Sanson had said when they met at the door, “I have been looking to the opportunity to play you again, Captain Poldark. The good cardplayer is very rare and it is a pleasure to sit with such an expert one.”
“Thank you. I’ve no taste for gaining tonight,” Ross had said.
“I find that most disappointing, Captain Poldark. Last time you were very successful at my expense, and I had looked forward to the opportunity of leveling our scores. Most disappointing.” He spoke in a deliberate voice.
“I’m here to escort my wife. That being so, it wouldn’t fill my purpose to spend the evening in the card room.”
“Which is your wife? I would like the pleasure.”
Ross looked about, but Demelza had been surrounded.
“Over there.”
“She seems well attended, if I may say so. Might I suggest a short game, just while the evening is warming up?”
Ross caught sight of Mrs. Teague in an astonishing dress of light green and gold gauze, with green foil leaves and gold spangles. With her was Elizabeth’s mother, Mrs. Chynoweth, whom he detested. At that moment George Warleggan arrived with Francis and Elizabeth.
“Ah, Sanson,” he said, “there’ll be no pleasure dancing in this crush. Have you got a table?”
“I have seats saved. But they will be gone if we don’t hurry. I was prevailing on Captain Poldark to join us.”
“Come along,” said George. “With Francis we can make a foursome.”
“Captain Poldark has not the taste for it tonight,” Sanson said. “I am sixty guineas out, and had hoped to recoup myself—”
“Or go sixty guineas outer?” suggested George. “Come, Ross, you can’t refuse the dear fellow his fair revenge. Francis is eager to start. Don’t spoil the game.”
There were too many people there, people of the kind who had sent Jim to prison. Painted and powdered up, dressed to the eyes, high heeled, fan flicking, snuffbox clicking. People with titles; people wanting titles; placeholders; place seekers; squires; squireens; clergymen with two or three rich livings; brewers; millers; iron, tin, and copper merchants; ship owners; bankers. People of his own class. People he despised.
He turned. “What do you want? What do you wish to play?”
“Where is Francis?” Mrs. Chynoweth asked peevishly a few minutes later. “The dancing has begun and you are not dancing, Elizabeth. It’s not good enough; really, it is not! He might be here at least to commence with his wife, if nothing more. It will make more talk. Go and see where he is, Jonathan.”
“Yes, my pet.”
“Do sit down, Father,” Elizabeth said. “Francis is in the gaming room with Ross and George; I saw them enter. He will not come back for you. Leave him for a little.”
“It’s not good enough. Really it’s not good enough. And if Francis was not coming, why did you refuse that Dr. Enys and those other gentlemen? You are too young to spend your evening sitting by the wall. The first gathering you have permitted yourself in so many years, and then to squander the time.” Mrs. Chynoweth fanned herself vigorously to show her frustrations. The preceding years had changed her cruelly. At Elizabeth’s wedding she had been a beautiful woman, but her illness and the doctor’s treatment had distorted the eye of which she had lost the sight, and her face was swollen and drawn. She was a deeply disappointed woman too, for Elizabeth’s marriage, of which she had hoped so much, had gone just the same way as her own—even worse, for Jonathan had never dared to get his name linked with another woman; he had only lost money irritatingly and steadily for twenty-six years.
“Elizabeth,” said George Warleggan, coming on them suddenly, “grant me the favor of the second dance.”
She looked up and smiled at him. “I promised you the first, but you were busy with your gaming.”
“No, I was seeing the others settled. I had no thought but to be in time. Mrs. Chynoweth”—he hunched his big shoulders and bowed—“how charming you look tonight. You only do wrong to sit beside Elizabeth, whose beauty has no match. I swear her seat will be occupied the moment I take her away.” Mrs. Chynoweth bridled like a girl at her first compliment, and when people began forming up and Elizabeth left them she sighed.
“A shame, a wicked shame, Jonathan!”
“What, my pet?”
“That Elizabeth should have thrown herself away on one of the Poldarks. We were too hasty. What a supremely good match she would have made with George.”
“A bit of an upstart, what?” said Jonathan, stroking his silky beard. “No class about him, you know.”
“Blood is overrated,” said his wife impatiently. She was tempted to say she had made the mistake of marrying it. “It takes but a generation to make class, Jonathan. Times have changed. Wealth is what counts.”
The dance began.
Demelza was recovering her confidence, but her throat was parched.
“A clergyman?” she said in a puzzled voice, looking at her partner’s double-breasted cutaway coat, canary embroidered waistcoat, brown silk breeches, and striped stockings. “No, I would not have guessed it.”
The newly ordained vicar of St. Tudy and St. Wen squeezed her hand.
“Why not, eh, why not?”
“The one I know at Grambler wears a patched suit an’ a straw wig.”
“Oh, pooh, no doubt some poor little clerk doing duty for his master.”
“What are you?” she asked. “A bishop?”
Whitworth bowed low. “No, mem, not yet. But with your encouragement, mem, I soon would be.”
“I didn’t know clergymen danced,” she said.
“It is an accomplishment some of us have, mem.”
“Like bears?” she suggested, looking at him.
Whitworth broke into a low laugh. “Yes, mem, and we can hug too.”
“Oh, I’m that frightened.” She bowed to him with a little pretended shiver.
The young man’s eyes kindled. He could hardly wait until they came together again to continue.
George and Elizabeth had been dancing in well-mannered silence. Then George said, “Elizabeth, you ravish me in that gown. I sigh to be a poet or a painter. There’s such purity of color, such beauty of line…”
She smiled up at him more warmly than she had ever done before. She had been thinking of Geoffrey Charles at home at Trenwith without her protective care, but George’s words recalled her.
“Really, George, you’re too kind. But I should take your compliments more seriously if you were less free of them.”
“Free? My dear, I am never free with my compliments. With whom have I ever been free except with you, whom I admire and reverence?”
“Sincere, then,” she said. “Is it sincere to praise my poor mother?”
He glanced at the couple by the wall. No one had come to occupy Elizabeth’s seat.
“No, I confess it is not. But I have the respect for her that I would naturally have for your mother, and I sympathize with her in her misfortune. She has been a beauty, remember, or a near beauty, used to the praises of men. How must she feel now, never to know a second glance except perhaps in compassion?”
Elizabeth looked quickly up at her partner. It was the most sensitive thing she had ever heard him say.
“You’re very kind, George,” she said quietly. “You always are. I’m afraid you have little reward for your—for your attendance on me. I’m a dull creature these days.”
“My reward is in your friendship and confidence. As for your being a dull creature, how can what is treasured be dull? You are lonely, agreed. You spend too much of your time at Trenwith. Your child is grown now; you should come more often to Truro. Bring Francis if you—”
“Bring Francis to the gaming tables again? It is the only reward for the end of Grambler, that he sees less of the green cloths and more of his family.”
George was sile
nt a moment. He had gone wrong there.
“Is Francis good company now that he stays at home?”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I have my house and my child. Geoffrey Charles is not yet five. He’s delicate and still needs watching.”
“Well, promise at least that this is not an isolated occasion. Come again to stay with me in town or at Cardew. I in turn will promise not to encourage Francis at the cards. In fact, I’ll undertake never to play with him if that would please you.”
“He is playing now, George.”
“I know, my dear. It was unfortunate, but there was no stopping him.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
In the card room there was the prospect of mischief.
Four tables were occupied, one of faro, one of basset, and two of whist. Francis always played faro if he could, but the first person he saw on entering was Margaret Cartland sitting at the faro table with her new friend, a man named Vosper. She turned and waved with ironic good humor, but Francis bowed and at once moved to an empty whist table, ignoring the four seats Sanson had kept for them. Ross, not caring either way or about anything, followed him. They sat down opposite each other, and Sanson took one of the other chairs. George Warleggan, however, was talking with a man in black by the door, and presently he came across and said that as several gentlemen were there before him, he was standing down in favor of one of them. Of course, they all knew Dr. Halse.
At the Warleggans’, Ross had avoided the man. Since he was there as a guest he did not seek trouble, but with the horror of Launceston fresh in his mind the sight of the cleric-cum-scholar-cum-magistrate, who more than anyone on the bench at the time had been responsible for Jim’s sentence, was a goad in a raw place.
When Dr. Halse saw who was at the table, he hesitated a moment, then came forward and took his seat opposite the miller. Ross did not speak.
“Well,” said Francis impatiently, “now we are set, what are the stakes?”
“A guinea,” suggested Sanson. “Otherwise the exchange of money is slow. Do you agree, sir?”
“It is more than my customary stake,” said Dr. Halse, sniffing at his handkerchief. “So heavy a hazard makes the game overserious. We do not do well to put this burden on our pleasures.”
“Perhaps you would prefer to wait for another table,” said Ross.
It was the wrong tone for the hardy doctor. “No,” he said through his nose. “I do not think I shall. I was here first and intend to remain.”
“Oh, don’t let us begin with an argument,” said Francis. “Let it be half a guinea and have done.”
Polly Choake peered into the gaming room and withdrew.
“What ith the matter with the Poldark couthinth?” she whispered to Mrs. Teague. “They came to the Athembly like they wath two tigerth thtalking after pwey. Never tho much ath glanthing left or wight, in they go and thettle to cardth afowe evew the lowd lieutenant hath made hith thpeech. And there they thit, glowering away and playing ath if the Devil wath in ’em both.”
Mrs. Teague’s creased eyelids came down knowingly at the sides. “But didn’t you hear about Francis, dear? That woman has thrown him over. After the way he’s frittered money on her too. And as for Ross, well, what else could you expect; no doubt he’s bitterly regretting having married that cheap hussy who’s showing herself up so bad tonight. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if he took to drink serious.”
Polly Choake glanced across the room. She had not noticed that Demelza was showing herself up, but she welcomed the opinion and instantly concurred in it.
“I think it wicked the way thome mawwied women behave theiwthelveth. Thwowing theiwthelveth about the woom. An’ of couwthe the men encouwage it. I’m thankful the doctow ith above thuch behaviow.”
“Who is that young person dancing with your son, Lady Whitworth?” asked the Honorable Mrs. Maria Agar, lowering her lorgnette.
“I am not sure. I have not yet had the favor of an introduction.”
“She is quite beautiful, don’t you think? A small matter—how shall I put it—different. I wonder if she is from London?”
“It is very possible. William has many friends there.”
“I have noticed she dances rather different too; more—how shall I put it—more lilt in the body. I wonder if that is the new style.”
“No doubt. They say that at Bath one has to be continually taking lessons to be up with the new steps.”
“I wonder who she is with, which party she came with.”
“I have no idea,” said Lady Whitworth, knowing well enough it was the Warleggans’ but holding her fire until she was on firmer ground.
The second dance came to an end. Demelza looked about for Ross but saw only other men. So many men seemed to want the third dance that she thought there must be a great shortage of women. Inclination getting the better of good manners, she said she was thirsty, and almost at once an embarrassing number of drinks were brought. A trifle primly she chose port and promised the third dance to one William Hick. Not till the band struck up did she realize it was the first country dance, and John Treneglos, sandy and rough, came over to claim it. There was a sharp exchange between him and William Hick, and Treneglos looked as if he was going to throw Hick off the floor.
“Dear, dear,” said Demelza, as she was led away by John, “how you do growl at the smallest thing. I never knew there was so many fierce men about.”
“Young princox,” said Treneglos. “Young upstart.”
“Who, me?” she asked.
“No, bud. Of course not you, bud. Young Hick, I mean. These town dandies think they can bluster their way in anywhere. He’s found he is mistook. And will find it more if he prances in my stable again.”
“Dear life. I don’t like the ring of that. Must we all be put in stables even at a hall? Why not kennels, an’ then you can call women what you really think them.”
Treneglos lost his ill humor and guffawed aloud with laughter, so that many people looked. Ruth Treneglos, dancing near with Dr. Choake, shot them a venomous glance.
“No, chit, I’d make exceptions even to that rule, though I’ll confess there’s many it would be convenient for.”
“An’ where d’you put the buds and the chits?” she asked. “D’you grow them in your garden or pin ’em on sheets of paper like butterflies?”
“I cherish ’em and nourish ’em. To my bosom, dear girl. To my bosom.”
She sighed. The port was just going down. “How uncomfortable for the chits.”
“None of them have complained so. You know the old saying: ‘Them as tries never flies.’” He laughed again.
“I thought,” she said, “it was: ‘Them as never tries never cries.’”
“It may be over Illogan way, but at Mingoose we’re bolder.”
“I don’t live at either. I live at Nampara, where we have our own modes and customs.”
“And what are they, pray?”
“Oh,” she said. “They can only be learned by experience.”
“Ha,” he said. “Well, I crave that experience. Will you learn me?”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “I wouldn’t really dare. I’m told you’re so good at games.”
Verity and Blamey had sat out the dance together in the refreshment room.
Andrew said, “There’s nothing in our way. A few people will not forget, they hold to the old memories. But that is unimportant beside the many who have forgotten or never knew. There’s no cause ever again for bitterness between us. You have only to take this step. I have a good lodging—half a house—in the center of Falmouth, very convenient and comfortable. We can settle there until a better is found. Five years ago perhaps not, but now I can afford the luxuries you need and desire—”
“I need no luxuries, Andrew. I would have married you before, and gladly, and worked and lived in any small cottage. It neve
r has been that. I should be happy and proud to share your life. I—I had always thought I could make a home for you…in a way that you did not have before. I still want to…”
“My dear, that’s what I wished to hear.”
“Yes, but hear me out. It is not luxuries—or popularity, if that is short. It is a quiet mind. Our attachment broke last time on my family’s opposition. My father and Francis. Perhaps you can excuse them; perhaps not. Well, Father is dead. It isn’t pleasant to feel I should be going against his strongest opinion—that I should be disobeying his most express wishes. But I would—I feel I could reconcile that…I feel that…he’ll understand and forgive me. Not so Francis.”
“That’s why I want to see him.”
“Well, not tonight, Andrew. My dear, I know how you feel. But try to be patient. Francis is two years younger than I am. I—I remember him since he could just walk. Mother died when I was fourteen and he twelve. In a way I have been more than an ordinary sister to him. He has been spoilt all his life. His moods anger me often, but I love him even for his faults. He’s so headstrong and rash and impulsive and—and lovable with it. I know so well his wry sense of humor when he can almost always laugh at himself, his generosity when he can give away money that he greatly needs, his courage when it’s most required. He’s so much like my mother in all those things. I’ve noticed it and watched it all these years. That’s why, if you can understand it, I want to get his willing consent to our marriage. I don’t want to quarrel with him and leave a bitter break between us. Especially now, when he is hard hit from other things. Trust me a little longer. I want to pick just the right time to speak to him, when we’re alone and will not be interrupted. I think I can do it then.”
The seaman had been watching the expressions come and go in her eyes. He stirred restlessly.
“I’ll trust you; of course I’ll trust you. That goes without question. But…things can’t be put off indefinite. Events have to move on. Once they’re put in train there’s no stopping them. We’ve met several times now, and our meeting has not gone unremarked. Do you know that one of my brother captains in Falmouth knew I was meeting a woman in Truro? That’s how far it has gone, and that was one reason why I came here tonight. It is not fair to expose you to sly glances and whispering tongues. If you do not tell Francis someone else will.”