‘No,’ he said judicially.
‘It could not happen again – certainly not with a man like Captain Adderley.’
‘Then you should make it clearer to me that it can’t.’
‘How?’
‘By not encouraging him.’
‘I do not encourage him! I have to be polite!’
‘Why?’
She made a despairing gesture. ‘Sometimes, Ross, you try me hard. You really do. I am – I am in London for the first time. It is a new society. I am your wife – truly, truly in more than name again, in more than mere act again, after so long. I am happy, excited, living in a new way. A man comes up to me and starts paying me compliments. He is a – he is educated, well bred, a member of Parliament. Do I turn my back on him to please you? Do I smack his face to satisfy you? Do I sit in a corner and refuse to answer him? Better that I should never have come!’
‘Better that you should never have come than he should contrive to paw you. He must know every bone in your left arm from wrist to shoulder.’
There was silence.
‘Then tell me what I must do,’ Demelza said. ‘Do you wish me to go home?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Tell me how I must behave then.’
‘You know very well how to behave.’
‘That’s not fair! Anyway,’ Demelza said mutinously, ‘he won’t take no for an answer. He says he is coming to take me to Vauxhall next Monday when you are in the House.’
‘And shall you go?’
‘Certainly not! I shall be out – or unwell. A fever might be most likely to cool his ardour . . . Perhaps I could paint some spots on my face and squint through the window at him . . . Ross, do not let this spoil our time here . . .’
‘No,’ he said, ‘no,’ and put an arm about her shoulders, ‘but one cannot always contain or order one’s feelings, and when I see you in the company of another man – being touched and pressed by him – my mind – or something in me – turns up old feelings, old thoughts, old resentments. Which aren’t so very old.’
She lay against him, saying nothing for a long time, but not so sleepy now.
IV
A basket of flowers came next morning. Ross was for throwing it out, but Demelza could not tolerate this. Flowers to her were objects of interest and pleasure, no matter where they came from; and there were some in this bunch that she had never seen before.
They spent the Sunday with Dwight and Caroline riding beyond the village of Hampstead, and dined and supped with them. On the Monday morning more flowers. On Monday at five-thirty Caroline came for her and they went to the other royal theatre, at Covent Garden. It was over at nine and Demelza, feeling she was eating too much, declined an invitation to go back to Hatton Garden to sup and said she would eat lightly at home. Caroline left her there and she went up, to see lights in their sitting-room. She burst in, supposing that Ross was back, and found Monk Adderley reclining in a chair.
He was in an eggshell-blue suit of the finest silk, and his shirt was ornate with amber buttons.
‘Oh, welcome,’ he said, getting up slowly. ‘You have kept me waiting, but no matter. The pleasure is the greater.’
‘How did you get in?’
‘By the front door and up the stairs, ma’am. It was not difficult.’ He bowed over her hand, and she saw the scar in his hair.
‘Did – Mrs Parkins let you in?’
‘Yes. I said I was your brother. A simple device.’ He peeled back her glove and put his lips to the back of her wrist. ‘I always believe in simplicity first. Mind, there was an occasion last year when I wanted to enter a young lady’s apartment, and an old dragon of a mother was downstairs and inspected everyone who went up. So I borrowed the clothes of a seamstress and the old dragon passed me without a second glance! I make a tolerably good girl.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Demelza said, ‘I must ask you to leave, Captain Adderley.’
‘Leave? Do I offend you? How prettily you have arranged my flowers!’
‘It was kind of you to send them to me.’ She knelt and poked at the fire, put on two pieces of coal, giving herself time to think. ‘But it does not entitle you to – to . . .’
‘To enter your apartments by a stratagem? Oh, come. I had no other way of discovering you alone.’
‘Why do you wish to?’
‘Look in the glass, my dear.’
‘I – am married, Captain Adderley.’
‘Oh, yes. That I do know.’ A hint of amusement in his voice.
‘And my husband would not like to find you here.’
‘Nor shall he. I have a man outside who will delay him long enough in the street to enable me to slip away by the back entrance. But that is unlikely to be for two hours yet. They are droning on about the militia.’
‘Please go. I don’t wish to send for Mrs Parkins.’
‘I would not wish you to. But can we not at least talk a little while?’
‘What about?’
‘Any subject under the sun you choose. Life. Love. Letters. Let me tell you of the men I’ve killed.’
‘Next time we meet.’
He went across to a vase. ‘Look at these. Do you see these? Do you know what these flowers are called?’
‘No.’
‘They are called dahlias, D-A-H-L-I-A-S. They have been imported into England for use by the poor in place of the potato. But the saucy poor do not like the flavour; so now they are selling not the root but the flower.’
He had come up to her again as he was speaking but she moved away.
‘You will notice that they have no scent.’
‘I’ve noticed that.’
‘Let me relieve you of your cloak.’
‘When you have gone,’ she said.
His eyes were very narrow. ‘Are you afraid of me?’
‘Not a bit.’
‘Do you dislike me?’
‘No – o.’
‘You sound a little uncertain. Are you afraid of what I might do to you? Have you never had a man but your husband? Don’t you want to understand any of the finer complexities of love?’
‘Are you talking about love at all, Captain Adderley?’
He shrugged. ‘Call it what you will. I can instruct you most delicately in it all.’
There was a moment’s pause. He put his fingers gently on her breast; they lay there as light as a paw; then she as quietly moved away again.
He said: ‘You see?’
She turned: ‘What do I see?’
‘How quickly you respond.’
‘You flatter yourself.’
‘Do I? Let me prove it.’
She shook her head.
‘I am – deeply enamoured,’ he said. ‘Don’t suppose this is some trivial fancy. You are a very enchanting woman.’
‘I am – deeply flattered,’ she said. ‘But—’
‘Let us sit down and I will tell you of your enchantment.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you so harsh?’
‘Harsh? Not at all! I just happen not to feel as you wish me to feel.’
‘It could be altered, I assure you. I have a sovereign remedy, which I will explain to you—’
‘Not now. Another time, sir.’
They stared at each other.
He said: ‘You have a strange voice, ecod. It’s West Country, I suppose.’
‘I come from the West Country.’
‘Well, I like it. Do you cry out when a man takes you?’
She drew a deep breath. ‘In a moment – in a moment I think you will call me a prude, so perhaps I should say it now to save you the bother—’
‘Ma’am, you put words into my mouth that I—’
‘Are you a gentleman?’
He flushed. ‘I trust so.’ It was the first time she had ever seen colour in his face.
‘Then – forgive me, as you rightly say I am from the far west and don’t understand London manners – but is it not a gentleman’s duty to withd
raw when a lady asks him?’
His eyes crinkled. ‘Only when the gentleman has already been in.’
That settled it. She went to the bell rope. ‘I find that – remark a small matter . . . offensive. Will you please go.’
He considered her a moment more, weighing up the probabilities. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed each nostril in turn.
‘Perhaps I may wait upon you some other time.’
‘Please do.’
He gave a little sniggering laugh. ‘Ecod!’ he said. ‘I know what it is. It is not me you’re terrified of, it’s your husband! Does he beat you?’
‘Yes, often.’
‘When his arms get tired,’ Monk Adderley said, ‘tell him to send for me. Good night, Mrs Poldark.’
V
The Poldarks’ second week was not as pleasant as the first. Demelza had told Ross of Adderley’s visit, though she had glossed over the details. It was better that he should know from her than find out by accident and suppose she was deceiving him. He reprimanded Mrs Parkins: in future no one must be admitted to their rooms while they were out, whatever the pretext. But their relationship did not settle down to what it had been before. A cloud of non-explanation and misunderstanding lay around them and could give rise to forked lightning at any time.
They visited the Royal Academy and the British Museum, and at the beginning of the third week they supped with the Boscawens at their house in Audley Street. This was not as much of an ordeal as Demelza had feared, since the Viscount’s mother, the widow of the great admiral, was a vivacious old lady and made up for the absence of Mrs Gower.
When the ladies retired the two men discussed the invasion of Holland, which, after the first successes, was becoming bogged down with problems of supply and by generals and admirals hesitant to take further risks. Lord Falmouth observed drily that he had heard Captain Poldark had become something of a banker, and Ross explained what had occurred.
‘I trust you don’t feel this conflicts in any way with my obligation to you as a member of Parliament.’
‘No . . . Nor would I suppose you would take much heed of me if I said it did.’
‘There you do me an injustice, my lord. I would take heed of anything you say. Though obviously . . .’
‘Yes, quite.’
‘But I hope that nowadays there are fewer areas of disagreement between yourself and Lord de Dunstanville . . .’
Lord Falmouth sniffed. ‘Basset’s a pusher, and always has been. He’s too active about the county. In some cases worthily enough, but most often serving his own ends. However, I believe his peerage has somewhat quieted him down . . . Now I gather it is Hawkins who is befriending the Warleggans. If I know Sir Christopher, it will have been at a price.’
‘And George Warleggan would be willing to pay it.’
‘It is interesting,’ said Falmouth, dusting away the snuff, ‘if all you say about the Warleggans is true, they have, by putting such pressure on Pascoe’s Bank, only succeeded in establishing Pascoe in a stronger position and made the other object of their feud – yourself – into his partner!’
Ross said: ‘I think Harris Pascoe would greatly prefer his own bank to this new arrangement, but it is true their success was limited. As for me, I don’t look on mine as a serious appointment – but, yes, it is diverting, the way it has occurred.’
‘I would support it,’ said Lord Falmouth, ‘were there no other reason than that.’
The following Monday there was to be a debate in the House on the new Treaty of Alliance with Russia. It was not something Ross felt deeply involved in, but some of the most famous speakers were likely to take part; Lord Holland was to move an amendment, and Pitt and Fox were likely to take part. So he went at three to get a good seat for the debate, which would open at four.
But in the ordinary course of business of the House, a few smaller bills were in process of debate or amendment beforehand, and in one of these, relating to the treatment and succour of disabled soldiers and sailors, there was a call for a division, instead of for the customary show of hands, and Ross was sufficiently concerned to vote for the bill.
When such a division took place only one side was called to go out; and they were then counted as they came in again. The other side remained in their seats. It was the Speaker’s responsibility to nominate which side should have to go, but normally he chose the side proposing and supporting a new bill. So it was in this case, and perhaps Ross should have known better than to move.
In a house which would barely seat 300 when the total numbers were 558 there was likely to be pressure for seats before an important debate; and it was the custom of the House that any member who vacated his seat to vote was liable to forfeit it. For this reason members often failed to vote for a bill they supported so that they should not lose their seats, and sometimes it was a tactic to call for a division, knowing that fewer people would walk out to support than would have called ‘Aye!’
In this case the bill was carried on its first reading by a majority of thirteen but when Ross returned he found his seat occupiod by Captain Monk Adderley.
‘Ah . . .’ said Ross.
Adderley looked up at him through half-closed lids.
‘Lost something, Poldark?’
‘Yes . . . my seat.’
‘That you cannot have, my dear. There is no such thing as my seat in this house, as you well know. You’ll have to go and stand at the back, won’t you?’
A fat little man next to Monk chuckled but kept his eyes down.
‘Is there such a thing as my gloves?’ Ross asked.
‘Your gloves? You should know, Poldark. Why should I?’
‘Because I left them in this place. It occurred to me you might be sitting on them.’
‘I?’ said Adderley, and yawned. ‘Not at all, my dear. I would not touch them. You see, I’m no longer interested in any of your . . . your worn possessions.’
So many people were still walking about – others returning were trying to squeeze into seats – a man was on his feet speaking, or trying to speak, on some other bill – that only a dozen witnessed the sharp movement – scuffle – that broke out on the back benches. Ross’s hand had flown out and clutched Adderley by the cravat; Adderley was hauled to his feet; with his other hand Ross picked up his gloves; Adderley was dropped back with a thump.
‘Order! Order!’ some members shouted.
‘I beg your pardon, Adderley,’ Ross said, and handed him his hat, which had fallen off. ‘I felt sure my gloves were here. I beg your pardon, sir,’ he said, bowing to the Speaker, and left the Chamber.
VI
About two hours later a Mr John Craven arrived at George Street and delivered a letter. It said:
Dear Poldark,
The Insult you paid me in the House was of a nature that brooks no apology. I know you to be an infamous braggart, and believe all your display of courage to be the mask for a cowardly disposition. I therefore desire to give you the opportunity of showing me whether this Epithet is rightly applied or not.
I desire that you meet me in Hyde Park on Wednesday at 6 a.m. with a brace of pistols each, to determine our differences. My second, Mr John Craven, carries this Letter and I desire you to tell him whom you will appoint to represent you.
I desire that this Meeting be kept a dead secret, for reasons which must be plain to you.
I am, Sir, your humble servant,
Monk Adderley.
Chapter Five
I
Demelza was out when the letter came. He said nothing to her when she came back. That evening he walked round and had a talk with Dwight.
Dwight said: ‘But this is monstrous! A brief scuffle in the House? They’re always happening! The man’s mad! That injury to his head. I should ignore the whole thing.’
‘I have already written accepting.’
Dwight stared at Ross as if unable to believe what he heard. ‘You have what . . .?’
‘I have accepted.’
‘But, Ross! You should not have done! The whole thing must be stopped at once!’
‘It can’t be.’
‘But – but there’s nothing at stake! The merest storm in a teacup . . . In any event, the fellow’s a noted duellist. He’s killed two or three men!’
‘So have I.’
‘In duels?’
‘Well, no. But I’m accustomed to using a gun. As the rooks know when they raid my crops.’
‘That’s not a pistol, Ross! How long since you used one of those?’
‘I’ll take some practice tomorrow. You know why I came here? To ask you to be my second. Indeed, presuming on our friendship, I’ve already given your name.’
Dwight bit at his glove. They were pacing the street outside Caroline’s house, and it was beginning to rain.
‘Well?’ said Ross.
‘Yes, I’ll be your second,’ Dwight said abruptly, ‘because then I have the right to interfere and see what may be done to have the whole scandalous nonsense called off.’
‘Small chance of that. Also – it is of advantage that you should be there, because in the event of either of us being wounded we shall need to look no further for a surgeon.’
Dwight frowned at the letter by the yellow light of one of the street lamps. ‘What is the meaning of this emphasis on secrecy? I know of course—’
‘John Craven explained it. If Adderley should be – accurate with his ball it is essential that it should not be known that he is responsible. If he stood a third trial he would be likely to go to prison for some years.’
‘As he deserves anyhow. But good God, he is the challenger! Are we to accept his conditions? I never heard of anything more outrageous!’
‘It will suit me well,’ Ross said. ‘If I should kill Adderley it will not suit me to stand a trial either. Once is enough.’
Dwight looked at his friend’s dark face. ‘It will get about. This sort of thing can never be altogether hushed up.’