George stood up. ‘Enough of this. Have done with your domestic wrangling – I will have no more of it here. Understand!’
Harriet said: ‘Agreed. Maybe we can get no further at this stage. If this were a court of law, which God forbid, there would be only one expert witness I would call.’
‘Pray who would that be?’
‘Dr Dwight Enys.’
‘He gave his evidence at the inquest.’
‘I know. But what did he say?’
‘They all kept tactfully off the question of Agneta’s wayward intellect. Perhaps they felt if they raised it there would be too many available to testify to her animal good sense.’
After a moment Harriet said thoughtfully: ‘I believe, Valentine, that with a little tuition, you could talk your way out of anything.’
Simpson came into the room. ‘You rang, sir?’
‘Yes, the footmen may come back. Continue to serve dinner. And tell Miss Ursula she may return.’
Selina went back to Place House, with her retinue of baby Georgie and two servants. She stayed for a week and then left for London, taking Georgie and the nurse with her. Valentine had had to go to Padstow, and when he returned he found a brief note.
I am leaving you and shall live in Finsbury with Mrs Osworth and my two stepdaughters. I have taken a few personal things; those which are valuable so that I may sell them and maintain myself. Pray do not attempt to follow me.
Selina
The day before she left she called to see Ross. Somebody had told her that Demelza went to dinner at Caroline Enys’s every Thursday, so there was an element of contrivance in the hour and day she chose to arrive. Ross had been up at the mine going through the cost books with Ben, which also was a regular arrangement. It was another good day, with a corn-red sun glinting in and out of prison bars of cloud, and the sea very grumpy and very quiet. As he walked back across the beach, gulls and other seabirds clustered together in protest meetings which, Ross thought, had they been human beings, would now be legally forbidden them.
The horse was tethered to a branch of the old lilac. Ross did not recognize it. He went in, and Matthew Mark Martin whispered: ‘Mrs Warleggan.’
Ross stared. ‘Which one?’
‘Mr Valentine’s wife, sur.’
Selina was in the old sitting room. Neither Ross nor Demelza thought it strange that visitors should automatically be shown in here instead of into the much more elegant library.
She had taken some care with her appearance: a purple pleated riding habit with a divided skirt, which had a longer plum-coloured skirt under it, a peaked black cap, black patent half-boots, pale yellow lace at wrist and throat. Ross had forgotten what a handsome woman she was, with her slim figure, glazed cat’s eyes, ash fair hair. He remembered there had been a time while Mr Pope was still alive, when there had been rumours that she and Jeremy were becoming too friendly.
‘Sir Ross. Forgive me for this intrusion. Is your wife not here?’
‘No, she is at the Enyses. Can I deputize for her?’
‘Well, it is you I actually came to see.’
‘Please sit down. Take some refreshment after your ride?’
‘No, thank you.’ She took a seat and looked through the sunlit window. ‘Your wife has made a wonderful garden. We seem to be so blown to pieces at Place House that very little will flourish.’
‘A protective wall has worked wonders. The soil is very shallow and what there is is not rich in humus, but if you can keep the wind out you can grow almost anything.’
‘We have a part-walled garden, but it is chiefly for raising vegetables and fruit.’
The subject seemed to have exhausted itself.
Ross said: ‘I am very glad anyway that you have decided to return to Place. I think it will—’
‘Oh, but I have not,’ she said.
He looked at her. ‘You have not?’
‘No. I am leaving for London tomorrow.’
‘Oh? You mean – for a holiday – or to stay?’
‘To stay.’
‘Does Valentine approve?’
‘He does not yet know.’
Ross thought about that. ‘He will not approve. Will he allow it?’
‘I shall be gone before he knows.’
‘Oh . . . But you came to tell me?’
She looked at him slant-eyed. ‘Do you remember after my first husband died I came to ask your advice on a number of things?’
‘It was chiefly on a question of mining rights, I believe.’
‘You advised me well, were generally helpful. Also, you are almost closest of anyone to Valentine. I thought you should know.’
‘But you have already come to your decision. My advice can hardly be that important.’
‘I should welcome your opinion.’
‘On your actually leaving Valentine?’ Ross fingered his scar. ‘Is it not a wife’s duty to stand by her husband when he is in trouble?’
‘It depends what sort of trouble.’
‘My advice, Selina, which clearly you have not come to seek, is that if, after a close weighing of the circumstances, you feel you can no longer live with Valentine, then you must leave him. But if you leave him now, at this present, you will be doing him a greater disservice than depriving him of your company.’
‘You mean Baby Georgie. Yes, I—’
‘I do not mean Baby Georgie. I mean that you will lend extra credence to the rumour that he murdered the girl.’
‘But officers went across to Ireland and took the evidence of two witnesses. That all came out at the inquest.’
‘Who believes the oath of an Irishman? That is what I heard only yesterday. Rumours will continue to circulate. Only he had the motive – or so it seems. If his wife then flees from him with their child, it will suggest that she agrees with them.’
Selina looked stormy. ‘And do they not think that an excess of infidelities – ending in the seduction of a halfwit – do they not think that that of itself is a good enough reason to go?’
‘His friends will. But not his enemies. And he has a sufficiency of enemies.’
‘Whose fault is that? He has made them.’
Ross nodded. ‘Even so. I think also, Selina, in his own peculiar way he is deeply attached to you and will greatly miss you.’
‘I have made up my mind,’ she said. Her jaw, he noticed, was quite tight.
‘Have you resources to follow this intention?’
‘He has my money, of course. Has spent most of it in various commercial adventures – that is, what he has not squandered on his wenching. I have some jewellery which has a value. And I have a property in Finsbury, not extensive but it will suffice. Letitia and Maud are there and my cousin, Mrs Osworth. No doubt this should have all been included under the settlement, but I never told Valentine. He thinks it belongs to my cousin.’
‘Indeed.’
‘I never told Mr Pope neither.’
‘But now you are telling me.’
She said: ‘You are not likely to become my husband.’
Chapter Five
Later in the month Geoffrey Charles found Demelza in the garden, which was at its damp November ebb. He kissed her breezily and asked if Ross was around.
‘He’s on the beach with Harry. Some driftwood came ashore with the last tide, and Paul Daniel and others from Mellin are picking it over. It seems there’s tobacco and a few bolts of cloth.’
Geoffrey Charles craned his neck. ‘Ah, yes, I think I can see them. And how are you, my dearest aunt? Ma foi, you never look a day older.’
Demelza said: ‘Does ma foi mean excuse me for a fib most abominable?’
‘It does not, and you know it does not. After dear Jeremy died you were much changed. We all feared for you. Now your looks are back, and your spirits. I remark it every time I come.’
‘Come more often then,’ she said, and also peered over the wall. ‘I think Ross is on his way home now. Why don’t you wait?’
‘Of course I’
ll wait. I really came to see you both, with the latest news sheet.’
‘What? Oh, you’re teasing me. How is Amadora, and little Juana?’
‘Bravely, thank you.’
‘Do you wish for a boy this time?’
‘Amadora says she does. I do not at all mind. I suppose it would be good to perpetuate the Poldark name at Trenwith.’
They walked together out of the garden, across the sandy scrubland to the stile.
‘By the way, your niece is doing well.’
‘Oh, I am pleased to know it.’
‘Vera, Juana’s nursemaid, is emigrating with her husband, who is a miner, to Australia, so Esther has been promoted. It will give her more responsibility and better pay.’
‘Lovely. So long as we don’t tell Sam.’
They both laughed.
‘In fact,’ said Geoffrey Charles, ‘there’s truth in jest. Essie and Amadora suit each other so well that when the new baby arrives I could well imagine that another nursemaid will be engaged and Essie reserved as a special companion.’
The group of men on the beach had drawn nearer. They were laden with flotsam. Demelza waved and several waved back. Henry broke into a run, intent on outstripping his elders.
‘Amadora,’ said Geoffrey Charles, ‘is still very shy. She does not easily mix with new people. She and Morwenna are the best of friends, but Morwenna can’t bring herself to live in Trenwith because of its memories for her. Also she is a Protestant vicar’s daughter. And Drake has his shipyard. They come, as you know, twice a year . . . You mentioned Sam, perhaps half as a joke; but religion is partly at the bottom of Amadora’s reticence and shyness. Papist is still a term of abuse in England. She still thinks some of the servants regard her as different, an alien, even a suspect alien. We laugh together about it, but it is there . . . Esther is quite different. Esther of course goes to church, but she has no special attachment for Sam’s church. She has been twice with Amadora to Mass in this Roman Catholic place near Truro and says she has enjoyed it. God knows what Sam would think if he ever got to hear!’
Henry was almost upon them, shouting his news with the good lungs that all the family had. A terrible pang stabbed in Demelza’s breast, as a memory struck her of a similar scene a dozen or more years ago, only then it had been Jeremy who had been running through the marram grass towards her. She wondered if there was marram grass in Belgium.
The men from Mellin made their jolly but respectful greetings. Respect was not easily bestowed among the miners, but one of these two men had been a part of their lives all his life and was now a baronet, the other was a major and a veteran of Waterloo. Demelza of course was one of themselves, but none would have dreamed of taking liberties.
When they had trooped off with their booty and Henry had bounded away into the house in search of something to eat, Geoffrey Charles said: ‘I came to tell you I had a letter today to say my father-in-law and my mother-in-law are to visit us at Christmas. We have invited them before, but they have been reluctant to undertake the voyage. Now they are coming Amadora is in a panic, and I am bidden to remain in Cornwall to be ready to greet them whenever they arrive in Falmouth.’
Ross said: ‘It will, I hope, prove to them that their daughter is not living in the Savage Lands. Have they been to England before?’
‘Times have been too stormy. But he is a great admirer of England and the English, so I hope we shall not disabuse him.’
‘What are they called?’ Demelza asked. ‘You have told me, but . . .’
‘Amador de Bertendona, that is his name. He is of a very old family and is a member of the Cortes and speaks good English. She’s Portuguese. Her first name is Jacinta. She speaks no English – or did not when I first met her – she is learning, and last Easter spoke a few words, but it is still elementary. When I first asked permission to marry their daughter, she was the explosive stumbling block. He was thoughtful but very gracious. I believe it is his nature to be gracious. She opposed it bitterly, but between us we overcame her horror.’
‘When will they likely be here?’
‘About the twelfth of next month.’
Demelza said: ‘Shall you give a party for them while they are with you?’
Geoffrey Charles looked at her interestedly, then laughed. ‘You must see Amadora. I suggested just such a thing, but she said oh no, oh no, she would be far too nervous – far more nervous than when we gave a party for ourselves. But I believe the seed has been sown. All it requires is a visit from you bubbling with enthusiasm, and we shall carry the day.’
‘Go on,’ Ross said to Demelza. ‘If you water the seeds you will carry the day.’
Geoffrey Charles laughed again.
‘With bubbles?’ Demelza asked.
‘With bubbles.’
That evening Ben Carter called to see Demelza. His brother-in-law, Matthew Mark Martin, let him in. Demelza was practising a few hymn tunes on the pianoforte that Ross had bought for her at the time of Henry’s christening, so for this meeting the larger and more elegant reception room was the accidental venue.
Demelza her husband had gone back to Trenwith with Geoffrey Charles and had not yet returned.
‘Yes,’ said Ben, frowning. ‘I watched him go.’
‘Ah.’ Demelza sat down again on the piano stool. Ben was in his working clothes and he carried his cap, which he screwed between his strong fingers.
‘I am not certain sure I should bother ye, ma’am, but I’ve been a small matter troubled o’ thought ’bout my inclinations, and I had the mind t’ask your advice.’
‘Oh,’ said Demelza. ‘Well, we can talk quite private here. That’s if it is something private you wished to discuss.’
‘Yes, that is so.’ He took a seat on one of their smart blue-upholstered chairs as if he were afraid he would soil it. ‘I still am lost ’ow to begin.’
‘Is it something to do with the mine?’
‘Oh, no. All goes well there, so long as the lodes is keenly . . .’
‘Then?’
‘To tell the truth, missus – I know I should not call ye that but—’
Demelza smiled. ‘Tisn’t important what you call me. Tell me what you have come about.’
He shifted and screwed his cap again. ‘To tell the truth, I have a taking for your niece.’
Demelza looked completely startled. ‘My niece? But I . . . Oh, do you mean Essie?’
He nodded and stared across the room.
‘But – but what is there wrong with that? . . . Essie Carne? Who works at Trenwith? . . . That is good news surely, Ben. But is she – does she not feel the same?’
‘She don’t know how I feel.’
‘And is that the problem?’
‘The problem is I wished to have your thoughts ’bout my taking for your niece. Ye d’know the feeling I have long had for Clowance. That does not move, that does not change. But she have long been lost to me. Even now, although she be a widow, I d’know she is not for me. She will marry again some day, but twill not be to the likes of me. She maybe will marry that Lord that proposed to her once before. That would no doubt please you and Sir Ross. Or there’s others interested. I—’
‘Ben, stop a minute.’
He stopped.
‘Clowance was never for you, Ben. I don’t know why, for you grew up together and was always good one with the other. But that is the way it is sometimes. Stephen came on us unexpectedly, you might say; he came on her unexpectedly and once they had met there was no one else in the world for her. But at the time I told you – you remember we talked of it at the time of their marriage – I told you that it was Clowance’s decision. Nobody else’s. Not mine. Not her father’s. I told you this: that it was our way and our belief – mine and Ross’s – that our children should choose the person they would marry, without being under influence or pressure from us. Do you doubt that?’
‘No, ma’am. I’m sorry. The words slipped out.’
Demelza put her fingers on a chord on the pia
no. ‘Then I think they should slip in again.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ben again.
Demelza took a few deep breaths to cool her own temper.
‘So now?’
‘I ’ave only met Esther a half-dozen of times, and ’ave felt a taking for her. Except for Clowance tis the first girl I ’ave felt for ever in such a way. But I thought first before I made my manner of approaching to her I should first ask ye—’
‘Ask me what?’
He smiled, half-apologetic. ‘Ye have given me the answer.’
Demelza studied him. ‘But I told you all this years ago, when Clowance and Stephen was married. In the old parlour. I remember exactly what we said about it all.’
‘Yes, ma’am, I know – I remember well. But when there’s all those dark nights lying alone and thinkin’ of them being together – and thinkin’ and wonderin’ and having no one to say a word to ’bout it all, some’ow the remembrance of what you said don’t stay quite as clear as it did ought to be, and ye begin to think things. I d’know full well that I’m not good ’nough for your family. Clowance is too good for any man I ever seen her with – she deserve a duke or such like . . . So now . . .’
‘So now?’
‘I ’ave the thought that I done the wrong thing coming to you like this—’
‘You’ve done the right thing, Ben, if those were your thoughts, so that they can be cleared away – thrown out. Did you come to me for any other reason? . . . Or is it also that you think, because her mother is far off, that me as her aunt should be asked or told about your taking for her, in place of her mother?’
‘Yes, that’s so. But also – and this you have already answered, like – I thought twould be more proper if I was t’ask your permission.’
Bella Poldark Page 17