He said: ‘I’ve been giving good advice to two other people of late, but it’s hard always to advise oneself. If—’ He stopped and stared at the door leading to the stillroom. In the growing light they could see a black stain spreading under it. ‘What is that?’
‘Oh . . . the beer! . . . I casked it this morning.’ She took the candle he had lighted. In the stillroom the cask was overflowing with froth, and beer and froth covered half the floor. She exclaimed and went back into the kitchen.
He said: ‘Did you bung it too soon?’
‘I don’t know. The fermentation had ended – I thought.’ She returned with a floorcloth and a pail. His impulse was to say, leave it, you’ll spoil your dress; but in time he refrained.
‘Twas the hops, I b’lieve,’ she said. ‘You remember you thought they smelled not quite right.’
He picked up the bung which had blown out and sniffed it.
‘I should’ve waited till you came home,’ said Demelza.
They cleared the mess. The place reeked of beer. He carried the bucket out twice and emptied it and after inspection replaced the bung. The fermentation was over now. Whether the stuff was drinkable must be decided at a later date.
When the job was done there seemed nothing more to do or say. The awful catastrophe of their quarrel had evaporated in a commonplace.
He handed her a towel and she dried her hands. There was beer on her cuff and on the hem of her dress. She did not look at him.
He said: ‘There’s not a drunkard in Cornwall smells worse than we do now.’
She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose, hiding behind it longer than she needed. Then she went to the window and opened it.
He said: ‘My dear, I bought you something in London. I had intended giving it you tomorrow; but in case there is no tomorrow for us, it would be best for you to have it at once.’
She did not turn while he fumbled in his pocket, but then he came up beside her at the window and put a box in her hand. She was surprised to see that his fingers were not as sure of themselves as usual. She opened the box and saw a gold filigree brooch with a ruby in the centre.
‘I could not get one just like the last. I believe this is French instead of Italian. The work is not quite so elaborate as the one we bought from the Jew.’
‘It’s lovely . . .’
‘I bought it in Chick Lane, near Smithfield Bars. Quite by chance, walking that way the second day after seeing Caroline. And this also . . .’
She heard him fumbling again, and after a minute he put some tissue paper in her hand. She unwrapped a necklace of garnets.
‘Oh, Ross, you’ll break my heart.’
‘No, I shall not; not this way surely. If there—’
‘Yes, you will. You do not know what is going on inside me.’
‘Can’t we agree to forget what has passed? I assure you I should be well pleased to do so. Is not our fermentation over too?’
‘Truly, it isn’t that I—’
‘Think of this brooch as the payment of a just debt long owed, and this necklace as a Christmas present. Nothing more.’
‘I have nothing at all for you.’
‘See, the catch fastens this way.’
She had been fingering it, and he took it from her, showed her how it worked, then moved to put it round her neck. For a second she shrank away and he stood with the necklace. Then she straightened up and allowed him to put it on her. The acceptance had more than its own significance. She fingered the stones uncertainly.
‘There’s no mirror here,’ he said. ‘Come into the next room.’
‘I don’t think I want a mirror just yet. Until I can see myself in some less – less disagreeable light.’
‘No such ill light exists. I assure you.’
‘Ross, you know that I didn’t need or expect a present like this—’
‘I know. But if you suppose or suspect that in buying these things I was hoping to buy myself back into your favour, then you’re right. I admit it. It is true, my dear, my very dear, my very dear Demelza. My fine, my loyal, my very sweet Demelza.’
‘Oh, no!’ she said, the tears overbrimming her eyes again. ‘You cannot say that! You cannot say that now!’
‘Do you know of any way to stop me?’
‘Well, you cannot mean it! I have never felt so bitter for myself . . . If we are to make it up, if we are to live together, I think it will be a good thing if you are unpleasant to me for a little while.’
‘Remind me next week. I could make a New Year resolution of it.’
‘But seriously . . .’
‘Seriously, Demelza,’ he said.
She touched his hand as she turned away from the window. ‘I – I wonder you had money to get home. So generous. I wish I had something for you. It is Christmas tomorrow and—’
‘It’s nearly twelve,’ he said. ‘Let us sit up awhile and call it Christmas tonight.’
WARLEGGAN
The fourth Poldark novel
Winston Graham was the author of forty novels, including The Walking Stick, Angell, Pearl and Little God, Stephanie and Tremor. His books have been widely translated and his famous Poldark series has been developed into two television series shown in twenty-four countries. A special two-hour television programme has been made of his eighth Poldark novel, The Stranger from the Sea, whilst a five-part television serial of his early novel The Forgotten Story won a silver medal at the New York Film Festival. Six of Winston Graham’s books have been filmed for the big screen, the most notable being Marnie, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Winston Graham was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and in 1983 was awarded the OBE. He died in July 2003.
ALSO BY WINSTON GRAHAM
The Poldark series
Ross Poldark • Demelza • Jeremy Poldark • The Black Moon • The Four Swans • The Angry Tide • The Stranger from the Sea • The Miller’s Dance • The Loving Cup • The Twisted Sword • Bella Poldark
Night Journey • Cordelia • The Forgotten Story • The Merciless Ladies • Night Without Stars • Take My Life • Fortune Is a Woman • The Little Walls • The Sleeping Partner • Greek Fire • The Tumbled House • Marnie • The Grove of Eagles • After the Act • The Walking Stick • Angell, Pearl and Little God • The Japanese Girl (short stories) • Woman in the Mirror • The Green Flash • Cameo • Stephanie • Tremor The Spanish Armada • Poldark’s Cornwall • Memoirs of a Private Man
First published 1953 by Werner Laurie Ltd.
This edition published 2008 by Pan Books
This electronic edition published 2011 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
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Basingstoke and Oxford Associated
companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-0-330-52430-8 EPUB
Copyright © Winston Graham 1953
The right of Winston Graham to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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