Jeremy Poldark

  Ross said: “The courtesies can only be squeezed out of me like drops from a reluctant lemon. But now and then it’s convenient to be agreeable for a change.”

  Dwight laughed. “Be careful you don’t over praise yourself. I suppose you’re not responsible for my astonishing windfall, are you? Mention of the lemon came very easy to your lips.”

  “Just at the moment I’m praying for windfalls not bestowing ’em. What has come your way?”

  “Those sacks. They’re full of oranges. They came this morning, twelve in all, delivered on three mules by a surly fellow who would scarcely open his mouth—all the way from Falmouth. I’m astonished.”

  “So should I be.”

  “Oh, they’re not for me. They’re for sick people in Sawle; I guess that much. I’ve been trying to remember how many I have mentioned this need to. You were one of them.”

  “Sorry. You must look among your rich friends, Dwight.”

  “I didn’t know I had any,” Dwight replied, knowing all the time he had one. “There must be close on a hundred dozen oranges here. Enough at least to check the scurvy if intelligently used. I have sent Bone off to borrow two old mine mules from the Nanfans. I’m waiting for him to return before I set off on my round. We must distribute some of the fruit this afternoon.”

  Ross glanced at his animated face. It was easy to see how Enys felt about this: to be fighting an enemy unarmed and then suddenly to find the weapons put into one’s hand…

  He said: “I came to ask you if by chance you receive any periodicals from London? The Sherborne Mercury is a little restricted in its news.”

  “Nothing—except Medical Facts and Observations edited by Dr. Simmons. That’s sent to me monthly. I have seen a London paper sometimes at the Pascoes’.”

  “With the trial over my head for six months and then the business of settling back into normal life, I’ve had little attention for general events. What do you think of developments in Europe?”

  Dwight found the query a little surprising, for he usually regarded Ross as much better informed than himself. “In France, do you mean? Have you read Reflections on the French Revolution?”

  “No.”

  “Nor I. But it has had an immense sale—of course you know. I understand Burke argues that the revolutionaries are really the enemies of liberty while doing everything in its name.”

  “It’s not unlikely. There’s strong feeling over here about the whole business; but for myself, while going into no extravagant praise of the revolutionaries, I can’t help but nurse some sympathy for their original aims.”

  Dwight looked at Ross. “I know. There were many such to begin, but they have been steadily forfeiting such sympathy.”

  Bone came in sight. They waited till he reached them. Will Nanfan could lend them the mules and would send them over early in the afternoon. Ross turned to walk back. He had not told Dwight one of the things he had come to speak of, but the impulse had died when he got to the Gatehouse. Dwight would guess soon enough and he wouldn’t be wanted until May.

  ***

  The sun was shining brilliantly by the time Dwight turned in at the gates of Killewarren, and the wind was rattling the withered leaves on the young oak trees. The gravel in front of the house was strewn with fir twigs which had been nibbled off by the squirrels in the upper branches. He knocked at the door and asked if Miss Penvenen were at home, and was admitted to a small room off the hall. Presently the maid came back and said Miss Penvenen would see him.

  She was in the usual living room, but was in a black riding habit over the shoulders of which her tawny hair fell to its full length like an escaping flame. She was standing by the fireplace when he came in, eating from a plate of sandwiches, and there was a wineglass on the mantelshelf. She laughed when she saw him.

  “Good day, Mr. Apothecary. Whom have you come to blood? My uncle’s in Redruth and is not expected home till four.”

  Dwight said: “My call’s on you, Miss Penvenen. I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient, but I’ll not keep you long.”

  She glanced at the clock. “I can give you five minutes, or as long as it takes to eat these sandwiches. This good east wind won’t last for ever, and I’ve had a merry morning. Up at dawn and we picked up a fox on his drag. He was a beauty and ran straight as a die to beyond Ponsanooth. I was second at the kill, and it was lively country. Around twelve we drew Killevreth Wood and found another, but my horse went lame just as he went away; so I’m back here for a brief refreshment while they saddle Thresher. D’you ever hunt, Mr. Sober Face?”

  Dwight said: “Did you arrange for a consignment of oranges to be delivered to my house today?”

  She looked at him widely.

  “Oranges? You did say oranges? If I made you a present at all it would be a better instrument for removing fishbones. You hurt my lips with your fingers, d’you remember?”

  “Yes,” he said, “I remember.”

  They stared at each other then. He was just near enough to detect that faint unfamiliar scent she used; the mannish clothes made her look more womanly.

  “So it was you,” he said. “I thought it could be no one else.”

  “Indeed?”

  “I’m—very grateful. They’ll be—life-giving.”

  “You don’t suppose I am interested in the fate of a few fishwives, do you? Heavens, what nonsense!”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  She looked him over, seemed about to deny it, then suddenly changed her mind. “Just to make a mock of you.”

  He flushed. “An expensive form of mockery, isn’t it?”

  She finished her wine. “I don’t like to be under an obligation—especially to a man—especially to you. You wouldn’t take my money—threw it back in my face.”

  “I don’t want your money—”

  “So I reasoned your conscience wouldn’t let you be too proud to accept a present for your poor starving fisherfolk. Nor has it. It’s you who are under the obligation now.”

  “I’m very obliged—for the condescension.”

  “You amuse me very much,” she said.

  “I like you very much too.”

  For the first time he saw a faint flush on her cheeks.

  “Don’t be impertinent.”

  “Wasn’t it impertinence you said you admired? I forget.”

  “You forget a great deal.”

  “I shall not forget this generous gift, however hard you try to disguise it—”

  She turned away from him as the door opened and Unwin Trevaunance came in.

  “Oh, there you are! Lord, I looked everywhere. You could at least…” He stopped short when he saw Dwight.

  “Did you get him?” she asked.

  “No…He ran short and the scent was confused. What was the matter?”

  “Firefly went lame. It’s his pastern again, so I came home. I shall be ready for off in half a minute.”

  “I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast. I’m ravenous.”

  “Put something in your pocket. If we dally about we may lose the hunt. Oh…Do you know Dr. Enys?”

  Unwin inclined his lion’s head. He didn’t look too pleased to have been deserted in the field, and to come all the way home to find Caroline in earnest conversation with a flushed but good-looking young man, who might be only a country physician of some sort but had an air of his own.

  “I don’t think I’ve had that pleasure.”

  “Pleasure is quite the word,” said Caroline, buttoning her coat. “He’s most skilful in curing dogs of distressing convulsions. Horace has not been troubled near so bad since he took that mixture you prescribed, Dr. Enys. He has a little spot on his ear now, which you might look to after we’ve gone.”

  Dwight refused to be provoked. “For twelve bags of oranges he shall have the best attention I can give ma’am.”
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  Unwin looked irritated. He began to take some things from the table and Caroline wrapped them in a napkin for him.

  “You’d better attend to him this morning then,” said Caroline, indicating Horace, who was snuffling round and round in his basket to find the most comfortable spot. “Next week we shall be gone.”

  “Gone?” said Unwin, looking at her. “Gone where?”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Dear Unwin; I’m so sorry. Uncle William said I should go back there in February. After all, I’ve been in these parts since September, and the hunting’s so much better in Oxfordshire.”

  “You certainly did not. I—” Unwin stared at Dwight, plainly wishing him in Hades.

  “Do you intend to be away long, Miss Penvenen?” Dwight asked.

  “It will depend what entertainment there is. Usually there’s plenty. But don’t worry: I’ve ordered more oranges for you next week also.”

  “Oranges, oranges?” Trevaunance said impatiently. “Come, Caroline, I hope I can persuade you to a delayed departure—but in the meantime we should make the most of this lovely day while it’s here.” He went to the door and opened it for her.

  “No, no, you cannot come, my sweet,” said Caroline in a honeyed voice to Horace, who had slipped out of his basket like lightning. “You would be frightened by all the bigger doggies. You shall stay at home with the nice doctor who’ll cure your ear and your fits and maybe take away any bones you swallow. There, there.” She put the dog into Dwight’s arms and smiled at him. Their eyes were on a level, and, out of perversity and knowing herself doubly safe in Unwin’s presence, she allowed the full challenge of her interest in him to show. There were tiny specks of amber on the pupils; the long lashes, so often narrowed, were for one second wide to show the grey-green depths.

  Then she laughed. “Goodbye, Dwight. May I call you Dwight? It’s a quaint name. One thinks of someone shy and a little unprogressive. Your mother must have thought of something different, mustn’t she? Who was right? I don’t at all know. Perhaps we shall meet again someday.”

  “I shall look forward to it,” said Dwight.

  She went out, leaving him with the struggling dog. Unwin glanced at him with an unfriendly assessing eye as he followed. Dwight heard them going down the passage, heard him speaking and her laughter before footsteps died away.

  Chapter Eight

  Ross’s idea would not let him alone. For a long time he did not speak of it to anyone, not even Demelza, whose eager brain might have been useful in helping him to a decision. But the consequence would be such that he felt he could not decently expect anyone else to take a share of the responsibility. Besides, Demelza, for all her acuteness, was a woman and would probably be swayed by considerations that hadn’t any business to be brought in.

  He spent a great deal more time than hitherto reading the Sherborne Mercury and other news sheets which he borrowed and bought where he could. He also read Pryce’s book, Mineralogia Cornubiensis, and several other treatises on the history and practice of mining, before making any overt move.

  Henshawe was the first man to approach—straight, canny, the best judge in the district, and as close as a clam.

  One day in early March, after an hour’s talk in the library of Nampara, during which old samples were thumbed and old maps pored over, Henshawe and Ross, with candles in their hats and some tackle over their shoulders, walked casually up the hill to the weather-beaten stone chimney of Wheal Grace; and no more was seen of them for three hours. When they returned to the house, muddy and tired, Demelza, who had been anxious for the last ninety minutes, restrained an impulse to scold them and gave them tea laced with brandy, scanning their faces for unspoken comment. It was queer, she thought, that people should find Ross hard to read. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking—any more you could tell what a lot of those smiling-faced people were really thinking behind their smile—but she could usually tell what he was feeling; and she knew now that he was not displeased with the outcome of the afternoon’s business.

  When Henshawe had gone he was more cheerful than he had been for a long time, much more like his old self. She realized more clearly than she had ever done before the need that Ross had for some continuing activity of mind and body. He was essentially a person who wanted to be planning and moving ahead, and however agreeable he might find the life of a country gentleman under its most favourable conditions, in poverty and frustration the life was intolerable. Further, the unseen but oppressive influence of the Warleggans was something which sooner or later must produce an explosion. If this business that was now afoot provided some sort of a safety valve, she was thankful for it.

  There were more hours spent in the draughty old library the next day and the next. One evening Zacky Martin was called in, and after that he seemed to be there most of the time. Later Ross and Henshawe rode to Camborne, and another time to Redruth, to discuss certain problems with certain people. But no strangers called at Nampara. On the twenty-third of March, which was a Wednesday, Ross rode into Truro and called on Harris Pascoe to tell him he had decided to sell half his holding in Wheal Leisure.

  The banker took off his spectacles and looked at him cautiously before commenting.

  “I think it a wise move. There is a stage at which one has to f-face facts and cut one’s losses. Of course, in a sense, it is not a loss but a sizeable profit; and that’s satisfactory. All the same, you have my sincerest sympathy; I know how much this venture has meant to you. I suppose you want to repay half the debt you contracted with Pearce. Very sensible indeed.”

  Ross frowned at the brand-new clock above the counter. “That’s the only new face I see about. Is that Mr. Tresize or Mr. Spry?”

  Pascoe smiled. “The change isn’t yet quite complete. But I’m sure you’ll like my new partners when you meet them. Now t-tell me: what do you want for your shares in Wheal Leisure?”

  “Twenty pounds a share.”

  The banker whistled. “Will anyone pay that? It’s a very high price. And you know how cautious people are about investing these days.”

  “Not in a profitable concern.”

  “No…Perhaps you’re right. Well, I can let it be known they’re in the market.” Harris Pascoe looked up at his client again, remembering an incident not so long ago. “I s-suppose you have no objections whom the shares go to?”

  Ross picked up a pen and ran his fingers slowly along the feather. “Beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

  “No-o.”

  “Except as to price. Naturally I don’t want it known that I’m eager to sell or someone may start making lower offers.”

  “It’s a change of front for you, Captain Poldark. But I think you’re wise.”

  ***

  Soon afterwards the first “run” was made into Nampara Cove. In the late afternoon of a quiet damp day Jud Paynter, of all people, came rolling down the combe on his bowlegs with a letter from Mr. Trencrom, touching his fringe to Ross in the old way, whistling almost noiselessly between his front teeth and glancing in an inquisitive hangdog fashion about the house where he had spent many years of his life.

  Ross read the note and said: “That’s convenient. Does Mr. Trencrom expect a reply?”

  “Not bi word o’ pen. I’ll tell ’im tes all fitty. ’E depend ’pon me, do Mr. Trencrom these days. His right-arm man, I reckon. Couldn’ do without me. Proper job I got now.”

  “You’ve the knack with a cutter,” Ross agreed. “But then, you were always one for sailing near the wind, weren’t you, Jud?”

  “Wind or no, it d’make no difference,” said Jud blinking. He was never quite comfortable in Ross’s presence, faintly defiant, faintly resentful, wanting to be cocky and familiar but never gathering the courage. As long as he lived he would never forgive Ross for turning him out of the house; but his resentment was always nearer indignation than spite.

  Some such thou
ght as this crossed Ross’s mind, and he said: “I haven’t thanked you for your peculiar testimony at the assize court. I don’t know what you intended to say when you first went into the box, but in the end no one knew whether you were for me or against me, and even the judge was arguing. It’s no mean feat to confuse the law.”

  Nature had not designed Jud’s face for the expression of pleasure, but the way he wiped his nose on the back of his hand suggested he was gratified.

  “Aw…I always d’say to Prudie, when a man’s in trouble, then he d’know his neighbours. I won’t disknowledge twas a tryin’ time to be stood up afore this judge just like as if I’d been the ’ardened lawbreaker. But I’ve mind of you since you was a little tacker no biggerer than pot high, so what was there to do else?”

  “What puzzles me is how you came in that position. There’s rumour about that you were paid money to swear against me. That isn’t true, of course?”

  “Never no word of it! Tedn true, tedn right, tedn proper! There’s nasty lying tongues about tryin’ to make grief betwixt us. Don’t ee believe a word of un. If the truth be told…”

  Jud paused, sucking his teeth. “If the truth be told,” Ross prompted.

  “If the truth be told, tes all on account o’ my good nature. Don’t like to say no, see. People d’come an’ asks me one thing an’ I say ais and naw just to be easy, like. They get very friendly along of you, an’ a drop o’ gin; an’ afore you can spit they’ve congled up some notions you never thought ’pon, not in your wildest dreams. That’s how tis, as sure as me mother was married. Then when tes time for the court o’ law, what’s to do? Only to act like you was put in wi’ the bread an’ took out with the cakes, like. That’s the truth if I go around land tomorrer.”

  Ross looked down at the shifty bulldog face. He didn’t believe a word of it, but he laughed.

  “Go tell your new master that I’m ready to draw my curtains.”

  In fact on this first run, because of Demelza’s anxiety and because of her condition, Ross observed all the prohibitions though it went against the grain to do so. As dusk was falling he had the candles lighted and the curtains drawn, and they sat reading together until they heard the first clink of horses’ hooves by the stream. Then Demelza got up and played on the spinet, and hummed and sang a little. Later they had supper, and presently the horses began to pass again, though this time it seemed their hooves were heavier on the ground. Occasionally a gruff voice could be heard and a footstep or the chink of metal.