The Four Swans (16 page)

About half an hour after he went into the garden he saw Mr Rowe, the apothecary, arrive. He looked at his watch. It was twelve noon and the election would be over. It did not take long for twenty-five people to cast their votes. He considered a quick visit. It was little more than a mile to the hall and he could be there and back in half an hour. But he decided against it. It would look bad to be so seen by his parishioners. It would look worse if Morwenna died while he was away.

Rowella came out of the house hurriedly; pattered down the steps, tying her bonnet as she went and hurried off towards the town. What now? He watched her retreating figure and then turned back towards the garden. That rascal Higgins had not done the edges of the lawn well: he must be told of it. Ossie looked up at the vicarage. Twice

since that night he had gone into the attic in search of a sermon,: but he had not been so lucky; the girl had been moving out of range of the peephole, and although he had ventured to enlarge it a little he had seen nothing.

If Morwenna died, what of his association with the Warleggans? He had possession of the money but he would regret the: loss of their interest. Suppose he transferred his interest to Rowella? She too was Elizabeth’s cousin. But would George be so generous a second time? It seemed unlikely. So Rowella would have to go back to Bodmin and he, a man of thirty-two, widowered for the second time, a distinguished young cleric with a fine church and an income of Ł300 a year 460 if the application, for St Sawle were successful he would be very much of a catch - son of a judge, related to the Godolphin, connected with the Warleggans - many a mother’s-eye would be cast enviously towards him. He would take his time, take a thorough look round, see who and what was on the marriage market. He thought of one or two who were eligible at least so far as money was concerned. Betty Michell? Loveday. Upcott? Joan Ogham? But this time he must try to find a girl-who - not only was right financially, not only appealed to him as a woman, but also found him fascinating as a man. It could not be such a tall order. When be looked at himself in the mirror he saw no reason to doubt his own attraction for women. Only Morwenna failed. Why even Rowella, he suspected by some of her sly looks, was not unimpressed.

He stayed out by the river until he saw Rowella returning. She was coming in great haste, and he had to stop her, by blocking, her way.

`What news of your sister? What have you been for? How is she, tell me?’

She looked at him and her lip trembled.. `Dr Behenna sent me to his house for this.’ She showed a bag, `Morwenna was quieter when I left. But I am not allowed in now.’ She insinuated herself past him.

Ossie walked across his garden to the church. Near the path was Esther’s grave and a bunch of wallflowers were fresh, in the pot. He wondered who had put them there. He went into the church and as far as the altar. He was proud of his parish, which extended far enough to include three of the main streets of Truro. In this district had lived Condorus, the last Celtic Earl, who had perished soon after the Norman Conquest. Men of influence and property: from neighbouring estates came, to worship here every Sunday Though the stipend was not great, it was a warm living.

The church was empty today. Dr Behenna .had suggested, most presumptuously, that he, Osborne, should offer up a prayer for the “survival of his wife and child”. But he did this every night before retiring. Did this emergency entitle him to suppose that God in His infinite wisdom had not heard and harkened to his nightly prayers? Was it right, that he should, as it were, call God’s further, attention; to something that He might have overlooked? That hardly seemed right. That hardly: seemed a religious thing to do.; Far better to kneel a moment and pray that he should have the strength to bear any burden that God in His mercy should choose to place upon his shoulders. A second widowerhood so young - two tiny children bereaved of a mother for the second time. An empty house. Another grave.

So it was in an attitude of prayer, head bowed before, the altar, that his physician found him, some twenty minutes later, most appropriately posed, as if in the two hours since the beginning of the crisis the vicar had spent the whole time, interceding with his God for the survival of his beloved wife, and child..

Osborne started and looked round in irritation at the footstep, as if impatient at being so surprised. `Dr Behenna! Well?’

Behenna had pulled on his velvet coat carelessly and his shirt was stained and loose at the collar.

`Ah, Mr Whitworth. When they could not find you I suspected that I might myself discover you here.’

Ossie stared at him and licked his lips but did not speak. `You have a son, Mr Whitworth.’ `Ecod !’ said Ossie.- `Is that so? Alive and well?’ `Alive and, well. Of, six and a half pounds.’ `That’s small, isn’t it?’

`No, ,no, very satisfactory.’

`Both the girls were heavier. Eight pounds each, I believe. But of course that was another mother. Ecod, how pleasing! A son ! Well, upon my word! D’you know I have always wanted a son to carry: on the line. We Whitworths trace our ancestry a long way, and I was an only son - and difficult, I am told, to bear. I’m told I was ten pounds at birth. My mother will be pleased. Is he sound in every respect? I have chosen: his name.” John Conan Osborne Whitworth. It marks our blood connection with the Godolphin. Er and? ‘

Mrs Whitworth has been through a great ordeal. She is now sleeping.’

‘Sleeping? She will recover?’

`There is good reason to hope so now. I may tell you I was greatly disappointed in her, greatly disappointed, when last I saw you. The puerperal convulsions were an imminent hazard both to, her life and to the child’s. Had they continued another fifteen minutes they both must have died. But my operation upon the jugular vein was successful. Almost as soon as we had drawn sufficient blood from her she quieted, and after a while the child was presented. The placenta required aid, which naturally had to be effected with the utmost care lest my action should irritate the uterus, which could well have brought on a return of the convulsions or even a prolapse. ‘But all was well. Your prayers, Mr Whitworth, have been answered, and a surgeon’s skill has been rewarded!’

Ossie stared at Dr Behenna penetratingly. The sudden end to the crisis left him a little stupefied; emotionally he was not at all volatile, and the switch from expecting to find himself a doubly bereaved widower to that of happy husband and father was too much for him to accomplish in a moment. The thought flickered across his mind that physicians sometimes magnified the gravity of an ailment in order to squeeze a greater gratitude for themselves when’ they cured it. The thought brought a frown to his face.

`The boy. When can I see him?’

‘In a few minutes. I came quickly to relieve your mind, and there is a little, more yet to do.’ Behenna was put out by the manner of the relieved parent, and he too frowned. `But I would warn you, Mr Whitworth, about your wife.’

`Eh? You said all was well.’

`All appears to be well, but she has been through a great ordeal. She is sleeping heavily now and must on no account be disturbed. I shall leave of course full instructions with the midwife But when your wife finally wakes she will likely remember nothing of her ordeal, particularly of the convulsions. She must on no account be told, of them. In a sensitive woman it would have a very deleterious effect upon on her emotions and might well result in a grave disorder of the nerve force.’

`Ah,’ said Ossie. `Well, then. She had best not be told, had she. That’s simple, I’ll issue orders in the house.’

Behenna turned; away. `In ten minutes, Mr Whitworth, you may see your son.’

He stalked out of the church in a manner that showed his lack of approval of the man he left, behind:

Ossie followed him - The sun was shining again, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked down the lane. John Conan Osborne Whitworth., He’d arrange to do the baptizing himself as soon as ever Morwenna was about again. Might have something of a party. His mother would, be glad. His mother had never been quite sure about the match, thought he might have done better. Invite George and Elizabeth; other influential people: the Polwheles, the Michells, the Andrews, the Thomases.

He was about to go in when he saw a tall thin man coming up the lane past the church and towards the house, carrying a small parcel. The man, who wore spectacles and was in his late twenties, made for the front door of, the house.

‘Yes, what is it you want?’ Ossie said sharply.

`Oh, beg. your pardon, Vicar, I didn’t see you what with the sun in my eyes. Good afternoon to you, sir.’

‘Hawke is it?’

`No, Solway, sir. Arthur Solway. From the County Library.

`Oh, yes. Oh, yes.’ Osborne nodded distantly. `What is it you want?’

‘I brought these books, sir. Miss Rowella asked for them. For herself and Mrs Whitworth. She said as -she said that I might bring them up.’

`Oh, indeed.’ Ossie extended his hand. `Well, it is not convenient for you to call now. I will take them in.’

‘Solway hesitated. `Thank you, sir.’ He handed over the parcel, but reluctantly.

`What are they? Romances?’ Ossie held the parcel with distaste. `I, don’t at all think -‘

`Oh, no, sir. One is a book on birds and the others are histories, one of France and one of Ancient Greece.’

`Huh.’ Ossie grunted. `I will give them to Miss’ Chynoweth.’ Solway half turned. `Oh, sir, will you tell, Miss Chynoweth, please, that the other Greek book has not been returned yet.’

Mr Whitworth nodded dismissively and moved to go in. This library had been opened four years ago in Princes Street, and some three hundred volumes were available to be borrowed. Volumes on all sorts of subjects. He had never approved of it, for there was no real check upon what might be found in the books, three-quarters of, which were secular and it exposed unformed and uninstructed minds to thoughts and ideas outside their scope. This fellow was the librarian - he remembered now. He must warn Morwenna - and also Rowella - of the bad habits they were getting into. He was tempted to throw the books in the river. Then he remembered something else.

`Wait,’ he said to the young man, who by now was moving off.

`Sir’

`Tell me. Perhaps you know. There will have been gossip no doubt in your library. Has the election taken-place today?’

`Oh yes, sir, about two hours agone. In the Council Chamber, it was. Great excitement- ‘

`Yes, I know, I know. Who was elected?’

`Oh, Vicar, there was great excitement, fur it was a very close shave, I’m told. Thirteen votes to twelve. Thirteen to twelve. As close as a whisker!’

`Well?’

`They say Lord Falmouth’s’ candidate was turned down. What was his name now? An odd name, Salter, I believe’

`So you mean’

`Sir Francis Basset’s candidate was elected by one, vote. Everyone’s been talking about it Mr Warleggan it is, you know, sir. Not the father but the son. Mr George Warleggan, the banker. It’s been a real excitement! A close shave ! As close as a whisker!’

`Thank you. That’s all, Solway.’ Osborne turned away and walked slowly up to the house.

On the steps to the front door he stood a minute, watching the young man trudge away. But his thoughts were, not on what he was seeing at all.

The wind ruffled his hair. He went inside, remembering that he was hungry.

In the month that John Conan Osborne Whitworth was born rumours reached Cornwall, soon to be followed by the firm news, that, that general whose name Ross Poldark could never quite remember had performed prodigious feats of arms in northern Italy. At the head of a rabble of forty thousand Frenchmen, ill-equipped, ill-clad, ill-shod and ill-fed - their staple diet bread and chestnuts - he had. crossed the Alps and fought six battles, had defeated: the Austrians and the Piedmontese and on the fifteenth of the month had captured Milan. It was said it was a plan he had been pressing on his masters for two years; at last they had given him his head, and against all the odds of terrain and the rules of ordinary warfare he had succeeded. An English naval officer called Commodore Nelson, cruising in the Mediterranean, had observed the rapid march of the, French, along the Ligurian coast road, had discovered from spies the nature of the force, and had urged a small British landing in their rear, a manoeuvre which would have stopped the invasion in its tracks by cutting its lifeline. But now it was too late and the fame of General Buonaparte echoed through Europe.

And the rest of Italy lay unprotected before him. True the Austrians, it was said, were massing a great new army behind the Alps, but for the moment there was nothing, to stop his march into the rich cities of central and eastern Italy. The coalition of England, Austria, Russia, Prussia, Sardinia and Spain had been incohesive for a long time. Holland had already gone over to the enemy – Who next? A French naval squadron was already in Cadiz blatantly refitting in the royal dockyards. If France succeeded in Italy, Spain would be the first to join the winning side. And Spain had eighty ships of the line.

Harris Pascoe said: `I don’t mind t-telling you, Ross, the whole election was a source of great embarrassment to your friends in Truro. Not least to me; I assure you, not least to me.’

`How did you vote?’ Ross asked.

`N-need you, ask?’

`Well, yes … I fear I must. I beg your. pardon. You are nothing if not a Whig. And much more a Basset than -a Falmouth man. And you have said more than once .-.

`And would say it again.’ At the previous election the burgesses were not informed whom they were to vote for until ten minutes before they entered the hall. That time, bitterly though they resented it, there was no way of expressing their discontent. This time Sir Francis provided the focus. So Lord Falmouth has been, taught a very salutary lesson - but at what a cost, George may be very useful to Truro. He has the rare virtue of living here.’

`All this trouble need not have arisen if you had accepted Basset’s invitation.’

Ross looked at his friend, startled.” Pascoe took off his, spectacles and polished them. His eyes looked bland, and rather blind.