The Loving Cup

by Winston Graham

Ross and Demelza rode home about an hour later following the shadowy figures of Andrew and Verity Blamey who were a hundred yards ahead, and followed by Isabella-Rose in the charge of Mrs Kemp.

  ‘Why were you so long?’ Ross asked. ‘I was waiting around . . .’

  ‘I went up to see Morwenna.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know.’

  ‘I thought she was sleeping and began to steal out, but she called me back. I said sorry, sorry, but she said she wanted company – at least company who understood.’

  ‘I think Geoffrey Charles was nearly ready to kill his half-brother.’

  ‘It was a wicked mistake the boy ever came. I haven’t seen him before. He is like Ossie. There’s no resemblance to his mother in him at all!’

  ‘How did Morwenna seem?’

  ‘She badly wanted to talk.’

  ‘About what? Tonight?’

  ‘About everything. It seems Geoffrey Charles has offered them – invited them to come back to Trenwith permanently, to look after it while he is abroad – making Drake into his factor, as he had always wanted to when he was a boy. She said they were both very tempted – not because they are not happy in Looe but because she very much likes Amadora and because it would re-cement the old friendship between the two men. But this, I think, this meeting . . .’

  Ross said: ‘Well, the boy exists. If he continues to live with his grandmother near Mevagissey he will be nearer her there than if she were living here.’

  ‘I suppose. But somehow his connection with the Warleggans and the Poldarks makes him more likely to turn up, like an evil goblin, at Trenwith than he would at Looe.’

  They rode on for a while.

  Ross said: ‘All this prancing around. I shall be as lame as Jago’s donkey tomorrow.’

  ‘Could she dance?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lady Harriet, of course.’

  ‘You might better ask could I dance, with my lame ankle and my ignorance of modern steps!’

  ‘The waltz,’ said Demelza, ‘is one of those dances where it is hard to be good if your partner is bad, and vice versa. So I presume you dropped into it nicely.’

  ‘Why did you not dance with John Treneglos? I saw him ask you.’

  ‘I would better prefer to take the floor with a performing bear. Later I stood up with Paul Kellow.’

  ‘So I noticed. So did John!’

  ‘What did she talk about?’

  ‘Lady Harriet?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’

  ‘We had very little to say to each other, I assure you, being, as we both were, preoccupied with not stumbling over each other’s feet. She congratulated me on Isabella-Rose’s singing.’

  ‘Serious?’

  ‘She appeared to be serious. I said I could not stand it, it was like a corn-crake, but she said that was rude and unsympathetic.’

  ‘So it is!’

  ‘How can you equate singing with shouting? Though I have to confess it seemed to please . . . You must not let her get too big for her boots while I am away.’

  ‘Lady Harriet?’ said Demelza.

  ‘Well, her too if you like. You certainly seemed to find something in common when I brought her over.’

  ‘Horses mainly,’ said Demelza.

  ‘Horses?’

  ‘Well, that fable there is about me knowing all about ’em.’

  ‘You know more than most.’

  ‘She asked me about our stables, as if we had anything to compare to theirs! They are just having their stables whitewashed and I told her not to use white but pale green which was better for the horses’ eyes. Tis only common sense and a few simple remedies I know—’

  ‘Could you make a friend of her?’

  ‘D’you mean if she was not married to George? I don’t know. She’s too high bred for me. You can see how she can be such a friend of Caroline’s.’

  ‘But you’re a friend of Caroline’s.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But Caroline’s hardness is only a shell.’

  ‘Perhaps Harriet’s is.’

  ‘Are you tempted to tap and find out?’

  ‘No, thank you, my love. I have enough at issue with George. We nearly came to blows again tonight.’

  Demelza stared at Ross in the dark to see if he was serious. ‘Don’t tell me that! I thought it had all passed off beautifully, except for that terrible boy upsetting Morwenna.’

  ‘That started it.’ Ross went on to explain what had happened. By now they were passing through Grambler village, which was as dark as death. The sweet westerly air was contaminated by a whiff from an open cess-pit.

  ‘My dear,’ said Demelza, ‘George is such a . . . I don’t know if evil is too bad a word. Perhaps it is. Nasty man. Yet he can marry someone like Elizabeth who, if I can forget what she meant to you, was a good person. And now he marries again – a – a woman of character and – and looks. But George himself . . . And you. It is fatal, fatal ever for you two to meet! When you are both in your chairs at Bath being wheeled to the Pump Room your nurses will have to receive instructions to keep you well apart, otherwise gracious knows what the consequences will be!’

  Ross said: ‘Valentine created the situation, seemed as if he were delighting in it, egging us on. He has a sense of ill-considered mischief. I wonder if he brought Conan Whitworth deliberately.’

  ‘Oh, would he know? Surely it was ignorance.’

  ‘I trust so. But it has left a bad feeling between the brothers . . .’

  ‘Valentine and Geoffrey Charles?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Half-brothers.’

  ‘No matter. It is an ill thing when two young men show such antagonism. A small breach like this can so easily widen, become a permanent ugly rift, a danger for them both . . .’

  Demelza pulled her cloak more tightly around her; after the heat of Trenwith the night air was chill.

  ‘Jeremy was not involved in this?’

  ‘No, I did not see him until a few minutes before I left. He had been out.’

  ‘With Cuby?’

  ‘No, when I saw him he was escorting Mrs Pope.’

  ‘Something more went wrong for him tonight, I b’lieve. Although he brought Cuby across I do not think the evening turned well for him.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Just noticing things.’

  They could see the unsymmetrical spire of Sawle Church against the cloudy sky. A dog was howling. It was a forlorn, lost sound.

  ‘You had quite a conversation with Mrs Pope after supper,’ she said. ‘Was she telling you her plans?’

  ‘No, asking my advice. It does not seem that she will be leaving.’

  It was better to have the churchyard behind. Whether one believed in ghosts or not, after dark there was a kind of spiritual miasma about the place more dangerous, Demelza felt, than the organic smells they had just passed through.

  Ross said: ‘She asked me about mineral rights.’

  ‘Why that?’

  ‘When Pope bought the place Unwin Trevaunance retained the mineral rights. It’s a course which often leads to litigation. But you remember only a couple of years ago Chenhalls, from Bodmin, with Trevaunance’s cooperation, had already proposed a new mining operation only a hundred yards from Mr Pope’s front door. It coincided with Mr Pope’s illness, and there were some who thought that worry or annoyance were partly the cause of his indisposition.’

  ‘I remember you talking about it. But didn’t . . .?’

  ‘Yes, it came to nothing. The price of copper fell and Chenhalls lost his enthusiasm. Unwin Trevaunance told me he had thought of continuing on his own but he didn’t want to put out that much money and it was, as he remarked, “such a pesky, uncomfortable way from London.”’

  Now there were pleasanter smells, scents of the countryside and the sea: stubble and turned earth, a wisp of wood smoke from a dying fire, cows munching in a neighbouring field. Demelza kicked with her heel at Hollyhock who seemed to be falling asleep as she walke
d.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Selina Pope says she has been advised by her lawyer to make an offer to Unwin Trevaunance for the mineral rights – so that, as she says, she will never again suffer the inconvenience of men trespassing on her land and proposing the opening of exploratory diggings within sight of her front door.’

  ‘And what was your advice?’

  ‘If she has money to spare, I believe it’s worth doing. She asked me what she should offer, and I told her what I thought, and she said it was not far from the offer she had been advised to make.’

  Demelza said thoughtfully: ‘I hope Clowance will come safely home.’

  ‘Why should she not? Jeremy said he would bring her.’

  She turned and looked behind her. ‘Bella is still talking to Mrs Kemp.’ And then: ‘I hope Henry hasn’t wakened.’

  ‘The more chickens one has, the more one has to cluck over.’

  ‘And the more pleasures; the more fully one lives. I shall need them all when you are gone.’

  ‘You will have one worry the less.’

  ‘I trust you to be safe in London. So long as you are faithful to your promise not to accept some mission overseas again.’

  ‘This war is nearing its end. I do not see how it can long continue. When it does end I have made arrangements with Dwight that we should all go to Paris together to celebrate.’

  Demelza said: ‘I think I should like that.’

  IV

  Captain Andrew Blamey said: ‘I am glad Andrew got away in good time. And he seemed more modest in his drinking tonight.’

  Verity checked her horse to keep on a level with her husband. ‘I thought he was a little – strange.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Perhaps I should say strained.’

  ‘D’you think it is debt again?’

  ‘Well, he has been home little enough this leave, so I have hardly had a chance of getting him to talk. But, as you know, there have been collectors about.’

  ‘I detest the fellows!’ snapped Andrew Blamey. ‘It shocks and affronts me that they should be seen hanging around my house!’

  ‘I think he feels that.’

  ‘Then why the devil does he get into their hands? Twice I have paid his debts, so that he can start clean again. Straight away he plunges into more!’

  ‘His pay is not very high, my dear. He has all a sailor’s temptations.’

  ‘I managed on it – and married on it.’ Blamey stopped. ‘Though God knows no one could have made a more sorry mess of things than I did! Yet it is because of that . . .’

  ‘I know, my dear.’

  ‘It is because of that that I am so anxious he shall not become a drunkard and a rake. At least I was not a rake, though God forbid that I take any credit for that either! My drinking was my damnation.’

  ‘Well, you came out of it, came through it. For the last twenty-three or four years I do not believe you have been suffering damnation—’

  ‘No, thanks to you—’

  ‘Ah, no. Before ever you met me you had changed. I know, I know: it needed a tragedy to change you. But you did change. Why should not Andrew; and without the necessity of any tragedy at all? He’s still so young. You forget he is so young. Give him a little time yet. Have a little patience.’

  Captain Blamey sighed. ‘Oh, I know. You always tell me this. And I always forget . . . At least let us chalk up tonight that he did not get drunk and that he left promptly.’

  ‘I was pleased,’ Verity said. ‘He kissed me with so much more warmth when he left me tonight. It was like old times.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  A week later another trio were on their way home.

  The Carnes lived just in West Looe, in a small corner cottage on the cobbled and mired lane that ran down towards the fifteen-arch bridge of stone and creaking timber that spanned the river. It was a long bridge – six bow-shot lengths, even, it had once been estimated by William of Worcester – and narrow – less than seven feet wide in places, and it carried the considerable traffic between the two small towns. Someone had once called East and West Looe the Scylla and Charybdis of Cornwall, though what particular rival dangers they represented was not quite clear, for once a vessel was within the arm of the river it was fairly safe from storm. It was also well protected from seaward attack by eleven guns mounted on a platform in East Looe guarding the entrance to the river.

  The little cavalcade bringing the Carnes home had not talked much on the long trek from Trenwith. They had picnicked under a hedge sheltered from the strong wind, but rain was threatening and there were only a few hours of daylight left, so they had eaten their pasties quickly and resumed the journey with the minimum of delay.

  Dusk was not far away as they reached their home. Drake led the mare and the ponies round to the stable at the rear, and Morwenna and Loveday went in. When Drake came back Morwenna was on her knees lighting the fire.

  ‘Leave me do that.’

  ‘No, I think I can coax it better than you.’

  ‘Where is Loveday?’

  ‘I have sent her to Ada Greet’s for some fresh milk.’

  Drake lifted his pack onto the table. ‘I reckon they’ve give us enough food to last a week. Really, they’d no need.’

  ‘Geoffrey Charles is very generous. So is Amadora, but on a different level.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I think she’s afraid to seem to patronize us. She herself would be too proud to accept gifts in kind from anyone. But it never occurs to Geoffrey Charles: he just piles everything upon us.’

  ‘He’s a rare good man. Tis a pity he feels he have to go back to fight.’

  Morwenna picked up the tongs and began to feed the infant fire with small pieces of coal. Her glasses had slipped down her nose and she moved to push them up, but then looked at her dirty fingers and hesitated. He did it for her. She smiled.

  ‘Still cosseting me, Drake?’

  ‘Just a little now an’ then, m’ dear.’

  ‘Just a little always,’ she said, ‘ever since we were married.’

  ‘You needed it.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose I did.’

  He began to unpack the bag and put the items of food on the table. Then he went into the back yard and drew some water from the pump, emptied it into the big kettle which was suspended over the fire and adjusted the ratchet so that the bottom of the kettle should be near the flames.

  Morwenna got up, her hair falling across her face, but was able to push it back herself with her forearm. He had made a movement but she smiled and said: ‘No, I can do it myself. I think it is time I did more for myself.’

  ‘That’s a rare old nonsense,’ he said. ‘You’ve always done much for yourself. And for me. And for Loveday.’

  She said: ‘I have worked, have I not? I have been a good wife? I’ve worked like any other woman, stitching and scrubbing and cooking and sewing. I’ve made you happy, Drake?’

  He stared at her, startled. ‘Happy? Of course. I’ve been – all these years – can ye suppose I’ve not been happy – and would have been with the half of what you’ve given me? I’d have been content even with only the half that you promised me when we was wed! But it hasn’t been that way, as you well d’know. There’s been so much love . . .’

  She blinked as if trying to come out of a reverie. ‘So much love. Yes. So much love.’

  The house was very dusty, a cobweb on the window.

  Drake picked up a cloth and rubbed the cobweb away. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘No. But I expect you are.’

  ‘Not yet. I reckon you must be tired after such a long ride, so why don’t you go up to bed and I’ll bring you a cup of tea when the kettle boils?’

  ‘There you are,’ she said, ‘cosseting.’

  ‘Do it matter? Tis good for you, and I enjoy it.’

  She turned over one or two of the items of food, and then carried the butter and the cheese and the cream into the larder. When she came
back she said:

  ‘It’s good to be home.’

  ‘Yes. You must feel that.’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, no measure! But you, I mean, after – after what happened at Trenwith.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Oh, yes . . . Drake, the clock needs winding.’

  ‘I’ll do it in a moment.’ He put his arm round her shoulders. She leaned her face against his.

  ‘I know what’s keeping Loveday,’ she said. ‘Sarah Greet will be home from school and will have persuaded her in to exchange all the gossip. We shall get our milk sometime!’

  ‘Well, the kettle will take a while yet.’

  ‘Drake,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? What for?’

  ‘For everything that has happened – between ourselves and those at Trenwith.’

  ‘M’dear, it is all nothing so long as you are not left too unhappy by it. After what happened there with that boy.’

  She shivered. ‘I am not unhappy – now. But I feel you would have preferred to make your life there with Geoffrey Charles. Would you not?’

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘I could see the accord – the deep affection between you; it has hardly changed from those days when he was a small boy and I his governess. Now he is married and coming home to live as soon as the war is over. It was – is – the realization of a dream. You are part of that dream and it will not be quite complete without you.’

  ‘Well,’ said Drake, with a sigh. ‘There may be a morsel of truth in what you d’say; and I’m sad for that. But you are the only one that matters – to me, I mean. We live where you want to live and that’s an end on it. If you are happy I am happy, and if not, neither am I. Looe is my home now just so much as tis yours. And Geoffrey Charles fully understands that.’

  ‘He does now, yes; but I still have a guilty conscience.’

  He kissed her. ‘Stuff and nonsense. The kettle is singing. It look to me I shall have to go get the milk myself.’

  Morwenna put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Drake, all these years you have looked after me as if I were an invalid, as if I were the victim of some terrible accident—’

  ‘So you were.’

  ‘Well, but only in a way. I am not halt, I am not blind, I am not really an invalid, as you know! I am strong and have worked hard, as I have just said—’