The Miller's Dance (12 page)

'Yes, but they're more or less picturesque ruins now, and the vegetation has quite recovered.'

I
remember-riding th
ere once to see Sir John Trevau
nance,' Demelza said, it was when you were - at Bodmin. The smelting works had only just been opened, and it straggled all down the side of the cove, with reverbatory furnaces and the like, and great volumes of smoke and heat and the men looking pale and ill from the fumes, and mules carrying ore down to the quay.'

'Was that for refining tin or copper?' Stephen asked.

'Copper.'

'Why was it abandoned?'

Ross said: it was begun to smelt copper in Cornwall instead of having it all sent to South Wales, where they had a monopoly. I was one of those along with Sir John who believed it could be done better here. I was wrong.'

'So was George Warleggan,' said Dwight, 'when he took it over after you had withdrawn. It must be
the
only occasion when he has made a bad speculation.'

'Until recently,' said Ross.

‘
indeed, yes,' said Dwight with an inflection in his voice which raised eyebrows. He went on: 'But this projected mine at Trevaunance: they say it would be almost at the front door of Place House.'

'Can Mr Pope do nothing to stop them ?'Jeremy asked his father.

'He might make things difficult - denying them access to water, questioning their right of way. But I don't think any court in Cornwall would be sympathetic towards a landowner who tried to impede mining ventures. If I were Unwin,' Ross added,
I
'd offer Mr Pope a small interest in the mine. It has been done before. It is quite astonishing how a man's aesthetic senses are dulled by a possibility of profit.'

Another laugh. Stephen thought: they're nice enough folk, good folk, good
living
... not one of 'em's drunk tonight, except Jeremy. But is this the way to live when you have money? It is middle-aged.
They're
middle-aged, most of 'em. Yet it's not all been smooth and easy for them, not always. That man last night in Sally's telling about when Dr Dwight Enys was held on a smuggling charge. And these two, Clowance's parents: he with his gaunt, tight-drawn face, she with those eyes. Not always so quiet Ross Poldark, it was said, had once been nearly hanged for insurrection or some such. And they whispered she was a miner's brat. That he took leave to doubt. He hadn't seen any miner's brats around looking like her. More was the pity.

Well, it was all over now for all of them anyway. Clowance even said her father intended to resign his seat in Parliament at the next election. Country squire riding to hounds. But he didn't even ride to hounds. Country squire, gouty and purple. His father-in-law. Dying off in a year or two.

Four cool fingers in his the only contact tonight. Polite society. Hell and damnation. He wanted this girl beside him with all the adult passion of a male stag in rut It made it no better
that
she was now promised to him. Worse, rather. September?... Almighty Christ, what was he supposed to do till then - dance attendance on her and eat sweetmeats like a eunuch?'

They were still talking about illnesses.

'And Violet Kellow?'ne heard himself ask.

There was a brief pause.

Dwight said: 'Violet? Stephen, I'm afraid ...'

Caroline finished the sentence. 'Dr Enys seldom talks about his patients, Stephen, even to me. It is one of his peculiarities, no doubt dictated by Paracelsus or Hippocrates or one of those sages of the past. His predecessor here, Dr Choake, who used to live where the Kellows now live, was quite different. Indeed he made his every visit a cosy chat, in which one learned all about the kidney complaints, gouty humours and bowel movements of one's neighbours.'

Another laugh.

'Seriously,' Caroline said, 'if I may venture a personal opinion that owes nothing at all to my medical husband, I'm afraid she is not long for this world.'

'So am I,' said Stephen.

Conversation continued, but he was aware that the four fingers he had been holding had been withdrawn from his hand.

I

On Monday the 14th Jeremy and Clowance rode into Truro and met Valentine and his party and went to see the play.

The party was a little larger than they had expected, but made up, as Valentine had prophesied, of old and young. The 'old' were Lady Harriet Carter with her friend the Hon.
Maria Agar, Sir Unwin Trevaunance, Major John Trevan
ion; the young apart from themselves, were th
e two Trevan
ion girls, Miss Clemency and Miss Cuby. It was not the most adroit of groupings, but neither Sir George nor Valentine was to know that Jeremy and John Trevanion had mortally insulted each other at their last meeting.

They dined at the Great House - which was not nearly so great as its name - and walked across to the theatre a few minutes before seven.

It was over ten months since Jeremy had seen his love. She was dressed in green velvet tonight with gauzy sleeves, and lace at the throat and wrists. She wasn't really
pretty
—
he had told himself this over and over again to try to ease his own heart; and
the view of her tonight instantl
y reconfirmed the truth of this. She was not even pretty like Daisy Kellow. Her hair was nearly straight, her skin olive, her face too round. It made not a whit of difference: she turned his heart over. Her every movement and expression was like magic to him, making his blood beat fast, his tongue stumble over the simplest phrase.

He did not sit next to her at dinner, nor at the theatre. He cursed his ill-luck at meeting her again, but at the same time
1
knew himself newly alive. As for her brother - they had so far successfully avoided each other altogether, even in this small party.

The Shamrock Players, who may or may not have had some affiliation with Ireland, were
performing
The
Tragedy
of
the
Gamester,
or
False
Friend.
They were also to give
The Milliners
and the farce entitled
The
Village
Lawyer.
Sir George had taken one of the two boxes.

The theatre, which was crowded for the performance, had now been in service for nearly a quarter of a century. It was the only one, it was claimed, in England to have been specially built so that it could be used also as assembly rooms for balls and receptions. It had three small galleries where the noisy rabble congregated and sucked oranges and threw the peel about and sometimes interrupted the actors. Most of the wooden floor which was utilized for balls and dancing was lifted away for the stage performance, and the pit sat on benches arranged on the earth floor underneath. This effectively lowered them about two feet below the level of the performers. The stage consisted of a section of the original wooden floor which had not been removed, and this extended to the right and left to make two boxes, from which the richer gentry were able to pay
3
s. each to sit on cane chairs and watch the acting at close quarters.

The interior of the theatre only measured some sixty-odd feet by half as wide, so intimacy was achieved on all levels. When someone as famous as Mrs Siddons came, even the benches were removed from the pit and people stood shoulder to shoulder for the show.

Although the ten chairs i
n their box were set close tog
ether Jeremy again had no direct contact with Cuby, being divided from her by Clowance and Valentine. Earlier, in the Warleggans' home, she had flushed at the sight of him; they had exchanged stiff bows and several times before dinner been drawn into the same conversation. But there had been no personal, private exchange. Hardly an exchange of glances. Cuby's eyes seemed able to look anywhere except into Jeremy's. She moistened her lips and joined casually in the talk, occasionally smiling. Then in the way that Jeremy so heartbreakingly remembered, the sulky mouth broke the barely observable dimples into enchanting crescents, and the whole face lit as if with some electric charge.

When the first half of the performance ended there was an interval before the farce began, and most of the audience

p
ressed out into the entrance hall to take the air and to buy
l
emonade and sherbet and a new drink called ginger-beer which was becoming the fa
shion. Unfortunately this vesti
bule was tiny, and the movement of many people so overcrowded it that procession either backwards or forwards was minimal. The older members of the party had stayed in the box, where drinks would be taken to them.

So they came together, alm
ost pressed together, while
Valentine was attending to the requirements of Clowance and Clemency. Jeremy said:
I
hope you are enjoying the play.' She looked up at him as if he were a clumsy stranger who had trodden on her dress.
'Not very greatly.' 'Why not?
’

I
do not care to be
stared
at’
'Who is doing that?'

'You are not watching the play at all! You can hardly
know what it is about!'

‘
I
have a fair notion. Is it not...'

'Not what?
’

‘I
s it not about a young lady who showed preference for a man she knew and then changed her feelings at her brother's request?'

'That play has yet to be written. You should attend to the
stage.'

'Perhaps the farce will sui
t me better. That may be more
true to life.'

Cuby looked at the glass of lemonade he was offering her.
'Thank you, you may drink that. I'm not thirsty.'

'You did say lemonade? Is this another change of feeling? But your brother Is safely out of earshot.'

She turned to thrust herself away from him, but people hemmed her in.
I
did not suppose you could be so needlessly offensive.'

'Needlessly? Do you think I have no need, no cause?'
I
She was about to reply when the voice of someone beside her, louder than the others, shouted:
'Leave us open they doors, Enry, cann't ee? Tedn proper dark yet.' Someone shouted back: 'Couldn't, you. They'd never disjoin them as has paid from them as has not!'-

Jeremy said: 'If I am bitter, tell me why I should not be.'

'Because you see only one
side.'

'You have never given me help to see any other!'

I
had hoped it was not important to you - that it would all soon be forgot.'

'Well, it has not been.'

'No. No, I see that...'

'Is that all you can see?'

'You cannot expect me to discuss it in the middle of this crowd!'

'Why not? Nobody is listening.'

She took a deep breath. He offered her the glass again.

'Tell me your
side,' he persisted. 'I would l
ike to understand it. I would like to be enlightened.'

She took the glass from him, sipped it, but more as if it were some poison cup. 'You accuse me - insultingly - of changing my feelings at my brother's command. You cannot be sure what my feelings were! And who
says
they have changed?'

'Then what am I to think?'

'Think - believe - what I told you last at Caerhays. Think of me as well as you can - that's
all.'
'I think you're beautiful.'

They both knew then that the emotional wound was wide open again.

'No!' she said quietly but very angrily. 'No, that's not
it!
That's not the way to try to
understand.
I am not weak, I am
strong
!
I am not wanton or frivolous, only
hard.
I.. .
’
She threw her head back. 'In fact,.I intend to marry money.'

'So I have been told.'

She stopped; 'You know that?'

'I have been toldso.'

'Well, it's true. Who said so?'

it doesn't matter if it's true.'

'Who
said
so?'

'The same person who told me your family was nearbankrupt over this stupid castle Major Trevanion has built; and that they were looking to you to retrieve their fortunes.'

She turned on him. 'And if it is true, who is responsible?
Not just my brother, who gets
all the blame! From the age of
sixteen, when this castle was being planned, I wanted it too!
When I saw the plans and sketches I was enchanted. So was
Charlotte. So was my mother. So were Augustus and
Clemency. We
all
bear responsibility! The cost has gone
far
beyond our expectations.
I told you of the landslip. And
there have been many more mishaps. We
jointly
bear the
blame.'

'But it is
you
who must sacrifice yourself for money.'

'Oh;' she shrugged, sudde
nly cold; 'who is to talk of
sacrifice? I may yet find some pretty man with a fortune whom I may come to care for far more than his moneybags.'

'As you once cared for me?'

'Oh,
you.'
She half-laughed contemptuously. 'You're just
Jeremy and by then will be
long
forgot.'
j
'You're making much of
this forgetting. D'you suppose I
can forget? I'm in love with you. I love you. I
love
you,
Cuby. Does that mean nothing to you at all ?'

'Stop it, I tell you! Be quiet! Shut up!'

People were pushing back towards the auditorium.

She saw his face. 'I'm
sorry,
Jeremy.'

'For me or for us both?
’

I
am sorry for having allowed myself to like you too much.'

There was a germ of comfort for him here among all the bitterness and jealousy and distress.

'So you do still care.'It was no longer a question.

'What does that
mean
?’
‘
It can mean anything. Let us go back now. I still wish to - to watch, to enjoy the play.'

'Cuby...'

'No more now, please.'

'Cuby, you
do
care. Can you deny it?'

I
am not in the witness-box!' 'Can we meet afterwards? After supper perhaps.' 'No! If I'd known you would be here I should not have come!'

To talk. For ten minutes only.' 'No!'

'Ah,' said Valentine, pushing his way through and smiling his brilliant, crooked smile. 'Are you joining us again? Clemency and Clowance have gone already, anxious not to miss a word. Brighten up, Cuby, for the Farce. I believe you have taken the Tragedy too much to heart.'

II

There was another entr'acte just before nine, bur Cuby did not budge from her seat. When it was over, and they came out into the mild windy April night, with the carriages and the chairs and the lanterns waiting and winking outside in the square, it was only four minutes' stroll back to the Warleggans', so the five
young people dismissed one car
riage and walked, stepping carefully here and there to avoid the pools and the horse-droppings and the heaps of refuse, talking and laughing among themselves, making their way from High Cross to St Mary's Church, down the slit of Church Lane, into-the new broad Boscawen Street and thence to Prince's Street, where the Warleggans' town house was up the steps on the right.

They supped, but on far s
ides of the table. Major Trevan
ion this time sat directly opposite Jeremy, but they looked stiff-faced at each other
and avoided conversation. Fortu
nately the table was broad.

The Trevanions were
spending the night with the War
leggans, but faithful to Demelza's preferences, her children after supper would have to ride a matter of three miles up the hill to Polwhele. Jeremy again cursed his luck, for the Trevanions would leave for home early in the morning, and there would be no chance then. And Cuby was clearly intent on avoiding a further meeting tonight. Yet now the awful wound was open again, something he felt
had
to be resolved. Some peace of mind, some hope, or some death.

Then by chance, just when he was despairing, he caught her in the hall as she came slippering down the stairs. Of