The Four Swans (57 page)

They had not seen him and he did not go in, not wishing to break in on them, preferring his own dark thoughts. He went upstairs and missed his way, found himself at the foot of the spiral staircase leading to the cupola. He retraced his steps. A cheerless house, if ever there was one. Thank God he would never have the means or the ambition to enlarge Nampara more than he had done already. But the Bassets was a cheerful place compared to this. Some people had a faculty for making a home.

He found the bedroom at the third attempt. His clothes were not dry but they would do. Lord Falmouth’s uncle had had shorter legs, and it was damned uncomfortable.

The fire blazed brightly and he was glad of the warmth while he changed. After tying his cravat he moved some of Demelza’s clothes nearer to make the best use of the heat. Her stockings were still wet and the hem of her skirt and underskirt would take half a day to

dry.

As he moved the skirt a piece of paper fell out of the pocket and he stooped to pick it up and, thrust it back. But he blue ink, which was unusual and distinctive, drew his attention, and before he could stop himself he was reading what was written there.

When I am gone remember this of me.

That earth f earth or heaven of heaven concealed

No greater happiness than was to me revealed

By favou, of a single day with thee.

If for those moments you should shed a tear –

Proud I would be and prouder of your sorrow;

Even if no memory beyond tomorrow

In your sweet heart will empty me of fear.

Leave in the sand a heelmark of your crying,

Scatter all grief to silence and to air.

Let the wind blow your beauty ever fair

And leave me thus to occupy my dying.

I

The Warleggans returned to Truro from Trenwith on Sunday the tenth of September. It was earlier than customary, but George had to be present for the elections on Thursday, and Elizabeth decided to return with him. With no Geoffrey Charles and only her ailing parents for company, Trenwith offered no special attraction, and the hot lovely summer was almost over. The new parliament would reassemble in early October, and she had decided to go up with George. Her last visit had brought her new experiences and new friends, and it was exciting to be at the very centre of things, so near the heart of power. And she would see Geoffrey Charles for a few days before he returned to Harrow.

She had consented to arrangements whereby he spent the whole summer with schoolfriends in Norfolk, knowing that this was for the best and that it might avoid a conflict between her son and her husband, and hoping that a whole year’s absence would help to make the break between Geoffrey Charles and Drake complete. But life for her was not quite the same without him. The; most important person to her had long been Geoffrey Charles. Valentine could not supplant him; he had never quite caught at her heart.

The day he learned of de Dunstanville’s new accord with Falmouth and his deal over the Truro and Tregony boroughs George had been like thunder: letter in hand he had ridden off to Tehidy the same morning, There some high words had been spoken; he had made his displeasure clear but had found his patron coldly, politely adamant - henceforward in the Truro borough Mr Warleggan must fend for himself. It was an unhappy interview, and some of the remarks he had made in his first moments of offended self-esteem he had soon regretted. Since the day he first met Basset he had made it his business to be agreeable to him and it had borne suitable fruit. He was too influential a man to be estranged from, and already George was making tactful efforts to heal the breach..

For, in fact, so far as his own seat in Truro was concerned

George, after the first alarm, was not too gravely worried. After Basset resigned as Capital Burgess a battle raged within the Council as fierce as any that might happen at the election itself, for this could well decide the election. In the end the mayor, a Tory now, threatened with the example of a former mayor a few years before who had obstructed a majority and gone to prison for it, had given way, and the Whigs in triumph had been able to appoint Vivian Fitz-Pen, the scion of an ancient house now much decayed and him a good example of it, but a Foxite Whig who would not vote for a Boscawen candidate if the heavens fell.

So there was, as George explained to Elizabeth, now no political difference in the make-up of the Council from last year. Indeed he thought, he ventured to think, that certain steps he had taken to increase the obligation of certain councillors towards his family and himself would result in a larger majority than the very narrow one by which he had been elected last time.

It was the usual nasty journey home, bumpier than usual even, and dustier; but at least the extra riders who came with them were not needed to draw them out of the mud, and in spite, of her sick headache, Elizabeth sent off a little card to Morwenna inviting them to supper on the Monday; and Morwenna replied that they would be delighted to come.

Elizabeth almost asked Rowella and Arthur as well; but somehow one just couldn’t bring oneself to invite a librarian, not to supper at least, and she knew it would-have made George angry; Also, of course she knew of the continuing, and puzzling, ill-will between the sisters.

When the guests arrived that evening George was absent, but she did have a few minutes alone with her cousin while her cloak was being taken, and she asked, first, of course, after the health of John Conan, and then, casually, after Rowella.

`I haven’t seen her,’ said Morwenna.

`Not at all?’

`Not at all.’

`You are lucky to live by the river. Truro has been very close and unhealthy, I expect. I trust she’s well.’

`I trust so.’

`We shall be here about three weeks now before going to London, so I must ask her down to tea,’

‘You must come to tea with me,’ said, Morwenna.

`Thank you, my dear. But will you not come and take tea with me when she is here?’

`Thank you, Elizabeth. I’d really prefer not.’

`My dear, you feel very hard upon her? She was very young and no doubt has erred in her judgement. But…’ `Dear Elizabeth, it is something I prefer not to discuss. If you don’t mind.’

`‘But does not your mother write and ask you about Rowella - as she’s not yet sixteen?’

`I believe Mama and Rowella correspond direct.’

`I have seen her husband in the library. He seems a courteous young man:’

‘Yes, I believe he is.’

Elizabeth sighed. `Very well, my dear. Let us go in, for Ossie will be all alone and feeling neglected.’

As. they walked down the hall Elizabeth noticed that her cousin had not bothered even to pat her hair after taking off the crepe hood of her cloak. Her long frock of blue lawn with fichu at neck and lace at wrists was one Elizabeth had not seen before, but it was so creased the girl might have slept in it. Yet for all that. she was not unattractive; it seemed as if she walked and talked with a new certainty which was no less becoming than the old shyness. Her face looked as if she had been through troublous times, but more men would look at her now than when she had been so young and innocent.

Ossie was indeed alone in the parlour and pondering a further strange and disturbing event in his life. Today, for the third time since they had parted, he had passed Rowella in the street. And this time, glancing at him obliquely through her lashes, she had half smiled. So difficult was the expression to interpret that it could have been a smile of derision of triumph, of satisfaction, of would-be friendship or even of invitation. It had left Ossie hot and newly angry all over again and desperately aroused. It lent encouragement to his worst fantasies, and it had taken him all day to shake off the effects.

Now, however, he was himself again, and they drank canary and listened to his monologue on church affairs until George joined them.

George was - not greatly pleased to have Osborne at his board today, nor in fact any day. Hardly a month went by but that Ossie wrote to George with some new request. His latest objective was the

living of St Newlyn, which had fallen vacant; but everyone was turning a deaf ear to his pleas - in so far as anyone could turn a deaf ear to Ossie - the general feeling being that plurality for him had gone far enough for the time being. George would have borne with his importunities more patiently if his uncle, Conan Godolphin, had proved of more use to him in London. But Conan had turned out to be a fop, consorting with people of like mind, and although knowing and being often in the company; of the Prince of Wales, peculiarly inept at introducing his new relative by marriage into any of the company that his new relative by marriage sought.

This evening George had come in directly from the office, where he and his uncle, Cary, had been looking over a number of account bills that were due and considering which might be renewed; and he was in no mood for idle chatter. This indeed eventually made itself perceptible even to Ossie, for, after a considerable silence because his own mouth was full, he noticed that no one else was speaking.

`How is it, Cousin George? You seem a thought down-in-the-mouth today. I trust you’re not sickening of a summer fever. My man has had it; sweating like a pig he’s been for three days; I’ve dosed him ten grains of jalap but he seems little improved. There’s much of it about. I buried a girl last week who could not shake it off:’

`I have seldom felt better,’ George said, `so I don’t think your official services are likely to be required.’

`Nay, no offence meant. Do you not think he looks a shade bilious, Elizabeth? Well, no doubt you’ve enough to occupy your mind, what with the war news no better and this coming election. It’s time, I believe, our legislators made some move to put down unrest in this country before they continue the war in Europe. We cannot fight and indeed we cannot do anything while so much revolution is being talked and bred on every hand.’ He paused to stoke up, and again no one spoke while he chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed.

Morwenna said ‘It is the election on Thursday? But I thought almost everyone -‘

Ossie said `It will be a hard tussle to gain re-election now Basset has gone. D’you think your new opponent will carry many votes on account of his so-called popularity?’

George looked up. ‘Gower? I doubt it. I don’t know who the other will be yet–‘

`Oh, had you not heard? I heard from Polwhele this; afternoon. You know how thick he is with the Boscawens? He supped with them last night. I went up this morning on church business. The archdeacon, you know, is coming again, and I wish all my influential parishioners to be there at the Visitation dinner.’ He stopped for another intake.

George sipped his wine. `I do not suppose that Falmouth has..’

`It’s to be Poldark,’ said Ossie, swallowing. `Poldark of Nampara. Myself, I should have thought him too much of a fly-by-night adventurer to be worthy of Falmouth’s, attention. But then you see - no doubt he conceits to turn his late notoriety to some account.’

For a while there was silence as supper proceeded. From below, outside, came the cupped clatter of horses’ hooves, tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, slow past the window.

George motioned to a footman.

`Sir?’

`Take this wine away. It is unpalatable. Bring a bottle of the vin de Graves.’

Ossie took a gulp at his glass. `It’s not the best, I agree. Maybe you’ve had it up out of the cellar too long. There’s one thing L could do with at St Margaret’s, a, more adequate and cooler cellar. They say being so near the river one can hardly go deeper and remain dry:’

`Do you find the vicarage damp?’ Elizabeth asked Morwenna. `Of course, we too are on the river here, but it’s less enclosed than among your lovely trees.’

‘We have damp upstairs,’ said Morwenna. `When it rains. Where Rowella used to sleep. But not from the river, I believe.’

`We have damp in the church,’ said Ossie. `In the churchyard too. A great problem with the stones. The moss grows quick and the names quite disappear.’

`I was asking Morwenna about Rowella,’ Elizabeth said to Ossie.

`Whether you had seen anything of her and if she is well?’

`Nothing,’ said Mr Whitworth noisily. `Nothing at all. For us it is as if she had never existed.’

‘Forgive me, Ossie, but isn’t that rather a harsh judgement on so young a girl for merely having; married so much beneath her? She married precipitately - but for love, I presume?’

‘I have no notion,’ said Mr Whitworth. `No notion whatever! Nor do I wish to think, of it.’

The manservant came back-with a new bottle of wine and fresh glasses. Anxiously he waited while George tried it; then, having received neither complaint nor approval, he proceeded to fill the other glasses. Presently it was done. Ossie tried the old wine again and then the new, and agreed that the new was better. Silence fell and endured:

`So Ross Poldark enters politics,’ said George, looking across, at Elizabeth.

`I never cared for the fellow,’ said Ossie. `But I suppose he’ll draw a bit of water in the town.’

George said to Elizabeth: `And as a Boscawen nominee. That’s a cynical turnabout for a one-time rebel. To what desperate straits are some men driven to achieve respectability in middle life.’

Ossie said: `He was very, put out when that brother-in-law of his was flattened by your gamekeeper. That reminds me, I’ve had no reply from him to my letter about Sawle Church.’

Elizabeth, short of breath, said: `Are you sure you have the person right, Ossie?’

‘Oh, Gad, yes. Polwhele: was somewhat entertained at the thought. Made a joke about it, if I remember. Said Poldark in parliament would provide more backbone than wishbone!’ Ossie laughed, but no one joined in.

`He is not yet in parliament,’ said George. `Nor do I think he will get very far in seeking to further that ambition.’

No more was said on the subject over supper. Nor did any other conversation prosper.

Cary Warleggan scratched under his skullcap and put his pen down.