Demelza

Home > Literature > Demelza > Page 11
Demelza Page 11

by Winston Graham


  There was a deep murmur of assent from the men in the room. Ross saw that most of the principal sellers of the day were present. He realized that something was in motion that could not be stopped. Tonkin was the eloquent one: he put into words what the others felt.

  “Well, it all rings very agreeable, I believe you,” said Francis. “But you’ll be biting off no small mouthful of trouble, one way with another. The copper companies want no cutthroat competition and the banks will be behind ’em. Certain people—”

  “Well, trouble’s better’n starvation,” Blewett said.

  “Aye, we’re not afraid of trouble!”

  Francis raised his eyebrows slightly. “I would not disagree with you, gentlemen.”

  “Mind you,” said Tonkin, “all this is but a beginning. I know—we all know—there’s things to be faced. What’s right and just isn’t always easy to come by. But while we were all here together was a convenient time to see the wheels set in motion. And before we begin, we wish to know who’s for us in the venture. For who is not for us—”

  “Is against you?” Francis shook his head. “Far from it. For who is not instantly for you may have obligations of his own to consider. It does not follow that he may not wish you well.” Francis turned an eye on Ross. “What is my cousin’s view of the matter?”

  Tonkin said, “It was your cousin who first suggested it.”

  Francis looked surprised. “Well, Ross, I had no idea. Nor should I ever have guessed, for as your own mine…”

  Ross said nothing and his face showed nothing.

  “There are disadvantages, we know,” said Tonkin, “but if it becomes a working reality we shall do away with many of the present anomalies. Look, sir, we cannot go on as we are today. Unless there is some change, in a year we shall all be gone. I say for my part, let us undertake this venture with all speed and courage. I would rather fail fighting than lying down and waiting for the end!”

  “Well,” Francis said, adjusting the lace on his cuff, “I don’t doubt you’ll give the copper companies a run for their money. And I wish you all good fortune, for God knows we have had none of late. For my part I would prefer to consider the proposal further before making a move. But I wish you well, gentlemen, I wish you well. By the way, who is to take the initiative in your venture? There must be a leader, must there not? Is it to be you, Mr. Tonkin?”

  Tonkin shook his head. “No, sir. I couldn’t do it. I’m not at all the right man. But we are all agreed who is the right man if he will undertake it, are we not, gentlemen?”

  Chapter Ten

  Demelza had been expecting Ross since five. At six she prepared supper, making it lighter than usual, for she knew he came back from those ticketings satiated with food and drink and grumbling at the waste of time.

  Toward seven she had her supper and thought she would walk up the valley to see if she could meet Ross. Julia was fed, her garden was not crying for attention, she had practiced on the spinet just before dinner, and her mind was at ease. Very nice. She would walk.

  The joys of leisure, rarely indulged, had not yet lost a grain of their newness. That, of all things, was what made her happiest in the life of a lady. In her childhood she had always worked until there was nothing but a sleep of exhaustion left and slept until a boot or a shout roused her. As a servant at Nampara she had had her quieter times, but the best of those had been stolen, furtive—nervous alertness woven in with her pleasure. If she chose, if she felt like it, she could idle with all the world to see. The very energy of her ordinary ways made those times all the sweeter. She was a lady, wife of Ross Poldark, whose ancestry in those parts went back hundreds of years. The children of her body, Julia first, would be named Poldark, with a good home, money enough, a root, upbringing, a legacy of culture. Sometimes her heart swelled at the thought.

  She walked up the valley listening to the first crickets making themselves heard in the undergrowth, and stopping occasionally to watch the young birds squabbling in the branches of the elms or an occasional frog hop and slither by the edge of the stream. At the top, by the ruins of Wheal Maiden, she sat down on a block of stone and hummed a little tune and screwed up her eyes for the sight of a familiar figure. Beyond the smoke of Grambler you could see the tower of Sawle Church. From there it looked to be leaning toward the southwest, as a man will in a gale. All the trees leaned the other way.

  “Mistress Poldark,” said a voice behind her.

  She leaped up.

  Andrew Blamey had called.

  • • •

  “I hope you’ll accept my excuses, ma’am. I hadn’t thought of scaring you.”

  He was standing beside her, thinking that the shock had brought her near to fainting. But it would have taken far more than that to send Demelza over. He kept a hand at her elbow until she was again sitting on the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she thought there was no arrogance in his expression.

  She had sworn aloud at the shock, forgetting her manners and annoyed with herself the moment after.

  “It is a bad beginning,” he said, “to have come here with an apology to make and to need another at the outset.”

  “I had not thought to see you in these parts.”

  “Nor I to see myself, ma’am. Ever again.”

  “Then what brings you here, Captain Blamey?”

  “Your visit to me. For after it I have had no peace of mind.”

  He kept moistening his lips and frowning, as if with turns of pain.

  She said, “How did you… Have you walked from Falmouth?”

  “I came on foot from Grambler, hoping to be less conspicuous if you should have company. I was in Truro this forenoon and saw both your husband and—and Francis Poldark. Knowing they would be away, the need was too strong.”

  “I am expecting Ross back any moment.”

  “Then I’d best say what can be said while there is time. No doubt you took a very bad opinion of me from our first meeting, Mrs. Poldark.”

  Demelza stared at her feet. “I was a small matter put out.”

  “Your visit was sprung on me. It was something I had put away…Its—its sudden outcropping brought with it all the bitterness.” He put his hat down on the wall. “I am, I grant, a man of strong temper. To control it has been the work of a lifetime. Sometimes still there are moments when the struggle returns. But God forbid that I should quarrel with those who wish me well.”

  “Not even your own sailors?” said Demelza, faintly malicious for once.

  He was silent.

  “Please go on,” she said.

  “The sailors quarrel with all their captains just now. For years they have eked out their poor wages by smuggling goods into the ports on each voyage. But it has come to such a pass that we are held to blame. Captain Clarke in Swan of Flushing was detained in Jamaica under prosecution, and others will fare the same. So we have reached an agreement on the belongings that each sailor shall carry. It’s not surprising they dislike it, but this is no personal quarrel between my crew and myself: it is a commotion throughout the packet service.”

  “I beg pardon,” she said.

  “I met you that day already angry from a disturbance. When you spoke, it seemed at first an interference. Only later I came to count the exertion you had been to. Then I wished it was possible to have you back to thank you for what you had done and said.”

  “Oh, it was nothin’. It was not that I wanted, if you understand—”

  “Since then,” he said, “there has been no peace of mind. To Lisbon and back I carried what you said of Verity. You were allowed time to say little enough, maybe. But…Verity had never gotten over it. You said that, didn’t you? And that she was ten years older than her age. How often I’ve thought of what it means. Ailing but not ill, you said. Because of me. Ailing but not ill. Ten years older than her age. You know, I never knew what Verity’s age was. All
the time I had her love. We didn’t think of such things. I am forty-one, ma’am. She didn’t look old when I knew her. Is that what her brother and father have saved her for? There’s no more rest until I’ve seen her. That much you’ve done, Mistress Poldark, whatever the outcome. The move is with you again. That’s what I came to say.”

  His eyes had been on her the whole time he was speaking, and she had not felt able to break from his gaze. At last her glance moved to the plain of Grambler; she got up.

  “He’s coming, Captain Blamey. You’d best not be seen here.”

  Blamey stared down with puckered eyes. “Is he against me now? He wasn’t at the time.”

  “Not against you. He was against me stirring up what he thought should be left alone. He’d be angry with me if he knew.”

  He looked at her. “Verity has a good friend in you, ma’am. You take risks for your friends.”

  “I have a good friend in Verity,” she said. “But don’t stand there or he’ll see you. Let us move behind the wall.”

  “What is the best way back?”

  “Those fir trees. Wait there until we have gone down.”

  “When can I see you again? What arrangements can be made?”

  She wracked her brain for a quick decision. “I can’t say now. It depends—on Verity… If—”

  “Shall you tell her?” he said eagerly.

  “I don’t think so. Not at the start. I—hadn’t thought more because I’d given up hope of ever anything being done—since I came to Falmouth. It will depend how I can arrange…”

  “Write me,” he said. “Care of the packet offices. I’ll come.”

  She bit her lip, for she could hardly form her letters. “All right,” she promised. “I’ll leave you know. What if you’re away?”

  “I sail on Saturday, there’s no choice for that. Set a time for the third week of next month if possible. It will be safer that way. If—”

  “Look,” said Demelza urgently. “’Twill be in Truro; that’s safest. I’ll send you word, just a place and a time. I can’t do more’n that. It will be up to you then.”

  “Bless you, ma’am,” he said and bent and kissed her hand. “I’ll not fail you.”

  She watched him leave the shelter of the mine building and run quickly to the trees. At her first meeting in Falmouth she could not imagine what Verity had seen in him to take his loss so to heart. After that, she was more able to understand.

  The sun had set before Ross reached her. Over the land the smoke from Grambler was rising and blowing across the cottages and drifting toward Sawle. In the ruins the crickets were very busy, sawing away among the grass and the stones.

  He jumped off Darkie when he saw her and his preoccupied face broke into a smile.

  “Well, my love, this is an honor. I hope you’ve not been waiting long.”

  “Four hours behindhand,” she said. “I should be grown to the stone if I had come here at five.”

  “But as you didn’t your attachment is so much the less.” He laughed and then looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

  She put her hand up and fondled the mare’s soft nose.

  “Nothing. Except that I been picturing you thrown off by poor Darkie here, or set upon by rogues and robbers.”

  “But your eyes are shining. In the distance I thought they were glow beetles.”

  She patted his arm but kept her glance on Darkie. “Don’t tease, Ross, I was glad to see you back, that’s all.”

  “Flattered but unconvinced,” he commented. “Something has excited you. Kiss me.”

  She kissed him.

  “Now I know it is not rum,” he added.

  “Oh! Judas!” She wiped her mouth distastefully. “What insult next! If that is all you kiss me for, to pry and spy into my liquors…”

  “It’s a sure way.”

  “Then next time you suspect him I hope you’ll try it on Jud. ‘Aye, Mister Ross,’ he’ll say. ‘Gladly,’ with a belch, he’ll say. An’ around your neck his arms’ll go like a linseed poultice. Or Prudie, why don’t you try your chance on Prudie? She has no beard and a comfortable soft sort of reception. She didn’t have a chance at our party, and no doubt you’ll not mind her fondness for onions…”

  He picked her up and set her sideways on the saddle of his horse, where she had to clutch his arm for fear of falling backward. In the process her dark eyes looked into his gray ones.

  “I think ’tis you that’s excited,” Demelza said, seizing the attack before he could. “You’ve been in mischief this day, I’ll lay a curse. Have you thrown Dr. Choake in a pool or robbed George Warleggan at his bank?”

  He turned and began to lead his horse down the valley, one hand firmly and pleasurably on Demelza’s knee.

  “I have some news,” he said, “but it is dusty stuff and will not move you. Tell me first how you’ve spent the day.”

  “Tell me your news.”

  “You first.”

  “Oh… In the forenoon I went to call on Keren Daniel and renew our acquaintance…”

  “Did she please you?”

  “Well, she has a pretty small waist. And small pretty ears…”

  “And a small pretty mind?”

  “It is hard to say. She thinks well of herself. She wants to get on. I believe she thinks that if only she’d seen you first I’d never’ve stood a chance.”

  Ross laughed.

  “An’ would I?” said Demelza, curious.

  He said, “Insults I have grown accustomed to hear. But, imbecility is something I cannot cope with.”

  “What long words you use, Grandpa,” Demelza said, impressed.

  They went on down the valley. A few birds were still chattering in the colored close of the evening. On Hendrawna Beach the sea had gone a pale opal green against the warm brown of cliff and sand.

  “And your news?” she said presently.

  “There is a scheme afoot to rival the copper companies by forming a company of our own. I am to lead it.”

  She glanced at him. “What does that mean, Ross?”

  He explained, and they crossed the stream and reached the house. Jud came ambling out to take Darkie, and they went into the parlor, where supper was still laid for him. She was about to light the candles, but he stopped her. So she sat on the rug and leaned her back against his knees, and he stroked her face and hair and went on talking while the light faded right away.

  “Francis was not willing to enter with us at the start,” he said. “And I don’t blame him, for the very continuance of Grambler hangs on Warleggan goodwill. That will be the trouble for many. They are so deeply involved with mortgages and things that they dare not risk offending those who hold them. But a compromise was suggested and our enterprise is to be a secret one.”

  “Secret?” said Demelza.

  “If the company is formed it shall be formed by a few people who will act for those who do not wish their names known. I think it will work.”

  “Shall you be secret, then?”

  His fingers moved down the line of her chin.

  “No. I have nothing at stake. They can’t touch me.”

  “But doesn’t Wheal Leisure owe some money to the bank?”

  “To Pascoe’s Bank, yes. But they are not connected with the copper companies, so that is safe enough.”

  “Why should you have to take all the risks and let other men shelter behind you?”

  “No, no. There are others who will help openly: a man named Richard Tonkin. One named Johnson. Many of them.”

  She moved a moment restlessly. “And how far will it touch us?”

  “I—may be more from home. It’s hard to say.”

  She stirred again. “I’m not at all sure I like it, Ross.”

  “Nor I, that part of it. But there was no other they would choose for leader.
I tried…”

  “We should be pleased at that.”

  “It’s a compliment to be chosen. Though no doubt before this is done I shall curse my weakness in taking it. There is the need of this enterprise, Demelza. I didn’t want the advancing of it, but I found I couldn’t refuse.”

  “Then you must do what you think best to do,” she said quietly.

  There was silence for some time. Her face was quiescent between his hands. The electricity had gone out of her, that tautness of mind, the elfish vitality of spirit that he could always sense when she had something special on or was in one of her “moods.” His news had deflated her, for she did not want him more gone from her than then. She longed to have more in common with him, not less.

  He bent and put his face against her hair. Vibrantly alive, like herself, it curled about his face. It smelled faintly of the sea. He was struck by the mystery of personality, that such hair, and the head and person of the young woman below it, was his by right of marriage and by the vehemently free choice of the woman herself, that that dark, curling hair and head meant more to him than any other because it made up in some mysterious way just that key that unlocked his attention and desire and love. Closely, personally attached in thought and sympathy, interacting upon each other at every turn, they were yet separate beings irrevocably personal and apart, and must remain so for all efforts to bridge the gulf. Any move beyond a point fell into the void. He did not know at that moment what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Only the outward symbols he had come to understand told him that she had been excited and nervously alert and suddenly was not. Her mind, instead, was exploring the new thing he had told her, trying to foresee what even he could not foresee who knew and understood so much more.

 

‹ Prev