The Stranger From The Sea (13 page)

'No doubt I have. No doubt at all.'

'Nevertheless before I left for home I saw some of the defensive positions prepared round Torres Vedras and I cannot imagine, having seen the valour of our troops
and
of the Portuguese - now properly
led and trained for the first ti
me -
I
cannot imagine that the French will ever take them. I'll wager my head Lisbon is safe.'

The Prince of Wales at last rose from his chair. It was a major upheaval and peculiarly uncoordinated, large areas of bulk levering themselves up in unrelated effort. One could even imagine all the joints giving out, the utter indignity of a fall. But presently it was achieved and he was upright, heavily breathing, began to pace the room, his thin shoes
slip-slop, slip-slop.

'Defence, defence. That's all our generals ever think of, even at their best! All we can ever do is land in some outlandish country of Europe, subsist for a while on the patriotism o
f the nativ
es, deal the French a few pinpricks, and then retreat in ignominy either to prepared defences or to our very ships! How can this bring Napoleon down? I ask you!'

Ross stood and watched him. 'It's no easy question to answer, sir. Indeed, it may be best to accept the inevitable and bow the knee to Napoleon.'

'Ah, so you agree then with what most sensible men think!'

'I don't know what most sensible men think, your Highness.' 'Don't fence with me, sir.'

'Well, we are after all an unimportant island attempting too much, are we not? . . . straining our resources to no effect, wasting our blood and treasure in trying to restrict the expansion of the great French nation. They already own most of Europe. Without our pinpricks they will soon own the rest
...
Since you do me the great honour of asking my opinion
...'

He waited. The Prince did not speak.

'Since you do me the great honour of asking my opinion, then personally I should be deeply grieved to see the first decade of this century end in England's complete humiliation, and indeed in our abdication of responsibility to the many peoples in Europe who look to our help; but you, your Royal' Highness, must - above all men - accept the responsibility of choosing the destiny of your country, and we, your subjects, will accept the decision. As, indeed, will History.'

The Prince dabbed his nose with a handkerchief which had been worked in the now inaccessible town of Ghent.

He said: 'Insolence can come in many forms, Captain Poldark. As a soldier you must be aware of that. Do you speak your mind in Parliament?'

'I seldom speak in Parliament, sir.'

'Not surprised at that. You should take lessons from friend Sheridan. When he was at his best - which alas is time enough - he could
...
but no matter. No doubt you're doing your duty as you see it. Perhaps you will give me leave to do the same.' 'Sir, that is what I said.'

The Prince resumed his heavy-slippered pacing. Ross eased his leg. The stertorous breathing came near, went away again.

'Poldark.'

'Sir?'

'Come here.'

His Royal Highness was standing at a desk. As Ross went over he opened a drawer, took out a parchment about three feet by two; unrolled it, spread it on the desk, trembling jewelled fingers winking.

'See here. This is the plan sent back to me of the dispositions of the defences before Torres Vedras. Explain them to me.'

Ross screwed up his eyes.

'Wellington is an incorrigible blunderer,' said the Prince. 'So say all my best advisers. The Tories think different - but then they would, being responsible for having put him there, and the Foreign Secretary his brother. I wait to be convinced that Wellington is not an incorrigible blunderer.'

Ross said: 'If all that I have said up to now, sir
...'

'Never mind that. Explain this map to me. In fact, perhaps you do not know, I have despatches to say Massena is no longer investing Lisbon but, having tested the defences, is retreating. Some assure me that this is only to take up a better position and to place us in a worse. Others say that winter and hunger and disease are doing Wellington's work for him - as possibly he calculated they would. But I am not without military knowledge. If you have aught to say on this matter, pray say it before you leave.'

^{Chapter Nine}

The Duchess of Gordon did not have a town house but when in London lived at the famous Pulteney Hotel, and it was here she was to give her reception. The Beautiful Duchess, as she was known, had been a Monteith and was almost as much admired for her wit as for her good looks, but by 1811 she was in her early sixties which perhaps explained why the Duke lived separately in New Norfolk Street.

All the same she was impeccably and inextricably linked with the higher reaches of the British aristocracy and everyone who was anyone would be there - which, Ross said, meant the place would be insufferably crowded and unthinkably hot. Besides, although he kept some clothes permanently at his old lodgings in George Street, he had no smart new elegant suit available and appropriate for such an occasion. George Canning said it was all the more correct that, recently returned from active service in Portugal, he should wear something sober and restrained -perhaps even battle-stained! That way he would be distinguishable from the fashionable gentlemen of Westminster and the court. He was himself, he said, making no effort to dress in the latest fashion. Women -ah, women, that was different. If his beloved wife were here
...

It was Friday, the first of February. The bitter cold had quite relented and some of the mud and slush had dried off the cobbles. Straw had been laid across Piccadilly outside the hotel, and a carpet and an awning put out. Lanterns flickered on decorated poles, and menservants in white
wigs and scarlet coats kept back the people pressing in to see. There was already a big crowd when the two men arrived. In the street there was the strange mixed smell of cold unwashed humanity, horses, horse dung, damp straw and smoking lamps; one passed into the foyer already warm with candles and heavily scented with perfumes; servants took cloaks, women touched hair hastily in the long gilt mirrors, one by one joined in the procession crocodiling towards the salon where the Duke and Duchess waited for them to be announced.

Splendid blue Scottish eyes but rather cold met Ross's momentarily as he unbent from her glove; the tiara and the necklaces glittered, these latter on skin now best covered; a fixed gracious smile dimpled the still rounded cheeks; his name was murmured and he was past, a drink offered him which he accepted before he realized it was sweet white wine. 'Come,' said Canning, 'I know this place, it will be cooler and less noisy in the music room.'

An hour passed in idle talk. Canning excused himself and then rejoined him. Three men had spoken to Ross about his report and congratulated him on it. No one, it seemed, knew anything of his visit to the Prince - which was as well since the meeting had accomplished nothing.

When he returned Canning said: 'There's few enough of the Opposition here. Indeed there's a rumour they've at last been given leave to form the new Administration and are at work on it tonight. An unfortunate thing for the Duchess's soiree, and I've no doubt it will be an unfortunate thing for the country at large.'

Ross was only half attending for he had spotted a familiar figure in the doorway whom he had no desire to see either here or elsewhere: Sir George Warleggan. He was with an elegant woman of about forty Ross had never seen before. He inquired of the other and altogether more admirable George now standing beside him.

Canning said: 'That's Lady Grenville. Agreeable creature - much less needlessly austere than her husband.

But this is what I mean: they are here without their men; Lady Grey is in scarlet by the piano; Mrs Whitbread is with Plumer Ward; Lady Northumberland is on your extreme right.'

Ross was peering to his extreme right but not at the woman Canning indicated. There was a tall fair girl in white with braided hair. The frock was low cut across the bust, had gathered sleeves to just above the elbow, and a silk bow under the bust with long flowing ends. She had grey eyes, and a fringe fell lightly on her forehead. She was talking to, or, more properly, being talked to, by a burly young man in a silver coat of irreproachable quality and cut. The young man Ross had seen before somewhere. The young woman, by the strangest chance, bore a strong resemblance to his elder daughter. He stared and blinked and looked away and then stared again. His eyes went across the rest of the group and he saw two people he really did know.

'By the Lord God!' he exclaimed, swallowed, and smiled at Canning's surprise. 'Forgive me, George! There are old friends here whom I must greet.'

He slid among the talking chattering groups, avoided a waiter with a tray of wine, excused himself when Sir Unwin Trevaunance tried to stop him, and came presently up against the fair girl in white.

'Miss Poldark,' he said.

She turned, half smiling at something the young man had said, then her face after a mom
ent's hesitated surprise became
suddenly radiant.

'Papa!'

He took her by both elbows but with tact resisted the desire to crush her in his arms. Instead, he held her quite firmly at a three-inch distance and kissed her first on one cheek, then on the other and then rather selectively on the mouth.

'Papa, Papa! We didn't know you were
home’
When did you come? Why didn't you
tell
us! Are you well? You look well! But how
are
you? Does Mama know? How
lovely!
I
never
expected this
..

'And could I expect
this?
he said. ‘
You,
here,
in London. Is your mother here? How did i
t come about? Dwight! Caroline!’

So the greetings went, questions half asked, answers half listened to. In all this the young man in the silver coat seemed about to withdraw, when Caroline said:

'Ross, have you met Lord Edward Fitzmaurice?'

They bowed to each other. Ross said: 'I know your brother, sir. Henry Lansdowne.'

'Yes, sir. And I think we've met in the House.'

'You spoke last year on Catholic Emancipation.'

The young man had a craggy face.

'Among other things! My brother tells me I am on my feet altogether too much. I believe now he has inherited he is not altogether sorry to be out of the hurly-burly.'

'Is he here tonight?

'No. He was to have come but is involved in some political discussions which I believe are going on.' 'Indeed,' Ross said drily.

'And you, sir,' said Lord Edward. 'I have just had the great pleasure of meeting your daughter.'

'So have I,' said Ross.

'Ah yes, but not quite for the first time!'

They talked for a few moments more, liking each other, and then Caroline took Ross's arm and led him gently away, telling him of things in Cornwall, asking him of things in Portugal. They were returning to Cornwall next Thursday, she said, perhaps they could all go together? But Clowance, Ross said, to find her
here,
and at such a gathering. Clowance, who liked nothing better than to be barefoot and ride her big horse and to act the tomboy! Had Demelza agreed? Had Clowance wanted? Was it her, Caroline's, suggestion? And what, for God's sake, was Dwight doing here in February?

'Peace,' said Caroline, and Dwight smiled and shook his

head. 'Peace,' said Caroline, 'when we are home Demelza will explain how it came about; there is nothing to worry about, everyone is well, and if you will now come home with us and tend to your broad acres - ' 'Narrow acres,' said Ross.

'And see to your family and your mine and leave these sporting expeditions to other men, we shall all be happier.'

'Fitzmaurice,' said Ross, looking round.

'Yes, Fitzmaurice,' said Caroline, 'who clearly has taken a fancy to your charming daughter. It will do no harm.'

'But Clowance,' R
oss said and frowned. 'Isn't it
Petty-Fitzmaurice?'

'Well, it's an old family, and no doubt they can choose for themselves. His brother was simply known as Henry Petty until he succeeded last year. Lord Edward is twenty-seven. And not bad-looking and clean-living like his brother and of good repute. What more could you ask?'

'For what?' Ross asked, startled.

'For a friend for your daughter. Is it so surprising? Let the attraction run.'

'So long as it runs in the right direction.'

'Ross, are you being parental? Not surprising - we shall all be in due course! But Clowance is, I believe, far too clear-headed to be influenced in any way by the claims of eminence or title.'

At that moment the clear-headed Clowance was discussing foxes.

'I don't believe it,' said Fitzmaurice, laughing. 'How is it possible?'

'I don't know, sir. Perhaps I live closer to the ground than you.'