Bella Poldark

by Winston Graham

  ‘Did you tell her this? Did you explain it?’

  ‘Of course!’ He hesitated. ‘Of course. But now, whatever she may feel for me, she will need comfort and encouragement. I know she will get it from her family but I can add to it – greatly add to it – because in this respect, forgive me, I know her better than they do. For a singer to lose her voice – even if temporarily – it is almost like losing one’s life! She will feel bereft, crippled, humiliated. I have to see her to try to give her back the confidence she has lost. I pray you to consider this.’

  ‘Christopher!’ Bella exclaimed, her voice rising above a croak. ‘They told me you was here! No, you must not kiss me, I am still infective!’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Christopher. ‘You know my moustache kills every germ in the calendar. But you are very slim! Well, well, here we are; I have been here already two days of the five I can stay, and they would not let me see you until now, not until Little Red Riding Hood had been warned of the dangers of seeing the Big Bad Wolf. What joy to see you again! Are they treating you well in this hospital?’

  ‘Quite well, thank you.’

  ‘Are you permitted to come for a swim with me? At Christmas it was too cold.’

  Bella looked at the raindrops slithering down the windows, and giggled. ‘You are late, too late. Last week was so hot.’

  Christopher took the cork out of a bottle of medicine Dwight Enys had prescribed and sniffed it. ‘Is he good, this sawbones? He rather impresses me, I must say, but you cannot expect the best attention in a back-o’-beyond place like this. As soon as you are running around you must come to London.’

  After a pause Bella said: ‘I am glad to see you, Christopher. We must talk—’

  ‘Of course we must talk when you are better. Meantime, I hear you were a brilliant success in Rouen. I must hear first all about that. I know Dr Fredericks is inclined to dismiss Il Barbiere di Siviglia as opera buffa, but my instinct is to dismiss him. The other day I bumped into Franz Von Badenberg, and he was asking about you. He had seen The Barber at the King’s when it came over a couple of years ago, and he said it was angelic fun!’

  Bella gave him an edited version of what had happened in Rouen, and he stroked his moustache and watched her, his blue eyes never off her face.

  At the last she tailed off, and the eager expression faded. ‘But my voice, Christopher. My instrument. Has it gone for ever?’

  ‘Of course not. In—’

  ‘It is three weeks. Soon it will be four. Of course I try it out sometimes, just here in my room when nobody is about. The – the lower register is none too bad. But at present the higher notes are impossible. It is not so much that I cannot reach them, it is that they are harsh.’

  ‘But it has improved over the last two weeks?’

  ‘Oh yes, but—’

  ‘Then you are being too impatient, my sweet. What does Dr Enys say?’

  ‘Much what you do. But does he know? Does anyone know? My mother had the same disease thirty years ago, and her voice when she sings today is still just a teeny bit husky.’

  ‘I have never noticed it.’

  ‘You would if you were listening to her singing carols! If the high notes of my voice remain husky I shall be of no further use to Signor Rossini or any other operatic composer!’

  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbed her face, drying the tears.

  Chapter Eight

  Valentine rode over to Rayle Farm to see his wife.

  Rayle Farm was much more a farmhouse than Fernmore had ever been. It had begun as a smallholding of about a hundred acres, but tin had been discovered on the land and most of it had been despoiled by the scouring and excavations of the tinners. As often happened, the tin prospectors had found what little there was to find, the workings had been abandoned and the mining work had moved elsewhere, leaving a scarred landscape, two small ruined buildings and mounds of attle. The farmhouse looked out on them and it was not an agreeable vista. However, the view from the back was altogether different, there being the massed bank of fir trees, mixed with holly and arbutus, which separated them from the carefully preserved estate of Tehidy.

  Valentine reached the front door, could not at first find a tree, so wrapped the reins round a granite pillar about four feet high with an unreadable inscription on it.

  Selina’s cousin, Henrietta Osworth, came to the door. She was a tall, masculine woman with a wisp of moustache on her lip. (George had hated her on sight, and Valentine, who had met her before, was for once of the same opinion as his putative father.)

  He put on his most agreeable smile. ‘Henry! Welcome to Cornwall! I thought I’d look in on you to see if you were happily settled.’

  ‘The kitchen chimney smokes,’ said Henrietta. ‘There is mildew in the parlour and in this district you cannot get any help. Anyway, what do you want?’

  ‘I called to see Selina and little Georgie.’

  She barred the way. ‘I was told not to let you in.’

  ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Your father. Sir George—’

  There was a patter behind her, and a child dressed in a woollen playsuit insinuated himself round Henrietta’s powerful legs.

  ‘Dodie! Dodie! Dodie!’

  It was the child’s pet name for his father. Valentine picked him up, lifted him high, then gave him a great hug. A big man in shirtsleeves and a green apron also appeared and looked at Valentine with hostility.

  ‘Georgie, Georgie, my little man, so you have not forgotten me!’

  ‘Dodie! Dodie!’ His tiny hands were stroking his father’s face.

  ‘Do you wish this gentleman to be admitted, madam?’ said the man in the green apron.

  Selina had appeared, her blonde hair scraped back, her cat’s eyes unwelcoming. ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘Look,’ said Valentine, eyeing his wife. ‘I am coming in for fifteen minutes. I have a right to see my son, and I have a right to speak to you. If this man tries to stop me I’ll break his back.’

  ‘Come along now,’ said the servant. ‘You ’eard what Madam said.’ He took a step forward.

  ‘Wait,’ said Selina. She knew what Valentine in one of his rare tempers was capable of. ‘Let Mr Warleggan in, Jessop. He may stay for fifteen minutes only. If I ring the bell please come in and throw him out. In the meantime go to the Gales and ask Bert Gales to be on hand to assist you.’

  Glowering, Jessop withdrew. In the front parlour Valentine looked round at the green chintz furniture, at the military sketches on the walls. Georgie was holding onto his hand and trying to resist having his other hand held by Henrietta.

  Valentine crouched down talking to little George. Then he looked up and said: ‘He has made big strides. He talks well for his age. Have you been teaching him yourself?’

  ‘Dodie! Dodie! Dodie!’

  ‘Pray say what you want to say and then leave.’

  He took a seat and crossed his legs. Georgie looked at Henrietta resentfully and buried his head in his father’s lap. Valentine stroked his son’s dark curly hair.

  ‘Why have you come back to Cornwall, Selina?’

  ‘Because I chose to.’

  ‘With my father’s encouragement?’ When Selina did not answer, ‘Then why come and live in a hovel like this? When you could live in a house that once was yours and is a mansion by comparison?’

  ‘I would gladly move in if you would move out.’

  There was a pause. Valentine said: ‘Henry, will you please leave us for a few minutes? And take Georgie with you. It is not suitable that a child should be present when his parents are quarrelling. I endured that a lot when I was young and swore a child of mine would not be subjected to it.’

  Henrietta glanced at him, then looked at Selina.

  Selina said: ‘Yes, go on, go on. I am not afraid of being alone with this – this man. I will call when I need you.’

  Georgie began to whimper when Henrietta picked him up. Presently husband and wife were alone.
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br />   ‘That’s better,’ Valentine said, stretching his legs. ‘Now tell me what arrangement you have made with my father.’

  She stared at his long legs, focused on the crooked one, as if by looking at this mild deformity she would strengthen herself to reject everything he said.

  ‘Your father has offered me this house and a monthly allowance provided I have no association with you.’

  ‘Is it generous?’

  ‘Generous enough to live on. Not generous compared to the fortune I brought you on marriage, which you squandered.’

  He shrugged. ‘That was my misfortune as well as yours. But not all is lost. I have sold the mine at a profit and kept an interest in it. And, not unnaturally, I am fond of young George – as he is of me.’

  ‘That’s your misfortune.’

  ‘You are not legally entitled to the exclusive custody of my son. If I take this to court, offering you and him a home and a family life, they will find for me.’

  ‘Family life!’ she said. ‘With whores and drunkards in and out of the house at all hours! With a wild ape rampaging! Your father will bring all his weight against you in that. A man of his standing against a man of your reputation! And he will certainly offer to accept responsibility for little Georgie’s upbringing—’

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I suppose I should have known that was what he was planning. He will gradually take over complete custody of my son and try to bring him up after his own money-grabbing image. Smelter George! Little Smelter Georgie! Really, Selina. I can hardly believe that you should not see through his shoddy devices!’

  ‘Of course I see through them!’ she shouted, her delicate face distorted. ‘And I welcome them! Compared to the dissolute life you lead! A life of lies and deceit. Do you wish him to grow up like you? What a model – what a prospect for a child!’

  The clock struck four. Time was pressing. He said: ‘There may be something I should have told you long ago. Perhaps you have heard rumours, I don’t know. Don’t you really know why George hates me so much?’

  ‘I well understand it.’

  ‘Not the depths of it. It is because all these years there has been a suspicion in his soul that I am not his son.’

  Selina took out a handkerchief and dabbed her heated face. ‘You’ve hinted at it before – before even we were married. What does it matter?’

  ‘It matters to him.’

  ‘Well, of course it does. And to you if you believe it. But it makes no difference that you betrayed me with half a dozen women, and when the last refused to be thrown over when you tired of her, you killed her or had her killed by some crony. Now you have turned the house into a brothel and a gaming den . . .’

  He slowly sat up and put his hands on his knees, staring at her.

  ‘My cronies do not stoop to murder. They come and go at my invitation to liven up a life that I find increasingly dull. At present I am living alone with only David Lake and the ape for company. If you believe I kill the women I make love to, I might kill you, might I not? Do you realize the danger you are in?’

  She said: ‘You will never be admitted to this house again.’

  There was a rattling at the door handle. She went to the door and opened it. Georgie scuttered in.

  ‘Dodie, Dodie, Dodie!’

  Valentine gathered him up and looked at him closely.

  He said sardonically: ‘What a fine lad! I can see him growing up the spitting image of his grandfather.’

  When he got back to Place House – it had been a thoughtful ride – Valentine stopped at the mine and spent half an hour viewing the small pumping engine which was in the process of being erected, before he went in, ignoring for the time being Butto’s screams of greeting, and found David Lake in one of the back kitchens cleaning his fowling piece. Hanging from a cord were a brace of wild duck, six rabbits and three packs of dried figs.

  Noticing Valentine’s glance at the last, David said: ‘Could not shoot those, so I had to buy ’em from that fellow who comes round.’

  Valentine sat on the corner of the table and dangled a leg. ‘Trying to curry favour with Butto?’

  ‘Course I am. Wish he liked me as much as he likes you.’

  ‘He tolerates you. But take your time. Pander to his belly and he will like you in the end.’

  David peered up the barrel of his gun. ‘How was the little woman?’

  ‘Not coming round at all. To think I used to think I loved her.’

  ‘Sure you don’t still?’

  ‘Little Georgie was in good form. By God, how he has grown!’

  ‘Did he recognize you?’

  ‘Of course, you fool.’

  ‘One can’t take it for granted. Little boys of that age tend to cling to their mamas and to forget the old man if he is not about.’

  Valentine chewed the finger of his riding glove. ‘How long have you been here, David?’

  The other man looked up. ‘What, here? In this house? Six or seven months, on and off. Why, are you getting sick of me?’

  ‘No . . . part of the time you are my only companion. But you stay. You do nothing very much. This is a barren corner of England. I wonder what attracts you.’

  ‘Just because it is the life I enjoy leading. By nature I’m slothful. I like the sun and the wind and the sea and the sand and all the smells, of seaweed, of salt water, of gorse bushes, of broom, of rabbits, of dogs, of wild apes, of wild men, of—’

  ‘That will do.’

  ‘If I go back to Leicestershire my father will nag me to read for the bar . . .’

  ‘I thought you already had.’

  ‘More or less. But I prefer the life of dissolute drunken parties given by a dissolute drunken fellow old Etonian who has space in his house and wine in his cellars and makes amusing company. Do you want me to pay? Or to go?’

  ‘Neither. Calm yourself.’

  ‘I am not agitated. I am only agitated when someone advises me to reduce my diet.’

  Valentine said, after a moment: ‘It is strange: I eat and drink excessively but never put on an ounce of weight. Every ounce you eat or drink translates itself into fat . . . Yet we are both really equally unfit compared – compared, say, to Butto, who continues to have a great belly on him and yet is immensely stronger than we are.’

  David said ironically: ‘Maybe we should eat nothing but roots and shoots and nuts.’

  ‘Don’t know if he is entirely vegetarian,’ Valentine said reflectively. ‘I saw him the other day catch and eat a thrush.’

  ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t develop a taste for human flesh.’ David took up his gun and hung it from a nail on the wall.

  ‘David.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have been thinking.’

  ‘So it seems.’

  ‘You may be unfit, but it is not so long since you were a soldier. You’re trained. Could you climb a wall?’

  ‘How high?’

  ‘I wondered if you would like to undertake a little adventure with me. Not perhaps yet, but in a while.’

  ‘Say on.’

  Valentine picked at a front tooth. ‘Would you like to help me with a kidnapping?’

  ‘Kid—? You’re joking . . . Who?’

  ‘Little George Warleggan.’

  ‘What d’you mean? The baby?’

  ‘The boy, yes.’

  ‘You serious?’

  ‘Smelter George is intent on preventing me from having access to the lad. He intends virtually to adopt him, bring him up in his own image, turn him into a pinch-penny usurer – and Selina is prepared to go along with that. She is playing the complete bitch. I am not prepared to lie down and accept such a terrible fate for the boy. I want custody of him – part of the time or the whole of the time.’

  Silence fell. Even Butto had stopped chattering to himself.

  David said: ‘What’s the sentence for kidnapping? Death by hanging, I think.’

  ‘For seizing some young person and demanding a ransom from his parents? I shouldn’t
be surprised. This is my own son, kept from me by force! I have a right to his custody!’

  ‘Could you not first go to the courts?’

  ‘Smelter George carries a lot of weight in the county. With most folks in Truro it’s “Yes, Sir George. No, Sir George. Of course, Sir George.” My chances would not be that good.’

  ‘So you mean—’

  ‘In the vast stores of your memory, my dear David, accumulated from your extensive studies, you will perhaps have stumbled on an old proverb which says “Possession is nine-tenths of the law.” ’

  ‘Very droll. You know it was our favourite proverb at Eton. Or at least the practice of the proverb, which practice I assume you expect me to recall. Go on.’

  ‘There is not much to go on about,’ said Valentine, ‘as yet. I would do nothing yet, in order to lull them into a sense of false security. But plans might I think be made, talked over, considered. There are a variety of ideas which can be given an airing. I want to know if you would be willing to help me.’

  ‘Put that way, how could I refuse?’

  Chapter Nine

  Edward had said he would like the wedding to be as quiet as possible, and Clowance had fully agreed. But his position in the world forced some extra attention and publicity on them. His brother and sister-in-law had said they would certainly like to come. The finest house in the district was Trenwith, so they were invited to stay there. A dozen of Edward’s personal friends could not be left out, and those had to be accommodated. Killewarren was made use of. Valentine, who in his downbeat offhand way seemed pleased with the prospect of his cousin’s remarriage, offered accommodation at Place House, but every Poldark in sight thought this an invitation not to be taken up.