The Twisted Sword

  ‘Of course. Have you news of the other rebellion?’

  ‘What? Oh, the one from Lille? It has collapsed. Part of an army corps set out on Sunday from Lille, led by General Desnouettes and proclaiming the King of Rome; but it met with so little enthusiasm that by yesterday evening hardly a brigade was left. That dispersed at Fontainebleau. At least one crisis is over.’

  ‘And Fouché?’ said Ross.

  ‘Fouché?’ Somerset raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Was he not behind the revolt?’

  ‘I hadn’t heard so. Had you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I wonder if the King knows.’

  ‘I think he may by now.’

  Somerset looked at Ross. Your mission has led you into strange company . . .’

  Ross did not answer.

  ‘In any event,’ said the young diplomat, ‘I doubt if Fouché could be moved against. Proof would probably be hard to come by, and at the moment it is unlikely that the King, needing all the popular support he can get, would touch him for fear of alienating the Jacobins. Do not forget that under the Bourbons they have found a much greater freedom to operate than they were allowed under Bonaparte.’

  ‘You know, do you, that I am invited to Auxerre again on Thursday.’

  ‘You’ll not go?’

  ‘Oh, I may do. In two days, of course, the major battle may have been fought. But it is a long way from Lyon to Auxerre. I have been studying the map. Near on two hundred miles. An army can’t move at that speed, even without obstruction.’

  ‘Well,’ said Fitzroy Somerset, ‘now the weather has cleared we shall get our news more quickly. How long do you plan to be away?’

  ‘If I leave on Thursday I can be in Auxerre before dark on Friday. Friday evening as a guest again of Brigadier Rougiet. I think there are some cavalry exercises he wants me to see on Saturday morning – I can leave late on Saturday and be back on Sunday evening.’

  ‘The stables I recommended: did you get a good mount?’

  ‘Excellent, thank you.’ Ross got up. ‘I realize that there may be no cavalry manoeuvres when I get there. Or they may have become manoeuvres in earnest.’

  When he returned to the rue de la Ville l’Evêque he bore with him two letters Fitzroy Somerset had handed him which had come in the diplomatic bags. One was from each of their grown-up children.

  Jeremy wrote:

  Dear Absent Parents,

  I trust you are both well and happy and are preserving a decent moral dignity among the depravities of Paris. We are well and very, very happy. This time last year I would not have conceived it possible.

  Yesterday was Cuby’s Birthday and I gave a party for a few friends, which ended in the small hours and was much enjoyed. She is a wonderful wife, and I still count my good fortune that – partly thanks to the encouragement of my mother and the urgings of my outrageous father – I was able to bully her into coming away with me. I want very much that you shall meet her properly very soon, and I am delighted that you will have room to accommodate us in your apartment in Paris, for we have been overspending of late – or rather I have been overspending and Cuby has been clinging to my coat-tails to deter me. We shall all be together for at least a week and I can see my big brother again and pull Bella’s hair. Know you when the Enyses are arriving? It would be even more pleasure still if they were in Paris for Easter too.

  News reached us last night that old Bony Part has slipped away from Elba and is in France again. Some Belgians are whispering that the English deliberately let him go. Can you imagine anything more stupid than that? Others think he will come heading straight for Brussels, and a few English are leaving. I’m sure you have more recent reports than we do, but he could make a Nuisance of himself. Perhaps by now he will have been re-netted and will not be casting shadows over our Easter holiday.

  Did you before you left have any advance information as to the likely profits of Wheal Leisure? When I was home the 30, 45 and 80 levels were all yielding well, so I am hoping for a bumper share-out to see me free of my debts. I am hungry to be home long enough sometime to get the engine house thoroughly cleaned – apart from the engine which of course is spotless. It is a curious habit of mining engineers that they are only concerned for the working parts.

  By the way, did you see about the disaster that occurred at Newcastle Colliery, Durham? A great many people assembled to witness the opening of the new steam railroad to carry the coal in wagons to the dockside. The engine burst and killed ten, with another fifty badly scalded. Perhaps I am safer in the army! Seriously, some people will never learn. I am comforted to hear that the London Times newspaper will shortly be printed by steam. Perhaps their editorials will become more explosive!

  Cuby is beside me and sends you her love to join with mine.

  Your loving son,

  Jeremy

  Clowance’s letter ran:

  Dearest Mama and Papa,

  It was more than good to receive your letter and to learn you were safely installed in a comfortable home. How lucky you are to be there. I so very much envy you, and especially I envy Bella the opportunity to learn French. And the opportunity to see Paris after all these years of War!

  I trust you had my earlier letter telling you of my joy that Papa had decided to accept a title. It is so right that he should have done so. I trust you are now getting used to being so addressed. Stephen says he walks three inches taller for having a baronet for his father-in-law!

  We are beginning the building of our new house! It is very exciting and I believe will be wonderful when finished. Stephen is away at times but less than he used to be. Sid Bunt is permanently in charge of the Lady Clowance, and Andrew of the Chasse Marée. Stephen is so proud of Adolphus that he is at present using her for quick trips to France and back only and commanding her himself. He can’t bear to be away from Falmouth for long; but he has asked me if I can Deputize for him when he is away and maybe help with the office work even when he is home. Of course I shall love to do this, and in no time will be making out Bills of Lading in triplicate form!

  Long before all this you will be home from your stay in Paris and will have told me all your adventures. Dwight and Caroline were much looking forward to joining you, and I only so much wish that Stephen and I could grow wings and make up the family party.

  Lady Harriet (Warleggan) has been in a great taking because someone in the woods above Cardew has been setting mantraps to deter poachers, and one of her great boarhounds wandered off a couple of weeks ago and was caught in the trap. By chance I found him – returning from the Enyses accompanied by Music Thomas – and we bore him home. He has his leg in a splint but I think will have come to no hurt. Harriet’s fury knows no bounds. She is still trying to find who is responsible and has narrowed the search to the Devorans and the Hills. (Lord Devoran, of course, wouldn’t harm a rabbit, but Betty is capable of anything!) I incline to think she is to blame.

  In any event, Music profited by it, for Harriet gave him five guineas and a new suit of clothes. I do not believe he had ever seen so much money, and I am sure he went lolloping off in the snow singing all the way at the top of his voice. He is a much improved person since Dwight took him in hand. He was wonderful with the hound.

  The weather is brilliant now, but with a chill wind. The daffodils are in full bloom, and I’m sure the garden at Nampara looks its best. I am hoping to have a garden. We shall be exposed to the east winds, but look what a wall has done for Nampara!

  We hunted twice with the Stithians pack last week. Nero is fine, but Stephen is still looking out for a hunter for himself. It is expensive to hire them and we cannot for ever be borrowing from Harriet. I saw Paul Kellow in Truro last week looking very smart – the coaching business is strangely prospering for him – and with a new inamorata, one I had not met before, called Mary Temple. Someone says she is a daughter of the Temples of Tregony, who are supposed to be rich, aren’t they?

  All my love,

  Clowance
r />   ‘It does not look as if Jeremy yet knows about you,’ said Demelza, turning the letter over. ‘It is addressed to Captain and Mrs Poldark. You did say you had written to him?’

  ‘Yes. I believe I omitted to mention it.’

  You . . .? Oh, really, Ross! I cannot believe you! That you should not tell him the most important thing! I wish I had written myself!’

  Ross said: ‘What would you have had me say? “Dear Jeremy, you will be shocked to know that your father’s egoism has triumphed over his honesty and he has allowed himself to be pushed – not quite resisting every step, protesting loudly but insincerely – into accepting a title which he neither needs nor deserves. Furthermore, this absurd appendage which will now forever more be hung at the front and back of his name like a rosette on a donkey’s head and a ribbon on his tail, will on his decease – which may occur any day – be transferred to you. This blot, this scar, this appendage, can never more be discarded—” Whatever’s the matter?’

  He could not go on for Demelza was crowing with laughter.

  ‘Stop it!’ he said angrily. You sound like Bella!’

  ‘My lover,’ she gasped. ‘My dear, dear Ross. I did not know you could express – express yourself so well! You have said you are no House of Commons man, but I am sure the – the chamber, is it? – would – would listen spellbound.’ She sobered suddenly, dabbing her eyes. ‘At heart, my lover, is it not now that you are being insincere? Not for accepting the title but for even pretending that Jeremy will look on it that way. Or that anyone else in the whole world over would, my dearest. Would they? Would any of your radical friends, even? They would say, if we have a friend called Sir Ross Poldark, is he not more valuable as a helper than Captain Poldark?’

  You don’t understand at all—’

  She went up to him and squeezed his arm. ‘I think maybe I do a little. You are too proùd to need a title, is that not it? Your name is good enough anywhere in the world. Well, nobody has ever been prouder of the name of Poldark than I have since you gave it me. But this is just – just a little icing on the cake, is it not? Not to be taken serious. Not to grow larger in the head and more proudful for it. Not to expect folk to bow and scrape because you are a baronet. Not to let it make one scrap of difference how you think and feel about people or people’s rights, or justice or freedom. You are the same as you ever were, and if the world thinks different it will soon discover its mistake.’

  ‘Your hand’s cold,’ he said.

  ‘’Tis your arm that’s hot,’ she said. ‘Hot with annoyance because somebody has persuaded you to take what you do not want to take. So now you must sit down and write to your son today. Or else I will write.’

  ‘That is someone at the door,’ he said.

  ‘Let ’em wait, Cap’n Poldark.’ She slipped her hand down to his. ‘See how your heat is warming my hand, Cap’n Poldark. It would warm my heart too if I thought you were as happy as I am about it.’

  ‘Are you happy about it? About that?’

  ‘Of course. It is just what I said – a little icing on the cake.’

  ‘Caroline thought you would be.’

  ‘Caroline? You haven’t seen her!’

  ‘After Christmas. I saw her one afternoon. She said you would have wanted me to take it.’

  ‘I believe you take more notice of her than you do of me!’

  ‘Sometimes. On some subjects. Yes. That is someone at the door.’

  ‘If we wait long enough they will go away.’

  ‘Jodie said she was coming round this afternoon to take you shopping. But it would be early for her.’

  ‘I don’t know what I can possibly want. Only perhaps shoes. Is Jeremy right, Ross? Is Leisure doing well?’

  ‘Very well. We shall not want for a loaf of bread.’

  ‘I dearly hope Jeremy does not get into the hands of moneylenders. I have always felt he was so good about money. Now I am not so sure.’

  ‘Why? What has he done?’

  ‘It says in the letter,’ Demelza corrected herself hastily, ‘that he is in debt. I just worry when I think of any of my children in debt.’

  ‘No one is going to the door,’ said Ross. ‘Meurice is a lazy skunk and Etienne little better.’ He detached himself from his wife.

  ‘Ross,’ she said.

  Yes?’

  ‘If you hate a title so much why did you allow yourself to be called Captain? Should not plain Mister have been enough?’

  He considered her. Then he reached forward and tweaked her nose.

  ‘Ow!’she said.

  He kissed her nose and patted her hand as he went towards the door. ‘You should be in Parliament,’ he said, ‘not I.’

  II

  It was Jodie, and she was just turning away.

  ‘Oh, I thought you were from home. I came early for I may not have time this afternoon. Can you come with me this morning, Demelza?

  She was looking very smart in her scarlet merino coat and white silk hat trimmed with striped ribbons. But her face was colourless and her dark eyes at their most desolate.

  ‘Well, I can’t go in this!’ said Demelza. ‘Give me five minutes to change. Have you brought your coucou?’

  ‘Yes. It is quite a long way to walk.’

  ‘I delight to drive in it.’

  ‘Wrap up. The wind is cold.’

  When Demelza had gone Ross walked to look out of the window at the trim little carriage with its single roan pony and the waiting groom.

  ‘Do you have further bad news for us?’

  ‘. . . Perhaps it is the news we do not have which is worrying.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Well, we have reports of Bonaparte’s proclamations. He proclaims himself the liberator of his faithful subjects from a foreign-imposed Bourbon tyranny. He says his eagles are on the wing and will perch from spire to spire until they reach Notre-Dame. He proclaims that he was permitted to leave Elba by the British (who control the Mediterranean), that he is to be joined en route by the Empress and by her son, the King of Rome, and that they will shortly be crowned in Paris. (Thus implying that Austria also favours his return.) He has already named part of his cabinet: Cambacérès as Minister of Justice, Carnot of the Interior. Fouché’s back to his old position as Chief of the Police. He promises free elections, a free press . . . Above all he asserts that he comes in peace and wishes peace with all nations. He is here to re-establish the Empire and the self-respect and dignity of France.’

  After a minute Ross said: ‘Part of it is lies, but it will appeal to many people.’

  ‘Free press!’ exclaimed Jodie. ‘Four newspapers are published in Paris when Bonaparte rules, and all are in strictest government control.’

  ‘What else do we know?’

  ‘They say his route will be by Mâcon and Chalon, making for Dijon. But before he gets there he must meet and defeat Ney’s army.’

  ‘Do you rely on Ney?’

  ‘I know him well, my friend. He has lived a dissolute, a vivid life. He is impulsive, generous, brave to a fault, warmly fond of his wife in spite of all his infidelities, indiscreet, quick-tempered, emotional. He has quarrelled bitterly with Bonaparte but I suspect, yes, I suspect secretly loves him. He has two very loyal generals under him, Bourmont and Lecourbe, who will certainly keep him faithful to the King, even if he were to waver. But I do not think he can possibly waver – after such promises.’

  Ross kicked at the fire. It was a cold day, and when there was a north wind this room was always chill.

  ‘Well, the other insurrection has collapsed. The march from Lille. Fitzroy Somerset told me.’

  ‘I have not seen Henri today. He has been working day and night to bring all our forces up to the maximum strength – just in case they are needed. The King’s Bodyguard has been almost doubled by the enlistment of new Royalist volunteers. There is every sign of high spirits and warm affection in the Palace. This second army is to be concentrated before Melun.’

  Demelza returned wrap
ped in a grey suede coat with fox fur at collar and cuffs. Her hat was of green suede with a small brilliant feather. Jodie smiled at her.

  ‘We shall not be so long, Ross, for I have urgent work this afternoon.’

  ‘And Fouché?’ said Ross.

  ‘Fouché. Ah yes. A strange thing has happened. The King sent for him this morning. He knew of his involvement with Desnouettes, but was not intending to face him with it. The King wished that he might ask for his advice, on the assumption that Fouché would be useful in this crisis. But when they send round they learn that the Duke of Otranto has gone away for a few days . . . This is clearly a diplomatic absence. He is somewhere in Paris – with Tallien, no doubt – waiting the events of the next few days before he emerges again from his sty.’

  ‘Bonaparte has already said he wants him to serve as his next Chief of Police.’

  ‘So our agents report. Of course if that ever happened . . .’Jodie opened the door and waited for Demelza.

  Demelza said: ‘If that ever happened?’

  ‘I should be arrested at once. Fouché would never miss a chance like that.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  I

  But on the 16th all was changed. The Moniteur published an official despatch received by telegraph that morning, stating that although some troubles had been reported in Mâcon, Chalon and Dijon, it was only among the dregs of the population. Napoleon with a harassed force of four thousand men and a few cavalry was now retreating upon Lyon and his troops were deserting in masses. He was isolated in the middle of France, and Marshal Ney was advancing on him.

  It looked like a repetition of the collapse of the revolt from Lille.

  The Minister of War entered the officers’ guard-room at the Paris Barracks and said: ‘Well, gentlemen, you may take off your boots. The commandant of Napoleon’s advance has been taken prisoner and is at this moment in my apartment. Desnouettes is in a place of safety with his accomplices. General Marchand is in the rear of Napoleon. All is working quickly and well. The emergency is over.’