The Loving Cup (18 page)

She said: 'Will it mean staying the night?'

‘I
t's fifteen miles odd, and mainly rough tracks.'

‘I
imagine we can stay with Caroline.'

He said: 'You do not ask me if I wish to go.'

'He's your step-son. It has been your house. Why should you not wish to go?'

‘I
think you are being disingenuous, Harriet.'

She was wearing an open blouse which, in George's opinion, showed too much of her throat and breast for the good of Collins and S
mallwood, who were working quietl
y nearby. Her hair was blue-black like a raven, glossy and strong; her gloves were filthy; so was the hem of her skirt; there was a smudge of dirt on one of her high cheekbones.

She said: 'When you married me, George, you began a new life. As I did. We cannot spend all our time recollecting the old ones.'

The dogs were coughing and yapping all around her, and he hoped the servants did not hear this. They certainly did not hear his response, for he did not make one, but it would have been to the effect that neither was it necessary to spend all one's time looking after one's confounded animals and doing many of the rough jobs when there were ample well-paid servants waiting to perform them.

Nor, he would have liked to add, did one need parties like last night's - Valentine's, of course, in the first place but one in which she enthusiastically joined. Sitting up until the small hours playing Faro for nigh stakes. That new friend of Valentine's had come, the fellow who had once been affianced to Clowance Poldark; well dressed but with a poor accent; leonine head; (built like a blacksmith, someone had remarked, making George wince); Harriet had seemed to take a fancy to him, which was more than George could say; flashy somehow; he'd lost; serve him right. Another one who'd lost was that
Blamey
lad, Verity's son; who had looked pretty green about it; maybe he couldn't afford it; damn fools, playing for money, gambling; who on earth ever made a fortune gambling? Making money at gambling was like seeing ghosts: you never met someone who'd seen a ghost, only someone who knew someone who'd seen a ghost. You only met people who
knew
people who'd made a fortune at White's. Or on the racecourse. Like that fool John Trevanion. It was why George had delayed implementing the contract, why he had delayed until last month telling Valentine of his presumptive plans. Last year Trevanion had received a subsidy to carry him on until the marriage bond was tied, but, against all the assurances he had given, he had been off racing his horses, at Exeter and at Epsom, had come a cropper. So now he was a suppliant once more, greatly regretful of his own behaviour. When the Devil was broke, the Devil a saint would be. This marital bond that was to be tied: the deed must be foolproof, so that none of the money that went with Valentine on his marriage to Cuby could possibly be appropriated by Cuby's spendthrift brother.

Harriet wa
s examining a puppy. She said: ‘I
see that Valentine and Ursula are also invited. I am sure Valentine will go. But Ursula - what shall you do about her?'

'Leave her behind.'

'Was she not born there?'

'She is not yet fourteen. Her time will come.'

'She is already very wilful.'

'No more so than her step-mother.'

The two kennelmen had moved away. Harriet's eyes flashed, but then she gave her deep sardonic chuckle. 'As you knew well enough when you married me. You knew it
all.
I was badly broken in by Toby. You can't
teach an old horse new tricks. I
know you had ambitions to try!'

George was restive, looked it.
I
don't think these equestrian metaphors are especially appropriate. Nor flattering to
y
ou. I certainly wish you woul
d be more guided by me - at ease
in your social preferences.'

'Go on, boy, go on!' said Harriet, releasing the puppy. She took off a glove and scratched inelegantly under her arm. 'Pray what's wrong now?'

The hounds were all yelping and crying again, like a noisy group at a party.

In irritation George raised his voice: 'You cannot say I have not been generous in meeting your many and different requirements. Money has been available to you
always,
even when you have been at your most extravagant. You never seem to have any idea about money except to spend it.'

'What other use has it?' she replied contemptuously.

‘I
cannot believe you are so foolish as to mean that! Without the power and position that money brings - money well managed-'

'Oh, I know, I know, I know. So I am extravagant. It is nothing
fresh.
You knew it before we married. We were both marrying for the second time, and it is not to be supposed that we could change our lives and characters to suit the other.'

George took a deep breath. 'At least I think you owe it to me not to spend the whole summer in the stables as well as the whole winter hunting. And I think
you owe it to me not
to encourage my son and his friends to waste their nights in drinking and gaming!'

By having to speak loudly to each other the interchange had become even more emphatic than was intended by either party. Yet after he had finished George felt the flush of annoyance following, justifying and corroborating what he felt and what he had said. He stood there angrily among the dogs, then turned away.

As he got to the door she said:'George!'

He half stopped.

She said: 'Does it not occur to you that it is better to see Valentine gambling and drinking in his own house than for it to happen outside, where he would certainly go if he were driven? And does it not occur to you that I spend no more time with my horses and dogs than you do with your ledgers and balances - and if you rode more with me you would see more of me, which would be agreeable for me and much healthier and more invigorating for you?'

He hesitated, not sure how to take it, frowning at the cynicism of her expression. 'That is all very well, but-'

'But what?'

'There is such a thing as permitting gaming and another in revelling in it oneself and openly encouraging it!'

'To tell the truth, George, I enjoy it. I am not one of your Methodies. And no amount of wishing can change
that.'

There was a silence between them,
though
no

lack of noise around.

She said: 'When is the invitation?'

'What?'

'The invitation to Trenwith.' 'The ninth.'

‘I
think I have a frock. It would be a
mistake to wear too grand a one
for a "family" occasion.'

'I agree.'

'But perhaps a new piece of jewellery.' 'You have plenty of jewellery.'

'A few old heirlooms. I think perhaps pearl earrings? We have ten days. I will look about.'

'There is an acute lack of liquidity in our banking position at the moment,' said George stiffly.

'Pearls are as good as
3
per cents. We can sell them when I tire of 'em.' She patted his arm, then took her glove off to brush away the mark she had left on his sleeve.

As he w
alked away, back into the house, he decided that neither the gesture nor the smile that went with it had been at all conciliatory. She treated him, he thought, like a boy. Like a boy who could be cajoled into and out of anything. One day she would find out her mistake. Of course he still desired her, that was one of the troubles; when she permitted him to enter her bed he enjoyed her as he had enjoyed no other woman; it inhibited his freedom of action and criticism during the day.

He thought sometimes about her first marriage. Once in the early days, when she had drunk more than usual, she had told him of the terrible quarrels she had had with Toby Carter. Toby, though a mad huntsman himself, had objected to his wife hunting more than four days a week. So in the end when she had defied him he had had her carried struggling to her bedroom where she was locked in until the hunt was over. Harriet chuckled lazily while she told George of the way she smashed all the glass in her bedroom, tore up the curtains, broke the furniture and in the end broke a panel of her door. Twice she had climbed out of her bedroom window, slid along the roof and climbed down the ' ivy and so to the stables. Later Toby had had bars put to the windows,- but shortly after that, God rest his Catholic soul, and
RIP
and Ave Maria, etc., etc., he had broken his beastly neck in the field and she had found herself totally free and sole inheritor of a bankrupt estate.

George found it quite difficult to believe that this strong-limbed but lazily dignified creature lying beside him could have been capable of such behaviour when crossed. Only
perhaps in the sexual act did he see into the depths of her nature.

Had she learned so much from her first marriage that now she knew just how to turn away a man's wrath and indeed turn it to her own advantage? Or was he so much weaker, or more malleable, or less stupidly obstinate than Sir Toby Carter? The grim thought struck George to ask himself if he had ever crossed her at all? Had she not always had her way? Had he not given in all along the line? Generally it had been a gracious persuasion she had used, if in the exercise of it there was a touch of the arrogance proper to a duke's daughter. Here perhaps lay the crux of the whole thing. Sir Toby, being presumably of noble birth himself, was less in awe of the blood in his wife's veins.

George stiffened his back as he walked. He was perfectly certain that, whatever might have been said or implied today, however firm his reprimand, Harriet would not alter her behaviour or her regime in the very least. She would feed him half-promises and go her own way entirely. That in the end could only lead to trouble. He would have to prepare his ground carefully. If there were to be a real conflict of wills he could not afford to be without ammunition.

IV .

A week later, when George was in the counting house in Truro with his Uncle Cary, the chief clerk of the bank, a man called Lander, sent word that he would like to see Sir George when he had a moment, and please might it be private?

George assumed that this meant without the meeting being supervised by the censorious Cary, and so went downstairs into the Bank. Lander, who was forty-five, a man with bad teeth and disagreeable breath but with the quickest eye for figures between Plymouth and Penzance, sweated around his starched collar and said he assumed Sir George well remembered the robbery which had taken place in January of this year, when the Warleggan & Willyams Bank was robbed of several thousand pounds in gold, in securities, in notes -

'Am I likely to forget it?'
said George.

'No, sir. And you will remember, sir, that we published in the newspaper the numbers of various of the notes - those that we knew - so that they would become valueless in the hands of the thieves.'

'Of course,' said George again, testy as always when being told something he already knew.

Lander persevered. 'And you will remember, sir, at your suggestion, five, I think, or six notes, sir, whose numbers we possessed were withheld
—'

'Five.'

'Exactly, sir. We actually knew the numbers of these five as well, sir, but you suggested they should not be published in the newspaper along with the others so that the thieves might be encouraged-'

‘I
recollect all that perfectly, Lander.'

'—
Encouraged to spend them and thus might be traced.' Lander paused for breath and sweated a bit more. 'Well, sir, one of those notes came into our possession yesterday.'

George turned the guineas in his fob.

'Did it indeed, by God! You're sure of the number?'

'Certainly, sir.'

'Yes, of course, you would be. How into our posse
ssion? Paid into the bank or
'Paid into the bank, sir.'

George went to the window, frowned his concentration on the dusty pane.

'Was it noticed early enough? Could you be sure who paid it in?'

'Yes, sir. Greet noticed it because it had been folded smaller than usual at some time and the creases had been marked by da
mp. That is how he can be sure.
I have questioned him repeatedly, sir, to be certain positive he has made no mistake
...'

George waited. 'Well, then, who paid it in? We must move as soon as possible.'

Lander took out a kerchief to mop his brow and did know where to look; certainly not at Sir George, it was your wife, sir.'

I

Saturday the ninth of October was dry and bright. The wind had died after several boisterous days and the roads and lanes generally were dry enough to support carriages without the risk of their becoming bogged down. Not that many carriages were expected at Trenwith, the tracks away from the turnpikes being scarcely of a sort to support four wheels at a time. Lord and Lady de Dunstanville might have come in a carriage, but they were in London.

Feverish activity had been going on since the early hours, in which Demelza, Clowance and Isabella-Rose had reluctantly been allowed to take a hand. No matter how one prepares for a party, some preparations have to wait for the day, and then th
ere is never time enough. About
noon Demelza and Geoffrey Charles persuaded Amadora up to her bedroom to lie still for an hour, otherwise, they said, she'd be too tired to enjoy it when it really began.

Which was at five. Guests were invited for five and to take tea in either of the drawing rooms while they rested after their ride. The gun room had been reserved for men who wished to change, two sewing rooms on the first floor for. ladies; but in the main, the day being so fine, the near-by guests had ridden over in their finery and the more distant ones had already changed at the houses where they were to spend the night.

The great table had been vanquished at last, but as Jeremy had predicted, had proved unremovable from the room, so it stood on its end in a corner propped against the edge of the minstrel gallery. The floor from which it had been uprooted had been hastily filled with sand and cement and new flags laid so that, apart from a difference in colour, one would not have know
n. A four-piece band played gentl
e airs from the gallery. The airs would become less
gentle
after supper when the dancing began.

By the
time
the sun had set about fifty guests had arrived and a few late comers were trickling in. The great window in the hall, though its multiple panes were all clear glass, reflected and refracted stains of colour from the sky upon' people passing to and fro below it. Among the latest to arrive was the party of six from Killewarren: Dr Dwight Enys, Mrs Caroline Enys, the Misses Sophie and Meliora Enys, and Sir George and Lady Harriet Warleggan.

They were welcomed at the door by their host and hostess; it was a peculiar confrontation between the two men; Geoffrey Charles extended his hand with a 'Pray come in Step-father.' They clasped briefly and Geoffrey Charles wondered if it was the first time they had
ever
shaken hands. (Yet once as a very little boy he had adored Uncle George, who always brought him presents.) 'Soldier
bright,' said Lady Harriet, and
kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Pray excuse me,' s
aid Geoffrey Charles, smiling, ‘I
have had no time to renew my uniform.' 'But it is better that way. Amadora!' said Harriet, with another kiss,
'Como esta usted?’
And they were in.

Caroline at once spotted Ross and Demelza and would have liked to go over, but with George and Harriet in tow and in a somewhat alien environmen
t she felt she could not instantl
y desert them.

The Popes arrived directly after them, that is to say Mrs Selina Pope, brilliant in black lace, and her two daughters whose mourning clothes had a more normal dampening effect on their looks. With them was Valentine Warleggan, and he had brought Conan Whitworth, who could hardly have been invited by Geoffrey Charles. And making up their party were Augustus Bettesworth and Clemency and Cuby Trevanion.

Spending a night at Nampara - or two if Demelza could persuade them - were the Blarneys, Verity and the two Andrews, father and son. Five of the Trenegloses had come from Mingoose House, and all four of the Kellows from Fernmore: Paul, with the darkly saturnine but feminine looks which had enabled him so well to take the part of a clergyman's wife when a certain stage coach was robbed; his fat ineffectual beery father; Mrs Kellow, downtrodden, with eyes that never focused and a not entirely misplaced conviction that death hovered over her family; and her surviving daughter, Daisy, hectically vivacious and hoping still to marry Jeremy, even if only on the rebound. She, like a number of others here tonight, was anxious to see Cuby for the first time.

Cuby Trevanion was in a white Indian muslin frock, high at the throat and tight at the waist and wrists. She seemed in the last year or so to have slimmed off and grown taller, neither of which had had the least ill effect on her looks. And the vivacity that was sometimes lacking was not at all lacking tonight.

In fact Cuby knew herself on trial. She had come to the north coast, against her brother's and her mother's wishes, into the heart of the district and to a house party where too many people were called Poldark or were related to or old friends of the Poldarks; and they were waiting to judge her. She did not know how far her friendship with Jeremy, his courting of her, and her family's refusal of him was generally known; but she suspected it was not a secret. She had therefore put herself out to wear something of style and to be at her most charming. Like her elder brother, she had changed her name from Bettesworth to Trevanion, and was intensely proud of her Trevanion ancestry. Was she really, she asked herself, a scheming woman, selfish, hard and mercenary? Was marrying someone she did riot love - or certainly did not care for as she cared for Jeremy - out of a heartfelt sense of pride and obligation and family duty, was that altogether to be condemned and despised? Did not the royal families of Europe follow this precept all their lives, and were they condemned for it? And if she did not belong to a family of dynastic importance whose couplings might mean the difference between war and peace, yet to her and to her mother and perhaps still more to her loving but culpable brother, the Trevanion family and the Trevanion family home were of deep-rooted importance.

So she had come tonight, on the defensive but with a burning pride, determined to
look her best and be her best,
and make it clear to every Poldark there that the Trevanions had something to be proud about.

The knife that stabbed instantly into Jeremy was that Valentine, by contriving to stay with the Popes, had come as one of Cuby's party. (Not that he needed any contrivance: clearly he did not. Valentine, by mutual agreement, was the destined suitable bridegroom.)
Supper was informal, smaller and more removable tables being laid in the hall; but the large parlour was also utilized, and the winter parlour; so people sat where they chose and ate what they chose. Amadora could scarcely be persuaded to sit down or eat anything, so concerned was she that everyone else was doing so; and Geoffrey Charles hardly left her side, watching that nothing that was said to her, or that she said, was misunderstood. Clowance, who was wearing one of her frocks bought for Bowood, an olive green shot sarsenet fastened with brooches at the shoulders, sat for part of the supper between her cousin, young Andrew
Blamey
, and the eldest surviving Treneglos boy, Jonathan, who finding himself temporarily not overshadowed by more attractive young men, was making a great fuss of her.

When he could get a word in Andrew said to her: it is provoking I shall have to leave soon after midnight, for we sail with the morning ride.'

'Your packet ship?'

'Er - yes. The
Countess of Leicester.
A hundred and ninety tons burthen. Crew of twenty-eight. Five officers. Second officer Andrew
Blamey
. Outward bound for Lisbon.'

'What time is that-about six?'

'What t
ime is what?' Andrew asked. In spite of his rote-type recitation of details it seemed that he had allowed his attention to wander.

'Full t
ide, I mean.'

'Oh, full tide's at five. We shall - we shall leave at dawn, which will be about six. I suppose I should count my luck being home for this at all.'

Clowance gazed round her. In three months Trenwith had been transformed from the gaunt empty echoing vault in which she had first met Sir George Warleggan and later had had love trysts with Stephen Carrington, into a warm and happy home. The house, even with a mere two people and three guests and five servants living in it, had already come alive: but tonight, as dusk fell, dozens of candles were lit and glimmered over an animated scene. How good that Geoffrey Charles had come back; and with a pretty foreign wife who reminded Clowance of a hedge rose - you had to get through the prickles to reach the flower. But why did they have to go again, putting all this at risk?

'I'm sorry,' she said to Andrew.

'I was only asking you if everything between you and Stephen Carrington was really over.'

'Why, yes.'

Andrew rubbed his sandy sidewhiskers in some hesitation. 'Only I met him again last time I was ashore - at Cardew, you know
, the Warleggans' residence.'
'At Cardew?' said Clowance in surprise. 'Stephen there? Are you sure?'

'Oh, yes. Valentine invited him. We all played cards together. I lost too much.' He laughed self-consciously. 'Always losing. Left me a bit embarrassed. I'm heavy in debt now, but a lucky streak'll come along; I know; it always does
...
Stephen lost too. There was eight or nine of us.'

'I didn't realize they were friends,' said Clowance. 'Where did they meet?'

'Don't know. Wasn't it at the races last year? Anyway, I've met him since, two or three times. He's a likeable fellow, Stephen is. What made you claw away to windward of him?'

Clowance wrinkled her. brow. 'What?'

'I mean break off the engagement. Twas not to do with me saying I thought I'd seen him in the Ring O' Bells in Plymouth Dock when the matelot got stabbed, was it?'

'Oh, no. Good gracious, no!'

'Because come to think of it, you understand, it is not uncommon for a man to fight for his freedom - for that is what that man was doing. Maybe he jabbed just too hard with his knife to
gain
his freedom, but when you're in a corner it is hard to judge these things to a nicety. Or maybe the matelot was lightly wounded and then died of something else, and the naval folk of Plymouth issued it out that he had been murdered. I'd not put it past them.'

These had been so much Stephen's arguments that Clowance looked at her cousin in surprise.

Andrew said: 'Resemblances are funny things. I know that day I could easily have been mistaken. And him being your affianced
...
So all I could do was put the helm over and make all sail I could on a different tack. Well, when I saw him at Cardew recently I
was more than ever taken by the
resemblance
...'

Katie Carter, who was waiting at their table, took away their plates and edged towards them a large wooden platter containing damson tarts, raspberry puffs, and Black Caps in' custard and blancmange.

After she had gone, Andrew took a large bite of
his
tart and said: it was his eyes, you know. Very noticeable colour, his eyes are, such a bright blue with a sort of fleck of tawny in the whites; it is hard to forget.'

'All the same,' said Clowance, surprised at the apprehension stirring within her, 'there's no reason to disbelieve him. You could still easily be mistaken.'

'Well, no, not so, my dear cousin. I have transacted one or two little bits of business, with Stephen since we met at Cardew — surprising enough, yes, I have, I have—and to dp business with a man you have to have a sense of
trust.
So I tackled him in a roundabout way; and in a roundabout way he answered. No need to ask more. No need to say more. Understanding both sides.. .But I'm glad it was not for that reason that you broke off from him. For it would hardly have been a fair reason, would it. A man has a right to fight for his freedom.'

'Why are you telling me this ?'

‘I
felt I had to. Just to clear up any feeling that I'd done his cause any harm with you that day.'

^‘
No.'

'I'm glad we have com
e to this understanding, he and
I, for tonight I would have been so much surer of my
ground.'

'What do you mean?' Jonathan Treneglos was trying to draw her attention but she would not turn her head.

'You remember me saying there was another young man with him when the fighting began. Slim young feller with dark eyes and a sallow complexion?' Andrew
Blamey
chewed and swallowed and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. 'He's here tonight.'

II

Ross said to Dwight: 'Andrew
Blamey
senior brought news with him that Wellington has just broken through the extended positions along the Bidassoa and has crossed the river into France.'

They had edged their way together at last, as, similarly, Caroline had found Demelza and was telling her gleefully of a splendid new novel she had just read called
Pride and Prejudice;
the author was anonymous, but such was its comic insight that Caroline was not surprised to discover it had been written 'by a lady'.