The Four Swans (55 page)

`If you know that risk, could you not try and see, and guard against it?’

‘I’d be scared for another reason,’ Emma said. `I’d think what I’d done to Sam’s following, how many would stay away if they thought brazen Emma was trying it on with their preacher’

Demelza thought about it. She could understand and sympathize with Emma’s fears, but there seemed to be an element of illogic in the girl’s attitude. Would not these objections have still existed if Sam had won his match and she had kept to the terms of the bargain? Perhaps not. Perhaps in some way Emma could have sheltered behind the compulsion to take the pressures off her attendance. And yet, for a young woman of her obvious boldness and determination ..

Had she ever been going to see Sam this afternoon or had she just been desperately longing to talk it out with someone, And had luckily seen Sam’s sister off blackberrying?

Reminded of her mission, Demelza began to pick again. Jeremy was, well up the field now.

`Can I help ee, ma’am?’

`Thank you.’

They began to pick together.

‘Tedn’ true, y’know, what they d’say about me.’ `What isn’t?

‘What they say about me and men.’ `You’ve just said it yourself.’

`Aye but - tedn’ all true …’

`What isn’t, Emma?’

‘A man’s never had me.’

Her own moral, judgements being particularly sensitive these days, Demelza found herself uncomfortably and annoyingly reddening. `How do you mean?’

`I let ‘em take liberties: Always have. What do it matter? It d’give ‘em pleasure. Me too - sometimes. But a man’s never had me.’

Demelza lifted a maternal eye to Clowance, who had wandered off with her basket among the corn stubble, but she was picking a few late poppies so there was no hazard in it.

Demelza said: `Shouldn’t you tell Sam this?’

`How can I? Anyhow oo’d believe it? Every man d’talk - every man d’claim because they’re shamed to confess they haven’t, when others say they have.’

Demelza said: `Sam would believe you. But maybe it wouldn’t make so much difference to him … The - the greater the sinner, the greater the triumph: - you know … more rejoicing in Heaven what do they say?’

`That’s what I hate!’ said Emma.

Jeremy gave a squeal of delight as a rabbit darted out of the hedge and made off across the field, white scut dipping and dodging.

`Are you happy at the Choakes?’ Demelza asked after a while.

`Yes, ma’am. Tis brave enough. Mistress Choake is a frail, vain little thing - begging your pardon - but she’s kind. I d’get three pound ten a year and all found. And tea three times a day. Tis not hard, though the time off is but little.’

Demelza offered Clowance a blackberry to eat. `Careful. Not the flower. Put it right in. There! Isn’t that nice?’

`Blackle-burr,’ said Clowance. ‘Blackle-burr.’

`Dear of ‘n,’ said Emma absently.

Demelza was seeking for earthly wisdom but it did not come today. Sometimes she was happy to give advice and confident of her judgement. But this was a tangle she could not see through, and, in the present precarious state of her own emotional life, she would have been grateful not to have been asked.

She said: - `You must see Sam-have it out with him. For goodness’ sake. A man and a woman, that is the only way it can be between ahem, I mean. Nothing else - nothing else should matter except what he wants and what she wants. Don’t worry what other people say, what they will say in the Connexion. Only worry whether you can suit him, and remember you can only suit him if you belong. And if, you belong you’ll have to accept. It can’t be halfhearted; you see that yourself. That’s all I can say. You see I can’t help, Emma. I’m not helping at all.’

Emma stared over the sea. `I did ought to go. There’ll be a rare shine else.’

`You said just now you’d hate something,’ Demelza said. `Was it being saved - or just being thought, a sinner?’

‘Maybe both. Well it’s just the - the feeling that seems - it’s so hard to face something about it.’

`I think,’ Demelza said. `It would have to be clear cut. Really, Emma. One way or the other. Marry Sam and live his life. Or not. It would have to be definite, even if it meant doing something you hated. You couldn’t have part of both worlds.’

`That’s it,’ said Emma. `That’s what I’m afeared of. I’ve got to think. Though I’ve thought long enough.’ She sighed. `And pray. All by meself. I think I’ve forgotten how - if ever I knew…’ Demelza watched her walk off down the field, white hat tilted on the jet black hair, red cloak swaying. Soon she dipped, out of sight and there were only the chimneys of Nampara to be seen, one lazily smoking where Jane prepared a broth for the children’s supper.

I

A letter arrived by hand in the first week in September from Mrs Gower and it was addressed to Ross.

Dear Captain Poldark,

`I am sad to have to tell you that my nephew is now ill with a brain fever.’ He is quite lucid although very weak, and he has expressly asked to see you and your wife. I wonder if we could trespass upon your good nature to this extent? Pray come any day without notice, and spend the night here if your other engagements will permit. It is very grieving to us all to see Hugh so ill, and we daily intercede for his recovery.’ A new surgeon from Devonport, a Captain Longman, has been attending him this week and has certainly, I think, brought some improvement, but it is slight.

`Pray accept our kindest thoughts.

Frances Leveson Gower.’

They were both in when the letter came. Ross looked across at

Demelza as she was reading it

He said : `We can send a message back with the man. What’s today? Monday? I could go Wednesday.’

`Any day you say? Ross.’

He went out and gave the message to the groom. When he came back she was examining a stain on a chair where Clowance had spilt some jam.

`I told him noon on Wednesday. I prefer not to spend the night, and we can have dinner with them and leave straight after.’

`Thank you, Ross.’ Her face was hidden.

`Well, I don’t relish the visit, but in such a matter one could hardly refuse.’

`All the same…’

He went to the window. `When you went last time it was rather a false alarm, wasn’t it?’

`He said so. Hugh said so. He made light of it. But I believe Dwight took a serious view.’

`It’s odd,’ Ross said shortly.

`What is?’

`When we brought Dwight and Armitage and the other man - what was his name? - Spade, in that boat from Quimper, I gave little for the chance of Dwight, surviving. Hugh was the strongest of the three. Like a skeleton, as they all were, but one on wires. Now it seems, while Dwight climbs slowly back…’

‘I wonder if Dwight is no longer attending him? I wonder why?’

`It’s a long way to ride. He couldn’t do it every day. And rich people can call on anyone. It sounds as if this Captain Longman is staying in the house. Anyway, we shall see.’

They saw on Wednesday. It was a wet day, the first for two weeks. Rain fell in a weeping veil, - the drops so fine and so dense that, they penetrated the best protective clothing. When Tregothnan was reached they were both soaked, and Mrs Gower insisted on their having a room and a fire and dry, clothing at once. Hugh was little altered, she said, though anxious to see them. Captain Longman was with him, and a nurse. As a precaution Colonel and Mrs Armitage, Hugh’s father and mother, had been sent for from Dorset.

Rather irritably Ross wanted to let Demelza go in first to see the sick man, but she asked him to go with her. It was as well, for Hugh was almost unrecognizable. His head had been, completely shaved and there were leeches working on his forehead. Blisters on his neck and the back of his head showed where the cantharides plasters had been lately removed. The nurse was bathing his face and hands with a mixture of gin and vinegar and water. There were obviously plasters on his legs from the canopy of sheet above them and the pain with which he moved them. Captain Longman, a stout bearded man in his early fifties, with a great stomach and a stiff leg, supervised operations as a general will supervise the battle he is waging. He waved the visitors back and with the brisk movement of a conjurer removed the engorged leeches.

Hugh’s eyes, however much they might be clouded with pain, however short and uncertain the distance they could see, were still the beautiful intent eyes he had focused on Demelza at that dinner at Tehidy only a year or so ago, the same eyes she had seen hazed with love and passion on the beach of the Seal Hole Cave. He saw her and smiled, and she pulled her hands away from her face, where they had flown in horror, to smile back at him. She and Ross sat on either side of the bed, and Hugh, moistening his lips, spoke to them slowly, some words coming through, some descending to inaudibility as he swallowed and hesitated with the effort.

`Well, Ross - it is a pretty picture, is it not … to cheat the Frogs and then oneself be cheated…’

`Hold hard,’ said Ross. `You must; have seen many men as low in that camp. You’ll be up and about again before long.’

‘Ah .. Who knows? And Demelza … Mon petit chou… You’re kind to-come…’

Demelza said nothing. Her throat had swelled up as if there would never be a passage through it again.

`.. to come all this way. I have thought of you much … this lovely summer. But did you not get wet today?’

Demelza shook her head:

‘Ross … my apologies to Dwight … He could not live here, and so my my uncle thought .. he being a rich man that I should have a resident physician.’

`Would you not wish to see Dwight now?’

Hugh smiled and shook his head.

`I do not think … it will make a great deal of difference, one doctor or another. Nor will these … little irritants applied to my body decide the battle’

Captain Longman, who had not relished such remarks, said `These little irritants, my dear sir, though of only forty-eight hours application, have brought down, the fever, reduced the putrid humours and caused an intermission of the excessive action of the blood vessels. Already there is a distinct improvement. Another forty-eight hours will see a big change.’

They stayed a while, then Longman interposed to say his patient must not be tired. They rose to go, but Hugh’s hand caught at Demelza’s.’

`Five minutes?’

Demelza looked at Ross and Ross looked at Longman.

`My wife will stay a few minutes more. I’ll wait downstairs.’ Ross turned to Hugh and patted his arm. `Courage, my friend.’ He smiled down at ‘him. `One of us will tire him less than two,’ he said to Longman. `That’s good medical theory, I’m sure.’

As he left the room he saw the nurse moving round to his side of the bed to resume her ministrations. Demelza had reseated herself and Hugh was speaking again.

Ross went along two corridors to the room where they had changed. Their clothes were hung on a maiden before the fire but were not yet by any means dry. Being in another man’s clothes always fretted him because they fitted ill and none of the pockets was where you expected it. He turned over Demelza’s petticoat and stockings and then went out again and downstairs. There were a couple of servants but no sign of Falmouth or Mrs Gower or any of the children.

He went into the big parlour, but there was no one there except a Great Dane who came over to sniff at him, so he sat down in the least uncomfortable chair and patted the dog’s head and stared out at the rain.

He did not know whether Hugh Armitage was going to have a long illness or quickly recover, but he was affronted by events, depressed, angry the way they were turning out. It disturbed and upset him to see Demelza so distressed; it upset him that she was so emotionally involved and her face today in that sick room had betrayed more than it had ever done before. Yet his melancholy, his anger seemed to go even deeper than that. It was as if something in the dark weeping day, the big echoing cheerless house, his moment of utter loneliness now, were all symbolically pointing at him, at his life, at his family and achievements, and showing them up hollow and empty and without purpose or future. For what purpose had they if the centre were gone?

It was not merely his own life but all life that was equally empty and purposeless. People, countless thousands, were hatched upon the earth like maggots every day: they breathed and crawled and enough of them survived and bred to preserve the species; but within a space - the blinking of a few sunrises - some accident, some foul-smelling. disease befell every one of them and they were thrust into the earth and hastily trodden down by the next generation. So it was Jim Carter a few years ago, and then Charles Poldark and Francis Poldark, and then Julia Poldark and Agatha Poldark, and this year it might be Dwight Enys or Hugh Armitage. Next year? - Who came next? And did it matter? Did any damned thing matter at all?

There was a light cough behind him. A boy of about twelve was in the doorway.

`Good, morning, sir. Uncle George was asking if you were down. I said I thought I had seen you come in here. He wants to know if you would take a glass of Madeira with him before dinner.’

II

Lord Falmouth was in his usual study and was wearing a banyan, in floral green, of Indian cotton, reaching to the knees. A cheerful fire was burning here and glasses and a bottle were on the table.

`Captain Poldark. I trust the suit is not too short. It belonged to my uncle, who was nearer your size.’

`It serves and is dry. Thank you … Yes, Madeira will do well.’

The amber drink was poured into fine crystal glass. Obviously any thought that there had been a conflict of opinion between them at their last meeting was not in, his Lordship’s mind. Perhaps he did not remember any such difference. Possibly even his non-action over Odgers had been an oversight and not deliberate - not even worth being deliberate about. Beneath his notice, in fact.

‘You have seen Hugh?’

‘Yes…’

`His parents should be here soon. I shall feel happier when they are able to take the responsibility.’

`The new doctor? Who is he?’

Falmouth shrugged. `Attached to the Admiralty. He’s highly esteemed and Gower recommended him.’