The Black Moon (19 page)

them, that Geoffrey Charles was returning with a light.

By a coincidence of time Morwenna Chynoweth's future was just then under discussion at another and altogether different place. In the Great House in Truro supper was taken later than in the country, and the interval between six and nine, on the rare occasions when there was no tea party or card party or conversazione to attend, was when George and Elizabeth sat together in the large drawing-room upstairs and talked of their everyday affairs. George had completed his business for the day, Elizabeth had long si
nce finished her few household
duties, and the nurse, Polly Odgers, was in charge of Valentine; so they were quite alone. George's business affairs ran smoothly, the house almost ordered itself, so there was less for each to do than in the country: more time for social occasions, and more need of them.

When they were alone and unoccupied long silences were apt to fall which, while being in no sense inimical, were not entirely restful. Elizabeth found that George did not read
much, while Francis had always
been reading. Although her married life with F
rancis had not been a happy one -
certainly not as successful as her life with George
-
it had been more relaxed. When they had been sitting together in a room alone she could forget Francis's presence. She could never altogether forget George's. He often watched her, and when she glanced up and did not catch his eyes she fancied he had that moment looked away. She could not make, out whether he was still in that condition of savouring a pride of possession
-it seemed like it; had she been a more conceited woman she would have been satisfied it was that. But sometimes, when she did catch his glance, there seemed to be an element of suspicion in it.

She was sure it was not a suspicion of real
ill
but rather of something to do with her happiness, her contentment, particularly as to her contentment with him. He knew that, for all her modesty, she had a kind of assurance he could never equal, because never since she was a child had her confidence in herself been questioned in this respect. If she met a duke he would instantly recognize her for what she was, and in a few moments they would be chatting together as equals. Therefore, could she be happy with a rich parvenu? Did she not resent a connection with trade which advertised itself by having part of the ground floor of their house used as an
office and a bank? Was she not
bored with
his company? Did she not find his manners lacking, his conversation banal, his clothes wrongly worn, his relatives uncongenial? This feeling did not make for repose, for ease of manner, for complete relaxation. Elizabeth had not been married to him long before she realized how very jealous he was - not merely of Ross, though of him most of all, but of any personable man. So she watched her behaviour with other men
-
who not unnaturally, because
of her looks, made much of her
and she watched, slightly, her tongue lest she should give him unwitting offence.

This evening George had been out for a while, and when he came back they talked of a reception and ball they were planning for New Year's Eve. This was impracticable at the Great House which, in spite of its pretentious name, was only so called in comparis
on with its neighbours. The
Assembly Rooms, where all dances in Truro were held, was the obvious place; but George hankered to hold it at Cardew, where there was room enough and of course all the added prestige of such an event being held in one's own home
-
or one's father's home. But there was clearly a risk, Winter in Cornwall seldom struck before mid-January, but rain was the perpetual hazard of the autumn months, and although Cardew was only five miles, and only just off the turnpike road to Falmouth, rain could turn the rutted road into a quagmire of mud
- which on the night might deter any but the strongest in leg and heart.

Of course most of Cornish dancing society was strong in leg and heart; but it did add an extra hazard to the success of such an occasion. The time for country balls was midsummer; winter was the time of the town. Elizabeth had preferred the town, if only because it would enable her to invite a number of her old friends whom she'd seen more of this winter than ever since her first marriage but who lacked transport or the money to hire it or for one reason or another would not get out to Cardew however fine the night. But she had not insisted. On all matters except those on which she felt very strongly she let George have his way. And so it was fixed for Cardew, a band had been engaged, and a number of notables had been invited who had not been present before. In this George was making capital out of Elizabeth's name and hoping they would come. The Bassets and the St Aubyns - like the Boscawens - though meeting him
occasionally
in
the way of business or at
the
house of a
common friend, had so far avoided
accepting his
personal hospitality

The composition
of the company, as to age, had
to be discussed. George's main interest was in older people, for social reasons and to show off his house; but it was necessary to leaven this with a sprinkling of the unmarried and the post-adolescent, not only to bear their larger share of the dancing but to give the party a zest that it might otherwise lack. George was against having
many of the really young. Never
having been young himself, in the sense of being frivolous, scatter-brained, enthusiastic or jolly, he had little patience with such excesses in others, and he felt it a mistake to lower the tone of the evening by encouraging it at Cardew. The young, anyway, unless they were titled or came as the children of older people, lent little distinction in proportion to their noise. Besides, although the older Warleggans and the older Chynoweths would be there to greet people of their own age, no one at Cardew would represent the early twenties or the under-twenties.

`Well,' said Elizabeth. `We are not yet quite old ourselves. Are we? Are we, George?'

'Not old, certainly, but
–
I
’

'And Morwenna will be there, Can she not easily look after the girls?'

There was a thoughtful pause, while they listened to the apprentices who were making a noise putting up the shutters of the saddler's shop opposite. Elizabeth was still not sure whether George really approved of Morwenna. He was unfailingly polite to her, but Elizabeth, skilled as she was becoming in reading his far from communicative face, thought him extra guarded in Morwenna's presence. It was as if
he thought, here is another of
them, ano
ther of the Chynoweths, highly
bred in spite of her modest looks, listening with sharp ears and downcast eyes for some error of taste that I may make, showing up my vulgar origins. One is enough; one is my wife. Must there be two?

`I have been thinking of Morwenna,' George said, stretching his strong legs in his fashionable but uncomfortable chair.

When it was clear that he intended to add nothing more, Elizabeth said: `And what have you been thinking of her? Does she not please you?'

'Do you think the experiment has succeeded?' When he met Elizabeth's eyes he said: `I mean, do you think she has
been successful
as a governess for Geoffrey Charles?'

`Yes. I think so. Indeed. Do you not?'

'I think she is a woman
and would be suitable to teach
a girl. A boy needs a man.'

`Well ...
that may be true. In the long run that may be true. But I think he is very happy with her. Indeed sometimes I feel jealous, for I believe he has been happier this last summer than I have ever in my life seen him. He made little demur at being left behind.'

`And his studies?'

`Summer is not the best time for learning. We shall know better when he comes next week. But on the whole I would have thought there was good progress. Perhaps that is saying little, since before he depended on me for what he could learn!'

`No mother could have done more. Few would have done as much. But I think if he is to go away to school he will need a man's care. In any case, Morwenna's stay with us was agreed only for a year, wasn't it?'

Elizabeth said: `I feel sure she would be very upset to be sent home in March.'

`Of course there is no hurry. At least not that sort of hurry. And I was not thinking necessarily that she would need be sent home.'

To you mean she would stay with us as an additional companion to me
-
and you would engage someone else for Geoffrey Charles?'

'That might be so. But my mind was running more on the thought that she is now of marriageable age. She is well bred, well-mannered, and not at all uncomely. Some useful marriage might be found.'

Elizabeth's mind went quick
ly over this; what he said came
as a complete surprise to her; she had had no idea he had ever considered such a thing, or could be bothered to consider such a thing. She looked at him with slight suspicion, but he was idly tapping at his snuff-box.

`I have no doubt she will marry in due course, George. She's -
as you say she is not uncomely, and she has a gentle arid sweet natur
e. But I think you have forgot
the big stumbling stone
-
she has no money.'

`No I had not forgot that. But there are some who would be glad of a young wife. Older men, I mean. Widowers and the like. Or some young men would be glad enough to ally themselves with us if only by marriage,'

`Well no doubt it will
happen in due
course, and with
out our assistance.''

'In certain circumstances,' said George, putting his snuffbox away without having taken any, `our assistance could be had. I would be prepared to give her a small marriage dowry -
that is if she were to marry someone of our choice.'

Elizabeth smiled. `You surprise me, my dear! I had not thought of you, as an arranger of marriages, especially on behalf of my little cousin! In twenty years, perhaps, we shall be considering other and mo
re important marriage prospects
for Valentine; but until-'

'Ah, well, that is a long road ahead. And your cousin is not little, by the way. She is tall and, properly dressed, would draw a few eyes. I see no reason why if a suitable marriage were arranged it would not turn out to everyone's benefit.'

The general direction of George's thinking, instead of being mysterious, was now, perfectly plain to Elizabeth.

`Had you a suitable marriage in view?'

'No. Oh, no, I had not got as far as that.'

`But you have thoughts.'

`Well, the choice is not extensive, is it? It is limited, as I said, to an older man seeking a fresh young wife or a younger man of good birth but little fortune.'

`So surely some names will have come to your mind. Should we not make a list?'

'No, we should not. You find this amusing?'

`I do a little. I think Morwenna would be flattered to know you spare her so much. attention. And now you cannot leave me in this suspense.'

He looked at her, not liking to be laughed at. `One idly turns thoughts over. No more. One I had considered was John Trevaunance:'

Elizabeth stared at him. The laug
hter had quite gone from he
r eyes. `Sir John! But . . . what gave you such an idea? A confirmed bachelor. And he is old.
He must be sixty!’

'Fifty-eight. I asked him in September.'

`Do you mean you have discussed this with him?'

`Indeed not,' said George restively. `Of course not. But
did you notice the day he came to dinner he appeared to pay
special attention to Geoffrey Charles after, while the others
were at tea? It occurred to me that it was not likely to, be
Geoffrey Charles of whom he was taking this sudden notice.' `Now you mention it . But why should it not be
Geoffrey Charles?''

`Because they have several times met before without any such interest. This was the first time the boy had a governess.'

Elizabeth got up and went to the window to
give herself time to think. She
drew back the lace curtain and looked out at a farmer's gig lurching over the cobbles below.

`I do not believe Morwenna would tolerate such an idea.'

`She would if it were put to her as her duty. And to be Lady Trevaunance would be a big enticement. Mind you I know nothing certain of his thoughts; but if at this ball he were to show her some preference I think it would not be unseemly to make him a proposal. He cannot relish leaving his possessions to his spendthrift brother. She could bear him a son. Also, he is a kindly man but acquisitive of money, and his affairs have not been going too well since the failure of the copper smelting scheme. For such a marriage I would be prepared to be exceptionally generous ... And, of course, the thought of an eighteen-year-old girl can be a considerable attraction to an old man.'

Elizabeth shivered. `And your other thoughts?'

`I did think once of Sir Hugh Bodrugan, who is a year younger than Sir John, but I am not so greatly taken with an alliance between his family and ours, and as he is such a lecher I did not think you would like him for your cousin.'

`I certainly would not!
'

'Then there is his nephew, Robert Bodrugan, who presmugly one day will inherit whatever is left of that estate. But at present he is penniless, and one does not know h
ow the money is left. Constance
Bodrugan is still a young woman.'

Elizabeth let the curtain fall. `Go on.'

`I think I tire you.'

`On the contrary.'

`Well, who knows wha
t is bred of idle speculation?
There is Frederick Treneglos. He is twenty-three and had more than a little time for your cousin at that same party. It's a good family
-
nearly as old as yours
-
but he is a younger son, and the Navy is a dubious paymaster. A few make rich prizes but the most remain poor.'

`I think I would like him better than any of the others so far. He is young - and boisterous - and has enthusiasm.'

`I also noticed at that party,' said George, `that he had more than a little time for you.'