“I know,” said the young man. “I know, Ross. I only judge myself.”
“And that, no doubt, too harshly. Anyone sees that this tragedy has been of the girl’s making. I don’t know how much you came to feel for her.”
Dwight broke down. “I don’t know myself, Ross. I don’t know. When I saw her lying there, I—I thought I had loved her.”
Ross poured himself a drink. When he came back, Dwight had partly recovered.
“The great thing is to get away for a time. Just for a week or so. The magistrates have issued a warrant for Mark’s arrest, and the constables are out. That is all that can be done for the moment and it may be enough. But if Mark wants to evade capture I’m sure it will not be enough, because although every villager is bound by law to help in his capture, I don’t believe one of them will raise a hand.”
“They take his side, and rightly so.”
“But not against you, Dwight. However, in a day or two other measures may be taken, and in a week Mark should be put away and it should be safe for you to return.”
Dwight got up, rocking his half-empty glass.
“No, Ross! What d’you take me for! To skulk away in a safe place while the man is tracked down and then to come slinking back! I’d sooner meet him at once and take the outcome.” He began to walk up and down the room. Then he came to a stop. “See it my way. On all counts I’ve let these people down. I came among them a stranger and a physician. I have met with nothing worse than suspicion and much that’s been better than kindness. Eggs that could be ill spared pressed on me in return for some fancied favor. Little gestures of goodwill even from people who are Choake’s people. Confidence and trust. In return I have helped to break up the life of one of their number. If I went now I should go for good, a cheat and a failure.”
Ross said nothing.
“But the other way and the harder way is to see this thing out and to take my chance. Look, Ross, there is another case of sore throat at Marasanvose. There is a woman with child at Grambler who nearly died last time with the ill management of a midwife. There are four cases of miner’s consumption, which are improving under treatment. There are people here and there trusting on me. Well, I’ve betrayed them, but it would be a greater betrayal to leave now—to leave them to Thomas Choake’s farmyard methods.”
“I was not saying you should.”
Dwight shook his head. “The other’s impossible.”
“Then spend a few days with us. We have a room. Bring your man.”
“No. Thank you for your kindness. From tomorrow morning I go about as usual.”
Ross stared at him grimly. “Then your blood be on your own head.”
Dwight put his hand up to his eyes. “Keren’s blood is already there.”
• • •
From the Gatehouse, Ross went direct to the Daniels’. They were all sitting around in the half gloom of the cottage doing nothing. They were like mourners at a wake. All the adult family was present except Beth, Paul’s wife, who was sharing Keren’s lonely vigil in the cottage over the hill. Despised by Keren in life, Beth could yet not bear the thought of allowing her to lie untended all through the summer evening.
Old Man Daniel was sucking his clay pipe and talking, talking. Nobody seemed to listen; the old man didn’t seem to care. He was trying to talk his grief and anxiety out of himself.
“I well call to mind when I was on Lake Superior in sixty-nine thur were a case not mislike this’n. On Lake Superior in sixty-nine—or were it seventy?—a man runned off wi’ the storekeeper’s woman. I well call it to mind. But twur through no fault—”
They greeted Ross respectfully, Grannie Daniel hopping tearfully off her shaky stool and inviting him to sit down. Ross was always very polite to Grannie Daniel, and she always tried to return it in kind. He thanked her and refused, saying he wanted a word in private with Paul.
“Twur through no fault of ’is. A man runned off wi’ the storekeeper’s woman, an’ he plucked out a spade an’ went arter ’em. Just wi’ a spade. Nought else but a spade.”
Paul straightened up his back and quietly followed Ross out into the sun. Then he closed the door and stood a little defensively with his back against it. There were other people about, standing at the doors of their cottages and talking, but they were out of earshot. “No news of Mark?”
“No, sur.”
“Have you an idea where he could be?”
“No, sur.”
“I suppose Jenkins has questioned you?”
“Yes, sur. And others in Mellin. But we don’t know nothing.”
“Nor would you tell anything if you did know, eh?”
Paul looked at his feet. “That’s as may be.”
“This is a different crime from petty theft, Paul. If Mark had been caught stealing something from a shop he might be transported for it, but if he hid for a time it might be forgotten. Not so with murder.”
“How do we know he done it, sur?”
“If he did not, why has he fled?”
Paul shrugged his big shoulders and narrowed his eyes at the declining sun.
“Perhaps I should tell you what is likely to happen, Paul. The magistrates have issued a warrant and sent out the constable. Old blacksmith Jenkins from Marasanvose will do his best and Vage from Sawle will help too. I don’t think they’ll be successful.”
“Maybe not.”
“The magistrates will then organize a search. A manhunt is a very ugly thing. It should be avoided.”
Paul Daniel shifted but did not speak.
Ross said, “I have known Mark since I was a boy, Paul. I should be unhappy to think of him hunted down perhaps with dogs and later swinging on a gibbet.”
“’E’ll swing on a gibbet if he gives hisself up,” Paul said.
“Do you know where he is?”
“I don’t know nothing. But I can ’ave me own ideas.”
“Yes, indeed.” Ross had found out what he wanted. “Listen, Paul. You know Nampara Cove? Of course. There are two caves. In one cave is a boat.”
The other man looked up sharply. “Yes?”
“It is a small boat. One I use for fishing just around the coast. The oars I keep on a shelf at the back of the cave. The rowlocks are at home so that she shall not be used without my sanction.”
Paul licked his lips. “Aye?”
“Aye. Also at home is a detachable mast and a pair of sails that can turn the boat into a cutter. She’s a weatherly little craft, I know from experience. Not fit for oceangoing when the seas are steep, but a resolute man could fare a lot worse in summertime. Now Mark is finished so far as England is concerned. But up in the north there’s Ireland. And down in the south is France, where there’s trouble at present. He has acquaintances in Brittany and he’s made the crossing before.”
“Aye?” said Paul, beginning to sweat.
“Aye,” said Ross.
“An’ what of the sails and the rowlocks?”
“They might find their way down to the cave after dark. And a few bits of food to keep a man alive. It was just an idea.”
Paul rubbed his forearm over his forehead. “Be thanked for the idea. Why, if—”
“I make one condition,” Ross said, tapping him on the chest with a long forefinger. “This is a secret between two or three. Being accessory to murder is not a pretty thing. I will not have the Viguses privy to it, for Nick has a slippery way of letting things escape him when they are to the detriment of others. There are those in authority who would find a greater relish in their meals if I ran my neck into a noose. Well, I don’t intend to do that, not for you nor your brother nor all the broken hearts in Mellin. So you must go careful. Zacky Martin would help you if you needed another outside your own family.”
“Nay, I’ll keep it to myself, sur. There’s no need for others to be in on it. ’Twould
kill the old man to see Mark swing—an’ mebbe old Grannie too, though there’s no guessing what she’ll survive, like. But tes the disgrace of it. If so be—”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“I know where I can leave un a note; we used to play so as lads. But I reckon ’twill be tomorrow night ’fore anything can be done. First I’ve to fix a meetin’, and then I’ve to persuade’n as ’tis best for all that he go. They say he’s fair broke up with it all.”
“Some have seen him then?”
Paul glanced quickly at the other man. “Aye.”
“I don’t think he will refuse to go if you mention his father. But make it urgent. It must be not later than tomorrow.”
“Aye. I’ll do that. If so be as it can be fixed for tonight I’ll let ’ee know. An’ thank ’ee, sur. Them as don’t know can’t ever thank ’ee, but they would, fairly they would!”
Ross turned to walk back. Paul reentered the cottage. Inside Old Man Daniel was going on just as if he had never stopped in his quavering, rusty voice, talking around and around to stop the silence from falling.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thoughtfully Ross walked back to Nampara. He found John Gimlett cleaning the windows of the library, for which Mrs. Gimlett had been making needlework curtains. The industry of the Gimletts, contrasting with sloth of the Paynters, always surprised him. The garden prospered. Demelza had bought some hollyhock seeds the previous year, and in the windless summer they had colored the walls of the house with their stately purples and crimsons. Julia lay in her cot in the shade of the trees and, seeing her awake, he walked across and picked her up. She crowed and laughed and clutched at his hair.
Demelza had been gardening, and Ross ran with Julia on his shoulder to meet her. She was in her white muslin dress and it gave him a queer twist of pleasure to see that she was wearing gloves. Gradually, without pretentiousness or haste, she was moving toward little refinements of habit.
She had matured that summer. The essential impish vitality of her would never alter, but it was more under her control. She had also grown to accept the startling fact that men found her worth pursuing.
Julia crowed with joy and Demelza took her from him.
“There is another tooth, Ross. See here. Put your finger just here. Is your finger clean? Yes, it will do. Now.”
“Yes, indeed. She’ll soon be able to bite like Garrick.”
“Is there news of Mark?”
In an undertone Ross told her.
Demelza glanced at Gimlett. “Will it not be a great risk?”
“Not if it is done quick. I fancy Paul knows more than he has told me, and that Mark will come tonight.”
“I am afraid for you. I should be afraid to tell anyone.”
“I only hope Dwight will keep indoors until he is safe away.”
“Oh, there is a letter for you from Elizabeth,” Demelza said, as if she had just remembered.
She felt in her apron pocket and brought out the letter. Ross broke the seal.
Dear Ross,
As you may know Verity left us last night for Captain Blamey. She left while we were at Evensong and has gone with him to Falmouth. They are to be married today.
Elizabeth
Ross said, “Well, so she has done it at last! I greatly feared she might.”
Demelza read the letter.
“Why should they not be happy together? It is what I have always said, it is better to take a risk than mope away all your life in dull comfort and secureness.”
“Why ‘As you may know’? Why should she think I would know?”
“Perhaps it is already about.”
Ross pushed back the hair Julia had ruffled. It was an action that made him suddenly boyish. Yet his expression was not so.
“I do not fancy her life with Blamey. Yet you may be right in thinking she’ll be happy with him. I pray she will.” He released his other hand from Julia’s clinging grasp. “It never rains but it pours. This means I must go to Trenwith and see them. The letter is abrupt in tone. I expect they are upset.”
So it has all come, Demelza thought, and Verity by now is married to him, and I too pray they will be happy together, for if they are not I shall not be easy in my bed.
“It is less than an hour to sunset,” Ross said. “I shall have to make haste.” He looked at her. “I suppose you would not go and see them in my place?”
“Elizabeth and Francis? Judas, no! Oh, no, Ross. I would do a lot for you, but not that.”
“I don’t see that you need feel such alarm. But of course I must go. I wonder what at last brought Verity to the plunge—after all these years. I think also she might have left some letter for me.”
When Ross had gone, Demelza set Julia on her feet and allowed her to walk about the garden on her leading strings. She toddled here and there, crowing with delight and trying hard to get at the flowers. In the meantime Gimlett finished the windows and picked up his pail and went in, and Demelza thought her thoughts and watched the sun go down. It was not the sort of sunset one would have expected to follow the day; the sky was streaked and watery and the light faded quickly.
As the dew began to fall she picked up the child and carried her in. Gimlett had already taken in the cot and Mrs. Gimlett was lighting the candles. The Paynters’ going had helped Demelza in her quest for ladyship.
She fed Julia on a bowl of bread and broth and saw her safely to sleep, and it was not till then that she realized Ross had been gone too long.
She went down the stairs and to the open front door. The fall of night had drawn a cloud across the sky, and a light cool wind moved among the trees. The weather was on the change. Over in the distance she caught the queer lapdog bark of a moorhen.
Then she saw Ross coming through the trees.
Darkie neighed when she saw her at the door. Ross jumped off and looped the reins over the lilac tree.
“Has anyone been?”
“No. You’ve been a long time.”
“I’ve seen Jenkins—also Will Nanfan, who always knows everything. Two other constables are to help Jenkins. Bring a candle, will you; I’d like to get those sails down at once.”
She went with him into the library.
“The wind is rising. He must go tonight if it’s at all possible. Tomorrow may be too late for another reason.”
“What’s that, Ross?”
“Sir Hugh is one of the magistrates concerned, and he’s pressing for calling in the military. Apparently she—Keren—apparently Sir Hugh had noticed her, seen her about, thought her attractive, you know what a lecherous old roue he is—”
“Yes, Ross…”
“So he’s taking a personal interest. Which is bad for Mark. He has another reason too.”
“How is that?”
“You remember at St. Ann’s last week when the revenue man was mishandled. The authorities have sent out a troop of dragoons today to St. Ann’s. They are to be stationed there for a time as a cautionary measure, and may make a search during their stay. Sir Hugh, as you know, is a friend of Mr. Trencrom and buys all his spirits there. It would not be unnatural to take attention from the smugglers for a day by asking help in a search for a murderer.”
“Shall I come down to the cave with you?”
“No, I shall not be more than half an hour.”
“And—Verity…?”
Ross paused at the door of the library with the mast on his shoulder.
“Oh… Verity is gone sure enough. And I have had a fantastic quarrel with Francis.”
“A quarrel?” She had sensed there was something else.
“In good measure. He taxed me with having arranged this elopement and even refused to believe me when I said not. I’ve never been so taken aback in my life. I gave him credit for some degree of—of intelligence.”
Demelza moved suddenly, as if trying to shift the cold feeling that had settled on her.
“But, my dear…why you?”
“Oh, they thought I had been using you as a go-between, picking up his letters somewhere and getting you to deliver them to Verity. I could have knocked him down. Anyway, we have broken for a long time. There will not be any easy patching up after what has been said.”
“Oh, Ross, I’m…that sorry… I…”
To hide his own discomfort he said lightly, “Now stay about somewhere while I’m gone. And tell Gimlett I’m back. It will occupy him to tend on Darkie.”
So in a few minutes more she was alone again. She had walked a little way along the stream with him and had watched his figure move into the dark. From that point she could hear the waves breaking in the cove.
Before she had been uneasy, a little nervy and anxious, for it was not pleasant to be helping a murderer to escape. But her unhappiness had become a different thing, solid and personal and settled firm, as if it would never move, for it touched the all-important matter of her relations with Ross. For a year she had worked untiringly for Verity’s happiness, worked open-eyed, knowing that what she was doing would be condemned by Ross and doubly condemned by Francis and Elizabeth. But she had never imagined that it would cause a break between Ross and his cousin. That was something outside all sensible counting. She was desperately troubled.
So deep was she that she did not notice the figure coming across the lawn toward the door. She had turned in and was closing the door when a voice spoke. She stepped back behind the door so that the lantern in the hall shone out.
“Dr. Enys!”
“I hadn’t thought to startle you, Mistress Poldark… Is your husband in?”
Having begun to thump, Demelza’s heart was not quieting yet. There was another kind of danger.
“Not at the moment.”
Her eyes took in his disheveled look, so changed from the neat, comely, black-coated young man of ordinary times. He might have been without sleep for a week. He stood there indecisive, conscious that he had not been asked in, knowing something guarded in her attitude but mistaking the causes.
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