No rumour of the momentous decision taken at Cusgarne reached the outside world. On a visit to Truro, Ross met Richard Tonkin, whom he had not seen for a year, and told him of the discovery of tin. Tonkin drew on his own experience to be encouraging, and, having at one time been manager of United Mines, his experience was considerable. He himself was no longer in mining, having six months before bought a small boatbuilding business in East Looe in partnership with Harry Blewett – another sufferer in the Carnmore Copper failure and one to whom Ross had lent money at the time of the crash. They were making a good living out of their venture.
Ross parted from him slightly encouraged by his comments. If one could just keep going, even with the most modest return, it would justify all manner of things within himself, it would maintain the men working on the mine, it would help everyone connected with the venture to a new self-respect . . .
The following week-end, Verity, Francis’s sister, visited Elizabeth. She had not been to Trenwith since her brother died; but this was a long dated invitation, and the ice had to be broken sometime. Elizabeth too forced herself not to go back on the arrangement, though with so much milling in her heart and head . . . Verity brought her stepson James Blamey who had arrived unexpectedly for a few days’ leave. Young, noisy, warmhearted, attractively fond of his stepmother in a boyish, roughly gentle way, James helped to keep the spectres at arm’s length.
They were much concerned when they learned of Mrs Chynoweth’s illness and offered to leave at once, but Elizabeth would not hear of it. Her mother was well looked after – now. A nurse had been engaged and two new servants, and one could only wait and hope that in a few weeks she would be well enough to be moved. Verity wondered at the word ‘now’, which seemed rather often to creep into Elizabeth’s conversation.
James was open-mouthed at Elizabeth’s beauty – as young men so often were – and enjoyed himself cantering about the countryside on a borrowed nag. He joined Verity on several of her visits to old friends and went with her to Nampara for Sunday dinner and tea. Demelza was waiting for them, and she and Verity hugged each other while Ross shook James Blamey’s hand. Then James had to kiss Demelza, so that it was some moments before she had the breath to ask the question Ross had forced himself not to ask.
‘But – isn’t Elizabeth with you?’
‘No. She was to have been, but a severe headache came on. She’s much worried, you know, over her mother. She sent her love as well as her apologies.’
They went in, and talked and laughed perhaps more easily than they might have done in Elizabeth’s presence. While they were talking of Ross’s mission to see Mark Daniel, Verity’s eyes strayed out of the window and confirmed their earlier impression that the engine chimney was still smoking.
She said: ‘But I see you have not yet given up.’
Ross explained.
‘We exist on a shoe-string and everything’s against us. But the quality of the ore this week is remarkable – fortunately, for every expense of development must be paid for out of what we raise and a single fault in the lode will see our end.’
‘D’you know,’ said James Blamey in his big voice, ‘I have never been down a mine yet, though it is unnatural in me to be so neglectful. How deep is your bilge, Captain? Do you climb all the way or do you have one of these newfangled buckets?’
‘Perhaps after dinner James would like to go down, Ross,’ Demelza suggested.
‘By all means.’
‘Ha! so I should,’ said James, ‘though I’ve a fancy I shall get dizzy climbing the wrong way from usual. When you’re in the foremast shrouds, ’tis most comforting to see the deck below you, even if ’tis only the size of a visiting card. In a mine I should expect to fly up to the surface if I lost my grip!’
Just before dinner Dwight came. A week ago Demelza had tackled him about the break-up of his plan to marry Caroline and so now felt a greater than ever responsibility for his welfare.
Nevertheless he was no damper on the party, being specially interested in James Blamey and medical conditions in the Navy. James laughed at his questions. When you were afloat, you didn’t dare to be ill. If you were, you got dosed with a purge or an emetic according to where the pain was. Last voyage on his ship there’d been thirty deaths from scurvy alone. James had left the Thunderer and had joined the frigate Hunter in a squadron under Admiral Gell. They were at present in Plymouth Sound but under sailing orders for next week, destination yet unknown but probably the Mediterranean. James’s concern, like Captain McNeil’s, was lest the war should be over before he could have any part in it.
After dinner Dwight left and Ross took James off to the mine, so the two women were left alone.
At first they talked of Jeremy, and then quite suddenly Verity broke off the conversation to say:
‘Tell me, my dear, have you noticed anything strange about Elizabeth?’
‘In what way strange?’ asked Demelza, her senses instantly alert. ‘I’ve scarcely seen her.’
‘Well, it’s hard to define. But I think she has recovered quickly from her bereavement, has she not? Oh, I know it’s six months, and no one would expect her to grieve for ever; it is not quite that – but she seems different in some way, a little on edge, as if innerly excited. Once or twice in conversation she has checked herself, as if afraid of saying too much.’
‘To you? This week-end?’
‘Yes. I believe I am not imagining it. I know her quite well as we lived so long together. One gets the impression that she thinks her circumstances are going to change.’
They may already have changed, thought Demelza, remembering the six hundred pounds. ‘You should ask Ross,’ she said.
Verity looked at Demelza. ‘That sounds a trifle bitter, my dear. Are you sure you have reason to be?’
Demelza looked up quickly, then smiled. ‘Did it? It was not at all meant to be. I know Ross loved Elizabeth once; so when he goes to see her I’d not be human if I did not wonder what they say to each other. Would I? Ross does not tell me what they say, and ’tis not in my pride to ask, so I never learn.’ She got up, looking down at Verity, now stooped and kissed her forehead. ‘I should not have said that much if you hadn’t asked me, but you did, and so I answered. Verity, would you care for a cup of tea? It is early, but all this talking has made me thirsty.’
‘I’d like one. But just let me say – and I do not say this for your comfort – if Ross were—’
‘No,’ said Demelza. ‘I don’t think you should need to say that, whether for my comfort or no. Having a husband, it seems to me, is a small matter like going to church. Either you trust in something or you do not. If you do not, then there’s no benefit in going to church at all, is there? But if you do believe in him, then you’ve no excuse to be asking for proofs all the time.’
‘That’s a very admirable outlook—’
‘Oh, yes, and I am not always very admirable. Seldom, indeed. But it is true, isn’t it; and that’s more important than the feelings you feel sometimes. Verity, tell me about yourself for a change. You are happy, quite happy? I dearly love James. I should like Jeremy to grow up like James. He’s like a west wind, gusty and clean and no breath of malice. I think he has quite fallen in love with you.’
Verity caught her smile and swiftly answered it.
‘I love James like my own son. Yes, I’m happy, Demelza, or would be without the fear for Andrew’s safety. So far there has been no trouble for the packets, and he says he takes a more westerly course to avoid possible attack. But he must come through the narrower waters between the Scillies and Ushant, and there is never any knowing now. You know what that feeling is.’
When they were in bed that night Demelza told Ross that Verity was going to have a baby.
‘What?’ Ross leaned up an one elbow. ‘That is a surprise! Brave news! Are you sure?’
‘She told me so herself. As yet it is a secret. Andrew doesn’t know and she wishes to keep it to herself for the time. Isn’t it good? I’m that
pleased for them both.’
‘So am I. When is it to be?’
‘About October.’
‘She will be thirty-five this year. I hope all will go well.’
‘Oh, it is no age, Ross, though I believe she is a little anxious in that respect herself. It will be strange for Andrew with his daughter nearly twenty; but I know he’ll be delighted and I urged her to tell him so soon as possible.’
‘I have never noticed you overready with your own news. Indeed, it was my greatest complaint on both occasions.’
‘Let’s not go into that now,’ said Demelza.
Later, in the darkness, her thought moved on to that other subject which had been nagging at her all afternoon. Why had Elizabeth given Verity the impression that her circumstances were soon going to change? In what way could her circumstances now change more than they already had done from the receipt of the six hundred pounds? It didn’t make sense; and the more she went over the ordinary explanations, the less satisfied she was by them. At length Ross, who had been asleep, said:
‘My dear, are you eaten by ants that you must toss and turn all night long?’
‘I’m sorry. It is something that will not let me sleep. I will be quieter now.’
‘Are you upset or feeling ill?’
‘No, no, in rudest health. Just can’t settle. I shall be better now.’
Easy enough to predict. No sooner did her limbs compose themselves in momentary ease than the urge began to move them elsewhere. Even an inch. Even a half inch.
Were Ross and Elizabeth planning to run away together? Was that the change of circumstances Elizabeth foresaw? That would not bring any greater prosperity to her, but perhaps she did not refer to financial circumstances at all. Demelza would have taken this more seriously if Ross had not been lying beside her now, his breathing becoming deeper again as he went off to sleep. It was not at all improbable, she felt, that they would like to do that; but, knowing Ross so well, she was certain he would not do it this way. He was far too honest a person to do anything underhand. If he was going to leave her and go with Elizabeth, he would force himself to tell her.
Very well, but perhaps he would tell her when the time came. Perhaps Elizabeth had said: ‘Keep it from her as long as you can – for her sake.’ In the dark of the night Demelza could hear her say it. Yet even that did not tally with Ross’s manner or moods. Yesterday he had been cheerful, more highspirited than she remembered him since Julia died. That was because of the mine, not Elizabeth. Demelza would have staked her head that it was a mine-cheerfulness and not a woman-cheerfulness.
Then did George Warleggan come into Elizabeth’s picture somewhere? Demelza suddenly went rigid. Something Sir Hugh Bodrugan had said, more than she had told Ross. A hint, no more. Did he know more?
Had Demelza been certain at this stage that the mystery she was trying to solve concerned only Elizabeth and George, she would have gone no further with it. But she was still by no means sure.
So tomorrow . . .
In visiting Sir Hugh Bodrugan she knew she was on thin ice. Ross strongly disapproved of her giving any encouragement to his attentions. In the second place Sir Hugh, though playful enough most times, was becoming less easy to keep at arm’s length. The rumour was that he was deep in an affair with a woman called Margaret Vosper. If it were so, it did not abate his interest in Demelza. Perhaps having one easy conquest had made him less patient with young women who were too long on the hook.
To avert these twin dangers, or to reduce them, she waited until the Wednesday when she knew Ross would be most of the day down the mine, and she went in the morning when Sir Hugh’s gallantry was likely to be at its lowest ebb.
In the event she was a little unfortunate, for Sir Hugh was out and was not expected back until dinnertime. Constance Bodrugan was also off with her dogs, so Demelza found herself drinking chocolate with the one member of the household able to entertain her and the one she least wanted to see.
She had not expected to meet Malcolm McNeil again, and she half expected him to show some resentment; but he greeted her like an old friend. His arm was still in a sling and he had put on weight from the enforced idleness. She always dressed her best to come to Werry House, and McNeil’s eyes, she thought, were bolder than usual in his assessment of her. No doubt the degenerate influence of the Bodrugan household was having its effect.
When she was trying to think of the best excuse to leave, he suggested that as it was a fine morning they should stroll across the park and try to find Sir Hugh. It should not be difficult, since he was rounding up his young deer and his gamekeepers would be with him.
They set off down the steps and along the path between the unkempt lawns. He found her long stride unusual in a woman.
‘And how is Captain Poldark?’
‘Brave, thank you. That busy with his mine.’
‘I had hoped I should receive an invitation to visit you before I left.’
‘. . . Last time you came without an invitation.’
‘That was in the course of duty. This would be in the pursuit of pleasure.’
‘Then come any time, please. I know Ross would be glad to see you.’
‘And you?’
‘And I, of course . . . When do you expect to go?’
‘Not for some weeks. That’s if I continue to take notice of your doctor-smuggler friend.’
‘He is a very good man to take notice of.’
‘I still find it har-rd to understand his association with the smugglers.’
‘Have you asked him about it?’
‘Frequently.’
‘If he has refused to explain, Captain McNeil, I don’t think I should begin.’
They walked on in silence, passing a herd of about thirty deer who without exception raised their heads and watched suspiciously until the danger retreated.
‘Captain Poldark was somewhere in the house that night, wasn’t he?’
‘How should you expect me to answer that?’
‘You don’t need to. I could tell that you expected him to be in that secret cellar when we opened it. I knew ye had seen him that night.’
After a moment she said: ‘Is that Sir Hugh in the trees over there?’
‘No, he’s on a chestnut horse. I thought it probable that if I posted a watch on your house long enough we should discover where he was hiding.’
‘And did you – post such a watch?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I had too great a regard for you, ma’am.’
Demelza glanced quickly at him, expecting a conventional insincerity but not quite finding it.
McNeil went on: ‘Or that is the half of the truth, to be honest. Had I conceived it my duty to do so, I would have. But I am a soldier not a spy and was already sickened of the affair. The men who were caught were caught and that was an end on it.’ He screwed up his moustache. ‘And now. Well, now it is all forgotten so far as I am concairned. I hold nothing against Captain Poldark except that he married so charming a wife.’
Demelza said: ‘I don’t hold even that against him – so far as it is true.’
‘It is true.’ McNeil stopped and she had to stop also. He smiled down at her. ‘So I trust you hold nothing against me for my part in the affair?’
She gave him her very best smile in return. ‘Far from it. I hold naught against you for what you did do, and thank you much for what you did not do.’
He bowed slightly. ‘Would ye take my arm, ma’am? The good one, I mean. I think that is Sir Hugh in the distance now, and it would be more seemly to approach him in the proper manner.’
In the end Demelza got the information she wanted, though not without tactical manoeuvre. She said she had come to see Sir Hugh about a new seed drill he had talked of on his last call. It was a poor story, but he was indulgent enough to break off his own work to show her the drill in operation. Fortunately it was to Sir Hugh’s purpose as well as to Demelza’s that they should get rid
of McNeil, so in the end they managed it.
Sir Hugh said: ‘Now you see the seed fed into the hoppers falls into the seed boxes fixed on the bottoms of the hoppers just as in Tull’s old drill; but here’s where the improvement is claimed— Why d’you come in the morning, m’dear, when you interrupt my work, damme, when there’s three evenings a week free, eh? Wednesday’s not a good evening, for I’m often bespoke; but Thursdays, Saturdays, and Mondays I’d entertain you in a fashion proper for a young woman of your trim. Come Saturday; Connie’s often away, and—’
‘I should have thought ’twould have been a poor time to see a seed drill, after dark.’
‘Oh, pooh, yes; but if you stop the night, I’ll show you the drill Sunday morning. ’Twould be an excuse to stay from church.’
‘And what do you suppose my husband would say?’
‘What? Well, what would he say? Is he a spoilsport? Then come when he’s from home and will not know the difference. I have an idea—’
‘You were going to tell me, Sir Hugh, where the improvement in this seed drill was claimed.’
Sir Hugh grunted impatiently and told her. After a while she said: ‘Do you remember when you called to see me last that you mentioned George Warleggan and Elizabeth Poldark, saying that George was paying her attentions? Do you know if it is true? What made you say that to me?’
Sir Hugh paused with his hand over hers on the handle of the seed drill. His thick eyebrows crouched like furry caterpillars.
‘Nay, rumour, that was all.’
‘And what was the rumour?’