The Four Swans (52 page)

Before he married Elizabeth he had always wanted to possess her, and the wedding ceremony of Thursday 20 June 1793 had given him that absolute possession. But the quarrel of April 1797 had loosened those bonds. He had the good sense now to realize that Elizabeth would never desert him. She would be loyal and faithful to him and his interests, would keep his home and his family and be his companion and his wife in all good things. But she had stated her terms.

At the back of the church Drake had been sitting with an absorbed air which disguised the fact that he had not been, listening to the sermon at all. He had heard nothing or thought of nothing since Morwenna came in. As she passed him on her way to the, front pew they had, seen each other for the first time for more than two years. After the one startled glance of recognition she had lowered her gaze, but he had looked at her and continued to look at her as if mesmerized. He saw that she was terribly changed. She looked older, thinner, harder-there were lines round her mouth that he had never seen before. Her skin, which was always a little dark, had become sallow, her eyes narrowed; her fine carriage was not so fine, in a year or two she would stoop. Whatever the two years had brought to Drake, they had brought no less distress to her. More, thought Drake. More. He felt sick to look at her and at that loudmouthed cleric standing, in the pulpit describing the hosts of Midian.

He would have left the church at some time during the service, glad to get away, - glad to sick up his disappointment and distress against some slanting gravestone outside. It was really all over now, he told himself; he no longer cared for her, even; she was a vicar’s wife, a matron, a tired, experienced, commonplace young woman with lank dark hair and brown myopic eyes and a baby and a husband and a parish to look after; and the dream was gone.. It had been there, existed between them for no longer than a rainbow arching between cloud and cloud; the sky pattern had moved and it was lost for ever.

He would have left the church, but some need to stare at her kept him there. From where he was he could see her brown hat and one shoulder. She was of course sitting in the Poldark pew - that is to say the Trenwith pew - next to Mr Warleggan, with Mrs Warleggan on his other side. Ross and his family sat on the opposite side of the church and several rows back. Only three sat in the Trenwith pew. Geoffrey Charles was not there. It seemed likely that he had not come home. Perhaps they were not having him home this summer.

After Mr Odgers had intoned the final prayer the congregation began to file out. It was of course the custom to let the gentry leave first, so Drake was now trapped, into remaining. As soon as the Warleggans began to move he lowered his eyes so that he need not embarrass Morwenna any more. Let her look at him if she wanted; he was too miserable to stare her out.

But sometimes the best intentions give way before impulse, and just as he, saw Elizabeth’s white skirt sweep past the end of the pew he raised his eyes again.

She was looking at him. Morwenna was looking at him. It lasted about seven seconds, and in that time she just had time to smile. It began in her eyes, crinkling them up a little more; it spread to her lips; and then it seemed to break in an irradiation over her whole face. The lines disappeared, the colour of her face changed; the tightness of lips relaxed, the eyes were warm again. For a few heartbeats he was embraced by it; the sun came out, the rainbow shone again; then she was past.

Sam Greet elbowed him to step into the aisle and follow the others into the fog outside.

`Come long, my son,’ he said. `Reckon we’ve had ‘nough of praying for one day.’

I

Sawle Feast did not begin properly until two o’clock. It was a holiday at Wheal Grace - the only mine working in the parish-but the custom of the day was that the miners spent the morning cleaning up, brushing out the sheds, whitewashing the inside of the changing-house, sweeping the dressing floors and making everything look its best. And anyway, farmers or those with animals to tend were never ready and free for anything much before noon.

Two o’clock was the children’s games; three-thirty was tea; each child received a tin mug of steaming black tea and a huge saffron bun which it was almost impossible to eat at, one sitting. Adults had had a bite of something, if they were lucky, before the feast began, but there was any amount of ale to be had. Each miner was given a shilling by the mine on the day and this usually went in drink, with money of their own to follow. At four o’clock there were games and races for the young grown-ups. At five the wrestling began. Sam and Tom Harry were due to meet at six in the challenge match, but the ordinary wrestling was a knock-out competition open to anyone who threw in his cap, with the prize of a guinea and a hat for the outright winner. A player who brought his opponent to an approved fall stayed in for the second round, and if he won the second round he became a `standard’. The play-off among the standards was when the real wrestling began.

Drake walked back to his shop after church and made himself a frugal dinner. He had just finished it when Sam turned up.

`Well, brother,’ Drake said. `Tis good to see ee. I thought maybe you’d not turn up for your match in time.’

Sam took a seat and began to munch the bread and cheese that Drake brought him. ‘Oh, aye, I’d not forgot.’

`Maybe twould’ve been better if ee had. I’ve no liking for a brother to be fighting my battles.’

`Not yours, boy. My own.’

Drake put, down the stave he had been straightening and, sat on a box opposite Sam. ‘Ye went then?- Did it all happen?’

Sam told him.

At the end Drake said: ‘Twas a kind thing to do, brother, but a sad one. D’you - d’you see God’s hand in all-this?’

`We cann’t measure and guess all that the Divine Spirit intends. Tis for we to bow our heads and accept chastisement where it d’fall. It seemed me that twas only one sinner suffering ‘mong many who went scatheless. But it grieved me that he went dead without the chance of laying hold of the true blessing.’

`I’ll pour you some tea,’ Drake said. From the scullery he called `Went all the way back Camborne with them, did ee?’

`For the funeral, aye. They left us bring the body away. We was lended an old cart. Six of us drawed’n, turn and turn about. I pulled with Peter Hoskin . . ‘Fore ever we reached Camborne we was met by others. Hundreds of folk downed work and walked on behind. Great procession. Hundreds. Sang hymns while they walked. Many b’longed to the Connexion, ye could tell.’

Drake brought a mug of tea but said nothing.

‘Thank ee, boy..’

`A stranger thing’ never I seen,’ Sam went on, sipping. `You mind Sir Basset? Sir Francis Basset? Lord Dunster - Dunstanville as he now is?’

`Oh, yes, I mind him well.’

‘Ye know twas he who was at the arresting of Hoskin and Sampson and Barnes and the others, and twas he who was at the trying of them. And twas he they d’say who had to choose whether to sign a reprieve for John, like was done for the others. Well, this procession - nigh on a thousand folk now, I warrant was passing by this house by the church, and we was a mile, maybe from the burying ground, when who should come out of this house but Basset himself, all by his self save for one servant; and sure ‘nough all these folk he come up against, most of them miners, many I reckon as took part in the riot with Hoskin and the rest, they all knew who twas. And the man at the door of the house where Lord Basset had been calling tried to draw him back within the house; but Sir Francis wouldn’t be sheltered and says as he is in no danger from; these men, he says, but let these men make one move against him and they’ll surely suffer the fate of the corpse they’re drawing home … So he comes to his horse and mounts it, and his servant mount his, and quiet as you please he rides slow through the procession, passen near by the corpse - and quiet and. peaceable the folk part and separate like the waters of the Red Sea…’

Drake nodded, slowly.

`Did ye stop by and see William, John and Robert?’

`Yes.. But there was only Robert home. And the widow and Flotina, and John’s new wife and cheeil. They were all bravish.’ ‘Bobbie’s come well again?’

`Clever. They all asked for you.’

`That Basset be a brave man,’ Drake said. `I’ll give him that. Twas more than many a man would’ve dared to do.’

`For a while I veared for ‘n,’ Sam said. `But I reckon he was upheld by his conviction of right. Twas a strange sight to see - And a lesson to us all…’

`Even when we be in the wrong?’- Drake asked with a glimmer of his old mischief.

Sam smiled and shook his head. `That’s what we must try and take care and pray not to be.’

`Where’s Peter? He’s not back wi’ you?’

`He’s resting with the family and will come home tonight.’ ‘You missed two days at the mine? You got leave to go?’

`Oh, yes. There’s no, pressure t’our work.. I come home now for the - for the challenge.’

‘Ye’ll be weary with the walking.’

Sam put a finger round the top of one of his, boots. `I got sore feet. The rest is naught.’

`I wish ee well, brother. I reckon we’ve got an hour afore we need stir. I’ll get a bucket and you can soak your feet. I hope ye beat him, Sam. But he’s as bulk-headed as a mule. You want, to watch how he takes his hitch.’

`God will decide it,’ said Sam.

II

The Enyses were not, in church, but they rode over for dinner with the Poldarks. They were not church-going people even on special feast days and holidays. This was a disadvantage to Dwight, for it was an ill thing for a doctor to, be thought an atheist. In fact Dwight was not that, and would have made token appearances had Caroline so desired it, but Caroline had, an active prejudice - against all forms of organized religion and only entered places of worship on such unavoidable occasions as weddings, christenings and funerals.

She was again looking in, much better health and chatted amiably through the early part of the meal. Then as the main course came on it was a leg of mutton boiled with capers and served with walnuts and melted butter - she said she had some ill news to impart, namely that she was with child.

Demelza dropped the serving spoon and jumped up and hugged her and kissed her and then went to kiss Dwight.

`I’m that glad. I’m that glad. Judas, that’s happy news! Caroline, Dwight, it is wonderful Wonderful!’

`It was what was wrong with me all the time,’ Caroline said, `and my husband never diagnosed it!’

`Because she lied to me,’ said Dwight, `and anyway would scarcely let me get near her!’

When Ross bent to kiss Caroline, her lips sought his. `You see,’ she said. `What you’re responsible for - even if at one remove. You would bring him home.’

Ross said: `If it is a boy we’ll marry him to Clowance, and if a girl to Jeremy.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Dwight.

‘We’ll all drink to that.’

After they were again seated. at the table and the meal had begun and everyone was silent because they were eating, Caroline said

`Of course I don’t want the brat.’

‘Caroline!’ said Demelza.

`No, in truth, are they not revolting little specimens when they come? Really I can’t bear babies! Wrinkled, red-faced little tyrants, greedy, selfish, demanding, incontinent, full of crudities and wind, claiming the whole attention of an adult person night. and day and never saying thank you for it. They’re warm and moist and clinging, and they smell of urine and sour milk, and there are far too many of ‘em in the world already’

Everyone laughed at her but she grimaced and said: ‘No, I mean it! Dwight knows. I have warned him.’

`You have warned us all,’ said Demelza, `and we don’t believe it.’

‘You have to think of succession,’ Ross said ironically. `After all, the world is not a bad place, and it would be a crying pity to leave it altogether to other people’s children.’

`Succession?’ said Caroline. `I would not mind so much if I could breed a little Dwight - or even, God help me, a little Caroline. But one’s own child, it always seems to me, turns out to be the living image of one’s least favourite cousin!’

‘Or parent,’ said Demelza. `Jeremy has my father’s feet but I dearly hope there’s no other likeness.’

Everybody laughed again.

‘I think,’ said Dwight, `as the father of this particular, embryo I might be allowed to deplore Caroline’s remarks. For my part, if it’s a girl, I, don’t mind what it looks like so long as it is tall and thin with auburn hair and freckles on its nose.’

`You describe a monster,’ said, Caroline. `Was that some great-aunt of yours?’

`Seriously,’ said Demelza.

They all stopped and waited then.

She thought a moment, crumbling her bread. Then she smiled. `Will it not be lovely for us all?’

III

By five forty-five all the main wrestling was over. The hat and the guinea had been won by Paul Daniel who, in spite of his age (he was forty) and his liking for strong drink, was yet too fly and too cunning for any of the others. The assembly straggled round a ringed-off circle of the common which adjoined the main ‘track from Sawle to St Ann’s and which was the other side of the road from the stagnant pond where Drake had, been half drowned. Altogether a couple of hundred people spread about the common land, of whom two-thirds were near the wrestling ring. The rest sprawled or played games or drank beer and talked, dotted haphazard over the rest of the field. Many of them were merry with drink, most of it having come from Sally Chill-Off’s just down the lane. This was how she could afford to give prizes for the wrestling.

By now the fog; had lifted - or rather it had drifted a few hundred yards further out to sea, so that the common was just on the edge of it. Most of the time it was in hazy sunlight but sometimes in hot sun, sometimes in dank grey fog. Overhead, but always in the misty part of the sky, the seagulls were being tortured, and constantly screamed please … please … please…

Sam and Drake had arrived at five-thirty, tramping up from Pally’s Shop. They were now sitting on a bench surrounded by their well-wishers, while Tholly, Tregirls lurched like a self important scarecrow between them and a similar if smaller group surrounding Tom Harry. Emma Tregirls was not to be seen, nor Sally yet. After the giving of the prize to Paul Daniel she had hastened back to open her kiddley again so that she should not lose custom to any of her rivals. Tholly had a small boy posted ready to dart off to warn her when the contest was about to begin. But it could not begin yet. It was said that some of the gentry were coming down from Trenwith to watch the match - there were rumours, of wagers having been laid - and, like Mr-Odgers at the church, nothing could proceed until the gentry arrived.