The Angry Tide (47 page)

Torrential December rain flooded the road near Marlborough, and Ross and Caroline's coach was held
up
for a day. Sunday the 8th they spent in Plymouth and knew that tomorrow they'd be home.

The had dined together each
day and supped together pleasantl
y each evening and had talked of many subjects from the insanity of the Czar to the tax on horses; but they had kept off personal issues. Ross found Caroline an agreeable companion, witty when she talked but economical of speech. She didn't have Demelza's small conversation.

They were sleeping at the Fountain Inn, and dining in one of the comfortable boxes with the red plu
sh se
ats and walnut tables; and eventually it was Ross who for the first time drew aside the polite veil that had existed between them. He reminded Caroline of the meeting he had contrived between Dwight and herself
at
this inn. It was scarcely more than six years ago, in fact.

'It seems half a lifetime,' said Caroline. 'And must seem more still to Dwight, covering as it does not merely his captivity in France but four years of marriage to me!'

‘I
have often wondered,' Ross said, 'at my arrogance in bringing you together almost by force, at my supposing I knew better than you and he whether you should become husband and wife.'

'The trouble is, Ross,' she said, 'that you're an arrogant man. Sometimes it is a great virtue and sometimes not.'

'Well, which was it on that occasion?'

She smiled. She had changed for supper into a gown of cool green velvet, her favourite colour, because it contrasted with her auburn hair and brought out the green in her eyes, which could often with other colours look plain hazel or grey.

'A virtue,' she said. 'Dwight is the only man I've ever wanted to marry
...
Though perhaps not the only man I've ever wanted to bed.'

Ross cut up a piece of the mutton on his plate and added some caper sauce.

‘I
don't think that makes you unusual,' he said.

'No
...
we all look elsewhere from time to time. But then we glance away.'

'Usually
...'

She ate a little, picked at her meat.

She said abruptl
y: 'Dwight and I, you and Demelza; do you realize

how moral we
are
by the standards of today?' 'No doubt.'

'No doubt at all. So many of my friends in London
...
B
ut forget London. This county we
live in. Add up the number of affairs that are going on, some secret, some blatant, among our friends, or their friends. And the same, though perhaps to a different pattern, among the poor.'

Ross took a sip of wine. 'It has always been so.'

'Yes. But also there has been always a small core of real marriages existing amongst the rest - marriages in which love and fidelity and truth have maintained their importance. Yours is one and mine is one. Isn't that so?'

'Yes.'

Caroline took a long draught of wine, half a glass as against Ross's sip. She leaned back against the red plush. 'For instance, Ross, I could lie happily with you tonight,'

His eyes went quickly up to hers. 'Could you?"

'Yes. In fact I've always wanted to - as perhaps you know.'

'Do I?'

They looked at each other.

'I think so. I believe you could take me as few other men could take me - matching my arrogance with your own.' There was silence between them. 'But
...'
she said. 'But?'

'But it could not be. Even if you were willing. I have the instinct of a wanton but the emotions of a wife. I have too much love for Dwight. And too much love for
Demelza
. And perhaps even too much love for you.'

He raised his eyes and smiled at her. 'That's the nicest compliment of all.'

The colour in her face came and went. 'I am not here to pay you compliments, Ross, but only - I'm only trying to say some things that I think you should hear. If we got rid of Ellen - as we easily could - and spent
all
night making love, and if then the first time I went to Nampara I told Demelza about it, do you think she would be hurt?'

'Yes.'

'So do I. But I am a good friend of hers now. We
are
deeply attached to each other. Perhaps in time she would forgive me.' 'What
are
you trying to say?'

'I'm trying to say that if I told her what had happened between us she would be hurt. But no more so, I believe, than you hurt her in London.'

Ross put down his knife. 'I don't understand that at all.'

'You killed a man because of her. Oh, I know it was his challenge. And I kn
ow the quarrel was about some se
at in the House. And I know you disliked each other from the start. But it was really because of her that you killed him, wasn't it?'

'Partly, yes. But I don't see -'

'Ross, when you fought Monk Adderley, it was not really him you were killing, was it' 'Wasn't it?'

'No
...
it was Hugh Armitage.'

He took a gulp of wine this time. 'Damn you, Caroline, it was a plain straightforward duel -'

'It was nothing of the sort, and you know it! You killed him because
you couldn't kill Hugh Armitage
, who
died anyway. But Hugh was a gentl
e, virile, sensitive man - the only sort Demelza would
ever
have, could
ever
have felt deeply drawn to. You must have known from the beginning that she wouldn't have spared so much as a
thought
for a wi
ld worthless rake like Monk Adde
rley.'

'Sometimes one doesn't think these things out'

'Of
course
one doesn't th
ink
them out - that's the trouble.
Yours was a totally emotional act. But you were fighting the wrong man just the same.'

Ross pushed his plate away and put his fingers on the table.

'And don't get up and leave me,' she said, 'for I should cons
ider that a piece of very ungentl
emanly behaviour.'

'I have no intention of getting up and leaving you. But I can listen better to your lecture if I am not eating.'

'The lecture is over; so you may enjoy the rest of your supper in silence.'

'After that I'm not sure that I want to enjoy my supper either in silence or in seasonable conversation.' 'Perhaps I should not have spoken.'

'If
you believed it, then you should. I am trying to think hard of what you've just said, to be - rational about it instead of emotional. D'you know you're the second person in two weeks to accuse me of making emotional decisions. You'll never guess who the first was. But so be it. Let me think
...'

She toyed again with her meat for a few moments, broke a piece of bread with her long fingers but made no move to eat it.

He said: 'There may be some truth in it. How am I to be sure? Certainly I've felt a lot, and thought a lot, about Demelza and Hugh these last two years. When I first found out about Demelza it was as if I had lost some belief - some faith in human character. It was not so much her I blamed as - as something in hu
manity. You must not laugh at me
for sounding silly and pompous.'

'I'm not doing so. But if-'

'It was like finding an absolute flawed. If something has driven me of late, there may be jealousy in it, but it is not
just
jealousy. At times I have discovered a new lowness of spirit, a new need to revolt, to kick against the constraints that a civilized life tries to impose.' He stopped and regarded her. 'Because what is civilized life but an imposition of unreal standards upon flawed and defective human beings by other human beings no less flawed and defective? It has seemed to me that there is a rottenness to it that I have constantly wanted to kick against and to overset.' He stopped again, breathing slowly, trying to marshal the complexities of his own feelings.

'And this has all come - this has derived from your estrangement from Demelza?'

'Oh, not in its entirety. But one and the other. One and the other. You called me an arrogant man just now, Caroline. Perhaps one aspect of arrogance lies in not being willing to accept what life sometimes expects one to accept. The very
feeling
of jealousy is an offence to one's spirit, it is a degrading sensation and should be stamped on.' He tapped the table. 'But so far as Demelza and Monk Adderley were concerned, I think you do me some injustice. Demelza
did
give him encouragement, of a sort. She was always exchanging asides with him, making another appointment - or at least permitting him to. And she allowed him to paw her -'

'Oh, nonsense!' Caroline said. 'It is
Demelza
's way to be friendly -to flirt a little out of sheer high spirits. Whenever she goes out, as you well know, some man or another is always attracted by her peculiar vitality and charm. When she is enjoying herself she can't resist giving off this - this challenging sparkle. And men come to it. And she enjoys that. But in all
innocence,
Ross, for God's sake! As you must know. Arc you going to challenge Sir Hugh Bodrugan to a duel? He has made more attempts on
Demelza
's chastity than any other two men I know. What will you fight him with - walking sticks?'

Ross half laughed. 'You must know
that
jealousy flares only when there is risk.'

'And do you seriously think that Monk Adderley constituted a risk?'
‘I
...
thought so. It was not as simple a choice as that. And in any event he challenged me, not I him.'

Caroline shifted her position, and stretched. 'Oh, that coach has tired me!
...
One more day and we shall be home.'

The waiter came and took away their plates but left the knives and forks for use again.

Ross said quietl
y: 'Yes, I could sleep with you.'

She smiled at him.

He said: 'And for the same reasons will not.' "Thank you, Captain.'

He said: 'You've
always
been my firm friend - from
so
long ago. Almost before we knew each other well at all.'

'I believe I fancied you from the beginning.'

'I believe it was something more important than that, even then.'

She shrugged but did not speak as the waiter came back. When he had gone again she said: 'Perhaps I have been hard on you tonight, Ross
...
What a thing to say! Hard on
you
!
Strange
for me to be in this position! I've never before dared! Well, I understand - a
littl
e-how you must have felt about Hugh and Demelza. It has been -irking, festering in your soul for two years. And the rest too, if you will. I don't deny that a single disillusion, if deeply felt, can lead to a general disillusion. Well
...
But now the blood is let. Even if it be the wrong blood. Let us not discuss any more the merits or demerit
s of your quarrel with Monk Adde
rley. It is over and
nothing
can revive it. Well, so is your quarrel with Hugh Armitage. So should be your quarrel with humanity. And so should be your quarrel with Demelza. She has been desperately affronted by what happened in London. The rights and wrongs of it do not matter so much as that you killed a man because of her,
and
that you risked everything, your life, her life - in a way - for a senseless quarrel which to a well-bred person may seem the ultimate and honourable way of settling a difference, but to a miner's daughter, with her sense of values so firmly and sanely earthy, looks like the petulance of a wicked man.'

'God,' said Ross. 'Well, I will keep that in my heart and let that fester a while.'

'You spoke to mc straight six years ago,' said Caroline. 'I speak to you straight now.' 'Out of love?' he asked. She nodded. 'Out of love.'

Early on the Monday morning
Demelza
and Drake left for Bodmin. Morwenna stayed at Pally's Shop. Mrs Trewinnard had been spending each night in the cottage; during the day the Trewinnard twins were there to answer the bell. Morwenna had shown no desire to go out, being content to sit and sew or to help with the cooking or the housework. She and Drake had talked little, being content to exchange the occasional commonplace, each a little shy of the other. She was like a wounded wild animal he was trying to tame: he made no sudden move or attempt to touch her lest she take fright. At first he had thought her unwell, in spite of her denials, but she was not. Her spirit, he decided, was clouded and needed above all time to recuperate and rest.

They had not even been beyond the fences that marked the five acres that he owned. He showed her these with pride, and she asked him about his work, and when he was working watched with seeming interest. Sometimes she was downstairs when people brought
thin
gs to the smithy, but she did not come out. They had not been to church yesterday, but at
Demelza
's suggestion the banns had been called for the first time. It did not matter that the news was out, and it was safer not to miss a week in case there should be some hold-up at Bodmin.

On Saturday Sam had come to
see
them, and had been much taken with
Morwenna
's quietness and modesty, also by his brother's obvious elation. Drake knew he could not object to the wedding but had feared the qualifications in his voice and manner. They were not there. Indeed Sam at once
perceived in this silent, quietl
y elegant girl potentially suitable material for conversion to his own flock. Admittedly, her all-too-close connections with the church proper put her provisionally out of reach of the sort of Christian Message Sam brought; but she had suffered as a result of her first marriage, and might now very well not only prove to be a brand ripe to be snatched from
the
burning but a means of returning Drake to full membership of the Connexion.

Anyway that was in the future. For the present Sam looked on his brother's face and saw that it was good, and praised the Lord for something that was both a carnal and a spiritual joy. It was selfish and u
nworthy, he knew, to feel a littl
e twist inside him as he tramped away to dunk how good it would have been if he could have had Emma too.

Monday was fine but heavily gusty. John Gimlett, who fancied himself a weather prophet, said there would be rain later, once the sun got round to the butt of the wind. What he should have noted was the way, far out in the distance, the sea tramped, glittering in the sun. Sea birds were coming inland.

Drake and Demelza left at eight, at about the time Ross and Caroline were passing through Liskeard. At eleven Elizabeth called to see
Morwenna
.

She was upstairs working on the curtains that Drake had inelegantly hemmed when
one of the indistinguishable Tre
winnards put his beak
round the door and piped: 'If ee plaise
, ma'am, thur be a lady to see ee.'

Elizabeth came up the steps. Morwenna flushed, rose defensively, looked around as if seeking a way of escape and, finding none, accepted the kiss. Elizabeth was her dearest cousin, who had connived at her marriage with Ossie. Although the chief pressure had come from George, Elizabeth had connived. However, over the last year or more Elizabeth had shown real sympathy. And after John Conan was born she had been the one to insist that
Morwenna
was not being treated properly by Dr Behenna and that Dr Enys be called in. She had also helped in whatever way she could after Ossie's death.

In the hostile life of the vicarage
Morwenna
would have greeted her as a friend. In this warm quiet retreat where, cocoon-likc, Drake was hiding her, Elizabeth represented the enemy.

Elizabeth said: 'But the banns were called yesterday! How could I not know? Is Drake not here?'

'No, he's out. Will you sit down?'

They seated themselves and looked at each other, Morwenna's eyes not really seeing any
thin
g. After a few moments she remembered herself and said:

'Can I get you something - tea or hot milk? I'm afraid there's nothing stronger.'

'No, thank you. Though I shall be glad to rest a few minutes. The wind is so blustery.'

Morwenna looked at her cousin's figure. 'You did not, surely, walk, now you
are
-'

'Of course. It doe
s me good.' Elizabeth unbuttoned her dark fawn cloak and allowed the hood to fall back. She tried to arrange her
hair. 'It is not very far to Tre
nwith, you know. Scarcely two miles. Perhaps you did not come this way when you lived there.'

'Sometimes. Though I scarce remember this part. Most often it was the other way. Geoffrey Charles so often wanted
...'

'I know, my dear, I know. That is all over and done with. It was a very sad period in our relationship. We did not know. Wc did not understand.'

Morwenna thought how much older Elizabeth was suddenly looking. But perhaps it was the pregnancy tiring her, bearing her down.

'And now,' Elizabeth said, 'you
are
to marry Drake after all. And you
are
to live here?' She looked around. 'Arc the Poldarks pleased?'

Morwenna flushed: ‘I
hope so.'

'Have they not said so?'

'Captain Poldark is still away. I hope they will never have any reason to feel ashamed of me.' 'That I would have thought very unlikely. And Lady Whitworth?' 'She was not pleased.'

Elizabeth smoothed her frock to conceal the bulge that was there. 'It must have
been so very trying, living with
her. One of the most formidable of old women
...
But you just told her you were leaving and left?'

'Yes.'

'And - John Conan?'

Morwenna winced. 'Yes also.'

'You did not mind leaving your own
son?'

'Yes and no. Please do not ask me any more!'

'I'm sorry. I didn't wish to distress you.'

'No
...'
Morwenna
folded the curtain and put it down. 'You see, I never felt he was really my child, Elizabeth. He was
Ossie's
child. Ossie's son. And I am
convinced he will grow up exactl
y like his father!'

Outside someone was ringing the bell for attention. The wind leaned against the cottage and made it creak.

Elizabeth said: 'You could never accept
Ossie
, could you. I'm
when I got to know him better I felt I could understand that. But I never liked to ask more personally at the time. If you ever want to talk about it.
..'
'No.'

Elizabeth said: 'But it must have been a great sacrifice to leave your only child
...
You did not think to bring him?'

Morwenna stood up. 'Elizabeth, in whatever way I cared for him as a baby - and of course I cared then - I do not want him now! He is a
Whitworth!’

Elizabeth stared out of
the
small window at the tossing trees. For no very good reason except the bitterness in Morwenna's voice, a reflection of something else seemed to show in the defective pane. It was a bottle of cloudy brown medicine that had come in the coach all the way from London, jogging in her luggage but not breaking. It had become a symbol, a bitter symbol of the disintegration of her own marriage.
He is a Whitworth! He is a Poldark!

'You will not, of course, stay here all the time until you marry?'

'There is a woman comes in every night. I am - chaperoned.'

'No, no, Morwenna, you must stay at Trenwith! It is only proper. You could have your old room.'

'Oh, no, thank you!'

Elizabeth frowned, a little offended. 'You were married from Trenwith last time. Why not this?'

'And h
ave Mr Warleggan give me
away?'

Elizabeth looked
up
at this sarcasm from so gendc a creature.

'Mr Warleggan is in Truro and like to remain there. He may come for Christmas. Shall you be able to be married before Christmas?' Elizabeth counted. 'Yes, just. What day is Christmas Day - Wednesday? You could be married perhaps Christmas Eve.'

'Perhaps.' Morwenna could not bring herself to explain where
Demelza
and Drake had gone today. Elizabeth would say, what is the hurry; you
are
both still young; after waiting all this time, where is the haste? She might even persuade Morwenna. That was the worst danger - that her opinion would prevail.

Elizabeth said: 'I had hoped to
see
Drake. Will he be long?'

'Quite a time, I fear.'

'I wanted to meet him again so that there should be no hard feelings between us.'

'I don't think there is,' said Morwenna. 'I think he admires you. For what you did for him once.'

Elizabeth coloured. T had forgot that
...
It was littl
e enough.' She rose. 'So I must see him some other time, for I think we're in for a
storm and I should not want to be caught in it. Morwenna
...'
'Yes?'

'Would you not come to Trenwith sometime? My mother and father are both still there and are both much devoted to you. They're very frail now, but I'm sure they would want to see you before your marriage - just to wish you well.'

'Of course.' The two women kissed, with a slightly greater warmth, at least on
Morwenna
's side, than when they had met.

They went down into the kitchen and Morwenna opened the door. It was torn from her grasp and flung back on its hinges. The wind gulped its way into the kitchen, knocking over a bottle and a pair of scales.

'My dear!' said Elizabeth. 'It has doubled in force since I came. Fortunate that it will not be entirely in my face as I go home.'

'Wait a while. This is perhaps a brief violence and will subside.'

'I've lived too long on this coast to believe that! It may well blow for twelve hours. No, I can manage.' 'You might fall. In your condition
...'
'Would it matter?'

Morwenna
drew a
little back to look at her cousin. ‘I
don't know what you mean.'

Elizabeth tried to cover the slip
. 'I mean I think it would do me
no harm.'

'But did you not fall last time?' Morwenna's naturally warm nature forced its way through the veil of preoccupation that was obscuring her mind. 'Wait. I'll come part way with you.'

"No, no. Look, it is just by the door where it is so bad. Once out in the yard
...'

Two will be stronger than one. I'll get my cloak.'

As they were struggling out of the yard Morwenna called
to one of the Trewinnard boys. ‘I
am just taking Mrs Warleggan back to Trenwith.'

'Ais'm.'

It was a long struggle, with a raving southwest gale just gathering strength and buffeting them this way and that. Quite clearly Morwenna could not turn back until Elizabeth was safely home, right up to the door of Trenwith. There Elizabeth said, since Morwenna had come so far, surely she would just slip in for a moment to greet her father and mother. Morwenna said, well, just at present she would really rather not. Elizabeth said I think they would be hurt to know you had come right to the door and not seen them. With a shiver of remembrance, Morwenna stepped into the big, picture-hung hall. Then, with the wind ranting outside and rattling the great leaded window as if it would pull it down, she accepted their invitation to stay to dinner.