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Authors: Winston Graham

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BOOK: The Loving Cup
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She paused and pulled at her damp hair, which straightened under the impatient tug of her fingers and then at once sprang back into its delicate curl.

'Stephen has none of these. But we are not quite the normal family, Ben. Perhaps it is my fault. No
-it
is the fault of the both of us - Ross's just so much as mine. We believe in allowing our children freedom of choice. Even now I do not know whether this is a good thing. Perhaps I should have
instructed
my elder daughter to marry the brother of a marquis. But
I
did not. Perhaps we should have
forbidden
her to have any dealings with an unknown man who was washed up on our beach, and who soon proved himself to be — unreliable. Perhaps this is all due to our
weakness.
Our weaknesses. But - because we believe children should have
the freedom of choice - Clowance was allowed to choose for herself. If she had chose
n you we should not have put
obstacles in her way. But she did
not.
She chose Stephen. Three ti
mes she had long absences from him and still she
I
came back to him
...
So there is another thing to think, Ben. ! And that is, do we trust Clowance's judgement? Love is
I
blind, they say, and lovers ca
nnot see. But sometimes lovers
see further and deeper than t
he rest of us: they see beyond
the things in a man's nature that put other folk off, to a better and a deeper character. Who knows? I do not. I pray that someday, and not far off, it will be proved Clowance has seen better than the rest of us. Until then we must just - hope
...
and try to be tolerant.' Ben stared down at a large splodge of muddy sand on the carpet.

I
think I brought that in, Mrs Poldark. I been down Kellow's Ladder. My boots
..."
it does not matter.'

He hesitated and looked at her and then out of the window. 'Thank you for telling me what you've just telled me. Tis comforting to know that I wasn't - that nobody , was ruled out. And tis comforting, in a way, that you and Cap'n Poldark also have your doubts. Maybe in
time
when some of the hurt have gone I shall be able to hope wi' you that Clowance has chose right after all. Any way, thank you for what you've said.'

'Why don't you go and see your Grandfather now? He will be pleased to see you.'

Maybe he'll be pleased, but I doubt he'll show it. I reckon he'll be tearing mad. For letting of you down, see.'

I
'm glad I've seen you first then,' said Demelza.
I
think you've made up your mind, haven't you?'

'What way?'

To come back.'

Ben screwed up his eyes. Tis hard to tell. It depend a lot if Cap'n Poldark d'think the way of you.'

Demelza said:
I
think Captain Poldark will be half way between me and Zacky. He badly wants to be able to
rely
on his underground captain, especially now Jeremy's gone.'

'Yes, I see that.'


in a few weeks he will be going to Westminster. He will want to leave Zacky in charge, and you, if you stay, will have to be Zacky's eyes and ears. Ross would not take kindly to you being absent then!'


if I d'stay, he'll have no cause to fear on that!'

'Well then I think he will want you to stay.'

Thank you, Mistress. Well, I'd best be going now, then. But
if
tis all the same to you I'll not go to the mine till I've had word wi' Cap'n Poldark. I don't think twould be proper.'

They walked to the door. Ben said:

'Oh, I said I been Kellow's Ladder. I seem always to be finding things! What with Roman coins and the like!' He showed her the ring and the metal seal stamp.

Demelza took them. 'You say you found them in Kellow's Ladder? But I thought
...'

'Twas but a down shaft? Quite right. But there be a side tunnel half way down. I seen some footmarks - recent footmarks, so I went in. There were these three little sacks. One was empty, second had these in, the third some old papers, legal papers or the like, and a few copper coins. I left 'em there. They seemed no business o' mine. Maybe twas no business o' mine to bring these away.'

Demelza studied the
seal,
it

had some sort of spider-like creature embossed, and it looked as if it was made of silver lead.

'Sacks, you say? What sort of sacks, Ben?'

'Oh, just like flour sacks. But small ones. Like Miller Jonas somedmes d'use.'

'They weren't marked Jonas, were they?'

'No, no marking. Except a marking in red ink - like red ink. One sack was marked S. And another one J. And the third was P. or B. The ink'd run.'
I
see.' She put her free hand up to rub her heart, which was thumping. 'Can I keep this seal, Ben, just for the
time
being? I'd like to show it to Captain Poldark. I'll leave you have it back later.'

'You can keep 'em both for good, ma'am. They don't b'long
to
me.'

Demelza studied the ring. It was a thick ring and looked as if it had had a jewel - or two jewels - at some
time
; there was the remains of a raised piece with broken claws. She tried it on and it fitted her middle finger.

'Findings are keepings,' she said,
I
think it is yours to do what you will with, Ben. It is a woman's ring. Maybe your mother would like it.' She handed it back.

 

III

 

A week ago she had had a letter from Dr Goldsworthy Gurney. He had explained in somewhat unnecessary detail his friendship with Jeremy and then told her of Jeremy's visit to him while he had been on leave. He went on:

Mr Jeremy Poldark kindly offered me all his drawings and designs made for use in an experimental horseless carriage, and before he first left to join his regiment he brought over a portfolio of these. But when he last called he said there were sail two drawings which had been made by Mr Richard Trevithick last year and which he had forgotten to bring. He said he would send them, but in his short leave he must have forgotten to do so. They are marked, according to your son: 'Sketches front and side of recoil engine and boiler, November
1
8
12.'
If it is at all possible I should greatly esteem a sight of these.

Should you wish to write first and obtain your son's permission, I will of course fully understand the delay. But it so happens that my wife will be staying with her parents all of next week, and I am hoping during her absence to visit my uncle at St Erth, and from there to go to Hayle; and it would advantage me to have had an opportunity to study the drawings before then.

Believe me, my dear'Mrs Poldark,

Your humble and obedient servant,

Goldsworthy Gurney.

On reading this Demelza had gone in search of the plans. In the closet under the window, Demelza knew, Jeremy kept almost all his papers, and for a young
man not notable for his ti
diness about the house, these were usually in excellent order. She had soon found the drawings referred to, b
ut not before she had picked up
and read a press cutting from the
Royal
Cornwall
Gazette,
eighteen months old, reporting a daring robbery of a stage coach during its journey from Plymouth to Truro. It was a very odd thing, Demelza had thought at the time, for Jeremy to keep. Far removed in subject from all the other cuttings, which exclusively dealt with the development of steam carriages and high-pressure steam.

 

IV

 

Ross was late getting home. Daylight had long since fled and the lights were out in the house. Only Matthew Mark Martin was waiting to take his horse and lead it to the stables, is your mistress abed?'

I
don't rightly know, sur. I believe she've gone.' 'Well don't wait up after you have seen to him. I supped in Truro.'

'Thank ee, sur.'

Ross went in, hung up his cloak and hat. A candle was burning on the bannister post of the stairs. There was a faint light from the parlour and he went in. One candle had been left burning, so that he might light the others from it if he wished. He did not wish. He was sleepy enough. He had ridden in this morning, and more than six hours in the saddle had tired him.

He was about to blow out the candle when something stirred in the chair by the fireplace.

'Demelza!' he said. 'You should not have waited. I said I should be late, and you know how early Henry is abroad in the mornings.'

'Oh,' she said, and stretched her arms, but did not rise,
I
just thor I'd -' She blew out a breath,
I
just thought I'd wait a little while.'

He picked up the candle and took it closer to her. She blinked and held up a hand to her eyes. . 'Take it away
...
Too
...
too bright.'

'Demelza, are you not
well?
'
He turned and lit another candle, spilling grease in his haste. The second candle seemed an age in adding anything to the light of the first. He went down on one knee to peer at her.

'Go away,' she said. 'Stop staring.'

He took her by the shoulders. 'Tell me.'

Her breath was liquorous.

'Ross, I thought -1 dreamed
...'

'By God! You're drunk!' he exclaimed in surprise, and released her shoulders. She fell back in the chair.
'Aren't
you?'

'Coursh I'm not. Just took a glass of port
...'

'My God,' he said again. 'What has got into you? You -you're
drunk
Demelza!'

As the light of the second candle at last grew he saw the empty port bottle in the hearth, and beside it a broken glass.

'You stupid slut! How long has this been going on?'

'Whassat? Going on? Nothing's been going on. I just -just felt some sad, and I just took a drink to cheer me up, and then and then
...'

In exasperation he turned to light the other candles, while she protested she couldn't stand it. He looked into her eyes, which tonight were lacking focus. The impulse came to him to hit her. To check himself he picked up the gloves he had let fall, put them on a table beside a newspaper, knelt to poke the fire. But it was as far gone as Demelza.

She whispered: 'Do you believe in God, Ross?'

He said: 'What's
wrong
with you? What has happened?


Has
something happened? Are the children all right?'

'The children?' She hiccupped. 'Pardon. The children. I've been wondering.'

'Wondering
what?
'

'What're we here for, Ross? Who put us here? Eh? Why do we marry and have children and grow old and go to bur graves? Wha's at the end of it? Do you b'lieve we go to Heaven? Do you believe Julia is in Heaven? What is she doing there?' Is she perched on a cloud chirruping like a bird? Has she grown any bigger since she died? She should be a fine girl of twenty-something now. I - I
...'
She blinked at him —
I
believe you blame me, don't you, always have, for going to help Francis and Elizabeth when they had the-the morbid sore throat. You've always blamed me for - for going to help them and catching it and giving it to Julia
...
What if I had died too? Maybe I ought to have died too. If I had died too, should I be perched on a - on a cloud with Julia chirruping like a bird?'

'Stop talking such damned nonsense! Tell me about the children — are they well? Is Harry well?'

'Yes. Yes. He is learning to walk and what is the good of that? He's only growing up to
...
There's nothing for you to worry about.'

'So what are
you
worrying about? When did this begin? Did the children see you like this?'

'No, no. Bella had been ti
resome so I sent her to bed early
...
Ross, maybe I
am
talking damned nonsense, but I do not believe if I had died all those years ago I would—I would be perched on a cloud chirruping like a bird. I believe I would be buried in the ground, mouldering to dust-like Elizabeth, like Francis, like old Agatha. I do not believe it-matters what age we are when we die - we all become ageless — not chirruping on clouds but silent, with our mouths full of attle and sand. And what is it all for? That's what I wanna know. What is it all
for
?
...'
She took a deep shuddering breath. 'Oh, Judas, can I have another drink ?'

'No.'

'Why not?' 'Have you eaten?'

'Could not fancy supper. Lost my appetite.'

'Why have you got
drunk?'

'Not drunk.'

'Yes, you are.'

'Give me another drink.'

'No.'

She said: 'Are we good parents, Ross? I sometimes wonder. Are we too easy, too easy-going, too
sloppy.
No discipline, no example, come as you please, go as you please. That's us. Maybe the old way is best. The strap and the birch and the slipper. Stand in a corner, lock you in your room without supper.' She swallowed hard, and coughed. 'Maybe children really love you
better
that way, look up to you, respect you, listen to what you say.
Animals
- they're animals really, are they not. Animals never mind a beating so long as they know what they've done wrong and where they stand.'

'Shut up and tell me what has gone
wrong?

'Nothing's gone wrong. Everything is handsome handsome.' She sighed again, even more tremulously,
I
just felt sad. Nasty dreams.'

'You do not have dreams in the daytime, woman.'

She smiled crookedly at him.


I
do.'

'Are you going to take to the bottle seriously?' he asked. 'If so I shall throw you out.'

They stared at each other for several long seconds. Tears came to her eyes and began to trickle down her cheeks. 'Just felt-sad.'

Ross got up again, went to the window, frowned out. No one had even bothered to draw the curtains. He knew his inability to stand Demelza's tears, so had turned away from them to try to maintain his anger and his concern. Her partiality for port was a known joke in the family, and even Jeremy teased her about whether it was four or five glasses she had had. But always - or almost always -she had known when to stop. And on other rare occasions when she had taken too much it had been at celebratory parties where nobody minded in the least.

This was different. This drinking on one's own after the children had gone to bed
...
A change which turned a mildly comic weakness into a risk of something else. And yet
...
why today? Had it been going on unknown to him for some time and this the first
time
it had got out of hand? When h
e was home he was not infrequentl
y near to her during the day; he could not remember catching any whiff of spirits. In spite of all her denials, was she concealing something from him, something that had happened today, which had driven her to this excess? It seemed far more likely.


He turned, intent on questioning her again. She was sitting there, having lost her handkerchief, trying to dry her eyes on her sleeves.

'Demelza,' he said.


Yes, Ross?'

I
'm going to help you to bed.'

She blinked at him owlishly. 'No, you're not. I - can find my own way.' 'You can't.'

I
don't wan
t
any
help from anyone who's going to throw me out.'

'That we will talk about in the morning.'

I
don't wan
any
help from someone who's -'

'Come along now.'

I
don't wan
any
help. Not from you, Ross. Nor anyone, anyone else. I can stand up for myself
...'
'We'll see about that in the morning.'

BOOK: The Loving Cup
11.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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