The Twisted Sword (38 page)

It was on the Wednesday that Ross called on Dwight. It was the first showery day after a long fine spell, and the wind was getting up. Dwight was writing a letter to a Doctor Sutleffe, who had recently been called in to see if he could help the aged King. Dwight and Sutleffe had met in London and had kept up a sporadic correspondence. Sutleffe was prescribing a herbaceous tranquillizer, which he had found successful with many patients far gone in mania, but Dwight, though he did not say so in the letter, was not optimistic of its success when given to a blind man suffering from advanced dementia and now becoming deaf too. The only treatment Dwight would have prescribed was a far greater freedom for the harmless old King to move or be moved around his castle. He could do no damage to the realm. When Ross was shown in Dwight got up, pen still in hand but smiling his welcome.

'I find you alone?' Ross said.

"Yes, they are all out - I believe on your beach. I think Caroline has gone rather against her will, as she is not fond of sandy feet. You're better?'

'Oh yes. Thank you. We both are. It's - something we shall learn to live with. Or live without.'

'Demelza may be with Caroline. Have you come from the house? They are sure to have called.'

'No, Demelza is away. She has gone to see Clowance.

Troubles do not come singly. Stephen Carrington has met with a riding accident.'

'I am very sorry. When did this happen?'

'Yesterday morning. He has recently bought a new horse and, it seems, was putting it through its paces when it fell at a fence and he with it. He was flung clear, but he has hurt his back, possibly broken it. At present he cannot move from the waist down.'

Dwight made a face. 'Where is he now?'

'At his house - his cottage. That is where Demelza has gone. Matthew Mark Martin has gone with her. They--'

'Was Clowance with him at the time?'

'No. Harriet was. I mean Harriet Warleggan. She fetched help from Cardew and he was carried home on a stretcher.'

Dwight stroked his chin with the quill of his pen. 'Who is attending him?'

'A man called Mather. Recently arrived from Bath. He did wonders for Andrew Blarney - old Andrew - when he was ill.'

'Stephen may be better in a few days. Sometimes the shock paralyses as much as a real breakage

'But if it is a real breakage?'

'Can heal well enough in a few weeks or months. There is always the risk, of course.'

'I'm sure.'

'It depends very much where the injury is ... Ill luck for him after such a triumphant voyage.'

A shower of rain beat on the windows. Soon over, but it couldn't be the best day for a romp on the beach. Ross said: 'It does not seem so very long since Stephen was ill before, and you went across to advise and prescribe, and Clowance nursed him back to health.'

'It is not so long.'

Ross said: 'Of course Clowance thinks there is only one doctor in Cornwall.'

'I was afraid you might be intending to say that.'

'I have the unenviable task of passing on her message to you. She said: "Do please implore Uncle Dwight to come.'"

Dwight stroked his chin again.

'Of course I'll go. It is too late today, but perhaps tomorrow.'

"Thank you. I know how grateful she would be.'

'But I do not know how grateful this Dr Mather is likely to be! To preserve medical etiquette, it should be he who invites me to see his patient. Last time it was just an apothecary.'

'If you were intending to go tomorrow, I would send someone over to tell them. I am sure that Clowance, helped by Demelza, would be able to convince any surgeon of the lightness of this course.'

Dwight laughed. 'I'll try to be there by eleven. Mind you, Ross, in the case of an injury of the sort you describe - if it is such an injury, there's precious little anyone can do - surgeon or otherwise - except tell the patient to keep quiet and wait. Is he in much pain?'

'I don't know.'

'Shall you be going to Penryn also?'

'I think not, at least until I have heard what you say. It is a small place and I don't want to overcrowd them. Also, Demelza must not be away too long.'

'Oh?'

'Cuby is coming to stay.'

II

When Dwight saw Ross out he saw Katie moving rapidly away among the trees of the drive, as if not wanting to be noticed. The shower had gone and Dwight was reluctant to return immediately to his letter, so he strolled towards the gates, enjoying the sun and the wind in his hair. It occurred to him to think that perhaps Katie had brought another summons from Place House, but if that had been the case Bone would have come hurrying. In any event when he had last seen Selina she had seemed to have recovered her health and at least a degree of her spirits. Dwight guessed there had been a part reconciliation between husband and wife. However complex a character Valentine might be, and however mixed up in his own life, he had a great way with women, and there was no reason to suppose that Selina had become immune. Suddenly Katie was in front of him. She must have dodged round the corner of the drive, and it was as if she came upon him unexpectedly.

'Dr Enys ... I was nearby and then I seen Cap'n Poldark.'

'He's just gone,' Dwight said. 'Did you wish to see him?'

'Nay, 'twas you, sur, as I 'ad thoughts to see. But then I thought I'd no right nor reason to come'n bother ee.'

'What is it? Are you unwell?'

'Nay, sur, I'm not unwell. Leastwise, not as no one could say so.'

'I'm glad of that. What is it then?'

Katie's face was down, but he could see enough of it to observe the hot flush colouring all her visible skin.

'I don't hardly know 'ow to tell ee.'

Dwight waited. 'Would you like to come inside?'

'Oh, nay, sur, tedn that. But mebbe yes, maybe yes, I did oughter come in, not bawl'n out in the middle of the garden for everyone to 'ear.'

'Good. Well, come in, then.'

He led the way and she followed for a few paces and then stopped again. He waited. She looked up and looped a tangle of hair away from one eye.

'I don't reckon 'tis proper, but maybe 'tis proper and right. I thinks only Surgeon d'know, so only he can tell me.'

'Tell you what, Katie?'

She put a hand to her mouth as if willing herself not to speak.

'Reckon I've begun me courses again.'

Ill

'Well, Katie,' said Dwight, ten minutes later, 'without a thorough examination, which I do not think you would wish to subject yourself to, I cannot tell what has been wrong with you. All I can say with certainty is that you are not going to have a baby.'

'My dear life,' she said, breathing out a sob. 'I don't know how 't 'as 'appened!'

'Nor do I. But if what you now tell me is an exact description of what passed between yourself and Saul Grieves, I do not think you could possibly be pregnant. You see, merely the male seed ... Well, there must be a much more definite penetration of the ... Well, no matter. There are such things, you know, Katie, as false pregnancies. They can be brought on by hypnosis, hysteria, a wishful desire to have conceived, or a tremendous feeling of guilt. And the last is, I think, in your case the one to blame.'

The intense flush was dying from Katie's sallow skin. After a few moments she said: 'What about this 'ere?'

pointing to her swollen stomach.

'I shall expect it to go down naturally, now that you are convinced you have no child to bear. If it is a dropsical condition it can be treated. If tumorous it may be removable. But I am strongly of the opinion that in a healthy young woman such as yourself it is simply a symptom of hysteria and that it will very soon disappear.'

Katie rubbed a hand across her eyes. 'Jerusalem, it d'make me feel some queer, just to think on. All these months - months of sorrow and shame! They was all for naught.'

'It should make your relief the greater.'

'Oh, it do, it do. But I d'feel such a great lerrup. Gor

'elp me, what a great lerrup. Why ... why I never needed tell nobody nothing! Nobody never needed to know I allowed Saul Grieves any liberties 'tall! Folk'll laugh me out of house an' home. Gor 'elp me. 'Tis enough to make you fetch up!'

'These things have happened before, Katie. There was a queen of England long ago called Mary who was just newly married and desperately wanted an heir to the throne. She convinced herself, and all the important Court doctors, that she was with child. Alas for her, she was not.'

'She wanted a child,' said Katie. 'I didn't.'

'It is probably derived from the mind in a similar way. I am sure your feelings of intense guilt - and your fear produced the same symptoms.'

There was the sound of horses outside. Caroline and the children had given up their trek on the beach. At the clatter Katie got up.

'Did she never have no children?'

'Who? The queen? No. Her sister inherited the throne.'

'Well ... that'll be your family come back from riding, Surgeon. I'll not keep ee no further. 'Tis for me to live my life - begin it all over afresh.'

Dwight got up too. 'Don't worry. Try not to be upset. It will be a nine-day wonder in the village and in no time at all everyone will forget it.'

'My dear life!' Katie stopped as if she had been bitten.

'What is it?'

'Music!' said Katie, and slapped her thigh. 'I shan't have to wed Music!'

There was a moment's pause before Dwight spoke. 'No. You don't have to wed Music'

'My dear soul! Well, now, there's a relief for ee! Jeriwalem! I don't have to wed no one 'tall!'

They went to the door.

'Music will be much upset.'

'Ais, I s'pose. Do you think he 'ave ordinary feelings like a real man?'

'Emphatically so. Did you not realize that?'

'Ais, I s'pose. Ais, I d'know he be very fond of me. I like him too. There's no 'arm in him. Never a bad thought. 'E's gentle and kind. But I don't wish to wed 'im.'

'Well,' said Dwight dryly, 'it is your own choice. It always has been.'

There were more heavy clouds blowing up like angry fists clenched in the sky, but as she was let out of the side door, Katie squinted into a shaft of the expiring sun.

'I can't wed 'im now. 'Twas a convenience. 'Tis too bad for him maybe. I'm sorry for him, I really am. But there

'tis. He knew how 'twas. He'll 'ave to put up with un.'

IV

After leaving Dwight Ross took out the letter Cuby had written.

Dear Lady Poldark, I am writing this from Caerhays where I have now been three weeks with my family. Perhaps I should first have written to you, but in truth it is hard to know what to say to the mother of the man I loved so dearly and who I know held him at least as dear. When we met last you were much concerned for the safety of Jeremy's father - and thank God he has come safe home - yet I remember it personally as a happy time when we first came to know each other and Jeremy was there to make our friendship complete. Now all is lost, and I propose to come to you carrying his child and carrying the grief of a bereavement we both equally share. Sir Ross told me I would be welcome at Nampara, to stay until after the birth of my child, and I feel sure that you would echo that welcome. But my constant presence in your household may come to be a too constant and irksome reminder of Jeremy's death, a lodestone dragging you ever back to your feeling of sorrow and loss.

So with your permission, dear Lady Poldark, I would like to come for perhaps two weeks, to begin, then perhaps to return to Caerhays for a little while. Let it be how it seems best and most seemly to you. If it were convenient I would come next Monday, the 17th. I would like to bring my sister Clemency for company, who would stay the night and return with the groom on the following day. But pray make some other suggestion should this not be convenient. I am, as you well understand, entirely a free agent. Believe me, dear Lady Poldark, I am so much looking forward to seeing you again. Your loving daughter-in-law, Cuby

Demelza had sent a note back saying she would be most welcome.

This was just before the young sailor had arrived to tell them of Stephen's accident.

V

In the afternoon Ross walked up to Wheal Grace, changed into mining things and went over it with Ben Carter. There was not much fresh to see, and what there was was depressing. For years the mine had yielded riches from several floors of tin and now was played out. The south floor had been closed for two years. The north, after appearing to be bottomed out more than once, had raised hopes by revealing smaller pockets and platforms from time to time, but none had more than postponed the evil day when the mine had to close.

While in captivity Ross had had plenty of time on his hands to make calculations, and he had come to the decision that if or when he got home the mine should be immediately shut down. By now there were only forty men working in it; all the others who had left had been absorbed into Wheal Leisure as that mine expanded. They could probably now take on another ten. But Jeremy's death had knocked his calculations - like many other things - out of joint. He told Ben that for the time being the old mine should continue to operate but that the sixty-fathom level -- the lowest there was - should be abandoned and such work as there was could be concentrated on the forty-fathom and above. The bottom pumps - installed by Jeremy - were to be disconnected and brought up - and anything else of value before the old floors were submerged. Beth, the engine built by Bull & Trevithick twenty-five years ago, and modernized by Jeremy in 1811, could continue to function on a reduced scale and under reduced stress. Labour force could be pared down to about thirty. It was more than maintenance, but not a lot. It would cut his profits on Wheal Leisure by about twenty per cent. Ben asked if he would go over Leisure with him tomorrow, but Ross said it would have to be one day next week. There was no reason for this - he was not busy except that Leisure in the last five years had become so much Jeremy's mine (the whole decision to reopen it, the design of the engine, the leats to bring the fresh water, the development of the rediscovered Trevorgie workings) that he just did not wish to face it again. He had made a perfunctory tour when he first came home, but then the wound had still been so raw that it couldn't be made worse. It was only about four and a half years ago, just after he had returned from Spain - and they had been down Wheal Grace and were walking back to the house together - that Jeremy had made the suggestion that they might consider reopening Wheal Leisure. He had interlaced his remarks with seemingly innocent queries about the Trevanions apparently he had just then met the girl for the first time and was besotted with her. Ross knew nothing of this then - Cuby and Jeremy had first met when Jeremy was returning from some adventure he had undertaken with Stephen Carrington and they had come ashore near Caerhays. An ill-fated affair if ever there was one; yet it seemed to have contained within it a short vivid few months of brilliant happiness. Perhaps that was better than nothing at all. And Cuby, although in some ways wilful and perverse, had been a girl worthy of his love. The other thing Ross had not known that chilly morning in February 1811 was Jeremy's intense preoccupation with the development of steam - and the gift that he had for harnessing the latest ideas. Ross never failed to blame himself for this lack of knowledge, this lack of perception in regard to his son. Yet, as Demelza had said, Jeremy had preserved such secrecy about it that there was no way of knowing. It had, as so often happened between father and son, been a breakdown in communication rather than a breakdown in sympathy. And then, before he died, so very young, he had even begun to distinguish himself in a military career, picked out by Wellington himself for promotion. Another Captain Poldark. Somehow the art of war was the last thing one would have ever expected him to excel at, the tall, thin, gangling, artistic young man with the slight stoop, the joking, flippant manner, the distaste for bloodshed. God, Ross thought, what a wast, what a loss! – for Demelza, for Cuby, for IsabellaRose, above all for Jeremy himself...