The Four Swans (54 page)

Demelza said : `If George was to lose his seat there, ‘ Lord de Dunstanville would find him another.’

`He could not do so immediately, for the elections would be over.’

‘D’you think’ that would upset him?’

`Who? George? Yes, very much so.’

`Hm,” said Demelzaa `Yes, I had not thought of that.’

Germane to this conversation was a note Caroline sent over to Demelza a few days later.

`My dear,

We had our dinner party yesterday! Both the lions and myself and Dwight, who angel though he is, was quite out of his element in such a matter. Just the four of us! Odds heart, imagine it! Men are very deceitful, for do you know they each pretended that they did not know the other was to be there! And tried to take offence at it, and had to be cozened into staying! Half through the dinner I thought, what a fool I am to be acting in such away, for, God help me, who am I assisting? Not myself, not Dwight, not the brat that I carry. Possibly it may help Hugh a, little, but that is the most of it`And what a pair of little lions they are, the Viscount, and the Baron! Neither of ‘em above sixty four inches high and both of them carrying enough self-importance to, sink a three-decker. Mind, I have not seen it in such evidence before. George Boscawen in ordinary conversation is an agreeable fellow, short on wit perhaps but amiable and of a good nature. My uncle liked him well: Indeed I perceive similarities of temperament between them! And Francis Basset - how pleasant he can be and simple and easy in the cosy bosom of his family. But put them together, bring ‘em into the same house together and set ‘em down at either end of a not very long, table, and Lud’s my life, they bristle and ruffle up, not so much like lions as little bantams preparing to, dispute over a hen.

`At the end of our dinner they both were waiting for me to depart but, taking pity on Dwight who so detested the whole thing, and brazen as the fattest whore in Houndsditch, I informed them that as the party was so small and as I was the only woman, I did not purpose to split it farther, nor, did I intend to take myself off into solitary confinement while they drank all the brandy.

`They did not like it - they did not at all like it indeed only the exquisite manners to which they had been born prevented them from ringing for one of my own servants to have me escorted out ! But - I had been saving a rare bottle of Uncle Ray’s brandy, of which only three bottles are left. He did not buy it through the Trade but brought it with him from London when he first carried me to Cornwall as a brat of eight. I and the brandy arrived together, and unlike me, the latter has been improving every year. So I thought this an occasion on which one of the last three bottles should be broached, and believe me, my dear friend, it worked its wonders.

`Not of course that either gentleman got tipsy the way real gentlemen do. It is against their strict upbringing - or their dislike of ever feeling not totally in command of their judgement lest they should, be cheated by someone else. But they were softened by it. It acted like the sun upon reluctant dandelions. They slowly settled deeper into their chairs. They stretched their little legs out. They spoke in more expansive tones. And presently someone - I cannot imagine who-happened to mention the dispute, the rivalry that had existed between them for so many years, And Francis spoke first, in a very conciliatory manner. And George spoke second, responding to the opening remarks by equally emollient answers.

`Of course it was not all as easy as that in the end. Two horse dealers at a fair were not more cautious, more argumentative, more anxious that the deal should not fail to favour themselves, than these two distinguished peers of the realm, one tracing his ancestry back to an Irish gentleman who settled in St Buryan in the eleventh century, the, other quartering his arms with the Plantagenets (yes, my dear, both claims were made at my dinner table!) But in the end I believe that something of a bargain was struck. And the outcome of it is that rivalry at election time between the two shall cease. The descendant of the Irish gentleman has agreed to withdraw his claims upon the borough of Tregony if the Plantagenet gentleman will withdraw from Truro. There are other agreements over a number of other constituencies, but so far as we are concerned these are the important ones. So hurrah for the hustings and may our sick cavalier win the seat he so deserves!

`I, personally, am in very rude health and have vomited not at all for the last week. Dwight continues fair but notably thoughtful about the plight of England. I believe I did not marry the most sanguine of men.

`Warmest love to Ross and a kiss for the, children. (I must say if anything would convert me to the idea of raising a family it is the sight of those two.)

Caroline.’

II

On the last day of August the Reverend Mr Osborne Whitworth, walking down Prince’s Street, chanced to see Mrs Rowella Solway coming out of the library with a bundle of books under her arm. Her brown shabby frock hung about her like a cassock as she walked. Her white straw hat shaded her face from the sun. Her shoes made a scuffing sound on the cobbles. ‘She looked pale and thoughtful and unkempt. She raised her eyes briefly to her brother-in-law in startled fashion and hurried on:

Mr Whitworth had been to take a number of letters in for collection by Lobb the Sherborner, who would pick them up and deliver them in the parish of Sawle-with-Grambler when he took the weekly newspaper round. They were letters addressed to such people as Sir John Trevaunance, Captain Ross Poldark, Dr Dwight Enys, Horace Treneglos Esquire, and they pointed out the defects the new vicar had found in the church and in the churchyard, defects which should be made good but which would, cost a considerable, outlay of money. The letters set forth, in what Mr Whitworth flattered himself was a fair but forthright way, that it was the duty of wealthy parishioners to play their part in maintaining the fabric of this ancient and beautiful church in a manner which would reflect credit upon the generosity and Christian responsibility of the persons involved. It was not so being maintained at the moment, and a total reassessment was necessary.

Sight of Mrs Solway angered and upset the vicar afresh. Last evening he had had a most distressing experience. Coming away from one of the tumbledown cottages by the quay whither he had been driven by his physical needs and his wife’s criminal obduracy - after dark had long fallen but when a full moon rode over the stinking mud of the river, a man had thrust a lantern in his face. He was not certain but he thought the man was a pot-boy from the Seven Stars Tavern, a man who lived in his parish and whose second child he had buried a few weeks ago. If so, there was a danger of his having been recognized, and if he had been so recognized, the man might drop a word to the churchwardens. Of course nothing could be proven, but respectable men did not usually venture upon the quay after dark, and it might take some explaining away.

It was abominable that he should be placed in such a position and the fault - the fault that he had to go to the quay at all - rested upon that thin shapeless streak of a girl picking her way among the broken cobbles to the other side of the street, on her way home, to her home that his money, through her trickery, had bought, To her home and her thin snivelling husband. The thought was an abomination to Osborne and he felt sick at the sight of her.

For some reason he felt sick on seeing her anyway. He frequently had fantasies now at the thought of beating her with a hard stick.

On the same day Demelza went blackberrying in the Long, Field with Jeremy and Clowance. On the side of the Long Field dividing it from the broken outcroppings of rock and moorland turf sloping down to Nampara Cove was a thick Cornish-wall much overgrown with gorse and brambles, and this was an area tacitly reserved for the Poldark family. Anywhere else on their land the village people were welcome to their pickings:

It was going to be a good year - unlike last, when the moisture in the air had turned the blackberries mildewed as they ripened - and they had already picked one crop. They went up, with three baskets, one each for Demelza and Jeremy, and a smaller one for’ Clowance who anyhow had a wayward fancy and was likely to mix her blackberries with daisies and dandelions.

By the sea it was a sullen afternoon; not fog but a lofty corrugated cloud which Truro, a few miles away, was escaping, and they had been there picking peacefully for ten minutes or so - a peace only punctuated by a cry from Jeremy now and then as he found a good duster or scratched his finger-when Demelza heard a cough behind her. She turned and saw the tall girl wearing her usual long red cloak over what looked like a uniform, black stockings, black boots, light summer hat put on anyhow over gleaming hair.

`Beg pardon, mistress. Excuse me for coming ‘pon you like this. You - you know me.?’

Demelza straightened, pushed her hair back from her face with a forearm, lowered her basket.

`Yes … of course, Emma.’

`Yes, ma’am. I thought to call ‘pon ee but did not have the brock. Then when I seen ee up here I thought t’ask for a word. I hope tis not presuming.’ She was a little out of breath.

`I don’t know, Emma. It depend what you want to say.’

Emma made a gesture. `Well I expect you know what tis Everyone must know what tis. I come out this af’noon - tis not my day and I risk a shine, but Doctor be visiting and Mistress have gone Mrs Teague’s to tea - so I come out, meaning … meaning to call ‘pon Sam. But then I - from the top of the combe I seen you just leaving the house and I thought to trouble you with my troubles; like, as you - as Sam is your brother, like. D’you follow what I d’mean, ma’am?’

`Oh, yes. I follow what you mean.’

Emma swallowed and. stared out over the sea. A swell was coming in, and every now and then: the. top of a wave would break and the swell would go’ on its way leaving fantails evaporating below the surface.

`I not seen Sam since the wrestling, ma’am. Not sight nor sound. Has he said ought to ee ‘bout that?’

‘No, Emma. He will not speak of it. I think he better prefers not to speak of it to anyone.’

`Why, did he leave Tom Harry win? He did, didn’t he? Deliberate. He left him to roll over ‘pon him and win.’

`I don’t rightly know. You must ask Sam. Maybe he’ll tell you.’

`You d’know I’d promised go with his Connexion for three months if he won? Twas as if he bested to lose!’

Though not small herself, Demelza was still slight, and Emma looked twice her size. The hearty laugh was not in evidence today. Demelza recognized that she had a prejudice against the girl, not because of her behaviour but because she was Tholly Tregirls’s daughter which was manifestly unfair.

‘D’you love Sam?’ she asked.

The brilliant eyes came up, were, sharply lowered again. ‘I b’lieve so.’

‘And Tom Harry?’

‘Oh … nothing.’

‘D’you think Sam loves you?’

‘I b’lieve so’ too..,. But…’

`Yes, I know …’

Demelza picked a few more blackberries and offered them to Clowance who clutched them in a chubby fist and threw a handful of daisies away.

`You see, mistress, he say he want to reform me, to change me out of my sin, to - to make me over again” that’s what he call it, “to make me over again. He seem think I shall be - be happier if I’m

sad…’

`That’s not quite what he means.’ . `No, but that’s what it d’sound like!’ Another silence.

`These blackberries are good,’ Demelza said. `Taste one.’ `Thank ee, ma’am.’

They each ate one. It was a good move for it made the meeting more companionable.

Demelza said: `I don’t know Sam near so well as I do my younger brother, Drake. All I know is that he would not be happy married to anyone if they did not belong to the Connexion. Not would not, could not. For religion means something to him that it doesn’t mean to other folk. And if you - if you were pulling one way and his religion the other, you would not, win. It would be far, far, better not to see him again than than pull him apart with that sort of choice.’

`Oh, yes,’ said Emma. `We separated. We agreed twas useless to go on - oh, I don’t know when twas last year sometime. Twas my choice then. I said twas betterer all round for him, for me, for his Connexion. For months we never seen each other; but then chancing to meet, and me being a thought merry with ale, we strikes this bargain. Yet he when he’s winning he makes the choice to lose to Tom Harry. Tis like he rejected me!’

‘Mummy !’ shouted Jeremy. `You’re not picking nothing! I’m beating you.’

`All right, my lover! I’ll catch you, never fear!’

‘But although twas all of a joke on top, and me laughing like a hues, I knew twas not a joke with him, and I truly believe he knew twas not all a joke wi’ me. If he’d won I’d ‘ve kept my side of the bargain!’

`Why not keep it whether or no?’ said Demelza. Emma wiped the tears of annoyance out of her eyes. `If you love him,’ said Demelza.

`Yes,’ said Emma. `That’s what’s come more clearer to me since last year. I thought I could throw it all over me shoulder, forget him, like any other man. After all, I’ve had lots of men.’ Her eyes

met Demelza’s. ‘Lots. I thought I could it meant nothing much. But I b’lieve it do. He’s different from the rest … But now he’ve thrown it back in my face.’

`How? By not winning?’

`Wasn’t it plain to be seen? The win was there for the taking, and he turned his back on it. I don’t want she, he seemed to say!’ `Perhaps,’ Demelza said, ‘he didn’t think it was proper to win you

that way.’

`But he wasn’t winning me, ma’am, only me promising to come to his chapel!’

`Even so.’

There was a longer silence. Emma scuffed the dusty grass with her foot.

`So what you d’say - I should join the Connexion whether or no?’ `If you feel the way you say you do about Sam, I mean.’ `… I’m scared to do it.’

`Why?’

`I’d be scared I’d feel naught and then think I felt something and then be led into pretending.’ Tis easy to roll your eyes and bow your head and say, “forgive me, miserable sinner and all of a sudden leap up and. screech, “I’m saved! I’m saved!” and mean nothing ‘tall. And I couldn’t be a cheat, not to Sam !’