Jeremy Poldark (32 page)

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Authors: Winston Graham

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Sagas, #Romance, #General

BOOK: Jeremy Poldark
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"The Warleggans'll be raging mad after this
brush, Ross. I've come near to laying hands on George myself but never quite
found the opportunity. He glanced at Blarney and seemed to force himself to
speak. "You haven't heard the news perhaps. That Ross and George Warleggan
met on the stairs of the Red Lion this afternoon and that Ross took George in
as pretty a hug as has been seen in the county for a twelvemonth and threw him
from top to bottom. It's all over the town." He looked at Ross. "It's
true, I suppose?"

A thought exaggerated, but the substance is
correct."

Blarney had quietly seated himself again. He
twisted his glass but did not drink.

"Verity told me of a developing feud. But
what was the cause of the quarrel to-day?"

Ross looked past them at the old grandfather
clock. It was nearly five.

"I took a dislike to his neckcloth."

 

Demelza had caught two infant dabs who obviously
didn't know any better, but in the main the fish were not biting. She didn't
blame them. The bait was too smelly even for mackerel. After a time she decided
to call the attempt off; and she threw the fish she had caught back into the
water, since their food value wouldn't be worth all the inquiries and concern
and the near scolding.

Looking
back for the first time for some minutes, she saw that the anchor must have
been dragging a bit, for she was almost out of the mouth of the cove and the
land looked farther off, than usual. It was a pleasant sight, the lowlying
black cliffs, the curve of the sand, the pebbles and scraggy vegetation where
the Mellingey ran into the sea. You could feel and see the swell of the waves
as they moved past the cliffs on their way to Hendrawna Beach.

She went to the, end of the boat and pulled in
the anchor. Then she scrambled back and took up the oars and set her face to
the sea. A few pulls and she would be home.

She wondered how Ross's business in Truro was
going. This gamble on Wheal Grace had been taken without her, knowledge, and
although she would never. criticise after the event, it had never quite won her
approval. Grace was the shot in the dark, the guess that might go wrong. It was
the sort of venture to indulge in when you had a thousand pounds to spare, not
when you were living on the precipice of debt.

Out here you could feel
the breeze quite strongly, and the dinghy was so light, almost keelless, that
it was inclined to be blown off its course. Several times she corrected it
after glancing behind her, and the third time she was a little, perturbed to see
the cliffs no nearer at all. Up to now she had pulled only with her arms and
not at all with her body, knowing that she must be careful of that but now she
began to put more weight behind the oars and was comforted to feel the boat
respond on the heaving sea.

Sometimes
she suspected, while considering it rather disloyal to do so, that Ross in
opening a new mine had allowed his judgment to be warped by his detestation of
the Warleggans - so that his desire to be free of their interference had led
him to overoptimism about Wheal Grace. As for Francis, he, she knew, was a
gambler too, but a much less astute gambler than Ross, so that his
participation in the scheme was no reassurance at all. It was well enough for
the rest of them. Henshawe risked a hundred pounds which he could comfortably
spare. The two young: engineers from Redruth were to be paid for their engine as
they built it. The tut-workers and spallers got their monthly wages; the
tributers spent only their time and trouble; it was the Poldarks who risked all
the rest.

She had been rowing for two or three minutes,
confident she was gaining ground, but when she looked round she saw that her
progress had been diagonal and towards the sharp rocks of Damsel Point. They
were only fifteen or eighteen feet away and the sea slithered and slapped
around them, not making a lot of fuss but rising and falling enough to knock
the bottom out of a boat. She veered quickly away and in doing so lost most of
the ground she had won. It was while righting her course again that she began
to feel queer. At first, she thought it was a touch of the seasickness. Then
she knew it was not.

On the clifftop, half in the shadow, half in the
sun, some jackdaws and some choughs were quarrelling. The sweep of black wing
against black wing glinted like jet. 'The sky was an indefinite pallid blue'
with faint streaks of sunlit cloud trailing across it from the south. She began
to row in earnest, putting all her strength into it, knowing now it was touch
and go. In the roots of her hair where it grew at the sides of her brow tiny
beads of sweat formed. Her bottom lip was caught up and her eyes went cloudy.

She thought, Well, this is my own fault,
nobody's but my own. So I get through it myself or go under. This will be a
nice homecoming for Ross. Then it seemed for a minute that she must give up
rowing, that her life must be sacrificed for two, minutes with her head between
her knees; but with the horizon blurring and the noise of sea rushing into her
head she kept on. A beast, a devil had seized her and she must give up or die.

Then when it seemed impossible to breathe any
more the grip was suddenly relaxed. The beach was perceptibly nearer now. No
distance. Like a mirage it danced over her shoulder, luring her with its safe
dry sand and its promise of home.

The choughs, flew off, quite low over her head,
glints of red about their legs; they were defeated; the jackdaws were
triumphantly settling into the hollows on the cliff edge. They were farther
away. Progress. But the Beast was nearer again, waiting to pounce. She thought,
Ross will be home at seven; I shall not be home by then, never home again. But
somehow I must get home. He will have no one to tell about the mine. Wheal
Grace. Named after his mother. Perhaps it will be lucky. It was lucky once. The
house had been built from the proceeds. 'There'd been money, enough in mining
in the past. Trenwith built out of Grambler. Tehidy from Dolcoath; half the
big houses of Cornwall had come that way. But money enough had been lost too.

The wind contrarily, wickedly, had grown
stronger, the ebbing tide pulled at the light boat, out towards the open sea.
Perhaps there would be someone about who would see her, someone walking along
the cliff. Or if she allowed her dinghy to drift out one of the St. Ann's
fishing boats would surely catch sight of her. While there was life.

Unexpectedly, a wave broke under her and she
missed her stroke; the boat moved as if an arm six times as strong had used the
oar. She turned and saw she was nearly ashore. It was the wrong end of the
little cove, by the stream, not so sheltered and the waves were breaking but it
would do. She tried to guide the craft, but a second wave turned her broadside
on and almost upset her. Then it burst upon the beach, dropping the dinghy on
the stones before, sucking it out again with a rattle and a roar. She climbed
over the side and as another wave burst jumped into the sea and clutched the
boat, trying instinctively to pull it ashore. The effort wrenched her and she
gasped and let go. She had hurt herself. Then she fought her way through the
returning surf and found herself on hands and knees on dry land. The Beast had
come back, and she crouched there unable to move, in its direst grip.

Three minutes passed. The waves continued to
beat out their rhythm; but the sun had gone behind a tiny cloud. Robbed of its
colour, the cove looked suddenly shabby and cold and the sea dangerous. Halfway
across the cove it deposited the dinghy upside down, its oars lost and a plank
staved in.

Demelza stirred and got to her feet. She was
soaking wet and could hardly stand. She squeezed out the front of her skirt and
blouse and began-painfully to limp up the valley to the house.

Chapter Thirteen

On the following afternoon Verity stood at the
window of her house overlooking Falmouth Harbour, listening for the arrival of
the Plymouth coach. She would have dreaded this coming meeting even with Andrew
at her side. In his absence, the situation, in occasional moments of panic,
seemed unfaceable. Then she would rally and ask herself what but a little constraint
had she to fear from two young people still only in their middle teens?

Although James must have been in the town some
hours he had not shown up yet. She glanced at the clock behind her, and as she
did so the horn sounded clearly. She could not see the coach from here, but she
could picture it turning into the yard of the inn, the lathered horses, the
passengers climbing down, the bells ringing, the sailors yawning at the door,
the man she had sent to meet Esther scanning the faces; Esther herself, the
girl, half woman, the face in that miniature but older by five years.

Verity swung round on the small circular mirror,
peered at herself. To the girl she would seem old, dowdy, a usurper. Youth was
so mercilessly hard in its decisions; it had its own unyielding standards and
had not yet learned enough to know that time would prove them arbitrary. She
stood there until the doorbell rang; then she took a, deep breath and went
down. Masters was at the door with a slight, rather tall girl.

"You're Esther? Come in, my dear. I've been
looking forward to meeting you. You must be tired. Can you take the box right
up, Masters; you know the room? Do come in my dear

Her cheek was cold. Her face a little broad over
the cheekbones, noticeable grey eyes, honest but self-centred, slightly
hostile. "Mrs. Stevens is in bed with stomach trouble," Verity explained.`
`She has been ailing on and off for weeks. I have a meal ready for you.

"Thank you, ma'am. May I first go to my
room?"

“Of course. Come down just at your
leisure."

In the upstairs parlour again Verity walked to
the window. No warmth. Did her own welcome ring false?

A three-masted packet boat was shaking out her
sails as she moved slowly among the other shipping towards the open sea, taking
advantage of the first ebb. Captain Buckingham in
Percuil
, bound for the
West Indies. Verity forced herself to sit down, pick up her embroidery. Calm and
untrained friendship. She was the adult, must set the temper of the stay.

Esther was a long time, but when she came in she
looked older without her bonnet. Verity got up.

I've set our meal in here, Esther. I always dine
here when I'm by myself, for I love to watch the shipping."

"Yes, ma'am." Those eyes. So small and
so direct. Could it be fright, not hostility?

"Your father was greatly disappointed to
have to sail. He had looked forward to this moment for a long time."

" They did not tell me he wouldn't be here,
not until I had taken my seat in the coach."

At supper the girl toyed with her food. A slight
smear of pockmarks on her cheeks.

"You know your brother's in port,
Esther?"

"I knew he was coming. I did not know he
was here." "The Thunderer dropped anchor this morning. Your father
had a note from him last month when a frigate put in with mails."

" Yes, I heard too."

So he wrote to his sister. "I believe he
has been with the East Indies Fleet.Are you happy at your school?

" Yes, ma'am. I leave at the end of the
year."

They talked awhile but made no progress. She
parried questions like a swordsman parrying dangerous thrusts. It was impossible
to get near her. With a sinking heart Verity rose and went to the side table to
carve, the beef. She could see a nightmare week end terminating in complete
failure. Esther would go away, and when Andrew came back he would know that she
had failed.

"I don't think you're at all like your
father, are you, my dear?"

Esther's lack of response had forced it out of
her. She could feel the girl's eyes boring into her back.'

"No, ma'am. I take after my mother."

Oh, I didn't know that.. Well, I think you are
going to be very attractive."

" Mother was very beautiful," said
Esther. " I wish I was like her in that."

Verity looked up and suddenly found that the
oval mirror with the convex surface reflected the dining table. The girl was
sitting straightly in her chair, white frilled dress cascading from narrow
shoulders. Her face wore an extraordinary expression of pride and resentment.
Verity's knife wavered, slid across the beef. She looked down.

" Of course, she said, " I can never
begin to replace your own mother, but I hope you'll always look on me as a loving
and well-wishing friend."

" You know Father killed her, don't
you?" Esther said.

There was silence.

Verity' turned. "I know all I want to
know." She put the plate before her stepdaughter. "That there was a
terrible accident, and-"

"He killed her. Ever since then people have
been trying to teach me different, but I, know! He went to prison for it,
didn't he? She hadn't any near relatives. They sent me to his. They've tried to
poison her memory, but they'll never do that. I know she was good and a saint.
I know!"

Verity brought her own plate and sat down.
Unhappiness and resentment put an edge on her voice. " I know its not a
fit subject for discussion between us. Please finish your meal." “So I'm
to be forbid to speak of Mother before you too, ma'am."

" Certainly not. Unless speaking of your
mother means speaking against your father."

" He has plenty to speak for him.. She
hasn't one but me."

Verity's heart was thumping. "It's right
and good," she said, " that you should think and, speak of your
mother. But it is neither right nor good to dwell on her death. Remember the
happiness she had, not the -"

" She never had any happiness!"

Their glances met.

"How do you know?" Verity said
angrily. "I think it's necessary that we should come to an understanding,
Esther

 

She broke off and listened to a loud rat-tat at
the street door. I can't face the other one tonight, she thought. Between them
they'll - I can't. I can't.

Esther's eyes were lowered at last. "That's
James," she said.

In dead silence they sat there together,
listened to the front door being opened and feet on the stairs. The feet hesitated
for a moment, then there was a rap at the door and it opened and a square-built
boy came in Darker than his sister, smart uniform of a naval midshipman, curly
hair, brown eyes.

"Well, I wondered if there was anyone
aboard," he, said in an unnecessarily big voice. "I thought as the
door was unhitched there'd most likely be a skeleton crew. Good day to you,
Essie. You've grown." His eyes wandered to the other person. " I
suspicion you'll be ...”

With a great effort Verity rose. " Come in,
James. I've been looking for you all day.

He banged the door behind him. "Are you
Miss Verity?" Well, I was. Now I am –“

" Ha! I know. May I call you Aunt? Twould
split the difference, so to speak. Sorry I missed Father. If I'd known I should
ha' spoke to the captain sharp and told him, to make haste. He and I are on
good speaking terms, though for the most part the speaking is on his
side!"

He came across, flung his cap on the window
seat, patted Esther on the head; came round the table to Verity, looked her up
and down. He was taller than she. "I've heard a lot about you, Aunt."

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her
just below the ear. Then he gave her a hug that squeezed all the breath out of
her.- '

" You'll pardon the liberty," he said,
speaking as if he was in a high wind, but one don't get a new mother every day
o' the week!' When I had the letter we were in Penang, so I says, ` Come, lads,
we've a toast to drink, for I've a new mother, an' that's better than a wife
any week, being more comfort and less. responsibility.' I never wrote, not
being over-handy with a pen, but drink your health we did with a will."

"Thank you," said Verity, feeling
suddenly warm. "That was kind of you."

"Well"--he glanced round "nice to
be home again. Though the walls are uncomfortably steady! D'you know, I truly
believe that is why sailors get foxed so soon as they come ashore, it is so
that the deck shall rock again like they've been used to. Esther dear, do not
look so sour at me."

“You've not changed a bit," said Esther.

The boy turned and laughed aloud' at Verity.
"That, ma'am, is not intended as a compliment. D'you save any
supper?"

"Yes, I did!" said Verity. "Mrs.
Stevens is in bed, so I'll fetch it."

"I'll go below myself! That's if you'll
trust me in the galley. Mrs. Stevens will not."

" Go down and bring up anything you
want," said Verity.

They ate in stony silence until he came back.

" You've not been aboard a man-o'-war,
ma'am?" said James, stretching his legs in satisfaction. "I wonder if
I could arrange it. I wonder if you'd pass as my real mother. No, you're too
young. Still, stepmothers have rights. That I think it could be arranged."

“Perhaps Esther would like to come."

" No, thank you, ma'am."

"Essie doesn't like the sea. More's her
misfortune. But I fancy a good sailor has been lost in you.”

" It remains to be seen, for I've never
sailed. Do you take sugar, James?"

Thick wi' sugar. So as the spoon will stand. As
for sailing in bad weather, I never knew what rough weather was till we ran
into a hurricane off the Nicobar Islands...."

"Sugar, Esther?"

" Thank you."

"We were out for a cruise after the Malay pirates
when the weather blew up" Firmly launched on his story, James talked and
sipped and sipped and talked. Esther had shown no friendliness for her brother,
had unbent in no way. Her eyes still had that hurt, hostile look,, as if she
had just witnessed something shameful, as if the world was against her and she
knew it was only waiting its chance to pull her down.

" We squared the boom, saw the boats made
fast, lashed the guns afresh, double-breeching the lower deckers, then we got
the t'gallant mast down on deck, in fact everything to set up a ship safe and
snug. D'you follow my meaning, or do the words confuse you, eh?"

Very much," said Verity, "but go on.” .

"Ha ! Well, at four bells the hurricane
broke, with the sea fairly raging, it was a terrible thing to be in! After an
hour or so I thought to turn in but my bunk was full to the brim. with water so
I decided twould be drier on deck." James laughed and made the ornaments
rattle. It caught at Verity and made her laugh too. "'Comic to look back
on, but at the time wi' the waves riding beside us fit to swamp an island and
the gale screeching like a thousand hungry parrots there was another face to
the picture!"

"I think I will go to-bed," said
Esther, "if I may be excused."

Verity said: "You'll be tired after your
journey. Would you care to lie on in the morning?"

Thank-you, I always wake early. Good night,
James. Good night to you, ma'am."

Again Verity, touched her cold cheek, and then
she was gone.

James said : Mind if I smoke, ma'am? It is a
dirty habit one gets into."

"No, of course not."

Well, just then the captain called me up on the
poop, and as I got there I heard him say to the lieutenant: The ship makes a
very good weather of it upon this tack, he says, says he but we must wear her.
Do you go forward and have the hands stand by.' ` There's no canvas can stand
against this,' says the lieutenant. The captain says: 'We must. take the risk,'
he says, `for the wind have backed, and we are drawing close upon Sumatra. I should
not worry over Essie, ma'am; She is not so hard as she makes out." The
change of topic was so abrupt that Verity half smiled.

But she did not speak.

Lord bless you, everyone thinks she's
unfriendly; but half of it is just her trim. Different people take the same,
thing different ways, as you might say. You know about Mother, of course.' Ha!
Well, you'd say it was as bad for one of us as for the other; but you'd be
wrong. I was eight when it happened and Essie nine. The year after, when I was
nine, I weighed anchor and went to sea; I shook it all off as the littlest
frigate will shake off the head of a comber that's flopped aboard when she
wasn't looking. But Esther - Esther's been like a craft wi' no canvas. She got
waterlogged with the shock and she's been wallowing in the trough ever since.
Instead of trying to forget it, she's brooded and brooded and made her mother a
saint. Which she wasn't, nor anything near; God forgive me for saying so. And
when she meets someone fresh, especially someone new to the family like you,
all that side of her comes up and she seems a bad case. I've told Father before
now she needs careening; no one can sail sweet with a foul bottom - beg pardon,
Aunt, if it sounds indelicate, but it's true. Howsoever, she will improve as
the, days go by. Mark my words!"

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