‘I am wondering what made you and Chenhalls become interested in this project years after you had sold the property to the Popes.’
Unwin shrugged. ‘Chenhalls had two prospecting engineers, made a survey of the way the tin and copper lodes were running all the way from Redruth and St Day. They worked it out that there could be profitable outcrops at Trevaunance. God knows, there are – or were – mines enough at St Ann’s, next door.’
‘D’you think Mrs Pope knows this?’
‘Ah,’ said Unwin. ‘That is what I wish to find out. Is she spending money really to ensure privacy or, as soon as the sale has gone through, does she intend to start some mining venture herself?’
‘For a woman,’ said George, ‘it seems very improbable. Especially for a woman who is not Cornish and understands nothing about mining.’
‘That is, unless she is being advised.’
‘Who would advise her?’
‘I don’t know. Anyone around. The Poldarks, f’ instance. The Ross Poldarks, I mean. They are only a few miles away. I have heard that she has been rather thick with their son.’
‘Well,’ said George spitefully. ‘Their son will be here on Tuesday. Perhaps you had better ask him yourself.’
Trevaunance looked at his host, and then broke into a laugh. ‘That I shall not do. I shall go and see the lady myself. I fancy I understand women pretty well. I shall lay a few traps in my conversation and see if she falls into ’em.’
II
The card and supper party was to begin on Tuesday at six. The coach which was to bring Mr Trembath and Mr Rose from Liskeard was due at the Norway Inn at about seven p.m. on the Monday, and George had arranged that a small chaise should be waiting there to convey the two lawyers to Cardew.
He preferred that Mr Rose should be established in the house the day before the party began, because he did not want it to appear to Harriet that the identification, if it occurred, had been staged expressly by him. He was sensitive to her opinions, and if the outcome of all this was that someone, a friend, or at least a guest in the house, should go to the gallows – or be transported for twenty years – he did not want her, with her ambiguous views about the value of money, to hold him wholly responsible.
In his heart perhaps he knew that she would suppose this to be in some part a contrivance; but he could deny it with a greater show of sincerity if Rose were to be there as their guest for three or four days and be there on business to do with the estate.
So he was frustrated and annoyed when, about seven-thirty on the Monday evening, an empty chaise clopped up to the house and Nankivell, the groom, handed George a note which had been passed to him by the coachman on the stage coach.
Sir, (it said.)
I regret to inform you that Mr Rose is suffering from a severe headache, which his apothecary tells him is due to a gouty condition of the cerebrum. Mr Rose is spending the day in bed and is taking Wessel’s Jesuit Drops, which he swears always set him to rights within twelve hours, so he is sure to be well recovered by tomorrow.
I am well aware, sir, of the importance you attach to his being at Cardew not later than Tuesday evening, and so is he. He has invited me to spend the night at his house, and this I have accepted, since this way I can be sure he does not default tomorrow. Indeed, I believe there is little fear of this, for he knows the fees you are offering him, and his conversation seldom strays long from the subject of the failure of banks, the emoluments he is owed, and the importance of money.
I have the honour to be, sir,
Your humble & obedt. servant,
Hector Trembath.
George swore under his breath, scrumpled the note, and put it into his fob pocket as he went up the steps to tell Harriet their other guest had been delayed.
It mattered little, he realized. He had thought to keep Mr Rose upstairs tomorrow on some pretext or other until all his guests had arrived and the party was in full swing; if he came down in such a way the effect would be greater; it seemed to promise a sound dramatic scene.
Well, now he would come bumbling up the steps in his black hat and travelling cloak when they were already assembled. If Harriet took some eccentric view that George should have arranged the denunciation with greater discretion, she would have to lump it. Even she could hardly countenance the robbery of bank money from a stage coach or assert with any degree of sincerity that it should go unpunished.
Tuesday, the thirty-first of May, was another beautiful day. Stephen and Clowance spent all afternoon aboard the Lady Clowance, which had come in with the morning tide, and Stephen told Andrew of his invitation for that evening. The vessel had brought a mixed cargo from Plymouth, and would be unloaded tomorrow when the drays were available. It was a thoroughly happy afternoon; they were all in high spirits; and it was four-thirty before they reluctantly ferried themselves to the quayside and walked home. Andrew said he would dash to see his mother; they were not to wait if he was late, he would follow in his own good time.
It was a plain little house, with sash windows and small square rooms, and very few of them; but Clowance did not compare it with the spacious, straggling Nampara. She thought it better than the Gatehouse, which they had been promised before, and the view was more exciting. One could see the end of Penryn Creek, and from the bedroom windows almost all the shipping as it came and went. Whether she would be lonely or unoccupied if Stephen went to sea she had hardly considered, but she was near enough to the Blameys, and there were plenty of small things she could do to improve the house provided she had the enterprise to do them. She had never handled a paint brush in her life, except to make genteel pictures of roses on canvas when she was at school, and carpentry was a closed book. But to an enterprising girl all things were possible.
The only tiny fly in the amber was the acid, grey-haired widow who owned the property and lived in the other half. She smiled too much and bowed too often to be sincere.
Changing was a longer process than it should have been, for Stephen could not yet see her in her underclothes without demanding to take advantage of it; so it was almost six-thirty when they clattered breathlessly up the drive to the front door of Cardew. By then most of the other guests had arrived, and shortly after them came Andrew, and then Jeremy.
Very properly, Jeremy was in what Harriet called his regimentals: a tight scarlet jacket with dull gilt epaulettes, collar and cuffs, brass buttons down both fronts of the jacket, a diagonal belt with ‘52’ on it, and tight navy trousers fastening with a belt under the black shoes. Harriet had also said, what a uniform will do for a man! and it could never have been more true than of Jeremy. Perhaps in coming to Cardew in the hope of seeing Cuby he was not unaware of this.
If so, his reward was immediate. Cuby’s face changed at the sight of him and as soon as they had a moment together she said:
‘But Jeremy, how handsome you look!’
‘It’s the conventional resort of the slighted lover,’ Jeremy said. ‘At one time one used to do the Grand Tour, but Napoleon has made that impossible.’
‘No longer! . . . But I heard you had gone . . . I am so glad at least that the danger is over.’
‘There is always America.’
‘You would not go out there?’
He did not reply but looked at her covertly, tried to think of Lisa, to compare them.
‘How is Augustus?’
‘In London. He has this post in the Treasury; but I believe it is almost a sinecure.’
‘When are you coming to take tea with me in Truro?’
‘Did I ever say I would?’
‘I shall be home only until next Monday.’
‘Where do you go back to?’
‘Brussels.’
‘What are people like there? Are they friendly to us?’
‘Not noticeably. Nor are they unfriendly. Just dour. They are glad to see the back of the French but not sure they welcome the English or the Germans or the Russians.’
‘And the ladies?’
&
nbsp; Jeremy smiled at her. ‘What game are you playing tonight?’
She looked startled. ‘Game? Oh, you mean . . .’ She looked at him doubtfully. ‘You mean card game?’
‘What else?’
‘I don’t mind. I have no preference.’
‘Nor I. I have a slight preference to sit next to you, that is all.’
‘I’m not lucky at cards. And I’m terrified of losing money!’
‘Unlike your brother, there.’
‘Yes. Perhaps it is because of him!’
‘There’s a Faro board on that table. This one looks as if it may be Vingt-et-un.’
‘Let’s sit here, then. I’ve never played Faro and I remember at Vingt-et-un one may be timid in one’s bids!’
The party divided up cheerfully. Stephen took Clowance to the Faro table, promising he would teach her the rules. On her other side was Anthony Trefusis who swore he had never met her before and clearly enjoyed sitting next to her and patting her hand when an excuse arose. They drew at each table for banker; and Unwin Trevaunance, who had been over to Place House today but was very willing to join in the fun, drew one and Lord Devoran the other. The latter instantly disowned the responsibility of being banker and handed it to Lady Harriet, who laughed and took her seat. George had dropped hints all round about keeping the stakes low, on account of the young ladies present, so the games at each table began on an easy note.
George himself did not play, and invited John Trevanion to walk with him on the terrace outside, an offer which Trevanion had no excuse to refuse.
The time was already after seven, and George was concerned to keep the front of the house in view for when his last and most important guest arrived. Mr Rose should be escorted straight upstairs, where he could wash and change out of his travelling clothes if he so desired before descending to join the company. Supper was to be at nine, so he could come down about eight-thirty, before the tables broke up. This would be the perfect entrance.
‘The church,’ he said to John Trevanion, ‘is still a matter for discussion. St Michael Caerhays is so small.’
‘Yet it is the family church,’ said the major. ‘All my family, the girls of the family, have been married there, my parents, my wife are buried there; many of my ancestors for five or six hundred years.’
George said: ‘I do not think this is an occasion for a small wedding.’
‘Well, you know my finances better than I do, Warleggan. These things always cost a pretty penny.’
‘I still don’t feel it is excuse enough for something paltry. Valentine is my only son. I have many social connections. Lady Harriet’s family must at least be invited. It is impossible to ask people to travel a distance to a wedding and then expect them to sit in the churchyard!’
‘It has been done before now! What is the alternative?’
‘St Mary’s, Truro. I have a residence in the parish.’
John Trevanion made an irritable gesture. ‘Your so-called Great House can hardly compare with Caerhays Castle for the reception afterwards!’
‘Your castle,’ said George with a reciprocal sneer, ‘will hardly be flattered if you only have thirty or forty guests to receive.’
They turned about and paced back the way they had come. ‘Oh, come, my good man,’ said Trevanion, ‘do we have more than sixty relatives and important friends betwixt us? Let sixty be invited to the church and another sixty to the reception after. Who cares a damn whether they witness the ceremony so long as the food and the wine be good after?’
George noticed a servant, an oldish man called Blencowe, busying himself furtively among the grooms and the horses. A portly, stooping little man who could read and write, he was the least ill-educated of George’s servants and sometimes undertook errands with Tankard; he was one of the three George had instructed to be on the alert in case there was a denunciation and a sequel to the denunciation. The other two – strong young men – were posted inside the house. He took out his watch. Seven-thirty. The chaise should be here any time now so long as the coach was punctual. So long as a horse did not cast its shoe or the brakes burn out or there was some other stupid delay.
He hoped Mr Rose was not still unwell. Anyway he was sure that if Mr Hector Trembath valued his connection, nothing would stand in the way of his arriving with his guest in tow.
III
‘What of your experiments with steam?’ Cuby asked.
‘What, now? They have been abandoned, of course. The army does not encourage amateur scientists heating up water in boilers. They are interested only in real explosions!’
‘. . . And that young man at Wadebridge; the one you had been visiting when we met in the music shop . . .’
‘I saw him yesterday; but he has had little time to pursue his interests. Dr Avery, his partner, has died, and he has succeeded to the practice. And now he is just married – to a lady about ten years older than himself. No doubt he will begin his experiments again soon. I do not think he is the sort of man to allow love to ruin his life.’
‘Surely you are not either!’
‘Well, does it not depend when it is to happen?’ Jeremy whispered. He picked up his second card.
‘When what is to happen?’ Cuby asked.
‘I stand,’ he said to the banker. ‘You know what I am asking about,’ he said to Cuby; ‘your wedding to Valentine.’
She flushed. ‘I suspect quite soon.’
Not much had altered. Affection for Lisa was no protection against the stab in the heart. ‘You suspect so!’
‘Well . . . yes . . . Do I take another?’
‘No. Count your ace as eleven. So what is the month chosen for the happy event?’
‘September or October, my brother thinks.’
The skin of her neck and arms was like toffee cream. You knew how it would taste.
‘Thank God it will soon be over. You will be wed in glorious matrimony for the rest of your life to a man you do not love.’
‘Ssh!’ she said.
The banker drew twenty, and Jeremy pushed over his money. ‘Miss Trevanion wins!’ he called, and then sotto voce: ‘as always.’
‘And do you think that is winning?’ she asked under her breath.
‘Winning for your side, for your family, for your brother; as we have already agreed . . . Here, don’t neglect your money!’
‘I am not likely to, am I!’
‘What better subjects than love and gambling? Lucky at cards, unlucky in love.’
At the next deal Cuby picked up a deuce and a three. She said: ‘I’II wager you have no need to be unlucky in love in that beautiful uniform. I never saw my own brother in anything so fine.’
‘Do you mean Augustus?’
‘No, my other brother, George. The one who was killed at Bergen.’
Jeremy had picked up two queens. It seemed appropriate. ‘I’ll stand.’
Cuby whispered: ‘What are the words if you want another card?’
‘Hit me.’
‘It sounds silly.’
‘Miss Trevanion will take another card,’ Jeremy said to the banker.
She was given an ace, which remained face up on the table. She looked at Jeremy. He nodded. She nodded. The fourth card was a five. The game went on. At the end of the round Cuby again picked up her winnings . . .
Outside the sun was just catching the pointed tree tops, sending arrows of light speeding over the front of the house. It was like Agincourt. George looked at his watch. Almost eight.
‘I think we should go in,’ said Trevanion sulkily, who had already paced too far for his own pleasure. ‘There is a chill in the air, and I left off my velvet waistcoat yesterday.’
Pigeons were fluttering in the woods, moving from tree to tree before they settled for the night. They were multiplying too fast, George thought. At least they made excellent pies. What could have happened to the damned coach? The chaise had not returned, so presumably the coach had still not arrived at the Norway Inn.
‘Have you sett
led on your own plans?’ George said sharply.
‘My plans?’
‘For a year next September’
‘No – er – no. Certainly not. Not yet. I shall spend some time in London visiting relatives. I have some residual property in Grampound, as you know. Something there could be enlarged for my use. Though I may not continue to live in Cornwall permanently.’
‘Now that peace has come many new opportunities are opened up.’
Trevanion’s lip curled. ‘To travel? Only the rich can travel.’
‘You have connections in high places.’
‘A few. No doubt we shall see.’
The vexed question of Cuby’s mother had still to be settled, but George did not feel he could be too insistent about that. Valentine was perfectly capable of ordering his house as he thought best, and of dealing with one widowed lady.
‘It will soon be time for supper,’ George said. ‘You go in. I have some business to attend to.’
When the younger man had disappeared George went down the steps and crooked a finger at Blencowe. The man came trotting.
‘Has Nankivell not returned?’
‘No, sur. We been keeping watch.’
‘The coach must have broken down, I suppose. One would not have thought it beyond Trembath’s wit to hire a post-chaise if there was going to be a long delay.’
‘No, sur. Maybe something’s gone wrong betwixt post-’ouses.’
‘That I too had thought of, Blencowe.’
‘Yes, sur.’
George glowered at his servant and went in. Now that Trevanion had mentioned it, he too was growing chill.
The tables broke up at a quarter to nine, and supper was served soon after. Outside the long afterglow was fading, and indoors candles were lighted to illuminate the long table and the food and wine spread upon it. It had not been the sort of game the big gamblers liked. Anthony Trefusis would not have come had he known the stakes were going to be so low. But as a result, though no one was feeling too exultant at their gains, no one was feeling too set down by their losses, and this made for a more generally jolly supper table.
Stephen, who had won about eight guineas, was feeling quite above himself. His enjoyment of Clowance was in its very earliest stages, when every moment could be savoured. The money he had made from his last venture was warming his hands and earning credit at the bank; his abounding good health and vigour had at last got the better of the weaknesses of convalescence; and he was being entertained with his wife at the home of one of the richest and most influential men in the county. He was hungry and thirsty for the good things on the table and for all the good things life had to offer. There was nothing better than this moment, and every so often he squeezed Clowance’s hand to tell her so.
The Loving Cup Page 30