Demelza

  “Do you imagine he’ll be long?”

  “About half an hour.”

  He part turned away as if leaving. But there he stopped. “Perhaps you’ll forgive me for intruding on you…?”

  “Of course.”

  She led the way into the parlor. There might be danger or there might not—she could not avoid it.

  He stood there very stiffly. “Don’t let me interfere with anything you may be doing. I don’t at all wish to interrupt you.”

  “No,” she said in a soft voice, “I was doing nothing.” She went across and drew the curtains, careful to leave no nicks. “As you’ll see we are late with supper, but Ross has been busy. Would you take a glass of port?”

  “Thank you, I won’t. I…” As she turned from the window, he said impulsively, “You condemn me for my part in this morning’s tragedy?”

  She colored a little. “How can I condemn anyone when I know such a small bit about it?”

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But I have been thinking—thinking all today and speaking to no one. Tonight I felt I must come out, go out somewhere. And this house was the only one…”

  She said, “It might be dangerous to be out tonight.”

  “I think highly of your opinion,” he said. “Yours and Ross’s. It was his confidence that brought me here; if I felt I had forfeited it, it would be better to cut and go.”

  “I don’t think you’ve forfeited it. But I don’t think he will be pleased by you coming here tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “I should rather not explain that.”

  “Do you mean you want me to go?”

  “I b’lieve it would be better.” She picked up a plate from the table and set it in another place.

  He looked at her. “I must have some assurance of your friendship—in spite of all. Alone in the Gatehouse this evening I have come near to—near to…” He did not finish.

  She met his eyes.

  “Stay then, Dwight,” she said. “Sit down and don’t bother ’bout me.”

  He slumped in a chair, passed his hands across his face. While Demelza pottered about and went in and out of the room he talked in snatches, explaining, arguing. Two things were absent, self-pity and self-apology. He seemed to be trying to make out a case for Keren. It was as if he felt she was being harshly judged and could offer no defense. He must speak for Keren.

  Then the third time she went from the room and came back he did not go on. She glanced at him and saw him sitting tense.

  “What is it?”

  “I thought I heard someone tapping at the window.”

  Demelza’s heart stopped beating altogether, then she gulped it into motion again. “Oh, I know what that is. Don’t you get up. I will see for it myself.”

  Before he could argue she went out into the hall, shutting the parlor door behind her. So it had come. As she had feared. Pray Ross would not be long. Just for the moment she had to handle the crisis alone.

  She went to the hall door and peered out. The dim lantern light showed an empty lawn. Something moved by the lilac bush.

  “Beg pardon, ma’am,” said Paul Daniel.

  Her glance met his, strayed beyond him.

  “Captain Ross has just gone down to the cove. Is…anyone with you?”

  He hesitated. “You know about un?”

  “I know.”

  He gave a low whistle. A dim figure broke from the side of the house. Paul leaned behind Demelza and pulled the hall door half shut so that the light should not shine out.

  Mark stood before them. His face was in the shadow, but she could see the caverns of his eyes.

  “Cap’n Ross is down in the cove,” said Paul. “We’d best go down to ’im.”

  Demelza said, “Sometimes Bob Baragwanath and Bob Nanfan go fishing there at high tide.”

  “We’ll wait by yonder apple trees,” said Paul. “We’ll be well able to see ’im from thur.”

  And well able to see anyone leave the house. “You’ll be safer indoors. You’ll—be safer in the library.”

  She pushed open the door and moved into the hall, but they drew back and whispered together. Paul said, “Mark don’t want to tie you folk up wi’ this more’n he can. He’d better prefer to wait outside.”

  “No, Mark. It don’t matter to us. Come in at once!”

  Paul entered the hall and after him Mark, bending his head to get in the doorway. Demelza had just time to take in the blisters on his forehead, the stone gray of his face, the bandaged hand, before she opened the door of the bedroom that led to the library. Then as she picked up the lantern to go in there was a movement at the other side of the hall. Their eyes flickered across to Dwight Enys standing in the threshold of the parlor.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Silence swelled in the hall, and burst.

  Paul Daniel had slammed the outer door.

  He stood with his back to it. Mark, gaunt and monstrous, stood quite still, the veins growing thick and knotted in his neck and hands.

  She moved then, turned on them both.

  “Dwight, go back into the parlor. Go back at once! Mark, d’you hear me? Mark!” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

  “So tes a bloody trap,” said Mark.

  She stood before him, slight and seeming small. “How dare you say that! Paul, have you no sense? Take him. This way, at once.”

  “You bastard, you,” said Mark, looking over her head.

  “You should have thought of that before,” said Dwight. “Before you killed her.”

  “Damned slimy adulterer. Tradin’ on your work. Foulin’ the nests o’ those you pertend to help.”

  “You should have come for me,” Dwight said. “Not broken a girl who couldn’t defend herself.”

  “Yes, by God—”

  Demelza moved between them as Mark stepped forward. Blindly he tried to brush her away, but instead of that, she stood her ground and hammered him on the chest with her clenched fists. His eyes flickered, lingered, came down.

  “D’you realize what this means to us?” she said, breathless, her eyes blazing. “We’ve done nothing. We’re trying to help. Help you both. You’d fight and kill each other in our house, on our land. Have you no loyalty and—and friendship that stands for anything at all! What’s brought you here tonight, Mark? Mebbe not the thought to save your own skin but to save the disgrace for your father an’ his family. ’Twould kill him. Well, which is most important to you, your father’s life or this man’s? Dwight, go back into the parlor at once!”

  Dwight said, “I can’t. If Daniel wants me I must stay.”

  “What’s ’e doing ’ere?” said Paul to the girl.

  Dwight said, “Mistress Poldark tried to drive me away.”

  “You bastard,” said Mark again.

  Demelza caught him by the arm as he was about to raise it. “In here. Else we shall have the servants coming and there’ll be no secret at all.”

  He did not move an inch under her pressure. “There’ll be no secret wi’ him in the know. Come outside, Enys. I’ll finish you there.”

  “Nay.” Paul had been useless so far, but he took a hand. “There’s no sense in that, Mark. I think bad of the skunk, same as you, but ’twill finish everything if you fight him.”

  “Everything’s finished already.”

  “It isn’t!” cried Demelza. “It isn’t, I tell you. Don’t you see! Dr. Enys can’t betray you without betraying us.”

  Dwight hesitated, every sort of different impulse clamoring. “I won’t betray anyone,” he said.

  Mark spat out a harsh breath. “I’d as lief trust a snake.”

  Paul came up to him. “It is an ill meetin’, Mark, but we can’t do nothin’ about un. Come, old dear, we must do what Mistress Poldark say.”

  Dwight put his hands
up to his head. “I’ll not betray you, Daniel. Three wrongs don’t make a right any more than two. What you did to Keren is with your conscience, as—as my ill-doing is with mine.”

  Paul pushed Mark slowly toward the bedroom door. Abruptly Mark shook off his arm and stopped again. His gaunt, terrible face worked for a moment.

  “Mebbe this ain’t the time for a reckoning, Enys. But it will come, never fear.”

  Dwight did not raise his head.

  Mark looked down at Demelza, who was still standing like a guardian angel between him and his wrath. “Nay, ma’am, I’ll not stain your floor with more blood. I’d not wish hurt to this ’ouse… Where d’you want for me to go?”

  When Ross came back, Dwight was in the parlor, his head buried in his hands. Mark and Paul were in the library, Mark occasionally shaking with a spasm of anger. In the hall, between them, Demelza stood sentinel. When she saw Ross, she sat down in the nearest chair and burst into tears.

  “What the Devil…?” said Ross.

  She spoke a few disjointed words.

  He put the sail down in the corner of the hall.

  “Where are they now? And you…”

  She shook her head and pointed.

  He came over to her. “And there’s been no bloodletting? My God, I’ll swear it has never been nearer…”

  “You may swear it in truth,” Demelza said.

  He put his arm about her. “Did you stop it, love? Tell me, how did you stop it?”

  “Why have you brought the sail back?” she asked.

  “Because there’ll be no sailing yet. The swell has gotten up with the tide. It would overturn the boat before we ever could get her launched.”

  • • •

  An hour before dawn they went down to the cove, following the bubble of the stream and the descending combe, with a glowworm here and there green-lit like a jewel in the dark. The tide had gone out, but the swell was still heavy, rushing in and roaring at them whenever they got too near. That was the trouble with the north coast: a sea could get up without warning and then you were done.

  In the first glimmerings of daybreak, with the deathly moon merging its last candlelight in the blueing east, they walked slowly back. Twenty-four hours before, there had been a terrible anger in Mark’s soul, bitter and blighting and hot, but all feeling had died. His black eyes had sunk deeply into the frame of his face.

  As they neared the house he said, “I’ll be gettin’ on my way.”

  Ross said, “We’ll house you here till tomorrow.”

  “No. I’ll not have ye into it more.”

  Ross stopped. “Listen, man. The country folk are on your side, but you’ll bring trouble on them if you shelter among ’em. You’ll be safe in the library. Tonight may be calm enough, for no wind is up.”

  “That man may tell about you,” said Paul Daniel.

  “Who? Enys? No, you do him an injustice there.”

  They went on again.

  “Look, mister,” said Mark, “I don’t concern whether I hang or fly. Nothing don’t matter a snap to me now. But one thing I’m danged sure on is that I’ll not skulk where I bring trouble to them as friends me. An’ that’s for sartin. Ef the soldiers come, well, let ’em come.”

  They reached the house in silence.

  “You always were a stubborn mule,” Ross said.

  Paul said, “Now, look ’ee here, Mark. I’ve the thought—”

  Someone came out of the house.

  “Oh, Demelza,” Ross said in half irritation, “I told you to go to bed. There’s no need to worry yourself.”

  “I’ve brewed a dish of tea. I thought you’d all be back about now.”

  They went into the parlor. By the light of a single candle Demelza poured them hot tea from a great pewter pot. The three men stood around drinking it awkwardly, the steam rising before their faces, two avoiding each other’s eyes, the third staring blindly at the opposite wall. Paul warmed his hands on the cup.

  Demelza said, “You can hear the roar upstairs. I thought it was no use.”

  “It were roarin’ last night,” Mark said suddenly, “when I come up from the mine. God forgive me, ’twas roarin’ then…”

  There was a grim silence.

  “You’ll stay here today?” said Demelza.

  Ross said, “I have already asked him, but he’ll not hear of it.”

  Demelza glanced at Mark and said no more. He was not to be argued with.

  Mark lowered his cup. “I was reckoning to go down Grambler.”

  There was another silence. Demelza shivered.

  Paul hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. “The air may be foul. You know what Grambler always was for foul air. There’s easier berths than that.”

  “I was reckoning,” said Mark, “to go down Grambler.”

  Ross glanced at the sky. “You’ll not be there before it is light.”

  Demelza too glanced out of the window, at the ruin on the skyline. “What of Wheal Grace? Is there still a ladder for that?”

  Ross glanced at Mark. “The ladder was sound enough six years ago. You could use a rope to be sure.”

  Mark said, “I was reckoning to go down Grambler.”

  “Oh, nonsense, man. No one could blame me for your hiding in Grace. Don’t you agree, Paul?”

  “I reckon he’d be safe there. What do ’ee say, old dear? The light’s growing fast. No military man would follow down there.”

  Mark said, “I don’t like it. Tes too close to this ’ouse. Folk might suspect.”

  “I’ll go and get you some food,” Demelza said.

  An hour later the day broke. It was an unhappy day for Demelza, and she had lost her good spirits.

  At nine o’clock the burly Sam Jenkins mounted a pony outside his forge and rode over to Mingoose, stopping in to see Dr. Enys on the way. At fifteen minutes to ten Sir Hugh Bodrugan also arrived at Mingoose; the Reverend Mr. Faber, rector of St. Minver Church, followed. The conference lasted until eleven, then a messenger was sent to fetch Dr. Enys. At noon the meeting broke up, Sir Hugh Bodrugan riding over to Trenwith to see Mr. Francis Poldark and then going on to St. Ann’s, where he met Mr. Trencrom, and they went together to see the captain of the dragoons. It was a somewhat stormy meeting, for the captain was no fool, and Sir Hugh rode home to dinner with the fine rain to cool his heated whiskery face. Thereafter some hours went by in expectant calm. At four Ross walked down to look at the sea. The gentle rain had quieted it, but there was still an ugly swell. Both low tides would be in daylight, but any time after midnight might do on the falling tide. At five word came through that the soldiers, instead of being set to the manhunt, had been searching the St. Ann’s houses all afternoon and had uncovered a fine store of contraband. Ross laughed.

  At six, three dragoons and a civilian rode down the narrow track of Nampara Combe. Nothing like it had ever been seen before.

  Demelza was the first in the house to sight them and she flew into the parlor, where Ross was sitting thinking over his quarrel with Francis.

  He said, “No doubt they are making a social call.”

  “But why come here, Ross? Why come here? D’you think someone has told on us?”

  He smiled. “Go change your dress, my dear, and prepare to be the lady.”

  She fled out, seeing through the half-open front door that the civilian was Constable Jenkins. Upstairs she hurriedly changed, to the sound of clopping hooves and the distant rattle of accoutrements. She heard them knock and be shown in, then the faint murmur of voices. Anxiously she waited, knowing how gentle Ross could be or how much the opposite. But there was no uproar.

  She turned her hair with a comb and patted it into place. Then she peeped behind the curtain of the window, to see that only one of the soldiers had entered. The other two, in all the splendor of black-and-white busbies and red coats,
waited with the horses.

  As she went down and reached the door there was a sudden tremendous burst of laughter. Heartened, she went in.

  “Oh, my dear, this is Captain McNeil of the Scots Grays. This is my wife.”

  Captain McNeil looked enormous in his red-and-gold coat, dark gold-braided trousers, and spurred shiny boots. On the table stood a huge busby and beside it a pair of yellow gauntlet gloves. He was a youngish man, plump, well groomed, with a great sandy mustache. He set down the glass he was holding and bowed over her hand military fashion. As he straightened up, his keen brown eyes seemed to say, “These outlandish country squires do themselves well with their womenfolk.”

  “You know Constable Jenkins, I think.”

  They waited until Demelza had taken a chair and then sat down again.

  “Captain McNeil has been describing the amenities of our inns,” said Ross. “He thinks the Cornish bugs have the liveliest appetite.”

  The soldier gave a softer echo of his tremendous laugh.

  “Nay, I wouldn’t say so much as that. Perhaps it is only that there are more of ’em.”

  “I have offered that he should come and stay with us,” said Ross. “We are not rich in comfort, but neither are we rich in crawlers.”

  Demelza blushed slightly at Ross’s use of her old word.

  “Thank ye. Thank ye kindly.” Captain McNeil twisted one end of his mustache as if it were a screw that must be fastened to his face. “And for old times’ sake I should be uncommon pleased to do so. It terns out, mistress, that Captain Poldark and I were both in a summary affray on the James River in eighty-one. Old campaigners together as ye might say. But though here I would be near the scene of the mairder, I’m much too far from the contraband we picked up this noon, and contraband was what I was sent into this part to find, ye see.” He chuckled.

  “Indeed,” said Demelza. She wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by a man with a mustache like that.

  “Hrr-hmm,” said Constable Jenkins diffidently. “About this murder…”

  “Och, yes. We mustn’t forget—”

  “Let me fill your glass,” Ross said.

  “Thank ye… As I was explaining to your husband, mistress, this is but a routine inquiry, as I understand he was one of the early finders of the body. Also it is said the wanted man has been seen in this immediate neighborhood…”