The Loving Cup (50 page)

‘
I
went down this afternoon. The entire cave has been
I
cleaned out.'

'Cleaned out? Do you mean the sacks?'

'Everything. The sacks,
the tarpaulin. Everything has
gone.'

'Well, there was nothing of value left, was there. Perhaps Stephen has been.'

'Nothing of
value.
But what
was
left? What was there
when you were there last?'

'Well, you took everythi
ng belonging to you in May—you
told me. I cleared mine in September. Stephen long before
I
that. When I was there last there were just the sacks and a few papers-'
'Papers?
What sort?'

'Oh, a few deeds, a ti
n cheque or two, letters of credit,
Nothing of any importance. I had them in my sack and
I
thought to burn
them.' 'But you did not?'

'No. Sorry. After all they were worthle
ss.'
'And the loving cup?'

'What?'

'You remember, the silver cup.' 'Oh, yes. Did Stephen have it, or was it yours?' 'We never decided. But it was taken to the cave, wasn't it?'

'Yes
...
Oh, yes, I'm sure of that.' 'Well, it has now turned up on the sideboard in our dining room.'

'What?' Paul stopped and tried to see his companion's face. 'How in God's name
?...'
'Quite so.'

'How did it come there?'

'My mother says she
found
it on the beach. In a sack. At high water mark.'

They stumbled on a few steps further.

Paul said: 'Well, it could have happened. Some drunken old tramp
...
perhaps he dropped it. Perhaps he fell down the ladder as well.'

'Maybe he gave it to my mother and told her where he found it.'

'Does it matter? She could never know, never guess.'

‘
I
am never sure with my mother, what she can guess. She has a sixth sense.'

Paul said: 'She would have to have twelve senses to connect a little silver cup found on a beach - or in a cave -with a robbery that took place two years ago — and
then
connect it with us.'

'Yes
...
yes, I suppose so.'

'You don't sound totally convinced.'

'No
...
I wish you had burned those papers.'

Someone passed them quite close by in the dark and said 'Good night,' in a high-pitched voice. They responded because it was the tradition, a means of recognition in the dark, a satisfaction of curiosity.

'Who was that?' Jeremy asked.

'Music Thomas. I wonder why he's abroad. They say he pines for some girl who won't have him, and I'm not surprised. Jeremy
...'

'Yes?'

'Talking of pining. You know
Daisy still has this great
taking for you.'
I
suppose.'

‘I
f you ever had a thought to speak, it would be a kindness
I
to speak this time, while you ar
e on leave. You would make
her very happy.'

'Yes, I suppose I would.'

'You have, you know, in the past given her much reason to hope.'

'Yes,' said Jeremy, and said no more. They reached the battered pine trees and the chapel, and the remains of Wheal Maiden.
The chapel, for once, was
dark.

Paul said:
I
have reason to suppose that Daisy, even at
j
this late stage when you have do
ne so much to affront her,
would still look favourably -'

'Paul,' Jeremy said, 'do you remember our talking once
I
and your saying you almost envied me the ability to feel as
I
deeply as I did? I remember you said that to you most things
j
happened, as it were, behind a fine sheet of glass. You observed them, took a degree of pleasure or displeasure from them but seldom - or even never — became entirely engaged.'

'Yes, yes, it is true. But -' 'Well, it is not true of me. It was not true of my impulses that led to the coach robbery. It
is not true of my impulses
now. Were I to marry Daisy I would no doubt attempt to make her a good husband. Bu
t, wretchedly, I should not
succeed. If I have trifled with her feelings, then I am bitterly to blame. But it were better to be blamed for the smaller rather than the greater wro
ng. Daisy is very attractive. I
find her very attractive. There is nothi
ng wanting in her face, her
personality, her body, nothing that I do not admire, nothing that I could not easi
ly desire. But married to her
should be behind the glass screen, for I do not love her and could not
bring
myself to love her. It would be a splendid solution, to wed the sister of an old friend. It
would suit us all so well.
But it would be a hollow and desperate mistake.'

Whatever he might have betrayed to Paul, Jeremy said nothing to his mother or father during the next few days. On the Tuesday he left at dawn and rode over to Wheal Abraham at Crowan and was gone all the daylight hours observing Wolff
’
s new double cylinder engine in action. Thursday he spent at Porthleven where the new harbour was being built. The
Chasse
Maree
had
been refloated and was back in Penryn, so he did not see Stephen and Clowance until the Friday. He did not call on Valentine. He did not call on Goldsworthy Gurney.

On Saturday the seventh a sea fog came down, and Jeremy spent the morning with his father, first going over every level of Wheal Grace, and then in the counting house examining the cost books and discussing whether there was any way out of a closure of a spent mine. They came to the conclusion there was not, and it simply remained to decide how best it might be effected, how gradually, how many of the men working there could possibly be re-employed at Wheal Leisure, whether any new venture might be attempted in the neighbourhood to absorb the rest.

They walked home together, father and son, in sympathetic accord; there had never been a greater friendliness between them.

It was that accord, with his tall soldier son walking beside him, and perhaps something in the lonely, misty day, that brought Ross to the impulse of broaching the so far forbidden subject.

I
notice you have not yet been to see Valentine.'

'No...'

'Shall you go?'

I
don't think so. My leave is so short.' Ross transferred the cost book to his other arm. 'Valentine's marriage has clearly put all George's plans for him out of joint.' 'Yes, I am sure.'

'So will have clearly upset Cuby's as well. Whatever happens she will never now become a Warleggan.'

Jeremy's face was stiff. 'As you say.' 'Do you still wish her to become a Poldark?' They walked on a few yards.

'My dear Father, what a questi
on! There is little greater prospect of it just because of this. She is determined - and always has been - to marry a rich man. I shall never be that -not to the extent she requires. So there is no more to be said.'

'Jeremy, answer me something.' ‘
If I can.'

'Do you soil love her?'

The younger man shrugged his shou
lders irritably. 'Love - hate -I
no longer know what it is!' 'But you have found no other like her?'
I
have never had her.' 'You know what I mean.'

Jeremy said: 'How the seagulls cry! They seem never able to resist a fog.'

'My mother - your grandmother - always used to say they were the souls of drowned seamen crying for what they had lost.'

'You seldom speak of my grandmother.' 'How can I? I have few memories. She died so young.' 'Was she beautiful?
’

I
think
so. But it is so long ago. There isn't even a miniature. That is the terrible thing. She is so completely gone.'

'Where did she come from?'

'From St Allen. The Vennors were small landowners. Just off the road from Truro to Bodmin are a number of pleasant small manor houses, hidden away. Theirs was one. But your grandmother was an only child, and I know of no relatives except a cousin, Claude Vennor, who lives at Saltash.'

After a moment Jeremy said: 'Cuby isn't beautiful.' 'Do you think not?'
said Ross judicially.
'Perhaps not. But ' I was greatly struck with
her elegance and charm at the
Trenwith party.'

'Were you ?' Jeremy was pleased. 'Yes, well.' They walked

on again. 'On the whole I think it is better to talk about the past, don't you?'

'No,' said Ross. 'The present is what concerns us.'

They would soon be home. They had left the last of the washing floors behind. The low wall of Demelza's garden was just ahead.

'Very well,' said Jeremy violently, 'if you want me to
talk
about
it!...
My feeling for Cuby — it is — not a voluntary emotion. I cannot shut it off, the way you can shut off steam from an engine. But I have a young woman in Brussels. I shall have other young women. They - help, even if they do not remove the - the sore place.'

'And Cuby cares for you ?'

'Oh, that I doubt! How
can
she?'

'But she has given you the impression that she cares. Has she not? Quite often.'

'Oh, yes. Quite often.' Jeremy frowned angrily into the mist. He was not enjoying this, and wondered at his father's lack of perception in forcing it into the open. 'I think she
likes
me. She gives me the impression that what I feel is not unreturned. But rationally she knows I am no good to her, so she - she discards the rest.'

'That I find quite difficult to believe,' said Ross.

'Why-in God's name?'

'Why in anyone's name? Because it is not a feminine reaction! All right - her heart is governed by her head. But perhaps you have not tried hard enough to institute a contrary process.'

Jeremy stopped. 'What the blazes do you
know
about it? In any case, what do you mean?'

Ross stopped also. His blue-grey eyes were almost hidden by their heavy lids. He stared at the swirling mist.

I
mean, why don't you take her?'

Jeremy swallowed. 'What in hell do you mean?'

'Just what I say. Go over and take her. She owes allegiance to no one now. She cannot have found some new suitor yet. Ride over to Caerhays. She belongs to you more than to anyone else.'

'Are you
– joking?
'

'No. I was never more serious.' There was a long pause. Jeremy said: 'This is the nineteenth century.'

'I know. But people change
little
whatever century they live in. If you are in any way in awe of the
Castle
, I can assure you it is not built to stand the siege of even one determined man. Its walls are thin. So, you may find, are Cuby's defences.'

Jeremy let out a breath. 'God Almighty, I did not
believe!
...
My dear Father, I
do not know whether to laugh or cry!'

'Leave either until you have made the attempt. Would you like me to come with you? I can engage John Trevanion and his servants in a degree of intense conversation - or, if necessary, threat.'

Jeremy thought: God! My father is still living in the dark ages of twenty or thirty years ago when he used to go over and confront George Warleggan, and if necessary fight with him on the stairs of the Red Lion Inn or throw him, or be thrown, through the window of Trenwith! He thinks people can still behave in this way! As a young man he was lawless, and a soldier
...

Well, Jeremy thought, he was
never
so lawless as I have been; and I too am a soldier! Perhaps he is hot so far wrong after all. Perhaps it is I who am making the wrong assumptions!

He said stiffly:
I
am sorry to have been so much away from you both on this short leave.'

Ross accepted the rebuff. 'No matter. There will be others. And there is less risk of you
r being sent to the Americas.'

'You have not heard from Geoffrey Charles yet?'

'About their baby? No.'

'Goldsworthy Gurney's wife is expecting a child this month. That is why I have not been to see him. I imagine even he will abate his preoccupations with strong steam for a few weeks.'-