The Loving Cup (26 page)

In January Stephen Carrington had been in employment as an assistant to Wilf Jonas, the miller, of Bargus Cross-lanes, not very far from Nampara, and had still been more or less officially living at an old Tudor cottage called the Gatehouse on the edge of Poldark land. But inquiries showed that Carrington had taken a day off from the mill whenever he fancied. Jonas, even when offered money for the information, had said gruffly he had no idea and no record of Carrington's attendances in January. All that was known was that three weeks afterwards Carrington had left for his home town, Bristol, and had not returned until July, when he had spoken of an inheritance and spent money freely.

Anthony Trefusis had been living at home at Trefusis with his parents and elder brother at the time, but his appearances and his departures were always so erratic that he could well have absented himself for a couple of days and scarcely any remark made on it. Nothing could be obtained from the servants. But the week following he had been to the races at Newton Abbot, and apparently had been lucky. Although not paying all his debts, he had seemed more flush than usual.

George Trevethan, whose father ran a gunpowder mill in Penryn, was seldom short of money, and therefore not a likely suspect. But he had been away visiting friends in Exeter in late January, so he could not be altogether excluded. The remaining suspect was Michael Smith who came of a wealthy but drunken family near Kea. A witty young man, with a fine voice when sober, he readily volunteered, when asked, that he had been indoors for the last two weeks in January with a severe attack of influenza. Too readily volunteered? But there seemed no later special access of affluence to make him a prime suspect.

George, of course, never lost sight of the fact that this at present was
all
supposition, that the note might have passed through half a dozen hands before coming to light in Harriet's winnings. That was why he sent Mr Trembath to see Mr Rose.

He had been, Mr Trembath reported in his effeminate, high-pitched voice, to ca
ll on Mr Rose at his office in L
iskeard, but Mr Rose was confined to his room with an attack of gout, and only consented to see him after some insistence and after mentioning his client's name.

Mr Rose, Mr Trembath explained, was a very stout elderly man who distinctly reminded him of drawings he had seen of Dr Samuel Johnson; with a high colour and thick white hair, all his own -

'Yes, yes,' said George testily. 'What was the outcome?' Hector Trembath, although a good and serviceable friend in law, was not George's ideal of a grave and laconic solicitor. He always wished to embroider his conversation with inessentials.

'The outcome, Sir George? Why, very different from when we put the questions to the coachmen, Marshall and
Stevens. Mr Rose says he remembers his fellow passengers perfectly. He says that the lady wore a veil the whole time and he would be in some difficulty in recognizing her instantly again. He says he did notice that she had a small mole on her chin and that she was left handed; but little more. However, as to the clergyman and the naval lieutenant, he declares he would know them anywhere.'

'Ah,' said George, turning the money in his fob. 'So?'

'At first he seemed to have the wrong impression, that some suspects had been arrested and needed identifying. I explained that such was not the case. But I did put to him the fact,
significantly,
if I may say so, that you would like him to visit you at Cardew in the not too distant future, and to spend a few days there as your guest. He pulled a face at the thought of travelling so f
ar in the bad weather; but when
I explained it would likely not be until the early spring he brightened up. I also said you would like him to do some business for you.'

'Did you mention that the reward of
£400
would be paid instantly for the identification of one or more of the criminals?'

I
did, sir. I fancy I left him in a much more cheerful mood than when I called.'

_Book
Two

In November Wellington again defeated Soult and began to invest Bayonne. On n November, Dresden fell, on zi November, Stettin, on
5
December, Liibeck. The Allied Sovereigns entered Frankfurt. Everywhere Napoleon was reeling, but defeat, submission, were not words in his vocabulary as applied to himself. The Allies offered him peace, with France uninvaded and allowed to keep her natural frontiers - even to the Rhine - and with almost all British conquests overseas returned to the French. Buonaparte returned evasive answers, proclaiming publicly his utter commitment to peace while threatening in private that if he lost his throne he would bury the world in its ruins.

In late December Aunt Edie Permewan was finally edged into church and became Mrs Art Thomas. She gave her age as
41,
which was a lie by more than ten years. Art told the truth; he was
13.
He didn't mind the sniggers, the digs in the ribs, the bawdy jokes. By the marriage he entered into his promised land, a languishing tannery business. Music did not like to claim his share in the successful wooing. After all, his mistake had cost him dear: the friendship of the girl he cared for more than all the world. Despite his stuttering efforts to explain, Katie still refused to speak to him.

In November Geoffrey Charles wrote a brief note saying Amadora was now safely back with her parents in Madrid, and that he was on the way to rejoin his regiment
in
France.
He thanked all his cousins for their warmth and kindness, especially to a little Spanish girl who had come as a stranger among them and become
so quickly their friend. Jerem
y eventually wrote his first letter home.

My dear family,

Here I am at Willemstad, billeted on a farmer and his wife just on the outskirts of the town. The long story is that we landed at Chatham on the afternoon of the
9th
December and I proceeded at once to report to my depot and then to provide myself with a uniform and a greatcoat and all the other paraphernalia and utensils of an officer of the British Army. This took me several days and a visit to Rochester, but in the end I was equipped and spent two more days idly observing the scene - among it a ship being loaded with cannon balls, the sailors and the dock workers
throwing
the balls from one pair of hands to another as if they were building bricks, which when I lifted one, they certainly are not! - before I was called again and reported to a Captain John Sheddon, who was to be in charge of us. It seems that I have been unfortunate in that
all
the
rest
of the
52nd
are in France under Wellington, but the
2nd
battalion has been detached for service in Holland, and we - those who sailed in the
Mary
Morris
—
were a small reinforcement. Apart from Captain Sheddon and myself - captain and ensign - there were four sergeants, one bugler, and
69
rank and file.

I did not buy a horse, for I was told it was easier to get one in Holland - which has hardly proved to be the case; although I now possess one, I am not sure if I did not pay far too much for so indifferent a mount.

We marched to Ramsgate, and embarked on the
1
6th,
arriving at Stevense, on the Dutch coast, on the
23rd.
I thought, this is the strangest Christmas! Our instructions have been to join the rest of the
52nd,
which arrived from Dover three weeks ago, and to form part of the army of Holland under General Sir
Thomas Graham – a m
an with a great reputation from the Peninsula. More particularly we are part of the light brigade commanded by Major General Kenneth Mackenzie, and with us now, though not exactly near enough to be on terms of
fraternization,
is part of a Prussian corps under Prince Berkendorff and a German army under General von Bulow.

So far we have seen little to disturb or affright, but I am told we are probably going to invest Antwerp before long.

It is bitter cold here, and all the lakes and canals are frozen. Many of the inhabitants use the canals to skate from one village to another, and some of the English soldiers do the same. Coming from a county where the frost is seldom hard enough, I don't remember ever having a skate on in my life! I have tried a couple of times and it is deuced difficult, I assure you. But I shall persist!

The windmills here are
huge.
They say that some-'times a single
sail in one arm stretches to 120
feet. A friend I have made called Lieutenant Barton, who comes from Devonshire, tells me the name Holland is a corruption of Hollowland - and I can well believe it, for everywhere the sea seems to be prevented from bursting in on us only by dykes and embankments. There are marvellous sea birds, some of kinds I have never seen before, and in great quantity. In this harsh weather many are in distress, and I began to feed them, only to be called in to see Captain Sheddon and ordered to desist - otherwise, he said, the camp would be covered in guano!

In addition to Frederick Barton, I have made particular friends with two other ensigns, both men of about my age: John Peters, who is a farmer's son, and David Lake, who went to Eton and knows Valentine.

Well, that is all there is to tell, I rather think. In addition to the wish that I could skate is the regret that I learned no modern language at school. No one expects you to speak Dutch, but a little French can be a great help, since France has run this country for twelve years.

A happy New Year and love to you all. Jeremy.

In early January Tom Guildford, on a short visit to Cornwall, came to see Clowance and asked her to be his wife. She refused, but in thoughtful, hesitant terms that encouraged him to suggest that they might continue to see each other.

'Of course,' she said,
I
'd like that, Tom, please.'

He looked at her with grave dark eyes. 'We enjoy each other's company, do we not.'

'Very much.'

'Then do you not suppose that this is the basis on which a warmer affection could be built?'

'Oh, affection,' she said. 'That I already have for you in some measure. You are so ...' She hesitated to find the word.

'You have a sisterly affection for me, eh?' 'No
...'
She laughed in embarrassment, it is not quite that.' 'More-or less?' 'Different.'

in that case I shall take heart and invite myself to call upon you again tomorrow.'

'Pray do. I should like that. Come to dinner. I know my father and mother would be pleased.'

They were alone in the library, where they were a little removed from the rest of the house and from risk of interruption. Tom was in a mole-coloured velvet jacket, with wide lapels, a darker waistcoat with pearl buttons, yellow cord breeches, highly polished shoes. The light fell across his dark hair which he wore long and tied at the back. He had poor skin, white, uneven teeth; there was something very solid and reliable about him..

He said: 'Now that my mother is past my aid or the need of my company, I can make this journey more often.'

'Tom, believe me, I am so very sorry. And believe me also that I could almost love you for preferring her to me last summer.'

'We make a little progress, then. What I was about to say was that, excepting my studies for the law, I now no longer have any ties in London. My father is one who will survive everything because his personal self-esteem is great enough to rise above the inconveniences of bereavement. I shall be happy to come to Cornwall whenever I can, not merely to escape from a home which is no longer desirable to me but in the hope that what
is
desirable to me in Cornwall is at least within my sights. Now wait, my dear, before you protest, for I know you have said no, to me, and I fully understand you are not a girl who would trifle easily with a. man's affections. In other words, no, means no. But there are degrees of
no,
if I may venture to say so. The first degree o
f No
, means that you cannot bear my company, that your flesh crawls at the sight of me, that, if my hide is not too thick to take the hint, I should leave this room and this house, never to return. The second degree of
No
,
means that you a
cknowledge me as a human being,
as a man, as a person of about your own age, who can be useful to pass the time with, who has the merit of a certain breeding and address, who is acceptable as a companion, and, within reason, as a friend; but whose personality means nothing to you at all. The third degree of
No
,
means that you find me of reasonable interest, of reasonable attraction, that you enjoy the thought of my company, that life is the better for my being around; but that the vital spark, the vital charge of electricity and energy which transforms liking to love, is at present missing
...
How would you assess your feelings?'

Clowance said:
I
believe you will become a very clever lawyer, Tom.'

'Thank you. So I intend to be. But would you, as the honest girl you are, tell me in which category you rate me in the three I have suggested?'

Clowance was silent.

He said: 'Can it be the third?'

'Of course it is the third, Tom!'

'Then I feel my future journeys will be worth while.
’

'Perhaps you will meet someone in London soon.'

'Perhaps I shall. I do not intend to be an anchorite on your account; but it will be very difficult to find someone else who will bear any comparison with you.'

'Do you not think it time we changed the subject?'

'Not at all; it is a very pleasant subject, even though its main purpose is blighted.'

'What time will you be here tomorrow?'

'When you say.'

'Would eleven be too early? Then I will wait to canter across the beach until you come.' 'That will be very pleasant.'

'This frosty weather is likely to last. I'll have a fresh horse for you. The tide is right and we can reach the end and be back for dinner.'

'Clowance.'

'Yes?'

'You know I love you.' 'So you have just said.'

'But I do not intend to join the army on account of frustration, as Jeremy has, it seems.' 'Who told you that?'

'Valentine.'
.,

it's very strange
...'
'What is?' 'No matter.'

'Given the encouragement,' said Tom, 'of being in the third degree of
no,
I intend to pursue my suit. I would warn you that I am a very persistent person. I almost drove my Nanny mad.'

'You wouldn't take no for an answer?'

'That is correct.'

Clowance bent to put coal on the fire, but he was too quick and did it for her.

'Oh, Tom,'she said.

'Good, good, that is a nice voice.' .-
I
almost wish it were
not
no. Life would be so much easier for me, less fretful, less hateful.'

'Does it have to be hateful?'

'A little. Just at present. Perhaps in a little time
...'

Tom said:
I
'll give you time.'

II

In the late January the Thames froze; it was the hardest winter for many years. The Allies were over-running France, and it seemed there was little to stop them from entering Paris. At La Rothiere on the first of February the Germans under Blucher, and aided later by the Russians, gained a decisive victory over the French. Wellington, however, when he learned of the disposition of the allied troops, did not approve at all: they were too strung out. And so it proved. With his old genius Napoleon gathered his troops, many of them young and raw, and struck first at the Germans under Blucher, defeating him and his commanders four times, and annihilating a Russian division by the way. Then while they reeled back he flung his exhausted troops against two other German and Russian armies, swept them from his path and confronted the Austrians under Prince Schwarzenberg who were advancing with dignified caution on Paris. The Austrians lost their dignity and beat a hasty retreat, and by the end of the month were in the foothills of the Vosges once again considering a separate peace.

In Holland Jeremy, unaware of the noble part being played by the ist Battalion of the
52nd
beyond the River Adour in France, was with the
2nd
Battalion undergoing his baptism of fire. They had driven the French out of Merxen, without loss to themselves, and then after staying there a few days had advanced into the suburbs of Antwerp. From the position they now reached the British were able to survey the French fleet frozen into the basin of the city, and it seemed a profitable idea to bombard them from this vantage point.

One day they were surprised by the arrival of William, Duke of Clarence, the Prince Regent's brother, come to observe the scene, but unfortunately it coincided with a French retaliatory bombardment. The Duke showed no signs of fear and continued to watch from his horse until a bullet pierced the skirt of his greatcoat and Captain Love, the commander in the field, was blown from his horse, without serious injury to himself, and the sentry beside him was killed and three others seriously wounded.