The Loving Cup (35 page)

‘
What?' he said.

'You didn't ask how I got on with Selina Pope.' 'What? No, I didn't. Thought you might prefer to keep it to yourself.'

"Not at all. I never mind if my business is public property.'

How true and typical of him, George thought. 'You found the lady at home?'

'Oh, yes. Recently returned from London, but very
much
at home. She has grown an inch since Hubby died.'

There was a movement among the servants by the door, and George half started up. But it was not Blencowe with the pre-arranged signal. Three servants came in bearing the dishes of gulls' eggs which were to be served with a shrimp sauce as a first course.

Unwin said:
I
can tell you this, George, she knows nothing of mining but cares a great deal for her own dignity; and she thinks, like my benighted brother, only of preserving the amenities. It was this chap Barrington Burdett, this lawyer fellow, who put her up to the idea of making me an offer for the mining rights. He advised her, damn the fellow
...
Still, she's offering a fair price, and a bird in the hand
etc.
What's this wine? Was it run ?'

'No, a new shipment from one of the Hanseatic towns.

The commercial world is going to be turned topsy-turvy with the opening of the Continental ports
...'

'A cup of tea on Saturday?' suggested Jeremy.

‘
What?'

‘
At the Red Lion at four. Or take dinner with me there and tea right after. Clemency can come and sit between us so that I am not able to touch you.'

She began to eat one of the eggs, stopped and delicately licked a finger. 'I would have to ask Clemency.'

'The last meeting, then? The last before you marry. I shall certainly not return home again before Christmas. After Saturday your path will be unimpeded. I shall not even be a ghost at the feast. By the time I return it will all be over.'

'You will always be a ghost at the feast, Jeremy, and you know it!'

'No, no,' he said,
I
am thinking of taking a leaf out of my cousin Geoffrey Charles's book and bringing home some plump little Flemish girl for wife.'

She looked at him slantwise, through her lashes, indeed.'

'They run to plumpness out there. Like little pouter pigeons. Some of 'em anyhow. A
few
are quite slender.'

'Better to marry a slender girl,' said Cuby. 'They can always plump up afterwards.'

'That's what I thought. But the one I have in mind, called Lisa Dupont, already tends to plumpness. Do you think she would be suitable for me?'

'Any
woman, I imagine, would be suitable for you in your present mood!'

'There is a truth in that. But pray don't confuse the issue. I am only thinking of Lisa Dupont as a possible substitute for yourself when the time comes. Can you imagine what Cornish society will be like in a few years if we have such mingling of races? For take heart - or do I mean take warning? - we shall all have to meet and mix in the future, for the county is too small for us altogether to avoid each other. We can discuss this on Saturday.'

'On Saturday,' said Cuby,
I
shall certainly
not
be there!'

'Come, come. You cannot deprive a condemned man of his last happy hours.'

Jeremy could have been speaking little more than the actual truth if he had known what Sir George Warleggan had in store for him. As they were talking there was a further stirring at the door and George received at last the signal he expected. He excused himself abruptly from his neighbours and rose and went to the door, went out.

Hector Trembath was there, holding his black tricorn hat, looking flushed.

George's eyes went up the stairs. 'You're damnably late! What kept you? Is he already changing?'

'No, Sir George. I fear he is not here at all.'

'What?
What in God's name do you mean?'

Trembath swallowed his bony Adam's apple. 'We
just
caught the coach this morning, sir. Mr Rose was still not at all well and complaining bitter of the gouty pain in his head - wishing even to delay another day, sir! - but I induced him, persuaded him, almost led him, linking arms, like. Once in the coach things seemed to be going better, and for a while we even had a lengthy conversation on legal matters...'

'Get on, get on!'

Nankivell was in the hall now, nervously fingering his crop. Three other servants were nearby.

'Then at Tresillian, just as we came in sight of the river, Mr Rose complained that the pain in his head could no longer be borne, the jogging of the coach, he said, had made it insupportable. The coach was stopped for near on half an hour. We lifted him out - a very big man, sir, very heavy, with heavily flushed face and white hair - we sent to a cottage for water - a man on the coach had brandy - he could not drink. After half an hour, since there was no help or apothecary near, we somehow got him back into the coach. The other two inside passengers said they would cling on outside to give the sick man more room—and so we came to Truro. There he was took out and carried up to a chamber. I did not know what to do, but felt it my duty to stay with him; a docto
r or apothecary might bring him
round and I might yet be able to persuade him to come on. Sir George, I intended to have sent you a message, but
the coach, being much delayed, left without warning...'

'Yes, yes. Go on, go on. How is he now?'

'We were fortunate enough to find Dr Daniel Behenna at home - our most respected physician -
your
physician, if I remember, of
course
’
.
By the t
ime he arrived Mr Rose could not move his right side at all, and could not speak. He had talked so much all last evening and throughout the early part of the journey, that it was pitiful to behold him unable to utter a word, could only pluck now and then at his lip with his swollen left hand -'

'What did Behenna say?'

'That he had suffered an apoplexy of the brain, and he at once bled him by means of an insertion in the external jugular vein. I swear, Sir George, it made me quite faint to see the blood -'

'Spare us your feelings. How is he now?'

In spite of his nervousness, Mr Trembath would continue with his story.

'Dr Behenna stayed half an hour; and I did not know
what
to do then; for clearly there was no hope of carrying Mr Rose here tonight or of him being helpful to you in any way if he did so come. So I took the liberty of sending to my house for my own horse and having him brought to Pearce's Hotel
...'
Mr Trembath cleared his throat. 'However, before I took my leave - to hurry here with the bad news -the servant girl who had been put to watch over Mr Rose came rushing down to say there was a change in the patient. So I and the innkeeper went up with her. She was right. A grave change had come over Mr Rose. It took no more than two minutes to summon an apothecary who had just entered the inn for some refreshment, and the apothecary at once pronounced him dead.'

'Dead?'

'Yes, sir.'

‘I
see.'

After a moment George found he had in his hand the wineglass which he had brought from the dining room. It was his first imp
ulse to smash it on the ground.
Instead of that with a twist of his powerful fingers he snapped the glass off at its stem and handed the pieces to a staring footman. He went in to rejoin the party.

IV

Stephen Carrington enjoyed the evening right to the end, always winning enough at the table to off-set Clowance's losses; in his element as he had been all evening, mixing in a higher level of society than he had ever done before, being accepted by them without apparent eye-raising comment on his voice or manners, married at last to the girl he had coveted from the day he saw her. He had never been in ' anything like this position before, never. His misdeeds, he felt, were behind him. The accidental stabbing of an able seaman was more than two years old, and the only person who had recognized him on that night was now his partner
I
and close friend. The chance of his being identified by anyone else for that offence so late in the day seemed very small - though he would still steer clear of Plymouth for a while to be on the safe side.

As for his later adventure in the coach, that was a little nearer in time and a little more sensitive. But Stephen believed in riding his luck. It had all gone so well for him so far; and the money from that robbery had financed his maritime start in life. Many men, he felt, he
knew
in his bones, had turned a more or less dishonest penny to begin. He wouldn't be at all surprised if his sour-looking host had done much the same - only in Warleggan's case it probably consisted of cheating widows rather than the bolder and more risky form his had taken.

So Stephen, unaware of the mountainous body of Mr Arthur Williams Rose, at present being conveyed out of the back door of Pearce's Hotel on its way to the boneyard, held his head high and looked forward to the future with supreme confidence
...

As for Jeremy, he too had wrung a sort of pleasure from die evening, though it was of an altogether more wry and perverse kind than Stephen's. He had in the end persuaded Cuby to take tea with him next Saturday, with Clemency. It was prolonging the agony, yet it appealed to Jeremy as a more suitable end than muttering together over a card table. So be it. He would return to Lisa with the confirmed knowledge that Cornwall held nothing for him any more. On his way home, riding over the dark moors, taking his
time
lest Colley should stumble and throw him, he presented a figure which even in the star-lit gloom of the early night was likely to deter footpads. Cut purses and the riff-raff of the mines did not attack soldiers.

Jeremy was no more aware than Stephen of the narrow margin by which he had escaped the risk of denunciation; but on his long ride he began to think of the practical problems of the money still left to him. When he had taken a substantial part of it to pay for his army outfit he had been aware that the damp of the cave was beginning to damage the notes. At the time he had done nothing, but now, on this leave, it seemed sensible to try to find some means of preserving the rest.

For an hour he thought about it and then came to a decision. The Gatehouse, from which they had galloped out on their foolhardy enterprise and to which a day and a half later they had returned, was still empty and part furnished, just as it had been when Clowance's and Stephen's engagement had bee
n broken off. Jeremy, who knew
the little house intimately, remembered a loose floorboard in the backroom at the top of the narrow stairs. It would certainly prise up and could be knocked back into place again. He also knew that in the kitchen was an old box iron. If you took out the part that went in the fire to be heated it left a substantial cavity which could well contain what was left of his money; and the notes would be safe from deterioration. He would make the transfer early on Thursday morning.

Jeremy had none of Stephen's ebullient belief in his own luck; nor had he his ability to throw off a sense of guilt. The robbery
seemed
to have succeeded, and one simply went on from there. Jeremy had felt less unbalanced about it since his impulsive confession to Geoffrey Charles. His cousin's laughter had put the adventure into perspective - so had his warning that they were not yet out of the wood, perhaps never could be altogether safe.

Maybe having done something like that it was not proper to be altogether safe. Perhaps his continuing in the Army created the equilibrium in his life that a sense of justice required.

I

In early June England was visited by the Heads of State of the collective Allies who had helped to defeat Napoleon. Alexander I, Tsar of all the Russias; Frederick William III, King of Prussia; the Chancellor of Austria, Prince Metter-nich; the Chancellor of Prussia, Prince Charles Augustus Hardenberg; Field Marshal von Blucher, and many minor princes, all reached England in the same naval vessel, but on approaching London by coach some of the more popular figures scattered and arrived privately, fearful of the enthusiasm of the undisciplined and unpoliced English crowds.

And enthusiasm there was in abundance; Blucher was mobbed, the Tsar could not issue from the hotel - where he decided to stay instead of the state apartments chosen for him - without being greeted and followed by cheering crowds. Great receptions were held: balls, dinners, operas. It would have been high noon for the Prince Regent had not the crowds greeted him with hisses and boos and reserved all their cheers for the foreigners. Canning was travelling in the north country and wrote to Ross. 'Peace,' he wrote, 'which is so welcome now it comes with honour, has in a few months wrought so many surprises that one stands aghast at one's lack of foresight and sagacity. It has indeed saved some of our industries, but it has created havoc in others. All merchantry is in the melting pot; Europe welcomes our exports with enthusiasm, but floods us with imports in return. Some of our fledgling industries, grown green and lush from lack of competition, are now cut down with cold winds which must grow keener every day. Even more so now we must press for the reforms which have been hitherto resisted.' But Canning was increasingly preoccupied with the failing health of young George, his eldest boy.

Another one in dubious health at this
time was Dwight Enys who, greatl
y to Caroline's fury, had ventured once too often into the pestilence-ridden area of the Guernseys and picked up some fever of which he could not rid himself. It came on and went off and came on again, with depressing regularity. Dwight accepted a draught or two from his assistant, Clotworthy, but would not allow another physician near him. He went on a starvation diet and prescribed himself
Peruvian bark and opium and conti
nued with his work in the villages as usual.

So for the present, talk of the four of them going off for a few weeks to Paris was shelved. Dwight heard now that the Davy party, having survived the collapse of Napoleon, had left Paris for the Auvergne and were later bound for Flor
ence. 'The autumn is the best ti
me in Paris,' said Ross, with the authority of someone who had never been there. 'We'll go then.'

In the meanti
me the great Peninsular Army, forged by Moore and Wellington into one of the finest fighting forces there had ever been, marched to Bordeaux, parted tearfully from its Portuguese battalions, was reviewed for the last time by Wellington, and broke up for ever. The day after the review Major Geoffrey Charles Poldark went to see his commanding officer and told him that he was resigning his commission.

Colonel William Napier regarded him for a full half minute from under his eyebrows before he replied. 'Do I hear aright?' 'You do, sir.'

'On what grounds have you come to such a misguided decision?'

'The war is over, sir. I think it is time I returned to civilian life. I hope I shall be able to sell my commission.'

'You are a professional soldier, Poldark, not a time server.'

'The Army has been my life since I
was sixteen. But I have recentl
y married; my wife is expecting a child; I have a small estate in Cornwall that needs attention.'

'And you will have enough to live on?'

'Thanks to money that my wife will bring me, yes, sir.'

Napier got up and limped to the window of the cottage. He was a thin, pale
young man who had himself recentl
y married.

'War is not altogether over yet, Poldark. Perhaps war in one form or another never will be over for a country like ours with a colonial empire.'

‘
I
presume we have no orders yet, sir ?'

'We shall embark for Plymouth when transport is available. Thereafter
...'

I
confess I have no stomach for this war in America,' said Geoffrey Charles, it is such a bad-tempered little squabble, with no real principle involved - and no issue, unless it is the future of Canada.'

Napier turned. 'How old are you, Poldark?'

I
shall be thirty this October.'

I
am b
y a year the younger. How many t
imes have you been wounded?' 'Four.
’

I
have been wounded seven. I am your senior at least in that.'

They smiled at each other.

'This of course will have to go before the Duke and the authorities in London.' 'Of course.'

'Who may not be pleased.' 'No, sir.'

‘I
n the first flush of a happy marriage this course you are taking may seem very desirable. In a year - two years it may look different. Have you ever thought of doing precisely the opposite of what you are proposing?'

'What is that?'

'Stay on a few more years. Continue your distinguished service and then apply through the proper channels to purchase a brigade command.'

Geoffrey Charles looked up in surprise. 'You're too kind, sir. I had certainly considered that out of reach. But if I may say so, with due respect, I should have thought you are a far more likely person to do that than myself.'

The hot sunlight outside shone on Napier's pallid hand as he drew the curtain across.

‘
I
could not
afford
it, my friend. My wife has
little
money of her own. In fact
...'

'Sir?'

'No matter
...
Does this prospect appeal to you?'

'It ap
peals to my self-esteem. But unti
l now, I have had barely enough money to subsist at all. Without an allowance from a much disliked step-father I could not have remained an officer. Therefore, though I will accept some of my wife's money to help to put my small estate in some sort of order, I cannot - could not — stomach the thought of using it to buy myself a higher rank in the Army. It would be —self-aggrandisement...'

'What if you asked your wife?'

‘
I
could not, sir, for it would look as if I were turning it down for her sake.'

A bugle sounded outside.

'Very well, Poldark. I will pass on the request'

'Thank you, sir.' Geoffrey Charles hesitated. 'You were about to say something just now. Is it too personal for my ears?'

'Yes, indeed it is! Nevertheless you may hear it. I was about to say that in fact I have somewhat similar thoughts to yourself - of leaving the Army soon. Like you, I have a young and pretty wife. Unlike you, who seem to have taken your wounds in your stride, I am stiff when I lie down of nights and need my orderly to help me up in the mornings. Sometimes I shake with the ague. My progress upwards in the Army, as I have told you, is limited by want of means. But that is all in the future. Who knows what the future holds for any of us?'

II

'Leave to speak, sir?'

It was Lieutenant Christopher Havergal. Geoffrey Charles had been surreptitiously opening and shutting his part-paralysed hand The excessive courtesy - was it mock courtesy? - of the remark irritated him. 'Well?'

'There is a rumour about, sir, that you intend to resign your commission and leave the Army.' 'What is that to you?'

'Only the same as it is to the other junior officers, sir. And the men.'

'Why have the junior officers left it to one of the most junior among them to make this inquiry?'

'Because they think I have
...'
Lieutenant Havergal paused, threw back his fair hair.

'Brass enough for anything?'

A little tweak showed at the corner of the mouth. 'Brass is another form of courage, sir. Isn't it? I hope I - we - have been misinformed.'

'Brass,' said Geoffrey Charles, 'is allied to that form of courage you showed when chasing the hare. It is not the sort most favoured by the Duke. Or indeed by the Army generally.'

'No, sir.'

‘I
ncidentally, what brought you into the Army, Havergal?'

'Oh,' the young man shrugged. 'My father is a shipbuilder in Sunderland. He made unwise speculations, lost most of his - brass - begging your pardon, sir - and had to sell his house and his yards. I went to the Charterhouse, then was reading for the bar, but had a disagreement with
my
father and chose to buy myself an ensigncy instead. Stationed for a year on useless duties at Gibraltar, contrived a transfer almost too late for any of the fun. And here I am!'

'And where, if I may ask, did you pick up your Portuguese mistress?'

Havergal grinned, in Abrantes. She's a pleasant little thing and causes no trouble.'

'My wife is Spanish, you know.'

'Yes indeed, sir.' The young man added hastily: it is becoming quite the fashion: Captain Smith of the Rifles, for instance. His wife goes with him everywhere, sharing all the hardships
...'
'Shall you marry yours?'

'Oh, no, sir. With me—with us - it isn't like that at all.'

Geoffrey Charles slowly
unflexed his hand. 'Well, Haver
gal, you have asked me a question, so I shall answer it. Yes, I am resigning from the Army. It is for personal reasons which I don't propose to discu
ss; but I feel that our work in
Europe is done, our future work, if there is some in America, is not for me; and I have, I believe, more constructive things to do with my life.'

'Well
...
there couldn't be a better answer than that, sir. I'll tell the others. And may I say that I am personally very sorry.'

'Thank you.'

Havergal coughed. 'And if there ever were a chance of us meeting later - in civilian life, I mean, I should welcome it.'

'Are you thinking of leaving the Army too?'

'No, no, sir. But it was just a thought.'

Geoffrey Charles looked down at his hand. 'Thank you, Havergal. I'll bear it in mind.'

Ill

On the day the Tsar and mos
t of the princelings left Eng
land, the
23rd
June, after a sojourn which had opened their eyes to many strange aspects of English life, Selina Pope rode over to call on the Poldarks.

She had never been to Nampara before; Demelza felt herself remiss in never having invited her; but most of the time it had been difficult, because Ross did not like Clement Pope, and since he died there had not seemed the right opportunity. So she came without invitation, riding Amboy with a groom in attendance. She did not bring her daughters.

Demelza thought, as she had thought at the Trenwith party, what a pretty woman she was. She could by now well nave dispensed with her widow's weeds, but the discovery that black very much suited her might have been the reason why she had not. She ventured to call, she said, because she happened to be
p
assing near - a likely subterfuge - and Captain Poldark
h
ad been so kind as to offer his advice on matters to do with her estate when she had seen him last at the Trenwith party. Ross, Demelza said, was at Wheal Leisure, but should be home to dinner in about half an hour. If she, Mrs Pope, would care to stay and take pot luck she, Mrs Poldark, woul
d be happy to entertain her. Unti
l her guest called she had been trying to clear some of the litter out of Clowance's room; so she was in a green dimity frock with a paler green apron over it, and her hair, never the easiest to control, had come unlooped with stooping; her hands were dirty; and she knew Ross would arrive back from the mine in a thick woollen shirt, corduroy breeches and old riding boots; but it pleased her to feel that Selina Pope would be able to see them both in this condition and to judge for herself whether she wished to continue to know them.

Mrs Pope said she would be delighted to stay, if it were not putting them to inconvenience. A slightly awkward pause was filled by the arrival of Isabella-Rose holding Henry's hand and persuading him to walk upright. Until now trial and error had convinced Henry that he could get from one place to another more quickly on hands and knees, and he was protesting a little at this newer mode of locomotion.

Later Ross arrived looking grim, a cleft between his brows because of a complication at the mine; but he made an effort and smiled at Selina and said if they would give him time to wash
...

At dinner they talked of children, of current events, of local affairs. Mrs Pope had recently been to London so she had seen some of the scenes of rejoicing for herself. The Tsar, it was said, adored dancing, particularly the waltz, but he had caused offence by picking only the young and pretty women and ignoring the elder and more important ones. He had also given offence by slighting the Prince Regent's mistress, the Marchioness of Hertford. Mrs Pope had actually seen Marshal Bliicher coming out of a shop: he had at once been surrounded by applauding crowds; but an
old
man, with none of the splendid dignity of Wellington. Mrs Pope's daughters, who had been left behind for a few months with an aunt in Finsbury, had been quite enraptured of it all.