me. It will save a half mile.'

She put her foot on his and he lifted her up. Darkie gave a lurch. Demelza settled down in front of him with a sudden sigh of contentment.

'You should have someone with you if you intend to be abroad after dark.'

'Oh… it is safe enough near home.'

'Don't be too sure. There is too much poverty to breed all honest men.'

'Have you saved anything, Ross? Is it to go on?'

He told her.

'Oh, my dear, I'm that sorry. Sorry for you. I don't belong to know how it has all happened.'

'Never mind. The fever is over. Now we must settle down.'

'What fever?' she asked in a startled voice.

He patted her arm. 'It was a figure of speech. Have you heard that there is illness at Trenwith, by the way? I had intended to call today but I was so late.'

'Yes. I heard… yesterday.'

'Did you hear how they were?'

'Yes. They are a small bit better today - though not yet out of danger.'

The house loomed ahead of them as they crossed the stream. At the door he got down and lifted her down. Affectionately he bent his head to kiss her, but in the dark she had moved her face slightly so that his lips found only her cheek.

She turned and opened the door. 'John!' she called. 'We're back!'

Supper was a quiet meal. Ross was going over the events of the last few days; Demelza was unusually silent. He had told her that he had saved his holding in Wheal Leisure, but not how. That would come when repayment was nearer. Sufficient unto the day.

He wished now he had kicked George Warleggan into the gutter while there was the opportunity: George was the type that was usually careful to avoid giving an excuse. And to have the impertinence to bring Cousin Sanson back. He wondered what Francis would have to say. Francis.

'Did you say Geoffrey Charles was better also?' he asked. 'The sore throat is usually hard on children.'

Demelza started and went on with her supper. 'I b'lieve the worst is over.'

'Well, that is some satisfaction. I shall never have room for Francis again after the trick he served us; but I would not wish that complaint on my worst enemy.'

There was a long silence.

'Ross,' she said, 'after July I swore I would never keep a secret from you again, so you had best hear this now before it can be thought I have deceived you.'

'Oh,' he said, 'what? Have you been to see Verity in my absence?'

'No. To Trenwith.'

She watched his expression. It did not change.

'To call, you mean?'

'No... I went to help.'

A candle was smoking but neither of them moved to snuff it. 'And did they turn you away?'

'No. I stayed all last night.'

He looked across the table at her. 'Why?'

'Ross, I had to. I went but to enquire, but they were in desperate straits. Francis - the fever had left him but he was prostrate. Geoffrey Charles was fit to die at any moment. Elizabeth had it too, though she would not admit it. There was three servants ill, and only Mary Bartle and Aunt Sarah Tregeagle to do anything. I helped to get Elizabeth to bed and stayed with Geoffrey Charles all night. I thought once or twice he was gone; but he brought round again and this morning was better. I came home then an' went again this afternoon. Dr Choake says the crisis is past. Elizabeth, he says, has not took it so bad. I - I stayed so long as ever I could, but I told them I could not stay tonight. But Tabb is up again and can see to the others. They will be able to manage tonight.'