The Loving Cup (12 page)

And a boy moreover fairly bubbling with other thoughts. Did he tell his patients about Trevithick and his own absorption in the problems of steam? If one could judge from what he let fall inadvertently, the patients - even the older patients - seemed willing to transfer their allegiance and to trust his judgement.

In a sense his vitality hypnotized Jeremy - or at least fascinated him. In no time they were arguing. Gurney's conviction was that the wheels of an engine could never be relied on to provide enough traction on the roads. As they received the power, Gurney argued, the wheels would begin to spin round, sending up clouds of sparks while the carriage remained immovable. Jeremy cited the carriages of 1801 and 1808, which had proceeded without difficulty and had found traction enough. Gurney referred to another experiment of Trevithick's when the engine had reached the bottom of a hill, had stopped and, on being restarted, had spun its wheels round and round without ever making a move to go up the hill again.

His idea therefore was that any successful and
reliable
carriage of the future must be impelled in the first stages by legs which, coming into operation at the same time as the wheels, helped the carriage to push itself into motion. He was quite prepared to accept the fact that, once the carriage was moving, the legs could be retracted and the wheels left to do the rest. But to start, or on hills, the extra leverage would be necessary.

The stimulus of discussion, of argument, began to light lamps in Jeremy which had been dimmed for a year. Indeed he never had had another young man of like mind to talk with like this. Dwight Enys had lent him books. He had read everything he was able to get hold of. He had corresponded with a number of the authors. He had met Trevithick, in a technical sense, only once. All through the period when he had been taking secret trips to the Harvey works at Hayle, his only confederate had been Ben Carter, who understood little beyond a few of the practicalities, and Paul Kellow, who had a sharp intelligence but no flighting imagination to go with it.

This man had too much. In spite of Jeremy's initial prejudice, in spite of all the killing pessimisms which had surrounded him this year, he was caught up in his old.
interest. They talked for two hours over beer and rabbit pies. Gurney started up, saying he must go.

'It is as if we have only just begun, Poldark. We must meet like this again - and s
oon. And since you are a freer
agent than I, why do you not come next time to Wadebridge? Then all the time I have spent riding forth and back today could be spent in fruitful discussion.'

Jeremy hesitated.

Gurney said: 'Of course it would be better to meet at Hayle; but it is too distant for me at present while Dr Avery is so unwell. In the meantime
...
But this machine you have built...'

'What were you going to say?'

'Well; whatever is at Hayle - what you have buil
t at Hayle is useless, if Trevithick is to be believed-and I
would accept his view unhesitatingly in such a matter: sorry, Poldark, if I appear blunt, but was that not very much what you said yourself? Until we have a suitable boiler
...
Did he say he had drawn a sketch for you of a suitable boiler?'

'As a crude pencil sketch. It implants the idea, gives one a basic design.'

'Well, why do you not bring it to Wadebridge one day next week? Spend the night! My landlady has a room, I believe. Or you could share mine.'

'I'll come over for the day,' Jeremy said. 'Next Wednesday, if that's your best day.'

'Bring everything you can. And I'll show you some experiments I have been conducting on sea sand. I was born by the
sea, d'ye know. I believe the li
me content of sea sand has yet to be fully appreciated.'

Jeremy rode home, his mind active in directions it had not been for some time. Gurney -
Goldsworthy
was his odd Christian nam
e - Goldsworthy Gurney had greatl
y changed since they had last seen each other: for only just twenty his maturity of mind was startling. Was he at heart a crank, or likely to develop into one? He had some wild ideas; this talk of sea sand; numerous other side thoughts he had let drop; how practical would he or could he ever become? Yet there was a basic sense in what he said. A partnership between them might provide something joindy that each individually lacked.

And while there had been no mention of finance today, Jeremy had the impression that Gurney came of a genteel and monied family. Unlike Paul and Ben, this young man might be able to contribute towards the building of an engine. A partnership would mean half each. The only money Jeremy had, except for the dividends just beginning to be paid by Wheal Leisure, reposed in the sack hidden in the shaft at Kellow's Ladder. Would he feel justified? Surely if there was any purpose to which he could put his share of the money they had stolen, this should be the one.

I

Stephen Carrington, on his way back from St Ives, dropped in at the Fox and Grapes to rest his horse and to take a bite
of food. The clouds were shredded with a wan light as sunset approached.The inn, being on the coaching road, was more dependent on passing travellers than on the sparse and needy population surrounding Chacewater and St Day. This evening it was quiet, and Stephen went into the dining room, hardly noticing the dark young man in the expensive grey riding suit who was talking to the one pretty barmaid.

Stephen was tired but jubilant, and he ordered curlew pie, expecting it to be old and unsavoury but not really much caring. When, however, the young man came into the dining room, bending his head to avoid the rafters, and walked towards his table, Stephen was immediately on edge and on his guard. The one thing he had come to fear in Cornwall was an unwelcome recognition.

'Good evening to you,' said the young man. 'Are you not Stephen Carrington?'

Stephen stared at the narrow face, the sparkling dark eyes, a shade too close together, the aristocratic nose, the smile.

'Of course,' he said. 'You're - er -'

'Valentine Warleggan. We met at Nampara last year, when that girl died. And then later at Truro races.'

'Of course,' said Stephen again, but cautiously. The name alone was dangerous.

Valentine said: 'The brandy here is not insupportable. Would you care to share this bottle?'

'Thank ye.' There wasn't much else to say. So far as he knew, Stephen could perceive no pitfalls in this meeting.

Valentine pulled a chair out and sat down. It was clear that
this was not the first drink he had had. 'Just been in your district paying calls. It is your district still, I conceit?'

Stephen said: ‘I
have been in Bristol for a while, but I believe shall make me permanent home in Cornwall from now on.'

Valentine called for a second glass, and when it came he bobbled some brandy into it and pushed it across the table. 'Try that. Tell me what you think of it.'

'Um
...
Very good.'

'Last time we met you were engaged to my pretty cousin. Then you were no longer engaged. What went amiss? I quizzed Clowance but she was not forthcoming.'

'Tis a private matter,' said Stephen.

‘Naturally.’

Silence fell.

Stephen said: 'Her parents were at her all the time to break it off. She's very much under their thumb, y' know.'

‘I
would not have thought that. Of all the girls I know I would have given Clowance the most cred
it for having a mind of her own!
'

A worm of dislike for this young man turned in Stephen. 'Well, it happened.'

The pie was brought. He cut into it, considering the smell of the steam that came out. Valentine's eyes were following the girl who had brought it in.

'Attractive little creature. Pretty, don't you think.'

Stephen grunted. She was quite good looking, true, but he personally would not have given her a second glance.

'Girls of that sort are generally very simple,' said Valentine, musing over the rim of his glass. 'And easy got
...
Easy rid of too. Go a little higher in the scale and they become tenacious. There was a pretty little thing in my first term at St John's. But by God she was a dinger. Once she had obtained a footing inside my door she took a great dislike to the outside of it, and I had
the utmost difficulty in uncol
onizing
her.'

The pie was eatable. And the brandy warming. Stephen's spirits rose again. He said: 'Of course I have not given up Clowance.'

'Not? Well, perseverance has its merits. Though, as I have said, Clowance has a mind of her own.'

'Is he
your
friend, this man Tom Guildford?'

‘I
introduced 'em. In all innocence, needless to say.'

'If He wants her, why is he not down here now?'

'His mother is gravely ill. I was the bearer of his messages. No doubt he has written too.'

‘I
suppose he has money.'

'His family are comfortably circumstanced.'

'That makes a difference, don't it. Never mind, maybe I'll have money before very long. I've just bought a ship.'

Valentine took his eyes reluctantly off the barmaid. "Women fascinate me,' he said. 'Hypnotize me. They have this secret that I have to discover. That it is always the same secret does not seem to matter - until I have discovered it. When it is gone, then my interest has gone. Very sad. Many of 'em say I am unsatisfactory. That is, when I have given 'em marching orders they say this; not before!'

'And are you?'

'Unsatisfactory? Damn me, not at all, I assure you! It is not the act they complain of, but they appear to want something more afterwards. A relationship, so I might describe it. I am not at all interested in a relationship. I only want to rob them of their secret. Perhaps I am like a thief, always wishing to break into a safe.'

Stephen winced.-'Come, come, drink your brandy.'

'Or a bee, wishing to steal their honey. I have no lasting interest in the safe, in the flower. The pleasure is in the theft

‘I
know what you mean,' said Stephen, and continued with his pie. A second glass of brandy went down. 'So you are not so very poor,' said Valentine. 'What?'

'Buying a ship. You are not so very poor.' 'My uncle died in Bristol. I heard he was ill, but it was too late. He left me a small amount.' 'What is your vessel?'

'A French prize. I shall fit her out for local trading. And I have another building.'

‘Where?' 'Looe.' ‘What yard?' ‘
Blewett&Carne.'

‘I
s that not the
Carne
who is Ross Poldark's brother-in-law?'

'Yes. No harm in that, is there?'

'Nay, nay. So soon you will become a man of substance.'

it is a long way off. But it is a beginning.'

The pie was done. Stephen picked his teeth.

Valentine said: 'You should meet my father. He is a great one for enterprising young men. Unfortunately he does not consider I am enterprising in the right direction!'

'Your father's too big a man for the likes of me.'

'Yes, maybe. Who knows? He told me last week whom I was to marry
’
..
Valentine slopped a little brandy on the table.

Stephen stared at him.'Does it please ye?'

‘I
t pleases me that no instant marriage is suggested - not even a public betrothal. There is still some dotting of the "
I
"s and crossing of the "t"s to be completed.'

Stephen still stared. 'D'ye mean a marriage contract?'

‘I
believe you could call it that.'

'Riches marries riches, eh? It was always so. A man without name or money is always lost.'

'Does not follow, my friend, does not follow.'

'Who is the fortunate girl?'

Valentine spilled more of the brandy on the table. 'Have you heard the news from Europe? No sooner do we have cause to rejoice than the Little Corporal pulls some magic out of his bag. After putting Bliicher to flight he has, they say, devastated Schwarzenburg at Dresden. The Allies lost 25,000 men taken prisoner, 30 guns, any number of flags. You cannot keep the man down.'

'That is what I am counting on,'
said Stephen.

'What?'

'The war, I think, is not over yet. It will suit me book if it lasts another year or two.' 'You haven't told me what your book is.'

'Oh, this and that about the sea.' . 'What's your vessel called?'

'The
Chasse Marie.
Know you what it means?'

'Damn me, I'm far from sure. Does it mean a Fish Cart?'

'A man at St Ives said twas just the French name for a lugger.
I shall keep her name for the ti
me being in case we find ourselves in French waters.'

'Privateering, I see?'

'Not so. Or it does not have to go that way.'

'Fighting the French.' Valentine leaned an elbow on the table. 'My naif brother feels deep about it all. Rot me if I can understand why. I've just been visiting them — them among others. He's brought himself home a delightful little wife.
Spanish.
Can't you
tell?
Her dignity - quite fascinating! ' Well, by God, he has diced with death for the last six or seven years. Now he has wed a girl with money enough to live on comfortable. They're working day and night on that derelict old mansion of theirs to bring it back to life again
...
where I was born
...
where my mother lived so long
...
a house I would have been glad to inherit
...'
Valentine sighed and brought his glance back from the barmaid. 'Yet all Geoffrey Charles thinks about -
1
mean as an immediate future - when they have put their house to rights and given it a proper house-warming- is to go back to rejoin Wellington and fight the French! It defeats me
...
I should say
enough:
we have only one life; let others carry on. How shall you equate glory if it brings with it death or disembowelment? How shall it weigh against the possession of a woman - her naked shoulder, her breasts?... No wonder Napoleon is a poor lover. He must be thinking of battle flags all the
time
.'

Stephen fumbled in his purse and found a coin to pay for the meal.

Valentine said
suddenly: 'Do you play Faro?' ‘
What?'

'Faro, the card game.' 'I have. It is a while ago.'

'Being unlucky in love, you must be lucky at cards.' Stephen stared at him.
I
am, often as not.'

'Come and see me at Cardew, then. We often have little gaming parties.' 'Your stakes will be too high.' 'We play more for fun than gain.' is that so?'

‘I
might also introduce you to one or two wenches who would take your mind off your long-lost love.' 'At Cardew?'

'No, for that pleasure we should have to go out again.' Valentine grinned. 'What of next Monday?'

Stephen thought round it. It was not an idle invitation, then. He was not sure he altogether trusted this young man. It was an odd sort of invitation, out of the blue. But Valentine had a reputation for gregariousness, for being eccentric. People had spoken of him in this way. Would he be shying at bogles if he refused? If sincerely meant, this invitation might lead to more promising things. And was there really any risk, apart from the risk he always ran in Cornwall, of a sudden recognition? And every month that passed, that risk was reduced.

'Thanks,' he said. 'What time?'

'About five. Are you your own master now? Have you given up the milling work?'

'Yes, from the beginning of this year.'

'When your uncle died?'

'That's right,' said Stephen. 'When me uncle died.'

II

The following afternoon three pe
ople were riding on Hen
drawna Beach: Clowance Poldark on Nero, Geoffrey Charles Poldark on Bargrave, Amadora Poldark on Glow. They had been as far as the Dark Cliffs; Clowance had shown them the Holy Well; now they were half way home.

Geoffrey Charles shouted: 'This is one thing we lack at Trenwith.'

'Well, it's near enough. You can ride over any time without consulting me.'

'When does hunting start?'
‘
Oh, not for a month yet.'

'D'you know, though I followed the hunt as a child, I never can remember when it begins.' 'Why d'you ask?'

'Well, Harriet - Lady Harriet - loaned us these horses for - the duration of our stay. But she is likely to want them back when the season opens.'

Clowance shouted: ‘I
do not think you need be anxious. She has a large enough stable.' She drew rein slightly to allow Amadora to catch
up with them. She said to her: ‘I
have scarcely met Lady Harriet - Sir George's new wife, so I have not really got to know her. Do you like her?'

'Ya lo creo!’
She shall be very kind, very generous.'

Geoffrey Charles laughed,
I
think we both like her -Amadora especially because she speaks Spanish. But then Amadora even likes Step-father George!'

'Why shall I not? He has done no harm to me.'

Clowance said: 'Perhaps you feel the appeal of his wickedness. All nice girls, they say, are attracted by wicked men.' She spoke with a certain inner feeling.

Amadora looked puzzled, and Geoffrey Charles shouted a Spanish translation.

'Ah, so. But yet I do not see him as wicked - not yet. What Geoffrey Charles has to say to me about him - that is another matter.'