Jeremy Poldark (7 page)

Bodmin at the time of the summer assizes of 1790
was a town with three thousand inhabitants and twenty-nine public houses.

A historian passing through two centuries before
had noted the unhealthiness of the situation, the houses in the-mile-long main
street being, he-pointed out, so shut off from sun by the hill behind that no
light could have entrance to their stairs nor open air in their rooms. When it
rained, he added, all the filth of the outbuildings and stables was washed down
through these houses into the street; and, further, the main water supply ran
openly through the churchyard, which was the ordinary place of burial for town
and parish.

The intervening years had not changed the
situation, but there was nothing so far as Ross could see in the hard-bitten
look of the inhabitants to suggest they suffered any unusual apprehensions from
sickness or, pestilence. Indeed in the previous summer, while cholera raged in
the districts around, the town had escaped.

He presented himself at the gaol on Thursday the
second of September, and Demelza followed on the Saturday. He had been opposed
to her being at the trial at all, but she had insisted so vehemently that for
once he gave way. He reserved a room for her at the George and Crown, and a
place for her on the midday coach, but unknown-to him she had been making
extra arrangements of her own. Bailey's Flyer began its long run from the west
country at Falmouth, and when she met it at Truro at eleven, forty-five Verity
was travelling in it.

They greeted each other like old lovers, kissing
with a depth of affection that trouble brought to the surface, each aware of
the other's love for Ross and of a uniting purpose.

" Verity! Oh, I'm that glad to see you;
it's been an age and no one to talk to as I talk to you." Demelza wanted
to board the stage at once, but Verity knew they had a quarter of an hour's
wait, so steered her cousin-in-law into the inn. They sat in a comer by the
door and talked in earnest confidential tones. Verity thought Demelza looked
years older than at their last meeting, and thinner and paler, but somehow it
all suited her dark hair and brows and wayward eyes.

"I wish I could write like you,"
Demelza said. "Letters that tell something. I can't write, no more'n
Prudie Paynter, and never shall. It is there, - there in my mind, but when I
pick up the quill it all puffs away like steam out of the spout of a
kettle"

Verity said: "But tell me now, who is to be
for Ross's defence, and what witnesses will be called in his favour? I am so
ignorant of these things. How is the jury chosen? Is it of freemen and will
they look on such a crime indulgently? And the judge "

DemeLza tried to satisfy her from the
information she had. She was surprised to find Verity as unlearned in the law
as herself. They struggled with-its complexities together.

Verity said "Andrew would have come, but he
is at sea. I should have been happier with him to lean on. But perhaps it's for
the best.... You don't know, I suppose, if Francis will be at the
assizes?"

"No.... No, I don't think so. But there
will be a great many there. We're lucky, so they say, to have accommodation,
because there's an election this coming week - between Unwin Trevaunance and
Michael Chenhalls on the Basset side, and Sir Henry Corrant and Hugh Dagge on
the Boscoigne. There'll be a big fuss about that"

You're well informed, Is that Unwin Trevaunance,
Sir John's brother?"

"Yes. We-I-have got to know Sir John a
slight bit. Of course Ross have known him for years-but he happened to have a
sick cow-and I cured her - or she got, better of her own-and so I've been over
there once or twice and have details of the election."

"A sick cow?"

Demelza ; coloured a little." It was
nothing important. Verity, I don't want for you to mind if I act strange this
week end. It is only a track of my own I'm following, like, and maybe it will
lead somewhere and maybe it will lead to a dead end. But it is just the way I
feel about things, and I hope you'll understand. Are you really happy with
Andrew?"

I'm very happy, thank you thanks, to you, my
dear. But what is it you intend to do this week end?"

Maybe nothing at all. It is, only just a
warning. And have you met your stepchildren yet?"

Verity opened her new velvet bag, took out a
handkerchief, then drew the strings of the bag together again. She frowned at
the handkerchief.

No, not yet. I haven't met them yet: because James
is away still and but I'll tell you about it later ... I think we should take
our seats now."

They went out to the waiting coach, with its fresh
horses stirring restlessly in the traces and the postboys to hand them up. They
were the first in the vehicle, but a moment later three more entered, and
several climbed on top. It was to be a crowded journey.

The clash of election and assize had given the
soberer citizens of Bodmin some anxious thought: the coincidence was maladroit,
to say the least inns would be packed to suffocating one week and empty the
next; the solemn process of the law might be disconcerted by the no less
important but noisier processes of an election contest in which some bad blood
was already being shown. Everyone knew that there were two mayors in the town,
each representing a rival patron; but no one yet knew which would prevail
during this allimportant week.

The election of the members of Parliament, in
more cordial circumstances, might have been put through in a couple of hours
and no one the worse, since there were only thirty-six, electors, members of a
Common Council under the mayor. Unfortunately the dispute as to the mayoral
office raised questions about the validity of the Council, each mayor having
his own version of the electoral roll. Mr. Lawson, one mayor, had among his
common councillors his brother, his wife's brother, a cousin, a nephew, and
four sons, and this was a situation which Mr. Michell, the other mayor, passionately
challenged.

As to the law, the lists were crowded with cases
from the deferred spring assizes, the gaol crowded with felons, and the inns
crowded with litigants and witnesses. On the Friday Ross had his first
interview with his counsel, Mr. Jeffery Clymer, K. C., a burly man of forty
with a possessive nose and one of those chins which no razor's edge will
whiten. All considered, Ross thought it a good thing the barrister came in his
robes or the turnkey might have been reluctant to let him out again.

Mr. Clymer thought the case of the Crown v. R.
V. Poldark would not come on before Wednesday morning. In the meantime he
thumbed through Mr. Pearce's brief, shot questions at his client, tutted over
the answers and sniffed at a handkerchief soaked in vinegar. When he left he
said he would be round on Monday with a list of witnesses who had been subpoenaed
to appear and a draft of the line of defence he would advise his client to
pursue. The one tentatively sketched out by Mr. Pearce was quite useless - it
admitted altogether too much. When Ross said that was the defence Mr. Pearce
had prepared on his instructions, Clymer said fiddlesticks, it wasn't for a
client to issue instructions of that, sort; a client must be
guided
by
his legal advisers or what was the good of having them. You
couldn't plead not guilty and say in the next breath, I did it after all. It
was an infernal pity Captain Poldark had made such admissions and offered such
expressions of opinion to the examining justice. Asking for trouble, that's
what you'd call it. Whole purpose of the defence now must be to remove that
impression, not emphasise it Ignoring. Ross's look, he said it would profit
them both if Captain Poldark would spend the week end thinking this over, and
also in casting back in his memory for any new recollection that would help.
After all, he said, rubbing his blue chin, no one but the prisoner could, know
all the facts.

One condition of Ross's consent to Demelza's
presence in the town was that she should make no attempt whatever to see him in
gaol. In fact she was not altogether loth, for she would not then have to
account for her movements. Only to Verity need she make excuses, and at the worst
Verity had no control over her.

'As soon as they got to the inn there was
trouble, for the landlord had put up another double bed in their room and
claimed the right to let two other women share it. Only a long and painful
argument and some extra money from Verity won them their privacy. They had a
meal together-and listened to the slamming of doors, the cries of ostlers, the
hurrying feet of the maids and the singsong of drunken wayfarers under the
window.

"I think we shall have to plug our ears to
sleep," said Verity, taking the pins out of her hair. "If it's like
this at seven what will it be in another three hours?"

Never worry," said Demelza, " they'll
all be drunk insensible." She stretched herself, arching her back like a
cat. Oh, that old coach: joggle, joggle, bump. Three times I thought we were
going to upset or spend the night in the mud."

"It has given me a sick headache,"
Verity said. "I shall take a draught and lie down early."

In another hour I believe I should have felt the
same. What were you going to tell me about your stepchildren, Verity?"

Verity' shook out her hair and it fell in a
cloud about her shoulders. The action was like some new and secret blossoming
of her personality. She did not look eleven years older than Demelza now.
Happiness had brought the keen intelligence and vitality back into her eyes,
and an extra roundness to her cheeks and made the wide generous mouth less
unpro portionate.

" It's nothing," she said. "
Nothing beside what is happening to Ross."

" I want to hear," said Demelza.
" Have you not even seen them once yet?"

"... It is the only flaw at present. Andrew
is very fond of his children, and I hate to feel they will not come because I
am there."

"Why should you feel that? It is naught to
do with you."

" It should not be. But. “ She split one
side of her hair into three parts and began to plait them. "It is a very
peculiar position, with Andrew's first wife dying as she did and the children
being left so young with that scar; their mother dead, their father in prison;
brought up by relatives.

. Their father has always been at a disadvantage
with them: They have come to see him occasionally, but never since we married.
Of course James could not, for he is with the fleet and depends on the
movements of his ship; but he has never once written. And Easter is only at
Plymouth.... Andrew hardly mentions them now, but I know he thinks about them.
I know he would be very happy if we could come together. I have wondered
sometimes whether to go to Saltash to meet Esther - not telling Andrew, while
he is away."

“ No," said Demelza, " I wouldn't do
that She should come to you.

Verity stared at. her reflection in the mirror,
then at Demelza, who was changing her stockings. "But suppose she never
comes."

"Get Andrew to invite her."

"He has already done that, but she has made
excuses."

You must use a bait, then."

A bait?"

Demelza wriggled her toes, and her eyes
considered expressively the three pairs of shoes she had to choose from.

Is she fond of her brother?"

“I believe so."

" Then get him to Falmouth first. Perhaps
it is only shyness with them both, and he might be easier to entice in the
first place."

"I should like to think you're right, for
he must be home soon. He was expected back at Easter, but his ship was diverted
to Gibraltar .. What is that?"

Above the noises of the inn and street a man was
shouting.. He had a loud voice and a bell.

"The town crier," said Verity.

Demelza had just taken off her riding habit, but
she went to the window, which was at floor level, and knelt and peered through
the lace curtains.

I can't hear what he's saying."

" No it is to do with the election."

Through the mirror Verity looked at Demelza's
crouched figure which had some of the alertness of a young animal - the cream
satin underskirt, the little decollete bodice of Ghent lace. Three years ago
she had lent Demelza her first dainty underclothes. Demelza was a quick
learner. Verity's lips moved in an affectionate smile.

The crier was not coming their, way, but in a
temporary lull in the local noises they caught some disconnected words;
"Oyez ! Oyez ! Hear ye, hear ye ... by the sheriffs precept ... Notice of
election .. The mayor and aldermen of the borough of Bodmin . Speaker of the
House of Commons, does command, issue and proclaim on Tuesday, the seventh day
of September, in the year of our Lord . "

"Does that mean the election is to be
Tuesday? I thought it was Thursday," Demelza said.

"The notices will be posted now. We can see
them tomorrow."

"Verity..:'

"Yes?

"You are tired tonight?"

"I shall be well enough in the
morning."

"You will not mind if I go out by myself
for a little?" "Tonight? Oh no, my dear! It would be the height of