‘No indication,’ he said. ‘I have no idea whether you want me to give them work or not.’
‘It is your mine, Ross.’
‘But it is your choice.’
‘Then the answer is, yes, of course I do.’
That night in bed Ross said: ‘I have had word with Henshawe and we can fix them up. That’s if they are willing to take what we give them. I don’t want to increase the number of tributers, and I can’t take men off their pitches; but there’s room for one extra tut-worker, and Drake can be employed in the engine house if he so chooses.’
‘Thank you, Ross.’
‘But you realize that these young men may possibly prove an embarrassment to you.’
‘In what way?’
Ross explained some of the ways.
‘Well, yes, that may be so,’ she said. ‘So I shall have to suffer it, shan’t I. And so will you.’
‘Not to the same extent. Anyway it is your decision. I must say you gave me as much idea of your feelings this afternoon as when we are playing whist and you forget what is trumps.’
‘When have I done that? Ever only once!’ She sat up against the pillow, leaning her elbow on it, and looked at him. ‘Seriously, Ross, although I’m your wife and share everything, this is still your property, your mine, your people. So if you say you do not want these young men, well, send them off without thinking of the relationship! It is your right to be able to do so, and if you do I’ll not complain of it.’
‘But for your choice they will stay?’
‘Yes, for my choice they will stay.’
‘Enough. No more need be said.’
‘A little more need be said, Ross; for you cannot expect me to maintain my dignity in the house if you pinch me the way you did this afternoon when we were scarcely out of their sight!’
‘All ladies of quality must learn to suffer this,’ Ross said. ‘But they show this quality by suffering it in silence.’
A ribald reply came to Demelza’s lips but she suppressed it. It was in the quick thrust and counter-thrust of joking that the chasms could still appear. Probably Ross sensed this, for he knew that with no holds barred it was practically impossible to get the better of his wife. He put his hand on her knee under her night-shift and let it close quietly there.
‘Where shall you lodge them?’ Demelza asked.
‘I was thinking of Mellin. Now that old Joe Triggs has gone Aunt Betsy has a room. It would help her too.’
She said ruminatively: ‘I think I might’ve recognized Sam, but d’you know I should never have thought it was Drake.’
‘He’s somewhat like you, isn’t he?’ Ross said.
‘What?’
‘Well, the colouring. The shape of face. And a look in his eye.’
‘What sort of a look?’
‘You ought to know . . . Difficult. Hard to handle.’
Demelza withdrew her knee. ‘I knew there was some ill word coming.’
Ross put his hand on her other knee. ‘I prefer this one.
This one has the scar on it where you fell out of the elm tree when you were fifteen.’
‘No. I only scratched my legs then. This was when I pulled the cupboard on top of myself.’
‘You see. Exactly what I meant. Difficult. Hard to handle.’
‘And getting battered an’ worn.’
‘Not to notice. Blemishes on the beauty of a person one loves are like grace notes adding something to a piece of music.’
‘Judas,’ said Demelza. ‘What a pretty speech. You’d best go to sleep or I shall begin to think you’re serious.’
‘Pretty speeches,’ said Ross, ‘should always be taken serious.’
‘That I will do, Ross. And thank you. And I promise not to remind you of it in the harsh light of day.’
They lay quiet for a time. Ross was feeling sleepy and he allowed his mind to drift away over the comfortable, satisfactory things in his life – not the exacerbations of their Warleggan neighbours, not thoughts of Elizabeth and her child, not apprehensions about the progress of the war; but the success of the mine, the freedom from the load of debt, the warmth of his affection for his wife and child. So far they had done little to add to their house servants; and in the excitement of the mining success the farm had been neglected. Ross began to think of the hay prospects and of ploughing the Long Field, of walking bare-foot across the firm sands of Hendrawna Beach; the prospective rebuilding of the library; shopping in Truro, taking Demelza further afield. When Demelza said:
‘Touching on children, Ross . . .’
‘What children?’
‘Ours. I think it probable that before the year is out I shall be adding to the livestock.’
‘What?’ He came back from his comfortable dream. ‘What’s this? Are you sure?’
‘Not sure. But I’ve missed this month and as you know I’m regular as the moon. Last time you blamed me for not telling you soon enough, so I thought this time I’d best alert you right away.’
‘Good God,’ said Ross. ‘I somehow hadn’t expected that!’
‘Well,’ said Demelza, ‘it would be a small matter surprising if I hadn’t. Since Christmas it’s been nothing else, has it.’
‘Did you want it to be anything else?’
‘No, thank you. But it would be surprising if something like this hadn’t happened.’
‘Yes. I suppose you’re right.’
There was silence. ‘Are you upset?’ she asked.
‘Not upset. But not altogether delighted. Oh, not for the same reasons as last time: I’d be happy to have more children. It is just the hazards that present themselves both for you and for the child. The world so constantly presses upon one, with every form of risk, that now, just for a while, having just this moment escaped the burden of poverty and the threat of debt, I would have liked a year or two accepting no more hostages to fate.’
‘Just by living we are all – what you call it – hostages to fate.’
‘Of course. Mine is the coward’s attitude. But I’m not so much a coward for myself as for those I care about.’
Demelza wriggled down a bit. ‘Maybe it will be a false alarm. But anyway don’t worry for me. It was all right both times before.’
‘When will it be?’
‘About November, I suspect.’
‘D’you remember the storm that blew up at the time of Julia’s birth? I think it is the fiercest storm I ever saw. When I went for old Choake it was almost impossible to stand.’
‘And he was no use when he came. Mrs Zacky did it all. I’d better trust her any day.’
‘I’m told Elizabeth had this new man, Behenna, from Truro. I believe he’s lately out of London and has good ideas.’
The brief silence that followed was customary at the mention of Elizabeth’s name. It was not deliberate on either side, but the conversation seemed to wilt of its own accord.
‘If I have to have a man I’d better prefer Dwight. By November he should be back.’
‘I’d not bank on it. I do not see an end to the war yet.’
‘I must go and see Caroline very soon. We’ve not done so much for her as we should.’
‘It is what I was thinking walking back from the mine today. But I don’t want you jogging over there now. It is a long trip—’
‘Oh, Judas, I may jog for months yet, Ross, and come to no harm! If she will not leave her uncle, one or both of us must go and see her. It must be frustrating not even to be able to speak to him of her concern for Dwight.’
‘Ten minutes ago,’ Ross said, ‘I was drifting off into pleasant dreams. Now I am wide awake, all the comfortable cocoon I was spinning around myself torn asunder by a simple announcement. It is not that I am lacking in happiness for what you tell me but only that I now lack the simple complacency that makes for sleep.’
‘Do you need to sleep?’ Demelza asked.
‘. . . No. Not yet.’
He moved his head and laid his face against hers, and they lay breath
ing quietly together for a few seconds.
He said: ‘I hope it is a girl. But not like you. One of you is more than enough.’
Chapter Three
A tall man of about forty with a long, distinguished face rode up to the door of Killewarren, dismounted and pulled the bell. He was dressed in a brown nankeen riding suit which had been cut by an expensive tailor, highly polished brown boots so dark as to be almost black, and a black silk cravat. The points of his collar stood up at each side of his face. He was clean shaven and his hair, dark but greying at the temples, was his own.
When the manservant came he asked for Mr Ray Penvenen.
‘Well, sur, master is that poorly,’ said the servant. ‘If you’ll come this way, sur. Who shall I say’s called?’
‘Mr Unwin Trevaunance.’
He was shown into the big living-room on the first floor with its faded plush velvet curtains, its good but shabby furniture, its threadbare Turkey rugs. Since he came here last, about four years ago, it had all gone further downhill. The mirror above the fireplace had mildew at one corner. A piece of the heavy flock paper was curling away from the wall. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, ran a finger along the mantelpiece and then examined his finger for dust. He decided not to sit down.
After about five minutes Caroline Penvenen came in. To his annoyance she was carrying her little pug-dog, which gave a short growl ending in a yap when it recognized the visitor.
‘Unwin!’ said Caroline. ‘This is a surprise! So Horace remembers you too! Don’t worry, darling, I’ll not let the big man eat you. I saw you at the Warleggan christening but we did not seem to meet.’
‘As you say.’ Unwin bowed his big head over her hand, which could only be extended a little way because of the dog. ‘I saw that your uncle was not there and was told that he was unwell. I thought I might be permitted to call to see him. I trust he is better.’
‘Not at all better, I fear. But thank you for your kind inquiry. I will tell him you have called.’
‘He is not to be seen?’
She shook her head. ‘The doctor said not. And in faith I would think the strain of it would tire him too much.’
‘Who is your doctor?’
‘Dr Sylvane of Blackwater.’
‘I don’t know him. But then I am seldom in Cornwall. He is . . . efficacious?’
‘What a long word. I do not know the answer to that Unwin. Uncle Ray grows steadily worse; but that may be the progress of the disease which no doctor may be able to stem, however efficacious.’
Unwin glanced out of the window. Rain was lashing on it. ‘A heavy shower. An April shower. I must ask the shelter of your house until it is past.’
‘That with pleasure. Will you take some refreshment? We have some good French brandy, recently run in. Or ale? Or canary?’
‘Thank you, brandy, if it is not too much trouble.’
Caroline pulled the bell and gave the order when the servant came. Unwin was eyeing her with undisguised interest. He decided she had not improved in looks since he had first met her, a tall, wayward, red-haired beauty of eighteen, at her Uncle William’s home in Oxfordshire. A beauty who was also heiress to two elderly, wealthy and cheeseparing bachelors. What could be better? He had followed her to Cornwall, and after eighteen months of sporadic courtship had thought her safely landed, when instead she had suddenly cut loose and refused to have anything more to do with him. Since then there had been a rumour of her engagement to Lord Coniston, but that too had come to nothing. Unwin thought he knew the reason for all this. It was partly the cause of his coming today. But she was not as attractive as she had been. Her tall slender figure had become angular, her skin less fresh-looking. At twenty-two she was still a beauty; and wherever she went her height and colouring would mark her out; but it pleased him that he could detect a going-off. Perhaps in the end she would become a trifle less wayward and headstrong.
When the brandy came Unwin sipped it and munched a biscuit. ‘Um. Very good. So the war has not interfered with the traffic across the Channel.’
‘No, from all accounts it appears to have increased it.’
‘Fewer men to guard the coasts, eh? But it is a serious matter to trade with an enemy. There are all the possibilities of spying, of selling information, of helping to weaken a blockade. It’s something Pitt should know about.’
She let Horace slip from her knees, and he rolled fatly on the floor. He lay there wheezing and gasping with a suspicious, bloodshot, white-cornered eye on Unwin. ‘Your career prospers, I hope?’
‘Indeed. My seat was finally confirmed this year and my rival dislodged. Now I am promised an under-secretaryship shortly. I would like it – and shall probably get it – in finance. Finding the money to prosecute this war is one of the most vital of the problems we have to deal with.’
‘Fighting it is also vital, I should have thought,’ said Caroline.
‘That also I may yet do. We are very short of men. I wonder Ross Poldark does not think of returning to the 62nd Foot.’
‘You should ask him.’
He looked out of the window again. ‘Tell me, Caroline. Your uncle. I trust you don’t – this doctor does not forecast a fatal termination?’
‘Dr Sylvane will never forecast that while a patient has one breath left or a toe that will twitch when you touch it; but I must confess I am not hopeful.’
‘If or when this happens, what shall you do? Return to London? You could hardly remain here alone.’
‘Why not? I don’t know. I prefer to live from day to day.’
‘Of course . . . I often wonder what would have happened if you had not quarrelled with me that evening in May two years ago.’
Caroline smiled. ‘Well, then I should have been your wife, Unwin. That is not difficult to see. But I should not have been a good wife for you.’
‘Permit me to have my own opinion on that. I think, I even venture to think that you might yourself have been happier. I am not an ogre. Most people think me personable enough. And I have some importance in the world. You could have had a full life, and a most interesting one. Even if you did not love me I believe it would have been a splendid alliance. Far better than the life you are now leading, here, alone, far from your London and Oxfordshire friends . . .’
‘And nursing a sick old man?’ said Caroline. ‘Oh, yes, I should have had a different life. And so would you. But this is true of all decisions. If I go riding tomorrow I am not sitting by the fire. If you had not come to see Uncle Ray this morning you would not run the risk of being soaked on the way home. We make our choice. Isn’t that what parsons mean when they talk of Free Will?’
Unwin’s bottom lip jutted. He did not admire this sort of flippancy. ‘True, my dear. But all decisions are not irrevocable. If you felt so inclined the option is still open.’
Horace, stirred by his mistress’s foot, rolled over again and yapped once. Thereafter there was silence, except for the patter of rain and a drip somewhere where water was coming through the roof.
‘To marry you, Unwin? What makes you think I may have changed?’
‘I don’t assume so. But we are both older. What we said in heat two years ago was not necessarily final. In the meantime you have not married, I have not married. It could still be.’
Caroline smoothed the Mechlin lace at her wrists. Her fine eyes looked misty for a moment, and he thought she was going to yield. Then she vigorously shook her head. ‘Thank you, no, Unwin, it could not be. For me it could not be. When we parted that May evening after your brother’s reception I perhaps expressed myself a little forcibly, a thought – unflatteringly. If you wish to excuse me for that you may put it down to my temperament and my youth. But – the decision has not changed. I couldn’t marry you. I’m sorry. But thank you for the compliment of asking me again.’
Unwin took a sip of his brandy. He stretched his long legs and stared at a splash of mud on his shining boots. He swallowed the other half of the biscuit. ‘Well . . . so, that is your
choice. I’ll not presume to argue with it. But perhaps we might agree that until one of us marries another the door is not altogether closed. If at any time you should change your mind and I should not be in Cornwall, John will know my address.’
‘Thank you, Unwin.’ She was going to tell him that nothing would ever induce her to write, but a maturer appreciation of other people’s feelings kept her silent. ‘And I’ll tell my uncle you called.’
It had just stopped raining, and a rent in the cloud cover showed the blue skin of the sky. But drops were still lining up on the window sash.
Unwin said: ‘I thought that young doctor attended your uncle. What was his name? Enys. Dwight Enys.’
Caroline wondered whether the question was loaded. It was impossible to tell how far gossip had travelled, how far her name had ever been linked with Dwight’s outside a small closed circle. ‘Dr Enys is one of those who have already gone to fight. He joined the Navy at Christmas, as a surgeon, of course, and he is now on patrol duty with the Western Squadron. My uncle greatly misses his medical care.’
‘Indeed. I hope he was not involved in the fighting of last week.’
‘What fighting? I had not heard.’
‘I was in Falmouth yesterday, and all the talk was of it. Ned Pellew’s squadron. They say the battle lasted eleven hours and took place in a furious gale. A great man, Sir Edward. We need more like him.’
Horace was snuffling and snoring now as if suddenly asleep. After a moment Caroline said: ‘One receives all news so late here. Do tell me more details if you have them.’
‘Details? Oh, of this naval affair. Well, they were scant enough. Pellew was commanding the Arethusa, I believe, and two other ships, and they sighted and attacked a French ship of the line and a French frigate. I do not know how they compare as to size, but I imagine the French ship of the line was very much the largest of the vessels engaged. The outcome was a desperate battle in which both French ships were driven ashore and ended as total wrecks. We lost one of our ships.’
‘Lost? Sunk, do you mean?’
‘Driven ashore in the gale like the Frenchies. The Arethusa and the other frigate came safely away. The whole town was full of it yesterday. Every ale house was crammed with common people drinking Ned Pellew’s health.’
The Black Moon Page 4