‘And how long is that likely to be?’
‘I can’t tell you. Provided you take care of yourself, there is no reason why it should be short.’
Silence fell between them. Dwight took out his pulse watch, but Penvenen said:
‘I trust you now feel able to overlook the unfortunate circumstances which attended my niece Caroline’s last visit. No one regretted the situation more than I, or the measures it was necessary for me to take. Now that it is all past, I should like to assume that I may call on you when necessary; and perhaps sometime you will favour me with a social visit when we may dine together – assuming of course that your own diet will not be as strict as mine.’
It was a gesture of friendship, or as near as Ray Penvenen could get to making one. Dwight didn’t answer. Penvenen went on:
‘Perhaps I should tell you before you answer that Caroline will shortly be announcing her engagement to Lord Coniston, the eldest son of the Earl of Windermere. I hope the information will not now distress you.’
‘I congratulate her,’ said Dwight.
‘Thank you. She was clearly predestined for such a match, and I should have been failing in my duty as her guardian if I had not prevented an unsuitable attachment from developing. I hope you understand it was no reflection on your personal capacities or that it showed a lack of esteem for them on my part.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ Dwight put his watch away. He did not know his patient’s heartbeats and he didn’t care. He went across the room and stood by the fire. ‘When is the wedding to take place?’
‘My sister does not say. I don’t believe the date has been fixed yet. Caroline hasn’t been well and that—’
‘Not well?’
‘One of the customary summer indispositions. She’s quite recovered. But the wedding is not likely to be until after Christmas.’
‘Will you give my wishes to Miss Penvenen. I’m sure it will be an entirely – suitable match.’
Dwight didn’t deceive himself, but he evidently deceived Mr Penvenen.
‘I’m glad you feel as you do about it. That is the attitude of a generous man. I was sure I could rely on your good sense and understanding.’
Dwight felt like asserting that no one could rely on either. ‘Continue with the physic,’ he said. ‘A little more exercise when you feel like it; but no overexertion. I’ll be in again on Wednesday morning.’
He was going to leave then, but the older man said tentatively: ‘I – hope I shall be well enough to travel up to London after Christmas. There is business I should attend to as well as the more social purposes.’
‘We must see how you progress,’ Dwight said.
He did not suppose that his patient’s improvement would be maintained at its present rate. If his diagnosis was correct, there was nothing whatever he could do which would affect the underlying disease. However, there was no point in telling Penvenen so, and one never knew with the human constitution. Obviously the prospect of seeing his niece married into the nobility would be the strongest possible stimulus.
Verity had her child on All Hallows E’en, a boy of seven pounds, and both were well. He was called Andrew after his father, and Ross and Demelza went for the christening. Because there was a Coinage due that week, Ross rode there and back in the day; but Demelza stayed four days. She felt better then than she had done since May, and Verity’s happiness was reflected in her. She was taken aboard Andrew Blamey’s ship and went a trip up the river and to a reception in the town. She said nothing at all of her own trouble to Verity. For the first time this was something she could not discuss even with her. In any case she could not say anything without telling of things which she hoped nobody but herself and Ross and Elizabeth would ever know. With George and Elizabeth now so close, it seemed more than ever important to be absolutely silent about the events of the ninth of May.
The day after he returned home Ross received a note from George.
Dear Poldark,
As you are a trustee of Francis’s estate, certain formalities cannot be gone through without your signature. Since June nothing whatever has been done, and it therefore seems necessary that we should meet. If you will come to Trenwith on Friday or Saturday morning next I shall be there to receive you.
Yours etc.,
G. Warleggan
Ross replied:
Dear Warleggan,
As you are not a trustee of Francis’s estate, I do not consider that the business concerns you. If you wish to see me on any other matter, I shall be at Nampara on Friday or Saturday morning next.
Yours etc.,
R. V. Poldark
George replied:
Dear Poldark,
It may have come to your notice that Elizabeth and I were married in June. In attending to Francis’s estate I am only trying to take the burden off her shoulders. She has not been well this month, and it would be more convenient for her to meet you here. Perhaps you will let me know a time suitable to yourself.
Yours etc.,
G. Warleggan
Ross wrote that he would call on Saturday at noon.
As soon as he came inside the gates he saw the difference. In less than three months money had worked miracles. The undergrowth of ten years had been cleared, the hedges clipped, the unnecessary trees cut down, specimen trees newly planted; the pond had become a lake and bobbled with fish, flower borders were laid out and a few late flowers were still in bloom. Fat cattle grazed on the other side of the lake. Fresh gravel had been laid on the paths before the house.
When he went in, he saw that the great window of the hall had been repaired and long crimson satin curtains fitted. New rugs were laid, new hangings on the walls. Many of the old cracked portraits had been put away, and in the big parlour where he was shown by a liveried footman – no hasty, aproned Mrs Tabb – all had been changed. Even Elizabeth’s spinning wheel and harp had disappeared.
No one was in the room, and he was allowed to wait ten minutes tapping impatiently at his boot before George came in followed by a tall, thin man with narrow shoulders and eyes too close together. George was in a fine buff-coloured suit with darker buff nankeen trousers. Then another, older man entered. Jonathan Chynoweth, Elizabeth’s father.
They bade good day to each other distantly. George said: ‘This is Mr Tankard, my attorney. You know Mr Chynoweth, of course. We need not take much of your time. Several papers have to be signed. Then you can go.’
‘Where is Elizabeth?’
‘Resting. We can complete the business without her.’
‘I don’t think so. She is the co-trustee of Francis’s estate. I shall do nothing without her presence.’
‘We anticipated that,’ said George pleasantly. ‘She has signed a power of attorney, so that I can act for her in these matters. Show the document to Mr Poldark, Tankard.’
Ross fingered the parchment, vaguely suspecting a sharp practice but unversed in law. He turned to Mr Chynoweth.
‘It is true, my dear boy. There is nothing underhand about it, I assure you. I think you can acquit me of being party to any – hm – dubious expedient.’
‘If you wish to know the truth,’ said George, ‘though it will not pleasure you, Elizabeth especially asked that I should do this on her behalf so that she shouldn’t have to meet you. Her health is not perfect at the moment, but she is fully capable of transacting any business she wishes to transact. She wants to have nothing to do with you, so I’m helping her to avoid a meeting which would be distasteful.’
Ross returned the document to Tankard, who put it crackling back into his brief-case. ‘Is it true that she is with child?’
Tankard’s head came up. George said: ‘It is true. What is it to you?’
Ross shrugged. ‘Let us get on with the business.’
There were various papers to discuss and sign. He had no intention of being amenable to their plans, but in fact there was little to query. Mr Chynoweth did not speak again but watched it all, fingering his thin little beard. George was hone
st enough in his day-to-day transactions. But when it was all done, Tankard said:
‘Er, Mr Poldark, these shares, this half share in Wheal Grace – held on behalf of Mrs Warleggan’s son – which was disposed of at the beginning of the year for a sum of six hundred pounds. Can you tell us how it came about? The transaction seems to have been irregular, and we are not satisfied that it was legal.’
‘It was legal.’
‘Well, sir, we have applied to Mr Harris Pascoe for details of the arrangement, but he tells us he is not at liberty to divulge them. We shall be glad of your explanation.’
‘No explanation is necessary. Mrs Poldark – Mrs Warleggan received six hundred pounds on behalf of her son for a half share in a worthless mine.’
‘Supposedly worthless,’ said George. ‘Who was so foolish as to pay her that sum?’
Ross put down his pen, dusted sand over the paper, shook it. ‘I was.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘Ah,’ said George. ‘I wondered if there was not some such explanation.’
‘I understand,’ said Tankard, ‘that the mine is now into rich country – that it will be very shortly paying a high dividend.’
‘It already is paying a high dividend.’
‘Ah,’ said George again. ‘And no doubt at the beginning of the year—’
‘I take exception,’ Ross said, ‘to your suspicions. I take exception to your lack of common intelligence. Good life, d’you suppose that if we had found rich ground in January, we should have waited until November to exploit it?’
‘Why did you buy the other half of a worthless mine, then?’ demanded Tankard.
Ross gave him a look. ‘Listen, man, I am not here to be cross-examined by out-at-elbow attorneys! Go back to your law books and speak when you’re spoken to.’
Mr Chynoweth drew his spatulate first finger along the polished surface of the table. ‘Come, come, I think we’re getting a little heated, eh? No need for that, quite uncalled-for I assure you.’ He stared at the tip of his finger. There was no dust. ‘I don’t doubt you had other and good reasons, dear boy. If you care—’
‘In January,’ said Ross, ‘your daughter was in straits for money. I felt responsible for having persuaded Francis to sink his last six hundred pounds in a mine. I wished to give her the money back but knew she wouldn’t accept it as a gift. So I devised a means whereby I could do so unknown to her. I thought the mine was a failure. I thought it as late as July.’
‘A dubious story,’ said George. ‘No one—’
‘What you think doesn’t matter. But don’t expect me to listen to your speculations.’
‘Wait,’ said George, as Ross seemed about to leave. ‘I think we must give the devil his due. Eh, father-in-law? On certain conditions I am prepared to accept the explanation. It was a device – as you say – a thought cumbersome, no doubt, but one which would probably appeal to an unbusinesslike mind. Well meant. Eh, father-in-law? But cumbersome. The legality of the arrangement need not be questioned, for its moral aim was good. Indeed one views it as a gesture – a rather overdramatic gesture such as one would have anticipated – but let us accept it and wait for the following gesture which plainly will succeed it.’
Everybody waited as bidden. Mr Chynoweth had not followed George’s meaning and blinked in perplexity.
‘What following gesture?’
‘Why to return the half share of the mine, now that it is successful, into the custody of Geoffrey Charles’s trustees.’
Ross took up his gloves. They were still patched. ‘Why d’you suppose I should do that?’
‘Well, you acted to save Elizabeth in a difficult situation. Now that gesture is no longer appropriate because what you took from her has become worth more than what you gave for it. The situation’s quite changed.’
‘So have her circumstances.’
‘Naturally. With her marriage to me. But in this you were acting for Geoffrey Charles. Francis’s son has no claim on my generosity. All he has is a half share in your mine.’
‘He had such a share. He sold it to me.’
‘In fact what happened was that as Geoffrey Charles’s trustee you sold this property to yourself.’
‘Yes. Thinking it worthless.’
‘We have only your word for that. And it’s no longer true.’
‘Fortunately for me, no.’
‘It’s obvious therefore that if you truly meant this transaction to be a gesture of friendship and affection in Geoffrey Charles’s favour, it must in order to stand as such now be reversed. Otherwise it becomes a sharp practice.’
Ross continued to tap with his gloves. ‘What is obvious to you, George, and what is obvious to me are two very different things. As cotrustee with Elizabeth of Geoffrey Charles’s affairs, it was my duty to do the best I could for him and for such property as Francis left him. In January of this year I sold his half share in Wheal Grace for £600. That was more – far more – than the best I could do. Had the stock come on the open market, he would not have had fifty pounds for it. No; nor ten neither! You wouldn’t have given me ten for my half share. The mine was finished. I thought so with the rest. By hook and by crook we kept her working through the summer. After an accident she closed, but we reopened her. And now we have struck tin. Tin where we were looking for copper. But tin in such abundance that it stretches out whichever way we go. Well, so now I deem the profit legitimately mine. I don’t consider it belongs to Elizabeth or Geoffrey Charles or to Mr Chynoweth or to you. And if ever you had hopes of jockeying me into thinking otherwise, you’d best give ’em up for they will not benefit you.’
Tankard coughed and blew on his fingers and looked at George. George said:
‘Since you’ve put your case so plainly, we can hardly do less. We shall contest the legality of the sale.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘You will get that information in due course.’
‘I shall be waiting to receive it.’
‘In any case, you will not come out of the litigation with a savoury character. A man who cheats his ward.’
‘Up to now,’ said Ross, ‘I have offered you no violence. I don’t want to spoil your vulgar new furnishings.’
‘You would not,’ said George. ‘I have three servants within call.’
‘Never stir without them,’ said Ross.
George flushed. ‘Go back to your scullery maid,’ he said.
Chapter Three
Unlike Julia, Jeremy seldom prospered in his mother’s absence, and Demelza returned to find him with a stomach upset. Dwight said Jeremy had a mild colic, and mixed a sedative draught. When he had done and they went downstairs, Demelza said:
‘You will stay to dinner? Ross has gone to Trenwith but will be back soon.’
‘To Trenwith?’
‘Yes. He is a whatever-they-call-it for Francis’s estate and must visit them on some business matter.’
‘Oh . . . I see. Thank you, I’ll stay, for I wanted to see you both sometime this week. I wanted you to be the first two to know my plans. I have put in for a post as surgeon in the Navy.’
‘Oh.’ Demelza stared at him, troubled. ‘Is it final? Have you quite decided?’
‘Yes, it will be for the best. I have a friend at the Admiralty, Sir Ralph Slessor, who has promised his influence. There’s no trouble, of course, in getting a ship; but one wishes a good ship.’
‘This is the second time you’ve threatened to leave us, and this time . . . Are you certain sure you are acting for the best?’
‘Well, I cannot settle here. I’ve tried but it is useless. This – war is unsettling for one thing. I’m in a backwater. It is the wrong place for a young man. There’s so much experience to be gained elsewhere.’
‘Does it mean you must leave us altogether for a term of years, like going to prison; or shall you be able to come out when you are tired of it?’
‘It will be for a term, but I’ve yet to hear how long. They’re equipping the
old ships as fast as they can press men to serve in them, but it is slow work. They say hardly more than forty thousand have been added since the war began.’
She went to the window and narrowed her eyes at the slanting sun. Sun fell and made luminous patches on her hair.
‘And Caroline? Have you heard nothing from her?’
‘After Christmas she’s marrying Lord Coniston, whoever he may be. Her uncle told me last week.’
She knew now the final causes of his flight, for in a sense a flight it was.
‘I’m that sorry especially for the way it happened. It grieves me that much when I think—’
‘Well it grieves me no longer. I am thankful for the escape . . . Oh, I loved Caroline – still do.’ He turned his eyes away from her. ‘But we were not for each other.’
‘Here is Ross now. ’Tis peculiar that I can tell Darkie’s hooves from that of other horses . . . Dwight, did you not go to see Caroline and explain? Did you not see her in London? I am unhappy to feel that this came about, whether for good or bad, because of what you did to save Ross.’
‘No, I think she sensed it long before that, and in that respect I am to blame—’
It was not often that Demelza cried out, but she did so when Ross, leaving his mare to find her own way to the stables, came stooping into the parlour.
He had lost his coat entirely except for one cuff which hung round this wrist. His shirt was split up the back, and he had used his neckerchief to tie up his head. There was blood oozing through the improvised bandage.
‘You have an aptitude,’ he said to Dwight, ‘for being in the right place at the right times.’ Then he sat in a chair and so put himself on a level to be examined.
‘You fell?’ said Demelza. ‘Have you broken any bones? How did it— No, but you did not fall! Ross, who did this? You’ve been fighting at Trenwith! Oh, your head is so cut! Dwight, I’ll get water . . .’
She flew into the kitchen, and in a moment Jane Gimlett was flying too – for unguents and towels. When Demelza got back, Ross had already begun his explanation.
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