Bella Poldark

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by Winston Graham


  But a top professional? Was this doctor as much of a leading teacher as Havergal claimed? If he were not he might need pupils, and how better to gain an extra one than by exaggerating her talents?

  Isabella-Rose was a lovable but headstrong girl, and gullible. No doubt Havergal was sincere in all he said, but she could not be allowed to do all this simply on his assurances. If Bella were allowed to swallow the bait she might make a partial success of a singing career, in a couple of years become a member of some shoddy touring company, appearing for a week in Glasgow, a week in Newcastle. Even if she had as much talent as they thought, she would have to begin that way. Ross knew that seedy actors and their touring companies were not a thing he wanted his daughter to become involved in. This perhaps was too sour a view: Christopher had a little money and, if he truly loved Bella, would not permit her to live the life of a second-rate mummer. (But what of the heartbreak of expecting to be a star – and failing?)

  What if she were a success?

  ‘You speak of betrothal,’ Ross said. ‘Betrothal leads to marriage.’

  ‘Indeed, sir. But that could wait on events. I have waited three years. It would depend on how her singing career progressed. Obviously marriage is what we should want, but consideration of it could be delayed for a while.’

  Ross hesitated. Then he looked at Demelza. Oh, wisest of women, what would she say now?

  Demelza said: ‘I would like another glass of port.’

  That morning Ross had been to call on Dwight and Caroline. He had taken one of a new batch of cheeses Demelza had made; this was only an excuse, but it served. They had chatted amiably for an hour or so; he had refused an invitation to dinner and left about noon. On his way home he had met Valentine.

  Well shod, well mounted, well dressed, Valentine had raised his crop in salutation.

  ‘Well met, Cousin. I was thinking of coming to see you later today. May I join you on your way home?’

  Their horses ambled together.

  ‘I visited Clowance last week,’ Valentine said.

  ‘How was she?’

  ‘As pretty as ever. I think she has almost got over her bereavement.’

  ‘Her double bereavement.’

  ‘Indeed. I notice Demelza has not yet.’

  ‘Not yet. I doubt if Clowance has, but you’re right; she is better.’

  ‘I went to see her, Cousin, to propose that I should buy from her the part-finished vessel that Stephen had laid down the month before he met with his accident.’

  ‘Oh?’ Ross looked at his blue-eyed young relative. ‘You surprise me.’

  ‘I think I surprised her. Nevertheless she agreed to the sale. Work will commence next week; the boat should be ready soon after Christmas.’

  Ross said: ‘The Adelaide, I’m told, was a total wreck.’

  ‘Ah, so you know about my interest then. There is little in this district that goes unremarked.’

  ‘I’m told it carried illicit goods.’

  ‘It did in part. Only in part. A few tubs of brandy now and then, a roll or two of silk, a box or two of tea.’

  ‘And tin?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tin.’

  ‘Well, yes, now you mention it. The vessel could hardly sail from these shores in ballast.’

  ‘It sailed to Ireland?’

  ‘Yes. It was convenient for us and convenient for them.’

  ‘For the French?’

  ‘Yes. The Irish make little that we need.’

  ‘Whiskey?’

  Valentine laughed. ‘Of a sort. Smoky stuff. But the French do not mind coming that far if there is profit in it. And although there is some Custom watch on our north coast, it is mainly concentrated on the south.’

  ‘Not all,’ said Ross, remembering well.

  ‘So,’ said Valentine, ‘as we have lost the Adelaide, I thought it would be a simple matter to replace her with the Lady Selina.’

  ‘Advertisement of your connection?’

  ‘It was just a thought. If you think of a better name, pray suggest it.’

  ‘Valentine, why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘You have experience of the trade.’

  Ross smiled grimly. ‘That was all before you were born. And it was chiefly when I was in some financial need. You can hardly say that of yourself.’

  ‘I have precious little money, except Selina’s, which of course is now mine. And into that I have already made far too many inroads.’

  ‘So you want to make money?’

  ‘Who does not?’

  ‘By acting beyond the confines of the law.’

  ‘If necessary.’

  They passed Sawle Church. A few women were about, heads bent, dark shawled, chiefly round the well.

  Ross said: ‘I am in no position to preach, Valentine. But from what you have said I take it that your exports could be more valuable than your imports – they clearly carry the greater hazard.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You must know half Cornwall is waiting to buy your brandy, your silks, your tobacco. In following that trade you have almost everyone on your side. But in shipping raw tin out of the county you are stepping on unpopular ground. The Society of Associated Tinners is not to be overlooked. And there are a number of influential figures in the county connected with the Coinage Halls of Truro, Helston and Penzance.’

  Valentine shrugged. ‘It is the outgoing cargo where lies the profit. Did you care for the risk when you needed money?’

  ‘I did not need money for women or to pay off gambling debts. But no . . . the risk was worth taking. And we did not export tin.’

  ‘Ten tons of the crude stuff will fetch seven hundred pounds. That shows a massive profit.’

  ‘I can believe.’

  The horses had come to a stop. From here you could see Fernmore, where Mr and Mrs Kellow and Daisy still lived in a sort of poverty-stricken gentility. (It was rumoured that Paul helped them.) You could also see the chimney of Wheal Grace, and in the distance that of Wheal Leisure. Nampara was still out of sight in the valley.

  Valentine pushed his hat back to allow the wind to cool his forehead.

  ‘D’you remember when you and your cousin Francis went into partnership to develop Wheal Grace?’

  ‘Indeed. But you cannot. It’s thirty-odd years ago.’

  ‘My mother told me about it once. It was a great success.’

  ‘In the end. But Francis died in it.’

  ‘I know. But it was, I would have thought, a very suitable sort of partnership.’

  ‘While it lasted, yes.’ Feeling he was being a little curt, Ross added: ‘Francis and I had a friendly relationship. We had played together a lot as boys. Then he married the girl I was in love with, your mother, and that soured our friendship. Later we – came together again. But you must know all this. It is part of our family lore. Have you some reason for bringing up Francis’s name?’

  ‘I simply meant that we too have a – friendly relationship. If different . . . It occurred to me that you might fancy joining me in this new little adventure with the vessel that is about to be launched.’

  Ross stared. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Why not? You have had a somewhat lurid past. Do you not find your too respectable life nowadays a small matter tedious?’

  Ross laughed, but grimly. ‘I am fifty-eight – an old man. The last time I had any connections with the trade was when I sanctioned the use of Nampara Cove for the traders to use. Even then I only played a passive part in it. And that was – let’s see – that was ’93, twenty-five years ago.’

  Valentine was not to be deterred. ‘Yet your life, my dear cousin, has been full of action, vivid adventure, even since then. I envy you. And although at fifty-eight many men are stertorous, pot-bellied, dropsical sots with no further interest than to sit by the fire like flatulent pug dogs waiting to be fed, you are still lean and long and strong, and at heart longing for adventure. Are you not? Be honest. I thought it might be a
ppropriate if we joined forces, just as you and Francis did.’

  ‘And what, may I ask, is there to be gained – I mean, gained by you – in this extraordinary suggestion?’

  ‘Money, financial backing, the benefit of your wide experience, and the advantage of working with a close relative, and a man of my own class.’

  ‘Had you not better invite your half-brother, Francis’s son? You are nearer of an age.’

  ‘Geoffrey Charles? No. Nor would I.’

  ‘You grew up together – at least in the same household. He’s at a loose end.’

  ‘Not now. He’s studying law. When we were young together there was too much of a difference. And you speak of being nearer of an age. Ten years when you are growing up is an enormous gap. Then when our mother died he hardly came home at all.’

  ‘You are neighbours now.’

  ‘Indeed, and he has a handsome little Spanish wife I would be happy to get my hands on . . . But his long time in the Army has changed him. Nowadays he would always, most tiresomely, be on the side of the law.’

  They had ambled as far as the decline leading to Nampara Combe. You could hear the thin hissing of the wind like running water through the wheat stalks, under the black clouds and the hot sun peering.

  ‘Well,’ said Valentine, ‘this is as far as I shall come.’

  ‘Where do you intend to operate from?’

  ‘What? Oh, my little shipping activities?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Officially, Padstow to Rosslare and return. As we have been doing with the Adelaide until she foundered. Straightforward, and all above board, as you might say.’

  ‘And below board?’

  ‘Ha. We call in on the way there and back. Basset’s Cove, chiefly. Isolated, and a moderately safe haven on this damned inhospitable coast.’

  ‘I wondered what you were doing running aground near Godrevy. But have a care not merely for rocks. Basset’s Cove is not entirely unpopulated. There are a few cottages. And whispers sometimes get to the wrong ears.’

  ‘It’s a chance one takes, Cousin. This county thrives on whispers.’

  Ross hesitated. ‘Talking of whispers, are you by any chance becoming over-friendly with Agneta Treneglos?’

  Valentine bent to pat his horse’s neck. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘The whisper? Does it matter? If it is not true.’

  ‘How can one judge what is over-friendly? I have seen quite a little of the dear girl of late. She misses Horrie. She lacks young company.’

  ‘She has younger sisters.’

  ‘Male company. I find her interesting.’

  ‘The other night when you were returning from Mingoose House . . .’

  ‘Oh, that was my little kitchenmaid. Can’t recall her name for the moment . . .’

  ‘Carla May?’

  ‘How brilliant of you to remember, Cousin.’

  ‘So long as you do not confuse that name with the name of Agneta.’

  ‘It seems unlikely, don’t it?’

  ‘It is for you to say. Her father is an unagreeable person if crossed. Years ago Francis, when a young man, used to fight with John, and often enough I was drawn in. They were not malicious quarrels, but when it came to John and Richard against Francis and me there was little quarter asked or given.’

  ‘Should this concern me?’

  ‘Agneta is the apple of her father’s eye – in spite of her handicap. With Horrie married, John finds his family dispersing and prizes the more those he has left. Anyway he is not a man to be trifled with.’

  Valentine pulled at his bottom lip.

  ‘Agneta needs fresh company. She responds to it. Because nature has been a trifle casual with her intellectual equipment, it does not follow that she is not capable of enjoying life. If she does not understand a joke when you first tell her and if she then sees it when you have explained it to her, she will laugh more loudly than anyone. Her sense of taste and smell are as acute as any animal’s. Why should she not enjoy herself in any way she can? I must confess I find her interesting.’

  Ross looked at his companion. ‘You are a strange young man, Valentine.’

  ‘And of course,’ Valentine said, ‘she’s so grateful.’

  Christopher left on the Thursday. His mission, if not accomplished, was progressing.

  It had been provisionally agreed that before Christmas, if the weather remained open, Demelza should take Bella to London, in the company of Caroline Enys, who was quickly drawn into the plan. There they would see Dr Fredericks. In the meantime Caroline had said she would invite her aunt, Mrs Pelham, who seemed to know everything and everybody, to discover for them how famous Dr Fredericks really was and what other teachers might be consulted before any positive step was taken.

  Demelza found herself in a cross-current of emotion. (Perhaps she would have felt something in common with John Treneglos.) To ‘lose’ Isabella-Rose – which was almost what it amounted to – only two and a half years after Jeremy’s death was something that all her instincts cried out against. With Clowance obstinately remaining in Penryn, there would only be little Harry to be a companion to (apart from the monthly visit from Cuby and Noelle to break the pattern of the days).

  But all this, Demelza knew, was often the lot of the mother: to lose her children, by illness, by the tragedy of war, or the lottery of marriage. She could not, she said passionately to herself, deprive Bella of an opportunity that she was overwhelmingly eager to take. Safeguards, all sorts of safeguards, must be written in to ensure that this was not some romantic scheme of Christopher’s, aimed chiefly at marriage to the girl he loved.

  Bella must be given a fair chance.

  As for marriage, it had been a principle of hers and Ross’s, that their children should have free choice, but it was really like a lottery ticket whom their children would draw. Clowance had sincerely loved Stephen – obstinately, passionately – and still mourned him, though something sour seemed to have crept into her memory after his death.

  But although most of the family, including Jeremy, had come to have an appreciation of Stephen’s many good points, it could not be said that anyone except Clowance had become genuinely attached to him. This was not true of Christopher; everyone in Nampara liked him.

  Then there was Cuby, of whom everyone was fond except Clowance. To Demelza she was of course a poor substitute for Jeremy – even with little Noelle thrown in – and on dark windy hollow nights, of which there were many for Demelza, no more than Clowance could she forget the sequence of events that had led Jeremy to join the Army. Yet Demelza from the first had felt a kind of affinity with Cuby, and no one, Demelza reasoned, could estimate the pressures which had existed on Cuby to do what she did.

  As for Bella, she would soon be seventeen! Demelza had known long before she was seventeen whom she loved and would always love. (It wasn’t the same, the other side of her argued. She and Ross had been living in the same house and seen much of each other, albeit as master and servant. Was Bella being enchanted by the glamorous ex-soldier without having any chance of seeing whatever obverse side of the coin might exist?)

  Ross did not tell Demelza about Valentine’s proposition. He had intended to mention it amusedly, but the conversation with Christopher the same night had rendered his encounter unimportant. His wife at the moment only had the problem of Bella in her head and heart.

  Once or twice his thoughts roamed over the proposition Valentine had put to him. No one but a perverse, slightly unstable character like Valentine would ever have suggested it. It was true that since Jeremy’s death Ross had lived quietly, but at no time had he considered it ‘tedious’. His chief aim had been to bring Demelza back to normality, and in this to a large extent he thought he had succeeded. Her long spells of silence had gone. He had tried to take her out to supper parties or for weekends in the county. With that he was content in making her content.

  Had he had ideas of resuming a more publicly active life, it would certainly not have l
ed him to the illegalities of tin smuggling. If there was one disturbing aspect to his present retirement, it was the thought of unfinished business at Westminster. When the war ended he had felt that, whatever the value of his activities over the previous ten years, they had now been justified by the defeat of France. It had been his only reason for remaining Lord Falmouth’s representative in the Commons. That and Jeremy’s death had led him to resign his seat. He had no further use for it.

  He had expected – as had many – that the end of the war would bring not merely peace to Britain but a wave of prosperity. It had not happened. The fall in government spending from its wartime levels had meant a drastic drop in the demand for British manufactures. Then the sudden demobilization of soldiers and sailors had thrown thousands of extra men upon the labour market. Many factories in the north and Midlands had closed down, and agriculture too had fallen into a deep depression. Much agitation and rioting had led to the burning and smashing of machinery, so that the government, instead of introducing at least some of the reforms planned by Pitt, had brought in more repressive measures. Canning was back in England, had become MP for Liverpool, and often wrote to Ross. Ross sometimes thought the letters contained a hint of reproach.

  The only serious content in the encounter with Valentine had been his near admission about Agneta.

  If Valentine were to antagonize the Treneglos family it would be too close to Nampara to be comfortable.

  Especially as the Trenegloses were known to believe the local gossip that Valentine was Ross’s son.

  Chapter Four

  Clowance did not see the over-attentive Mr Prideaux for nearly three weeks. Then one Wednesday, having ridden into Truro to order some supplies, she saw him coming towards her in Church Lane.

 

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