‘Why not? He wants the money, doesn’t he?’
‘There is more than money involved.’
‘Oh, yes, the Warleggans, of course; I have heard something of it. But is there not a way round that difficulty?’
‘Not by offering to purchase the bill. At the very least they would, I think, demand some extortionate premium on it which would put it quite out of your reach.’
‘You don’t know my reach, Mr Pascoe.’
‘Possibly not. But allow me at least to advise you on the most economical way of going about the business.’ He came back to the table and sat down, picked up his pen in some irritation, and made a few figures. ‘Obviously, if you are quite set on doing this, the best thing is to lend Captain Poldark the fourteen hundred pounds personally to discharge the bill and have him sign a new bill for this amount.’
For the first time Caroline looked a little confused. ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible. That’s what I haven’t told you yet. He mustn’t on any account know who has advanced the money.’
Pascoe considered her dryly. ‘I see. But I’m afraid it is unavoidable. I don’t think there is any other way. I don’t think you have the least chance of persuading Mr Cary Warleggan to part with the bill, at any price. You have no doubt read The Merchant of Venice.’
There was silence for a few moments. Caroline said: ‘I don’t for a moment think Captain Poldark would accept the money from me.’
‘Hm . . . No, it’s possible. You’re a friend of his, of course? But a woman. I see your point.’
Caroline got up. She was as tall as the banker, and her slightness made her look taller. She folded her gloves carefully, not looking at him. But something in the shape of her face made him aware of what the look in her eyes was likely to be.
‘Well, thank you for seeing me. I shall have to go elsewhere. I can expect you to tell no one of my call?’
‘I shall tell no one. But don’t be in t-too great a hurry. I think I have a suggestion to make which might help us to overcome this difficulty.’
‘Yes?’
‘Pray sit down again. Give me a moment or two to work this out.’
Caroline resumed her seat. Through narrow long-lashed eyes she watched Mr Pascoe open his snuffbox. She waited, patient now, for him to make his suggestion.
Chapter Five
Lobb the Sherborner had spent the night locally, so a letter was delivered to Ross just as he was leaving the house for the mine. He broke the seal and read what Harris Pascoe had to say, hardly certain that the slanting December sunlight was not in some manner distorting what he read. Having come through it twice with the same interpretation, he moved quickly round to the stables and began to throw a saddle over Darkie. Gimlett heard him and stopped his work and came into the stable.
‘Can I help ee, sir?’
‘No . . . I can do it. Oh, Gimlett, where is your mistress?’
‘Gone looking for Garrick, who ran off after a stray cat.’
‘Tell her I’ve been called to Truro on business, will you? I hope to be back in time for tea.’
‘Yes, sur.’
Before eleven Ross was dismounting outside the banking premises of Messrs Pascoe, Tresize, Annery, and Spry. He dropped his reins over the post, lifted the latch of the bank door, and went purposefully in. Harris Pascoe was not engaged, nor indeed surprised to see his visitor, though the swift response was several hours earlier than he had expected. He looked up speculatively at Ross’s expression as he was shown in.
Ross sat down and crossed his long legs and rubbed a finger carefully across his upper lip.
‘Good day to you, Harris.’
‘Good day. You’re an early caller this morning.’
‘Not earlier than I wish to be. This letter . . .’ Ross took it from his pocket.
‘Oh, yes. You received it s-safely. I imagine the contents would come as a surprise to you.’
‘Surprise is not an overstatement.’
The banker smiled at his ledgers. ‘Naturally I was happy to be the sender of such tidings.’
‘No happier than I was to receive them. What is the explanation?’
‘You already have the explanation in the letter.’
‘Not one that satisfies me. After trying desperately to raise the wind for six weeks, I feel a little sceptical that it has suddenly decided to raise itself. Who is this anonymous person who has suddenly come forward as you say and placed this money at my disposal?’
‘I’m not at liberty to give you the name.’
‘Is it you?’
Pascoe looked up and met the unquiet eyes. ‘No.’
‘Is it a friend of mine – someone I know?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘If I know no more than this, how can I accept it? On what conditions is it loaned me?’
‘You have them in the letter. A new promissory n-note on the same conditions as the old, but at a lower rate of interest.’
‘And whom do I promise to pay?’
‘It will be left blank. The note won’t leave my keeping anyway unless you d-default.’
Ross got up, put his finger tips on the enormous desk. ‘It’s monstrous, Harris. It really is. Have you been deluding some poor fool into thinking me a better risk than I really am?’
‘No.’
‘So it is a friend. Damn it, I still suspect you. I can’t think—’ He stopped and pushed a hand through his hair.
‘I’d be glad to take the credit. But in my position as a banker I was not able to lend the money . . . Had I been able to, I should have advanced it weeks ago and saved you the anxiety.’
‘Well, I really can’t accept this money blindfold. It’s asking too much.’
‘Of whom?’ said Pascoe politely.
Ross subsided in his chair. It was the chair Caroline had occupied five days ago. He picked up his crop and turned it round in his bony fingers. His finances these last years reminded him often of a man deprived of air, choking, but again and again reprieved at the point of death. But never before had he come so close to the end of things as this December. Even now he felt very little sense of relief. He couldn’t at all believe it. He stared at the man opposite. Pascoe was about to sneeze, but the sudden stare stopped it and he had to content himself with a sniff.
‘It is none of the Warleggans? No swapping of horses without betterment, or accepting some favour from George at Cary’s expense?’
‘It is none of them.’
‘Can they do anything to stop this; I mean can they retain the bill they have?’
‘Not this way. With your permission I shall go over tomorrow and redeem the bill. The money is immediately available when you sign this new note.’
Ross stared at the piece of paper as if by doing so he would penetrate the secrets that were being withheld from him. ‘Is it Mr Trencrom?’
‘I cannot tell you anything more.’
‘You can’t give me even a hint?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘But you, knowing the person, advise me to accept the offer?’
‘I, knowing the person, advise you to accept. You’d be criminally foolish if you did not.’
That was enough. Ross dipped the quill in the pot and slowly signed his name. ‘Are you in communication with this bashful gentleman?’
‘I may be from time to time.’
‘Well, would you convey my compliments to him and tell him I shall not lie easy till I know his name. I’m in his debt literally and figuratively for a greater amount than I have been to anyone else ever in my life. As to the monetary sum, I shall feel as much constrained to pay it as if it were a debt of honour; and for the personal obligation, perhaps the occasion may occur when I may pay that too.’
‘I’ll t-tell the gentleman,’ said Pascoe, fixing his spectacles more firmly on his nose. ‘I’m sure your acceptance will make pleasant hearing to him. It’s plain that he has your welfare at heart.’
‘I have his also,’ said Ross.
&n
bsp; Garrick chased the cat up a tree, so Demelza tied him securely at a distance and then tried to entice the cat down. This didn’t work so she looped up her skirt and climbed the tree herself. It was from the vantage point of the topmost branches, swaying dangerously, that she saw Ross riding up the valley. She coo-ed but he didn’t hear, and she retrieved the cat and climbed down in an apprehensive frame of mind. Sudden changes of plan on Ross’s part always betokened bad news.
Gimlett’s story of a letter confirmed her suspicions; and she spent the day in some foreboding, hiding her worst fears in a flurry of work. In the afternoon, with Jeremy plucking at her skirts and getting into all sorts of trouble, she made butter, putting the scalded cream she had saved into her stone bowl and beating it regularly round with her hand. But today it would not turn, and she began to have fears either that the cow was sick or that this was some sort of omen. Sir Hugh Bodrugan had been over last week, pressing her to see a cow of his that would not calve, convinced beyond all reason that she was capable of white witchery. She had refused. Two lucky coincidences had given her a name, and the only way to retain it was not to tempt fate any more.
Prudie Paynter had had some doggerel she used for making butter turn when she was a servant here, and Demelza tried it over now; but perhaps Ross’s scepticism had infected her, for nothing happened. The afternoon was very cold, her hands were very cold, and she found it hard to keep up an even, unhurried motion.
The day had been still, no air moving and quiet except for the roar of the surf. Often the sea was a continual unperceived noise, but on days such as this it overcame the mind’s defences and life moved to its beat. It was as if a great army of heavy vehicles was passing near the house, and now and then the air tremored on one’s ears. A faint mist drifted inland from the breaking waves, greying the edges of the cliffs and sand dunes. In the garden the birds pecked at the hard ground, and seagulls circled the upper air.
The Carnbarrow Hunt was to meet at Werry House next week, and Sir Hugh had invited her over. Demelza wondered if her refusal had been right. She knew Ross’s views, but she still felt Sir Hugh might be persuaded to help them – at a price. She had coaxed a concession out of him once before and come to no hurt. Surely she might do so again.
The cream began at last to turn, and after a few minutes she went out and drew a pitcher of ice-cold water from the pump to wash away the buttermilk. She had done this and was patting the butter into shape when Ross came.
She didn’t stop to carry her board out to the stillroom, but slid through the house, nearly upsetting Jeremy, who lurched suddenly into her path.
Ross was already in, an unusual thing, having left his mare by the door. His expression was hard to read; almost always she knew, but this time it didn’t conform to any of the recognized patterns.
‘There’s going to be a hard frost,’ he said. ‘Some of the shallower pools are freezing already.’
‘Yes, I thought the same,’ she said. ‘There’s all the signs. That sky . . . Jeremy, darling, where did you get the jam!’
The little boy had come tottering in carrying a large jar from the lip of which a dark crimson streak was already beginning to escape. On the very verge of dropping it he was able to present it to his father before it slipped from his hands. Then he sat down with a crump on the floor and said, ‘Gar!’
‘Thank you,’ said Ross, ‘a very friendly gesture . . .’ He put the jar on the table. ‘He’s more forward than Julia was, isn’t he? I can’t remember at this age . . .’
‘She was fatter and more content to stay in one place. We shall have to watch his legs . . . Ross, why did you go into Truro?’
‘Some extra business to do with Pascoe. A matter of small importance.’
She knew then from some glint in his eye that the news was not bad.
‘What is it? What’s to do? Tell me if it is something better. I have been thinking all day . . .’
He sat down and warmed his hands at the fire. Gimlett had come out and was leading Darkie past the windows. ‘Pascoe was agreed that there was likely to be a frost.’
‘No, Ross.’ She went over to him. ‘Don’t play now! This is too important. Tell me, please.’
He looked up at her eager face.
‘Someone – some anonymous person – has chosen very foolishly to take over my debt, my promissory note which the Warleggans hold. It means that – for the time at least – the urgency to find the money is gone. Of course, it will still have to be found some day. But not this Christmas.’
Demelza stared at him. ‘D’you mean – that you won’t have to default – that there’s still a chance? . . .’
‘There’s still a chance. Just that.’
‘Oh, my dear.’ She sat abruptly in a chair. After a moment Jeremy sprawled towards her and she picked him up and covered him with kisses of relief. ‘Oh, Ross, I can’t hardly believe that. After all this worry it’s beyond belief . . .’
‘You describe it exactly. It’s beyond belief. All the way home I’ve been telling myself that things are just as black as they ever were before this threat blew up – that we are still poverty-stricken to the last edges of pauperdom – that in a month or so the mine must close – that we have practically nothing to live on. But just at the moment those things don’t mean anything at all.’
‘And it’s true! It’s true! Oh, thank God!’ She suddenly set Jeremy down and ran across and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m that glad for you, Ross! But glad isn’t the word! There must be a better. I wish I knew a better! What is anonymous?’
He pulled her down till she was sitting on his knee. ‘No name. We don’t know our benefactor.’
‘Some friend?’
‘Some friend. To whom I owe one thousand four hundred pounds. The percentage of interest is also halved, so that after this year I shall only pay him two hundred and eighty pounds each Christmas.’
‘God bless him, whoever he is!’
‘Amen, I say to that.’
‘Have you no idea?’
‘Vague speculations on the way home. Each seems more unlikely than the last.’
There was silence for some minutes. He said: ‘Where were you when I left?’
‘After a stray cat Garrick was chasing. ’Twasn’t fair, for the creature had a bad leg and I’ve told him oftentimes not to touch cats. Might it not mean now that the mine could go on a little longer?’
‘Where is the cat now?’
‘In the kitchen in a basket.’
‘I thought so.’ Ross stretched down to a bag at his feet. Demelza, a bit unused to this situation nowadays, made a move to rise but he would not let her. ‘I’ve bought you a pound of Soachong tea. It is better than the stuff we get through Trencrom. I thought you’d like to try it.’
‘Thank you, Ross. That’s kind of you . . . Now perhaps in a short time we shall not need to do anything for Mr Trencrom. D’you think it possible? Then we should be really free, out in the open, able to breathe again!’
‘And I brought you a new brush and comb. I thought it a good thing to have one in reserve before you broke the present one.’
Demelza took the articles handed to her, turned them over in her hands. The comb had a twisted handle, like a plait of hair. ‘Very – extravagant,’ she said indistinctly.
‘Very. I also got two pairs of worsted stockings each for the Gimletts. They were not dear: two shillings a pair. They’ve had little enough of late. And I have here a bonnet for Jeremy and a pair of knitted gloves. I thought he might be jealous if he was left out. I’m not sure as to the size. I suspect they will smother him.’
Demelza got up. The light was going, and over the hill the winter’s day was infinitely remote. Everything was still except for the muffled roar behind the house, and this was less dominant for the time because the tide was out. Already the secret spell of frost had been cast over the valley.
‘They look a good fit. That’s clever to have guessed. And what did you buy yourself?’
Ross
said: ‘I was in doubt between a silk cloak and a jewelled sword, so I put it off till next time. This was my last purchase.’
He got up too and handed her a pair of women’s garters. They were very fancy.
‘For me?’ said Demelza.
‘I notice you’ve been wearing no stockings often this winter, and can only suppose you were in some straits to keep them up.’
Demelza burst into tears.
‘Oh, come, come, I meant no offence. It was just a passing thought. If you’d prefer not to have them—’
‘It isn’t that,’ she said. ‘You know very well it is not that.’ She put her hands to her face. ‘It is the relief . . . And then buying all these things.’
‘They were none of them extortionate.’ He put his arm round her, but her breakdown was checked by a sudden howl from Jeremy, who, unused to seeing his mother in tears, was moved to copy her. Demelza knelt over him and comforted him, wiping his eyes as well as her own. After a few seconds she glanced up at Ross.
‘I’m sorry. It was the relief. You see – I love you so much . . .’
Ross stared down at them both, moved himself and happy. The light from the window glinted on her hair, on the curve of her back, on Jeremy’s clutching hands.
‘I must put them on,’ he said.
Demelza looked up. ‘You mean Jeremy’s bonnet and gloves?’
‘What else,’ rejoined Ross, smiling grimly.
With the usual sort of difficulty, Jeremy was invested with his new regalia. It all fitted pretty well, and should have done, since the shopkeeper had tried them on her own child first. Presently he went tottering off, the bonnet at a rakish angle, one glove not properly tied.
She had known that Ross hadn’t meant that. She held the garters in her hand, and he took them from her, so she sat down uncertainly. She was wearing stockings tonight, old ones, but they were black and her skin above them glistened like ivory. He put the garters on with a good deal of care. It was months, almost years, since there had been this sort of thing between them, that odd fusion of desire and affection for which there is no substitute. Her eyes in the gathering darkness glowed at him. They stayed for a while hardly moving, he kneeling and she leaning back in the chair. His hands were cool on her legs. Remember this, she thought. In the times of jealousy and neglect, remember this.
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