Bella Poldark (4 page)

'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 led 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.

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. She had only just turned into the lane from Boscawen Street, and briefly contemplated a hasty turnabout; but he was only three yards from her and there was no escape.

'Mrs Carrington! What a fortunate meeting. I trust you're well, ma'am. Though in truth I do not think you can be so well as you look!'

Not used to double meanings, Clowance charitably took this to be a compliment. He was in a dark blue cutaway coat and fawn twill trousers caught under the instep with black elastic. Fortunately he was not wearing his spectacles.

'I would have called upon you before this, but Lady Harriet seemed uncertain of your exact address. You must give it me, pray, before we separate. I did not think you lived in Truro.'

'I do not. Now and again I come to shop here.'

He felt in his fob and gave a shilling to a beggar who was importuning him. 'Last week I met a Major Geoffrey Charles Poldark, who lives on the north coast. It is an unusual name, but I did not at first connect you. He tells me he is your cousin. Is that so?'

'Oh yes. His father and my father were cousins.'

'Go away,' said Mr Prideaux to the beggar who, having bit the coin and found it good, was now being overwhelming in his thanks.

'We never met because we were in different regiments; but of course there was Waterloo to talk about."

'I'm sure.' Clowance looked after the beggar, who, unable to believe his luck, was cavorting across Boscawen Street. Then he tripped and fell flat on his face in a puddle and had to be helped up. They could still see the shilling he held firmly between finger and thumb.

'You should not be so generous with your alms,' said Clowance with a half-smile. He was affixing his spectacles. 'Giving a little to a poor creature like that is a form of self-indulgence. Besides, it is nice to be called "Milord" now and again.'

'Yet you do not wish to be called captain?'

'It is whatever you please. Captain if you so desire.'

'But not milord.'

'Not yet. I am still young.'

She could not tell whether he was joking or serious.

'Well,' she said, making a move. 'I have to do a little more shopping yet--'

'Please do not go. I have just been taken with a perfectly splendid idea. I have an appointment to take tea in the Red Lion with a friend. The friend, I am sure, is well known to you. Would you do me the honour of taking tea also?'

She hesitated. For the first time he did not seem quite so impossible. 'Is it Geoffrey Charles?' she asked.

'No. But I am sure you will be pleased. It cannot, I think, delay you more than half an hour, and the hotel is but ten paces down the street.'

Hodge was not due until five, and the chances were he would be late.

'Thank you,' she said. There were two dozen inns in the town, but the Red Lion was the largest and the most important. It had a pleasant large room on the first floor, which had become in recent years something of a meeting place for the social minded. As she mounted the stairs Clowance realized she was rather thirsty. But who was this eccentric man taking her to meet? The room was quite full, it being market day, and at first Clowance did not see anyone she recognized. Then she saw a table by the window with a solitary young woman at it. She was clearly waiting for them. It was Cuby.

'I knew this would be a present surprise,' said Philip Prideaux, rubbing his hands together. 'Mrs Poldark, Mrs Carrington. Eh? Eh? Sisters-in-law!'

Clowance had first met Cuby at Trenwith when she had come with her sister Clemency to Geoffrey Charles's and Amadora's big party. She remembered then registering surprise that this idol, this icon of Jeremy's, was not better looking. Then rather reluctantly she had acknowledged that Cuby had wonderful skin and eyes. They had spoken scarcely at all, for the breach between Cuby and Jeremy seemed then unbridgeable, and Clowance had resented her on sight -- as Demelza on the same evening notably had not.

When the plans for Cuby's marriage to Valentine had fallen through and she and Jeremy had eloped, they had, according to reports, been 'blissfully happy' in Brussels, but, while accepting that, Clowance still felt that the tragedy of Jeremy's death at Waterloo need never have been. Now they were facing each other across a small tea table,

thanks to the blundering good will of the egregious Mr (Captain) Prideaux. Cuby had coloured. One could not be sure how much she knew of the other girl's enmity, though some of it must have been made reasonably plain by the fact that whenever she went to Nampara Clowance was not there. Philip ordered tea for himself and Clowance, but Cuby said she would have coffee. There was one subject which could not add to the chill.

'How is Noelle?'

'Passing well, thank you. She has been slow to talk, but now it is beginning.'

'You do not have her with you in Truro?'

'No, Clemency is caring for her. They are great friends. It is long since you have seen her, Clowance. I'm sure you would find her engaging.'

'I'm sure,' said Clowance. Mr Prideaux glanced from one to the other, and took off his spectacles.

'Do you know what I have been doing this week, ladies? I have been to Chysauster.'

Both looked blank.

'Where is that?'

'Near Gulval. There are the remains - the very splendid remains - of a "beehive" hut. It is of early date, if not actually prehistoric. And a subterranean passage, part fallen in. Roman-British times. Probably third or fourth century. I believe a man called Borlase has written about it.'

The two ladies listened courteously while Philip told them some of his activities of the week. In friendlier circumstances they might have smiled understanding at each other, but Clowance did not meet Cuby's eyes. Tea was finished, and what little casual conversation there had been dried up. Philip beamed at them both, impervious to mood or atmosphere. Then suddenly Cuby said: 'Clowance, I know how busy you are, but would you spare the time to come to Caerhays and spend an afternoon with us? It is, I know, quite a long journey, but if you took the King Harry Ferry it would cut several miles from the trip.'

Clowance hesitated, and to her annoyance knew herself to be colouring.

'Very kind,' she said. 'If you are sure your brother would welcome me?'

'Why should he not?' Cuby asked indignantly. Clowance glanced at Philip Prideaux and wished him far away. Well, he was not, so ...

'Before you married him, was not Jeremy several times turned from the door?'

Cuby looked daggers at her sister-in-law.

'That must have been when I was affianced to Valentine Warleggan. I did not know of this. I suppose John thought he was acting for the best.'

'I imagine so. All the same, Jeremy was profoundly upset.'

Cuby said: 'But in the end I married your brother. Do you remember that? I was at fault before it came about. But I had in the end six months of life with him that were so full of happiness that I shall never forget them as long as I live.' There were tears in her eyes now. Clowance said: 'I'm sorry. I should not have said that. If we had not met so unexpectedly perhaps I should have spoken less ill--'

'It is better you should say what you feel.'

'I don't know if I have the right. I don't know all the circumstances of your refusal of him. My love for Jeremy

went so deep that it warps my judgement. I could only see his almost manic distress--'

'Ladies, ladies,' said Philip Prideaux, aware at last of the battle that was beginning before him, 'this is clearly a distressing subject for you both! Could we not discuss something brighter?'

Her eyes full of tears, Clowance turned to him and said:

'Captain Prideaux, will you please go away.'

Selina was delivered of a male child on the thirtieth of November 1818. On the third of December Valentine went to see George Warleggan at his bank in Truro. George could hardly believe his ears when Valentine was announced.

'Mr Valentine, did you say? . . . Where is he?'

'Downstairs, sir.'

It was on his tongue to say he was not in, but angry curiosity got the better of him.

'Show him up.'

When Valentine came in George was studiously writing. After a couple of minutes he lowered his pen and said:

'Well?'

Valentine was as usual well turned out, but not flamboyantly in the way Ossie Whitworth had once been. George was irritated that he could find no fault in the young man's attire.

'Good day to you, Father. Some years since we met. You're well?'

'Well enough. What do you want?'

'What do I want? Well, less than nothing, so far as I know. May I sit down?'

George gave no indication of assent, but Valentine sank into the black-studded leather armchair that Cary occupied when he came into the room. It was the least uncomfortable seat this side of the desk.

'I came to tell you, Father, that my wife Selina gave birth to our first child last Thursday. This mayhap you will have heard?'

'I know nothing of your family, and care less.'

'A pity. I came to tell you that mother and child are doing well.'

'Indeed.'

George remembered the insults that had flown between them in their last quarrel. He was not a man who easily forgot. But years had passed since they had spoken or even seen each other. There was little obvious change in the young man. The same narrow good looks, the same arrogance, the same insolent bearing. Rumours had reached George that in the intervening years Valentine had been up to no good in the county. Carrying on with this woman and that. Using his wife's money in various semi-nefarious ways. But he had spent a lot of money on this young man too, the only one to bear the name of Warleggan. What was this news the young puppy was bringing?

'So?'

'I have a son. And you a grandson. I thought you might like to know. Harriet I'm sure will be pleased to know. The christening is to be on Sunday next, just after morning prayers. Very quiet. No fuss.'

'Indeed,' said George again, from under lowering brows. Valentine brushed a dab of mud off his highly polished riding boots. 'How are the twins?'

'What? Oh ... So-so.'

'I'm sorry, I have temporarily forgot their names.'

'Rachel and Anne.'

'Of course . . . Well, yes, on consideration there is one extra point to my coming. The question of a name for my son. Selina and I have given careful thought to the matter. Would you object if we called him George?'

Someone was shouting in the street outside, selling eels. There was a tap on the door, and a clerk put his head in. He recoiled like a wounded snail when George looked at him. The door closed. Valentine looked out of the window. It was streaked with stains of yesterday's rain, and the iron bar across it did not add to the cosiness of the room. George said: 'Is this some attempt to curry favour with me?'

'Why should it be? I have money of my own.'

'You mean Selina's.'

'Not altogether.'

'Well, your mine is not paying,' George said spitefully. 'I happen to know that.'

'The Duchy of Cornwall, as I'm sure you know, has leased its duties for collection to Mr Edward Smith. He has been very exacting, as I am sure you also know, and two of the smaller mines in my district have closed this month. Others will follow . . . You 'we closed Wheal Spinster. But I have other sources of income.'

'I would like to hear them.'

'I don't think this a suitable matter to disclose in open court, if you follow me.'

'Illegal, you mean. I urge you to take care.'

'I did not say they were illegal, Father. But sometimes I indulge in a little gamble, with satisfactory results.'

'Have a care that you do not get involved with John Permewan. Or with the United Copper & Zinc Company. Or Wheal Seton. Their investors are upcountry people who know nothing of mining and less of finance.'

'Of course not,' said Valentine, who in fact was already doing business with two of the names mentioned. 'But in my view few ventures that make money are made without an element of risk.' Then, feeling the words hanging in the air, he added: 'The smaller the risk naturally the better.'

George grunted. 'If you are bent on having some interest in mining, avoid tin. Copper's doing well. If you meddle in tin you'll get into a mess like the Gundry family have at Wheal Vor. Bankrupt after three years!'

Valentine said: 'I have a notion that was mismanagement, Father. From reports, there is nothing amiss with the mine.'

George looked up. 'You are well informed.'

'I do my best. But of course you know so very much more. I doubt if there is anyone who knows more about the mercantile prospects of Cornwall.'

Silence fell. George said: 'How d'you get on with your neighbours?'

'Which neighbours?'

'The Poldarks, of course.'

Valentine stretched his legs. 'I see very little of 'em. Geoffrey Charles is up and down to London. It is said he is reading law. His little Spanish wife keeps much to herself. I don't think she feels quite safe among the Cornish folk when Geoffrey Charles is away.'

'I was referring to the Ross Poldarks.'

'You said neighbours, Father. It is at least five miles between us. I see nothing of them. The loss of Jeremy has hit them hard. I prefer more cheerful company.'

'Are you to have a big christening?'

'I told you. Very quiet. Just a few of the household. Would you care to come?'

'No, thank you.'

Valentine let out a slow breath, which George did not notice.

'Well, I must not take up more of your time. May we call your first grandson George?'

'I cannot stop you.'

'You can deter me.'

George hesitated. 'Give it him as his second name if you wish.'

'I could give him a second name so that if he chooses when he grows up he may use it instead. I do not see why he should wish to do that, though. George Warleggan is a name to conjure with.'

George picked up his pen and looked at the quill. Some fool had not sharpened it this morning.