The Angry Tide (18 page)

In mid-January
Demelza
received a letter from Caroline.

My dear,

I write weekly to my friend Dr Enys, and trust he passes on my affectionate greetings to you both. I do not know quite what I have
Achieved
coming to London and isolating myself from most of the people I care for; but it has created a sort of
break
from the life I had been leading, which, like it or not, had become bound up with Sarah. The difficulty of marrying a Serious man and living among people of observable size, shape and volume, is that the frivolous life of a London society lady comes to lack one of the dimensions of Reality. Rising at eleven, breakfasting at noon, lounging and gossiping in loose gown or
de
shabille
until six, when dinner
is
taken, and then preparing for a night at the theatre or in the gaming rooms,
seems
to indicate an existence of considerable length, a small degree of breath, and
no
depth!

Yes, but there is another side to London. It is the place where you come to find the best of so many and diverse
Things.
Art, Literature, Science, Medicine, pure Intellect: they are all here; and if the exponents were
not
born here they come here
to live
and work. I truly believe
it is
the Centre of the World. So, though my present
life
tends more towards
the
first aspect than the second, there
are
Compensations from time to time that cannot be ignored.

My dear, when
is
Ross coming to London? I assume he is not yet arrive
d, or he would have waited on me
. I trust your Mine has moved from Convalescence to full and vigorous Health so that
it
may
be left
to be plundered of its minerals by other and lesser Mortals.

Demelza
, why do
you
not come to London? I think you said you have never been, and
it
would be so splendid for me if I could meet you here and show you some of the Things there
are
to
see
. Tell Ross he should bring you. If you had come with him before, you might have been a little
at a Loose End while he was prce
occupied in Westminster. Not so now. I would be enchanted to tie up all the ends. Indeed, I somethings think I need such a one as you to serve as a Touchstone so that nothing is exaggerated out of its proper importance.

Horace is very happy in my aunt's house, and has made friends with the two King Charles spaniels she owns. But I do believe -after all the early jealousy - that he now misses my friend, Dr Enys -

As do I.

But
the
cure is not yet.

Affectionate kisses to you all. Caroline.

When Ross read it he said: 'Well, why don't you?' 'Don't I what?'

'Come to London, of course. Caroline has a talent for pointing the obvious, when it is the obvious that others have missed.'

Demelza picked up a bit of scaling wax which had fallen on the table. 'When do you think to go?'

'I should have gone a month since, but I lack the urgency. This is my home. However
...
if I don't put in an appearance soon
...'

'Then you would return at Easter, or stay?'

'Stay. Since I have missed the autumn sitting in its entirety, it would not become mc to appea
r for a few weeks and then scuttle
back to Cornwall.'

Demelza considered all round it. Her brows were a straight line. T couldn't stay so long, Ross. The children.'

'You could come with me and return at Easter.'

She considered again. The suggestion had really come from Caroline, not from him. If it had come from him it would have been different.

'Jeremy still has this cough. I know it's perhaps nothing important, but I want to keep
an
eye on him.'

Ross said: 'You run
the
risk of my having to turn some more harlots out of my lodgings.'

'And you being called whatever it was you were called.'

'Yes
...
You'd risk that?'

'Could I come maybe after the summer? I'd dearly like to see London. But in September or October, then the garden, the farm work, most of it is over. Then I could stay till Christmas.'

'Caroline might not still be there then.'

Demelza
said: ‘I
have a feeling she will.'

Ross left for London on the 28th of January. He travelled by
the
same route as that by which he had come home in
May, a coach as far as St Blazey and then by ship from Fowe
y to Tilbury. With war in the Channel it was a more hazardous route, but if the wind were fair it was quicker, and
he liked the moti
on of the sea better than the preposterous jolting of the stages.

The house when he had gone seemed as usual as empty as a tomb. In previous years he had been awa
y a deal with the Volunteers; th
is summer and autumn, especially with the preoccupation of the mine, he had been much at home.
Demelza
more than once regretted her decision to stay in Cornwall; but she was so uncertain of his inner feelings on the matter that she thought it better it should be as it was. Never since Hugh Armitagc's death had there been total ease between them. Love and laughter, she had discovered before this, could exist on a plane which was not at all superficial but which did not penetrate to the depths of one's being. It had been so five years ago; it was so again now. She longed more than anything for the total submersion
in
each
other that had occurred at othe
r times. Only when it was withdrawn did one observe the tremendous gap that existed between that and the next stage.

With him gone, she busied herself in the concerns of
the
countryside; and, Dwight being also bereft, she saw much of him. One day, having wa
lked with Jeremy as far as Sawle
Church to put flowers on the grave of Ross's parent and to inspect the newly raised stone to Aunt Agatha, she avoided the tight,
stooping breeches of Jud Paynte
r shining like a decaying planet in the rays of the afternoon sun, and went as far as Pally's Shop to take tea with Drake.

Jeremy had no interest in the forge, which was a fascination for most children, but soon found his own interest in the geese that Drake kept in the yard behind.

'Going to be a farmer, is he?' said Drake.

'We don't keep geese so they're new to him. He has no fear of any animal. And always he draws them. His paint book is full of cows and pigs and chickens and horses.'

'Maybe he'll be a painter. Opie
lived round here.'

'You used to draw when you were a littic boy, Drake. Do you remember? On the walls of the cottage with a crayon you had picked up.
’

'And got a rare cooting for it. I remember
that.
Will Cap'n Ross be back at Easter?'

'I don't know. I don't dunk so.'
Demelza
began to talk of the rest of her brothers, the family in Illuggan, Widow Carne, their stepmother, Luke married and working in Saltash, John married with two young babies and no work at all. Bobbie, recovered from his injuries, likely to wed soon.

Drake said: 'And Sam's love have gone astray like mine.'

'He's told you, th
en.'

'Yes. He've told me
.'

They were sitting in the parlour, in honour of Demelza's visit.
Demelza
glanced cautiously round as she sipped her mug of tea. It was a tiny room, no bigger than a box-room, and clearly unused by Drake. The place was clean, but the curtains she had given him hung down and needed a hem, the chair from Nampara still had horsehair sticking out of the arm, the candles leaned askew like three drunken guardsmen, the cloth covering the primitive table was wrong side out.

'So we're two of a kind,' said Drake. 'Yes
...'

'Yet now and again he sees fit to advance the cause of matrimony to me.' 'Who with?'

'You have not spoken to him, then?'

'About you? No, Drake.'

'With Rosina Hoblyn. Who else?'

Demelza said: 'Have you been seeing something of her?'

'Twice more, that's all. I walked her home once from church, and once I was going down to the Guernseys and stopped by her door.'

'She's a good girl. She'd do you well.'

'Maybe
...
Oh, yes, I'm sure. I mean nothing against her.'

Jeremy was shouting outside, and
Demelza
went to the foot-square window that looked over the back yard. But he was only exchanging
some information with
one of the young Trewinnards, who was bringing in a reluctant goat.

'Her fath
er don't know what to make of me
,' said Drake. 'One moment he d'smile as if I'm an
old friend, the next he d'glowe
r as if he think I'd steal his daughter without the parson's aid.'

'You must take no notice of Jacka, Drake. He's always had a curious temper. Ross knows how to handle him, but I truly believe he's a bully. For sure he bullies his womenfolk.'

Drake refilled her mug and then his own.
Demelza
, who did not like goat's milk, accepted a little out of politeness.

'So you think I should wed her, sister
...'
T cannot tell you what you must do, Drake.' 'But it has been in your mind ever since last May. Edn that true?' She smiled. 'Ross warns me I must not interfere in the lives of other folk. It is dangerous, he says.' 'But if I wed Rosina it would pleasure you not a little?' 'How much do you like her?' 'I like her ve
ry much.' 'And docs she, you?' I
think.' 'But it isn't love.'

'Not on my side it isn't love. Leastwise not what I recollect - of love'

Demelza
stared
at
him. ‘I
know how that is, Drake. I know how that is
...
But - that is lost. No one can bring it back in the way it was then
...
I - just want you to be
happy
- not sitting here lonely and alone. Did you enjoy our Christmas dinner?'

He said: 'Yes. Twas handsome.'

'Well, then, for a little while then, especially after dinner with the children, you were gay. The way I remember you the first two years you were here. I'd like you to be that way more often, and tis unlikely to happen
if you only have Aunt Nelly Tre
vail to
see
for you.' She hastened on as he was about to speak. 'I have a taking for Rosina, I must admit as much. She is - different from the other girls, bal girls and farm workers - more thoughtful - cleverer. She's pretty, she's quiet, she would move up with you in the fine business you are making for yourself here. She would be a nice - sister-in-law.'

Drake said: 'Yes, I see all that.'

'So now please think no more of it, Drake.' She smiled as he looked up. 'No man should marry a girl just because she's suitable, still less because she'd make someone a nice sister-in-law. It is your life, brother. And marriages, once undertaken,
are
not to be dissolved. Only
...
I want you to be happy, not lonely and alone. It would be good to have someone to work with and someone to work for. I don't want you to get set in loneliness. And sometimes - love grows.'

He got up and went to the smaller window, peered out. 'Did it with you,
Demelza
? I've often thought but never wished to ask.'

The question brought a tightness to her breast. 'No. It was with mc always. But not with Ross. It grew with Ross - over the years. He did not love me when he married mc. But it grew so over the years.'

The cold set in soon after Ross had gone. Snowstorms swept England, and
Demelza
waited in anxiety for a letter telling her he had arrived safe. There was little snow in Cornwall but bitter frosts inland and even on some days on the coasts. The drier weather was a welcome help to the labouring engine of Wheal Grace. It was the 19th of February before she heard from Ross. His ship had berthed just ahead of the storms, but many roads, he said, were blocked and impassable, and London looked like a fairy city with the Thames frozen over and all the buildings encrusted in ice and snow.

Early in the month Mr Odgcrs was taken ill with a severe chill and fainted twice, so there were no services at
Sawle
Church on
the
first three
Sundays in Lent. On the third of these, which was the 24th of February, a sudden clearance of the weather and a mild open day brought out a fair congregation, who went in or stood about outside for a while chatting sociably in the unexpected sunshine like survivors after a disaster, and waited to
see
if the preacher would turn up.

The preacher did not turn up. Nor did Ossie, who had been informed of his curate's illness, so after twenty minutes or so the congregation began to disperse.

Among them was Drake
Carne
, and among them was Rosina Hoblyn, with her younger married sister, Parthesia, who was great with another child by her somewhat doltish husband, Art Mullet. Drake went across to Rosina, and they walked home together.

They stopped beside on
e of the ruined walls of Gramble
r. In the nine years since the big mine had ceased to be, wind and weather had taken toll of the subsidiary sheds, the casual buildings that grow around
the
heart of a bal; but the two main engine-houses pointed their chimneys at the powder-blue sky with more arrogance and certainty of tenure than th
e spire of Sawle
Church just over the hill. It was still a barren land here, there having been so much mineral waste brought
up
through the previous half century that only a little hardy grass yet sprouted among the rubble and the stones.

Drake said: 'Rosina, I d'wish to tell you something. Have you the time - five, ten minutes to spare -
twill take that long, to try t'e
xplain.'

Rosina said: 'Yes, Drake' The reply was quite simple, unequivocal. If she knew what was coming she made no pretence of being reluctant to hear it.

He stood there, tall and pale, the old mischievous fun long gone from his expression, but some turn of lip and eye that suggested it was not in his nature to be sad. She was small beside him; wearing her best, her only best, the same yellow muslin dress and the black boots, but, it being winter, a snuff-brown cloak and a darker bonnet with yellow ribbons.

He said: 'If I ask you to hark to mc, Rosina, you must know why.'

'Yes, Drake,' she said again.

Tis because I have a taking for cc that I wish t'explain what is deepest in my mind and - and in my heart
...'

So he told her of Morwenna, when she was governess to Geoffrey Charles, of his first meeting with her when she and Geoffrey Charles had surprised him and Sam carrying the oak post throug
h the wood on Warle
ggan land. Of the strange courtship, carried on always in the presence of the boy, unnoticed by him and almost, for a while, unnoticed by themselves, growing by slow and secret stages all through
the
summer and the dark quiet autumn of four and a half years ago, of the wild and bitter early months of '95, when Mr and Mrs
Warleggan
's plans had come between them, and of the final break of any hope at all, first by his false arrest for having stolen Geoffrey Charles's Bible, and then by
the
arranged marriage between Morwenna and the young vicar of St Margaret's, Truro.

'Maybe,' he ended, 'twas ill-wished from the start. She was - a dean's daughter - she was
educated, could read 'n write bettere
r 'n I ever shall. Maybe she never were for me; but
that
could make no difference at the time. Love her I did, and - and love her I always shall. Tis a hard thing to say to you, tha
t I well d'know, but I can't abe
ar to say what I wish to say next without first telling you all the truth, just as tis writ in my soul
...'

'Yes, Drake,' Rosina said for the third time. She had lowered her head, so that her bonnet hid her expression; but her voice told him that there was no doubt in her mind as to what he was going to say next and what she would reply.

'But
Morwenna be lost to me for ever. We've never spoken, not for three and a half year, and I seen her but once. Tis over and done, and I have a life to live, and folk tell mc - and I come to believe - that I d'need a wife. Now that you know it all, now that you know w
hat I feel and what I don't feel
- maybe never shall feel - yet liking you and wanting your company
...
a friend, a helpmeet, a wife, in due time perhaps a mother
...
I have a home, a trade
...
that's what I want you to think over
...
and in due time
you'll give me
your answer.'

The wall had been broken here, many of
the
stones carried away to build two cottages. Rosina put her hand on the wall, a small, firm, capable hand.

'Drake, I'll give the
answer now, if ee do not think ti
s forward of me to know my own mind so soon. I'll marry you and try to make you happy again. What you d'say -1 knew some of it from gossip, but I'm glad to hear it from your own lips. You're a brave, honest man, Drake, and I respect you and l
ove you, and I trust and b'lieve
our -our lives will be good and true and honest, and I hope
...
I hope
...
oh, I can't find the words
...'

He took her hand and held it for a few moments. There was a man tending cows in a field, and a group of old people talking in the distance, so he did not make any more explicit gesture. They had said all that was needed - indeed, by the standards of village life, where proposals and acceptances often scar
cely exceeded a dozen words on e
ither side, it was garrulous. But in this engagement there were things better not left unsaid. It was formal, a little stiff yet, and both were superficially calm.

Rosina said: 'Twould be best, Drake, if you was to come down wi' me now and tell Mother and Father.'

'Yes,' said Drake. 'I suspect that'd be for the best.'

Only then, when they turned to move together towards
Sawle
, did Rosina give a little inadvertent skip which betrayed the excitement and pleasure she was feeling underneath.