Bella Poldark

Bella Poldark

By

Winston Graham

Now, hurrah, Poldark rides again through the pages of Winston Graham's long-awaited concluding volume of the hugely popular Poldark saga. From the very first lines we tingle with the sense that we are in good hands, transported by Graham's atmospheric prose back to 1818 and the treacherous coast of craggy Cornwall'

Daily Mail Graham's magical stories of the Poldark family have, through the novels and television series, won millions of fans worldwide. Now we continue the tale of Ross and Demelza; of the wayward Valentine Warleggan, whose existence keeps open the old wounds of the feud between Ross and George; of Bella, the Poldarks' youngest daughter, whose precocious talent as a singer is encouraged by her old flame, Christopher Havergal, and by a distinguished French conductor, who has more in mind than Bella's music; of Clowance, the Poldarks' widowed daughter, who considers remarriage to one of two rival suitors; and of a murderer who stalks the villages of west Cornwall.

'From the incomparable Winston Graham . . . who has everything that anyone else has, then a whole lot more Guardian

Praise for Bella Poldark

'From the incomparable Winston Graham . . . who has everything that anyone else has, then a whole lot more'

Guardian

'Now, hurrah, Poldark rides again through the action packed pages of Winston Graham's long-awaited concluding volume of the hugely popular Poldark saga. From the very first lines we tingle with the sense that we are in good hands, transported by Graham's atmospheric prose back to 1818 and the treacherous coast of craggy Cornwall. . . Graham is excellent at depicting the grimness of rural living conditions in the early nineteenth century'

Daily Mail

'The Poldark series had television viewers glued to their screens each week as the passionate Cornish saga held them spellbound . . . This is a book full of incident, betrayal, passion and intrigue, with good period detail ... a must' Sunday Express

'Vivid . . . He researches like a detective'

The Times I

'There are several family sagas set in Cornwall in times gone by, but Winston Graham describes Cornwall so well and brings his characters to life so vividly that for me Poldark is more than enjoyable fiction - it is real! Cornish Guardian

'A treat . . . feast on the very last episode of the grand family saga which . . . takes the reader on a magical, dramatic and romantic romp from rugged Cornwall to the more daring if dubious delights of the theatrical world of London and Europe at the beginning of the nineteenth century'

Northern Echo

'The youngest member of the clan, Bella, takes centre stage in a story that sweeps from the brooding Cornish shores of her home to the glitter of London and Europe at the beginning of the nineteenth century. A breathtaking hit, tinged with the sadness of closure'

Peterborough Evening Telegraph

'With power and elegance the series draws to a close' West Briton

'[Graham's] novels are remarkable for their perceptive characterization and unflinching grasp of late eighteenth-and early nineteenth-century realities - not to mention their evocation of the Cornish landscape and way of life. Elegiac in feel, with some truly gripping scenes, this is a fitting end to an impressive series.'

Good Book Guide

BELLA POLDARK

The twelfth Poldark novel

Winston Graham is the author of more than thirty novels, which include Cordelia, Mamie, The Walking Stick and Stephanie as well as the highly successful Poldark series. His novels have been translated into seventeen languages and six have been filmed. Two television series have been made of the Poldark novels and shown in twenty-two countries. Poldark now is back on television after twenty one years in a special two-hour film of The Stranger from the Sea.

Winston Graham lives in Sussex. He is a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and in 1983 was awarded the OBE.

Also by Winston Graham WINSTON GRAHAM

Ross Poldark

Demelza

Jeremy Poldark

Warleggan

The Black Moon

The Four Swans

The Angry Tide

The Stranger from the Sea

The Miller's Dance

The Twisted Sword

Bella Poldark

Bella Poldark

A Novel of Cornwall 1818-1820

PAN BOOKS

&

First published 2002 by Macinillan

This edition published 2003 by Pan Books an imprint of Pan Macinillan Ltd Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London Nl 9RR Basingstoke and Oxford Associated companies throughout the world www.panmacinillan.com

ISBN 0 330 49149 0 Copyright © Winston Graham 2002 The right of Winston Graham to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved, No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

7 9 8 6

To Max and Joan Reinhardt For many years of loving friendship

A CIP catalogue record for this hook is available from the British Library.

Typeset by SetSystems Ltd, Saffron Walden. Kssex Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham pic, Chatham, Kent

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All Pan Macmillan titles are available from www.panmacmillan.com or from Bookpost by telephoning 01624 677237.

Note from the Author:

The Poldark Saga

This is the twelfth and last Poldark novel. New readers may like a short account of the characters and what has gone before, and, since the eleventh Poldark was published some years ago, even former readers who remember a great deal may appreciate a brief resume.

W.G.

SIR ROSS POLDARK Belongs to the small Cornish gentry, created a baronet by Lord Liverpool on his being sent on a mission to Paris on behalf of the government during Napoleon's exile in Elba. Owns Nampara, a small estate with two operative mines and some farm land.

DEMELZA (nee Carne). Daughter of a Cornish miner. Ross marries her when she is seventeen and they have five children: JULIA, who dies of diphtheria when a baby; JEREMY, who is killed at Waterloo; CLOWANCE, now the widow of Stephen Carrington, who has died in a riding accident; ISABELLA-ROSE, who possesses a fine voice; and HENRY (almost an afterthought), who through his brother's death is heir to his father's baronetcy.

CUBY POLDARK (nee Trevanion, of Caerhays Castle) is the widow of Jeremy Poldark. NOELLE is their daughter, born after Jeremy's death.

CLOWANCE CARRINGTON continues to run the small shipping line set up by Stephen in Penryn before his death. They have no children.

SIR GEORGE WARLEGGAN, knighted by Pitt in return for political support. Son of the founder and now head of Warleggan & Williams' Bank. Marries, first,

ELIZABETH POLDARK (nee Chynoweth), widow of Francis Poldark, Ross's cousin, and previously affianced to Ross. Elizabeth has a son by Francis, called GEOFFREY CHARLES, now a veteran of the Peninsular War and living at Trenwith, the family home of the Poldarks, which is four miles from Nampara. He and his Spanish wife AMADORA (nee de Bertendona) have one daughter, JUANA. Elizabeth had two children by George Warleggan: VALENTINE, who is married to SELINA (widow of Clement Pope) and lives with her at Place House, Trevaunance, which is about three miles further along the coast from Trenwith and near the village of St Ann's. There is bitter enmity and suspicion about Valentine's parentage. Elizabeth's third child - the second by George - is URSULA, whose birth causes Elizabeth's death.

George's second wife - married ten years later - is LADY HARRIET CARTER, sister of the Duke of Leeds, and by George she has twin daughters. They live at Cardew, a mansion bought from the Lemon family by the Warleggans about thirty years ago, and situated over the spine of Cornwall in the gentler part of the county, looking towards the Restronguet Valley. Note from the Author

Nearest neighbours of like standing to the Poldarks of Nampara are the family of TRENEGLOS, who live at Mingoose House.

A mile beyond Sawle Church in an inland direction live the ENYSES, at Killewarren. Thirty years ago DWIGHT ENYS came as a young doctor, and his friendship with Ross has been deep and abiding ever since. So has Demelza's for Dwight's wife, CAROLINE, (nee Penvenen). They have two daughters.

JINNY CARTER, one of the brood of Martins living in Mellin Cottages, lost her first husband, Jim, who, sent to prison for poaching, died of a gangrenous arm. She later married Whitehead Scoble and ever since has kept the only shop in Sawle. Her son - by Jim - is BEN CARTER, who is captain of Wheal Leisure, the only profitable Poldark mine.

Demelza has five brothers, of whom two have close connections with the story: SAM, who has become the leader of the Methodists in the district; and DRAKE, who has moved away to Looe, where he lives with his wife MORWENNA (nee Chynoweth) and their daughter LOVEDAY.

VERITY BLAMEY (nee Poldark, sister of Francis and Cousin to Ross) lives at Flushing with her husband, a retired sea captain.

BELLA POLDARK

The evening was loud and wild. Black clumsy clouds were driving up from the north, lit at their edges by light from a sliver of moon. A few hazy stars speckled the patches of sky. But it was not dark. Even when the moon was quite gone there would be some luminescence from the restless sea because the longest day was still only a month past. Yet it did not seem like late summer. The sea drift was cold, the air was cold and noisy, the waves melancholy as if waiting for autumn. A man was climbing down the cliffs half a mile east of Wheal Leisure. He was long-legged, and firm-footed like a cat. It was not an easy climb, for though the rocks were of granite and would never break away, they were greasy in places from the morning's rain. He was bare-headed, and wore some sort of tight black jerkin, rough barragan trousers and light canvas shoes. He carried a bundle tied to his back. The last bit was the most difficult. If he jumped from ten feet a large sea pool barred his way. No doubt the water would break his fall, but he would be completely soaked and the wind was cold for the ride home. And was the pool deep enough? A broken ankle would not be welcome. He decided to inch his way round the edge and if he fell on his back in the water the pool's depth would not be so important.

He edged round, missed his footing, found it again, squirmed round a big projection, slid down two feet, jumped and landed on soft sand. Satisfied, he got to his feet, moved to harder ground, took the bundle from his back and untied it. It was a riding cloak and a rolled-up black felt hat. As he put these on a voice said: 'Good eve to you.'

A tall, older man, taller even than he was. The climber dropped his hat, swore and picked it up, shook the sand from it.

'Judas God! You gave me a fright! What are you doing here?'

'It's always wise, isn't it,' said the older man, 'to get in the question first. What are you doing here? You are much further from home than I am.'

'Did you know I was here?'

'No, just strolling.'

'At midnight? You were not sleepwalking, Cousin?'

'I was strolling. Then I saw your horse.'

'Damnation! I thought I had well hid him. But you could not recognize him: I only bought Nestor last week.'

'Well - it was a nag of some quality and not many people leave their mounts untended in the middle of the night.'

'So you concluded it was me?'

'. . . I thought it a possibility.'

'And what led you to this particular piece of the beach, Cousin? My footprints were washed away.'

'I know there's a path from here up to Mingoose House. Coming down, you lost your way.'

'I suppose I did. Judas God. Don't tell Demelza.'

'I might agree to say nothing if you stopped using her special swear word.'

'What? Is it? Why is it?'

'Because as far as I know no one else has used it before.'

'I rather fancy it.'

'Maybe.'

'It's not ladylike.'

'I agree. Are you walking back to your horse?'

'Yes.'

'Then I'll walk with you.'

The clouds had lifted a little, and as the wind bullied the men along it was possible for them to discern more of each other. Although there was a similarity between them - in height, in colouring, and sometimes in the voice - there were greater areas of difference. The older man had broader shoulders, an altogether bonier face, heavy eyelids not quite hiding direct, unquiet eyes. The younger man had mischievous dark eyes, but they were a blue like his mother's, and closer together. They talked for a moment or two about the new horse, then Ross said: 'It was an unusual way to call on the Trenegloses. Can I assume you were up to no good?'

After a pause while they negotiated another pool. 'Why should you assume that, Cousin?'

'Isn't it most likely? The direct route to Mingoose, as you well know, is via the upper lane that takes you to the front gates.'

"Yes. You are entirely right.'

And in the last two years you have given no indication that you were likely to mend your ways.'

'Mend my ways. A quaint phrase. It might come from Sam's church.'

It doesn't. It means in this instance being considerate and neighbourly. The Trenegloses are neighbours of mine.'

'Ah, yes. Quite so.'

The wind continued to buffet them, and they staggered

like drunken men. The conversation so far had been on a bantering level, but there was a hint of iron in Ross's voice.

'Nearly there,' said Valentine. 'I'm surprised you spotted the nag.'

'He neighed . . . Had you gone to Mingoose to steal something?'

'Dear Cousin, I do not like being accused of theft.'

'Since I helped you out of that scrape last year, I think I am in a privileged position.'

'Perhaps you always were. But I have called a man out for less.'

They stopped. Ross said: 'Your horse is still there. I can hear him. Goodnight.'

'I suppose,' Valentine said, 'I might as well confess, lest I be suspected of worse. It has been a sort of theft, though of the gentlest sort. Do you know a kitchenmaid, Carla May, whom Ruth recently engaged?'

'Why should I?'

'Indeed, why should you? Perhaps I am younger and more susceptible, but last week calling on Frederick for a morning's shooting I espied such a sweetly pretty smiling face under a muslin cap that I had to make further enquiries. Her name is Carla May. I'll swear I stole little from her that she was not willing to give.'

Ross considered this. 'How is Selina?'

'Six months forward.'

'Well?'

'In blooming health.'

'She will not bloom so handsomely if she knows you have been seen climbing into the back bedrooms of Mingoose.'

'That is why I took such care not to be seen! . . .'

But, seriously, Cousin. 'Have we not been serious so far?'

'When I married her she assumed I was a saint. In spite of my affair with her while her first husband was alive, she apparently believed I had to be faithful to her unto death. That hope has long since gone. I told her that I crossed my fingers in the ceremony when it came to "forsaking all others". I believe we do not get along too badly now. So long as I exercise a little discretion. So long as she is not privy to it.'

'This is a very close-knit community. Do you think I shall be the only Paul Pry?'

But Valentine had not quite finished what he wanted to say. 'D'you know, my dear Cousin, I don't really think women so very much mind if their husbands stray, so long as they know nothing about it and so long as others know nothing about it. It is not love that is so much injured, it is pride. It is self-esteem. It is vanity. Love plays a small part in their sense of outrage.'

'Maybe it is the same for men. Some men. Ultimately it surely comes down to the characters of the people involved?'

'Well done! You are learning fast.'

'Insolent puppy.'

Valentine laughed. 'Now I know I am forgiven.'

I have nothing to forgive, except your impertinence. Make sure you don't meet others less amenable.'

'Give me a leg-up, will you? It's a job to get any springboard on this soft sand.'

Demelza was in bed when he reached Nampara, but not asleep. She was reading a book by the light of three candles. They smiled at each other.

'Did you get wet?'

'No, the tide was ebbing quickly.'

'I thought there was a shower.'

'I missed it.'

In the candlelight she looked unchanged. In the daylight the laughter lines round her eyes and mouth had become more noticeable, but even that detracted very little from her fine looks. Only the glint of zest had gone from her eyes since Jeremy's death. Her hair, which had developed pronounced streaks of grey, was now back to its original colour. For some years, knowing Ross's dislike of hair dye, she had dabbed surreptitiously at various strands appearing around the ears and temples, believing he did not notice. But last year he had returned from London with a bottle of hair dye which had been matched to perfection because he had stolen a lock of her hair while she was asleep. When he gave her the bottle he had said simply: 'I don't want you to change.'

'Did you see anyone?' Demelza asked.

'Valentine.'

'Dear life. What was he about?'

'Paying attentions, I gather, to some maid in the Treneglos household called Carla May.'

'He is - impossible.'

'Yes.'

Ross regretted he had said so much. Valentine had become rather a bone of contention between them. Not that he felt he had broken his pledge to Valentine, for Demelza never gossiped.

'He was on the beach?'

'Yes.'

'Dear life. On the prowl, I s'pose. And Selina six months forward.'

He sat on the bed and began to unfasten his neckcloth. 'Bella safely in bed?'

'She went up soon after you left. Ross, she thought you'd gone out because she was practising her high notes.'

'I thought she might. I must tell her it was not so. You know how I get these impulses to take a long walk.'

'It truly was not so, then?'

He half laughed. 'She knows I am not partial to her voice. Truth to tell, I am perhaps not very partial to women's singing at all. Except yours, because yours is low and so easy to listen to. People say she has a good voice--'

'Far, far better than mine.'

'It is certainly louder!'

'It is much admired, Ross. In Truro they thought most highly of it.'

'I know. And when Christopher comes he flatters her.'

'I don't know if you happen to have noticed, but they are in love.'

He patted her hand. 'Sarcasm does not become you. But it is a condition in which one tends to exaggerate the talents of the person one loves.'

'I don't suppose I have often exaggerated your talents, Ross.'

He half laughed again. 'There have been times, but we won't go into that. In fact that could be taken two ways . .. I must say, though

'Well, say it.'

I do not think Bella needs to start singing at nine o'clock at night. She'll disturb Harry.'

to When Harry is asleep it would take a thunderbolt wake him. And, as another point, he admires his sister.'

'Admires her? Well so do I! Very much. She is - is the

most engaging of our children. She's the most like you, except that she lacks the gentleness.'

He went to the table, opened a tin box, damped his forefinger and began to rub his teeth with his favourite red root. Then he filled a mug from the pitcher and rinsed his mouth out.

'Talking of daughters,' he went on when he had finished,

'we have not had our usual letter from Clowance. I hope nothing is amiss.'

'If I don't hear I will go this week. She was well enough last time, though still committed to her ships. Or perhaps you should go, Ross, for a change.'

'I might if I could persuade her to sell up and come back here.'

'She seems - as I say - committed.'

'She made a loss last year.'

'That was chiefly because of the weather.'

'Hm.' He pulled on the short nightshirt that Demelza had made for him and then slipped into bed beside her. She blew out two of the candles and put her book on the floor beside the bed.

'I heard the first cricket tonight,' she said.

'Did you? Yes, I suppose it's about time.'

'Do you want to talk?' she asked.

'You choose.'

'Then I think I'm ready for sleep.'

He kissed her and snuffed out the final candle. Except when there was temporary war between them - and the last time was years gone - theirs was never a perfunctory goodnight kiss: it was the resealing of a partnership, a restatement of a sexual friendship. Ross lay back on his pillow and took a deep breath of something not far from satisfaction. Despite the tragedies and traumas of life - far away the greatest among them the death of his elder son at Waterloo - he felt he had a deal to be thankful for. It was of course his nature to be restive; but he often found when an attack of what Demelza called the lurgies was pending, a long fast walk, preferably across the beach at low tide, and preferably alone, helped to drive it away. This had happened tonight - temporarily at least. He put his hands behind his head and tried to think about his mines and his farm and his interests in boatbuilding, rolling mills and banking. He was close to becoming a warm man - though if the truth be told it was Wheal Leisure that made him warm. Wheal Grace kept going mainly as an act of social conscience - and the other interests were peripheral. The curtains were drawn, but as his eyes got used to the total darkness he found it as usual not to be total. The curtains were stirring from an inch-open window and allowed a faint slit of light to creep into the room. One of the sash windows was trembling slightly as the wind too tried to get in. It had in fact been trembling for years, and he always meant to have it seen to. But perhaps if it was stopped now they would both miss it. The sound had become part of their sleeping lives. Demelza said: 'Carla May.'

'What?'

'Carla May.'

'What of it? I thought you were asleep.'

I don't know any May family in this district, do you, Ross?'

Come to think of it, no. I knew a Captain May in America. He came from the south-west, but I think it was Devon.'

Silence fell. Ross decided that the sash window should be attended to. He would tell Gimlett in the morning. He touched Demelza's shoulder. 'Why suddenly ask me this when we were just going to sleep? What's in your mind?'

'I was just thinking, Ross. Why should Valentine volunteer the name of the maid he was - was visiting at Mingoose?'

'I suppose he thought it added a little verisimilitude.'

'That's a silly word. But exactly

'What?'

'Do you really think if Valentine had been paying a love call on a maid in the Treneglos household he would have bothered to tell you her name? He might not even know it himself! To me it does not add very - whatever you call it to the story. Is it not more likely that he invented the name just to convince you that there was such a person?'

'I'm not sure that I - oh, yes, I see what you mean, but can you think of any other possible reason why Valentine should be making an illicit entry into a neighbour's house? Especially being Valentine. He's hardly likely to be stealing the silver!'