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Authors: Winston Graham

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Genre Fiction, #Family Saga, #Contemporary Fiction, #Romance, #Sagas

The Miller's Dance (27 page)

BOOK: The Miller's Dance
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But then, about eleven,
as if an appeal from Ossie Whit
worth's old church had found a miraculous way through,
a
shaft of sunlight broke up one of the clouds, bits of cerulean blue showed through the rents, and the whole monstrous company shuffled off. By noon, when the first race was due to begin, the crowd basked in high summer.

In the end almost all the Poldarks went. Jeremy joined John-Evelyn Boscawen's party. Boscawen had hired a wagonette for the occasion, and all nine of his guests were young.

Ross decided to ride in, but nothing-would persuade Demelza to accompany him. 'You must know by now how I mislike myself when I look like Sir John Trevaunance. It is the only part of having children that I detest. It will soon be over now. Have patience.'

I
could well take a vow of abstinence when I see you put to so much strain and inconvenience just to satisfy my appetites.'

'Don't take a vow that I shall persuade you to break. For abstinence is not in me yet.'

it would be a good name, wouldn't it,' Ross said. 'Abstinence. Abstinence Poldark. But would it be for a girl or a boy?'

Demelza said: 'Don't you think Indulgence would be better?' 'Or Incontinence,' said Ross.

'That might be too near the truth!' Demelza put her hand on his arm. 'Serious, Ross, why don't you take Isabella-Rose?'

'Bella? Would she enjoy it?'

'She would adore it. Take Mrs Kemp too. There are likely to be ponies for sale and Bella has been promised one for her birthday.'

Ross thought if the occasion offered he might also buy himself a new horse, as Sheridan was failing. At this stage Clowance said she had no intention of being left out and went to see Wilf Jonas to beg a day off for Stephen.

Jeremy had half expected to find Cuby one of the party, and indeed she was there, together with Clemency and Augustus. Most of the others he knew slightly or well. Nicholas Carveth and Joanna Bird were among them, as was John-Evelyn's sister, the Hon. Elizabeth Boscawen. Valentine Warleggan seemed of the party and not of the party, since he was riding a horse himself today and was in the company of two or three other young men, among them Jeremy's cousin Andrew Blarney.

When the invitation came Jeremy had written a refusal, thinking to avoid another hurtful confrontation. Then he had torn it up and spent a restless night and written an acceptance. Until he made the decision to leave Cornwall, or came to some conclusion about his arid and frustrated future, was he to avoid all contact with society or his fellow men just for fear it might involve him in this dread encounter? Why should he dread it? He knew that he loved Cuby and only Cuby, and that there would never be anyone else
like her; but already he felt as if his soul had been ground into the mud because of it. Would he feel any worse,
could
he feel any worse as a result of meeting her again?

It also occurred to him that in the disastrous encounter of Easter he might have been guilty of serious tactical error. Precisely because he felt so deeply about her, as if his very life were at stake, he had glared at her, bullied her into tears, showed his heartbreak and his bitterness and anger. Might there not be another way to treat this young lady? After all, she was wed to no one yet. Affianced to no one. Major Trevanion could hardly keep her under lock and key all her life, releasing her, a willing victim to his cupidity, only when the right suitor broke cover.

So when he came to the wagonette and saw her sitting there in a plum-coloured velvet frock (which didn't in the least suit her black hair but in a wicked perverse way only enhanced her beauty) he bowed over her hand with his best and most ingenuous smile, as if he were an old friend who really liked her, rather than a spurned lover who wished her either in his bed or in hell. Her troubled look changed to one of slight surprise, as he was challenged by Augustus, who immediately fell into easy conversation with him about London and the progress of the war, and the odds that were being offered today. With tact Jeremy drew her into the conversation, and he made a special set at Clemency, whom he dearly loved and admired except in the one way that mattered. So the initial embarrassment was lifted. Jeremy even went so far as to enquire if Major Trevanion were here today, to be told that he was sharing a barouche with Sir George and Lady Harriet Warleggan and Miss Maria Agar.

It was indeed a remarkable scene that stretched before them in the burgeoning sunshine. It seemed that every form of vehicle known to man had been utilized. There were carriages filled with elegant ladies, a fine smattering of the Brecon and Monmouth militia in their black and scarlet, farmers in respectable carts, tradesmen with their wives and daughters in gigs and broughams, sporting gentlemen on high-mettled mounts, boys on cart-horses, decorated wagonettes, dung-carts with plough boys, donkeys and
mules carrying miners and buddle boys, and a great concourse moving about on foot. The brilliant day turned what would have been a sodden quagmire into a scene of joviality and colour.

There was also an additional reason for joviality and rejoicing today; for news of yet another military victory had
j
ust come in, not this time fr
om Wellington or the Peninsula b
ut from far off Canada. There the Americans had pushed a strong expeditionary force into Canada under General Hull, and in mid-July Hull had crossed the narrow channel between Lakes Huron and Erie, and led a strong force of militia into upper Canada, int
ending to take possession of
the whole country in the name of the United States. But failing to maintain his momentum and surrounded by an unfriendly wilderness, he had decided to return to his base at Detroit. There that genial mountain of a Channel Islander, Major General Isaac Brock, having a thousand miles of frontier to defend for Britain and only fourteen hundred men to do it with — of which two-thirds were Indians or untrained volunteers - had decided to seek out the would-be invader, had himself entered United States territory, laid siege to Detroit and then captured it, together with
2,500
troops, a number of officers, and
25
guns.

When at last Jeremy could get a word really alone with Cuby he said:
I
have made a new resolution.' She did not look at him.
'But it is not the New Year.' 'Does that matter?' it depends upon the resolution.' 'My resolution is to continue always to admire you but never to rebuke.'

She put up a finger and carefully looped a strand of hair behind her ear. 'That would be a welcome change.' it has happened. I assure you.' 'Pray how has it come about?'
I
have grown older-and less earnest.' 'And no doubt have found some other young lady better tempered than myself.'

'On the contrary. Without bringing into question the matter of tempers, good or not good, I can assure you that it is not so. No other lady, young or otherwise.'

Her eyes transferred themselves briefly to his face, searching it for a few quick seconds for evidence of sarcasm, double meaning, hidden bitterness. She found none and looked away.

After a silence she said: 'What is your fancy for the one o'clock?'
'Pretty Lady.'

I
don't
believe
there is any such -' She looked down at her card. 'Oh yes, there is. I - hadn't noticed.' A half-apologetic smile flickered around her face. 'Do you know the jockey?'

'No, but it is entered by Lady Bodrugan, so I think it will have some good blood.'

'Your cousin Valentine is riding in the two-forty-five.
Larkspur.
We ought to put a guinea or two on him.'

He was very pleased by the 'we'. 'Let's put a guinea or two on him. Let's share five between us.'

The boy in charge of the wagonette was summoned and asked to go round among the more fashionable of the other coaches to see if any lady or gentleman would accept such a bet, against a horse of their own choosing, the bet to be void if neither won.

After that young Boscawen came up, and conversation became general again. But later Jeremy talked to Clemency and then, gradually, to Cuby again. .

'That is my father over there, crossing in front of the yellow coach now.'

'The tall dark man, with the older woman and the little girl ? Who are they ?'

'My youngest sister and her governess. Isabella-Rose. And not so little! She is ten years of age.'

'She's vastly pretty. I consider her quite charming.'

'You would not think her so charming if you heard her sing. She sounds like a choirboy whose voice is breaking!'

'Your mother is not here?'

'No...'

'Nor is mine. I think she is becoming a little mopish. We should have persuaded her to come, Clemency.'

'She swore it would be wet. And far too many of the lower class.'

'Whereas the sun is positively tropical! And the lower orders are keeping their distance beautifully!'

Except this one, thought Jeremy, but just bit off the words in time.

'Do you not also have another sister?' Clemency asked.

'Oh yes. But she is almost eighteen. She is here today too, with her future husband. I cannot at the moment see them. I expect they are off on their own.'

 

III

 

Stephen said; in a month now, me beauty. Less than a month. Less than four weeks. Less than twenty-eight days. How many hours? I can't count. But one has almost gone already since we came to this affair.' 'Are you not enjoying it?'

'Of course. I like being with you. And this crowd ... Sometimes I wonder if Cornwall's properly alive. Folk hide in their houses, peer out suspicious from their doors, go about life in secret. This shows the other side, shows they can enjoy themselves proper when they feel like it. It is like a beehive, isn't it, only more colour... All the same, I reckon we could be putting the rime to better advantage.'

She squeezed his hand. 'Soon we shall have leisure for our better advantage, as you have just pointed out. Have patience.'

'It is all very well for you.'

'Why? Why should it be? Why is it different for me?'

'Because — well, you have your family all round you — you're living the life you've always lived. With your father and mother and family. I'm - on my own.'

it doesn't make that much difference, Stephen. Surely you must know how quickly I want the next month to pass.'

'Why did your mother not come today?'

'Is it not obvious?'

is she ashamed of her condition ?'

'Of
course
not! Has she not a right to her preferences?' Stephen bit at his thumb,
I
wish you was in that state.' 'What, you'd prefer to marry me when I was with child?'

Not exactly. But I wish there was reason. I wish we'd made love.' it is all to come.' 'Not all, thank the Powers.' 'No.. .not
all.'

They had wandered off behind the stands to where a group of gypsies had made their encampment. The two young people were quickly surrounded by children begging and older children trying to sell them pots and pans. Stephen waved
them irritably away, and presentl
y took Clowance's arm to steer her back the way they had come.

'Anyway, if you was like your mother is I'd be surer of you.'

'Still not sure of me?'

He looked at her, and his expression cleared. 'Oh, more or less.'

'Perhaps that way I
would have been, been surer of
you.'

'Ohno.'

'Oh no?'

'No. Y'see, I'm a villain at heart. To have a pregnant woman at the altar rails - it would not affect me at all if I'd
the
mind not to wed her.'

‘I’l
l remember that. How fortunate I never yielded to your advances!'

‘I
s that what they call it in your set? Phew!'

'They call it that in the novels we used to read under the bedclothes at school. In our set - as y
ou call it - in our set they stil
l use cruder words.'

'Tell me.'

'After we are married.'

The crowd was getting thicker as they approached the horses. Clowance saw Valentine over the other side of the ring, with a young man in naval uniform, but they did not see her.

'Clowance.'


Yes?'

'Let's run away?' 'When? Today?'

'Aye. I don't savour this fancy wedding that is being prepared.'

'No fancy wedding. I have promised.'

'But how much easier... We could slip away now when no one is looking, take those two nags we came on - ride away somewhere - where's the nearest port? Falmouth. Ride away to Falmouth, take a room; there'd be a little sour-pussed landlady with a yapping dog. We'd pay her two nights in advance, lock the door in her face. Then I'd have you. You couldn't taunt me, tease me any longer. I'd take all your clothes off, very slow, very careful...'

'Stephen, stop it!'

'What's the matter - scared ?'

BOOK: The Miller's Dance
4.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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