Bella Poldark (18 page)

'You do not with George . . . You did not with me the first time we met.'

'First time?'

'You do not remember. We quarrelled over a horse. And the second time we met we quarrelled over a dance.'

Ross examined her thoughtfully for a few moments. 'At the risk of being thought undiplomatic, madam, my memory of these events is quite different.'

They were served with French pate, brought from Brittany that morning. Harriet said: 'Pray go on.'

'Quarrel seems rather over-dramatic a word for our encounter at the horse sale. And if there was a substantial difference of opinion it was between myself and George, not between myself and you.'

'It was my horse!'

'Not at all! It only became yours in the end.'

'You are splitting hairs.'

'And as for quarrelling over a dance, Lady Harriet, my memory is that you were trying to teach me the waltz and I was rather a clumsy learner.'

'Quarrel I suppose was meant as a tease. Your first attempts at an entirely new sort of dance were quite admirable. You never stumbled, fell, trod on my toes, kicked my shins, tore my dress or damned my eyes.'

'You have very beautiful eyes,' Ross said, 'and that I would never dare to do.'

Harriet laughed lazily. 'Is there to be a dance tonight, do you know? I see we have the fiddlers. But this great table . . .'

'That other party Geoffrey Charles gave - it must be six years ago - he took up the table, turned it against the back wall, under the window. But it meant breaking the slate floor. Possibly, if the room were cleared of everything else it might be possible to dance round it.'

'I would like to dance around it,' said Harriet. 'Perhaps you will invite me . . .'

Philip Prideaux said: 'I am grateful to Geoffrey Charles for arranging the table so that I may have the privilege of sitting next to you, Mrs Carrington. Shall you be staving with your family for some time after the party?'

'Probably until Sunday. I should be back in Penryn on Monday morning . . . Captain Prideaux.'

He adjusted his glasses. 'Yes?'

'We do not know each other very well, but I have been your guest at two concerts and there have been numerous - encounters. In these circumstances, do you think it might be appropriate to stop calling me Mrs Carrington?'

'What else might I call you?' His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. 'By your first name? Clowance? I should esteem it the highest privilege.'

'I don't believe it is such a privilege as all that, Philip. But in these country districts in which we live I do not feel we need to preserve the formalities of high society.'

'I am honoured indeed! You give me the courage to ask another favour.' She looked at him enquiringly. He smiled at her. 'Allow me on Sunday to escort you home.'

'But shall you not be leaving tomorrow?'

'Geoffrey Charles will not, I'm sure, object to my staying two more nights. However good his servants, there will be much tidying up to do.' At the other end of the table Essie whispered: 'I cannot begin to guess which fork to use.'

'Nor me neether,' said Ben. 'That young woman opposite is using the little one.'

' 's, I see.'

There was plenty of talk going on around them but none between them. Essie was overawed, Ben tongue-tied, wanting to talk but lacking trivial conversation. He knew what he wanted but he couldn't say it out loud in this company.

'Tes some hot in 'ere,' he adventured.

'I never thought I should come and sit here like this,'

Essie said. 'Like a guest. Like a high-up guest. I've the notion that Aunt Demelza have put the mistress up to it, but gracious knows why.'

Ben stared across the table. It seemed to him that Essie had put her finger accidentally on the truth. But she didn't seem to have the least idea in the world about the purpose. As she had just said: 'Gracious knows why.'

He found he was staring far too long at the lady on the opposite side of the table, Miss Daisy Kellow. Daisy smiled at him, as she would smile at any good-looking man of eligible age, and he dropped his gaze in embarrassment. He realized she had not recognized him. Perhaps others had not. Perhaps the lady on his left had not, Miss Hope Teague, because his beard was shorter than it had ever been before in all his adult life, until it was really a Van Dyke, the corner of the scar just showing. Anyhow, was it likely that Miss Hope, the most desiccated of Ruth's unmarried sisters, would see any resemblance between this trimly dressed if rough-spoken gentleman and the uncommunicative, sullen man who strode past their house, head down against the wind, on his way to work at Wheal Leisure? At the top of the table Senor de Bertendona sat flanked by his wife: on her right was Geoffrey Charles, with Demelza beside him; on the Senor's left was Amadora, and beyond her Dwight Enys.

'Philip.'

'Yes, Clowance?'

'May I make an enquiry of you? Perhaps it may seem an impertinence, an intrusion upon a - a personal matter which should not concern me

'I'm sure you may ask anything of me you wish.'

'Well,' said Clowance, 'I wonder why you have just put on those eye glasses?'

Philip's expression changed. He stared in front of him.

'You must know why people wear glasses - it is to see the better.'

'Of course. Is it at short distance or at long that you need them?'

'Short.'

'Yet - excuse me - you were able to see your name on the plate to know where you shall sit.'

'That is not writ very small. Perhaps,' he looked up, 'my wish guided me to the right seat.'

'Oh, come.' She took out her little gold watch. 'What is the time by this?'

'Twenty minutes after four.'

'The face and figures are quite small.'

'Yes, they are quite small.'

The plates were being cleared away and new ones laid for the dessert.

'Sometimes eye glasses, Miss Clowance, serve an extra purpose.'

'Can you instruct me?'

'Of course.' But he made no attempt to do so. Christopher Havergal said to Demelza: 'Lady Poldark, I have had little opportunity since we arrived of bringing you up to date with happenings in London. Of course Bella has written you regularly, I know, and she will have told you the more important things. Also, since we came home you will have seen much of her.'

'That I have,' said Demelza. 'But it has been a trifle come and go, so to say, with so many people in the house and much talk of this party. I take it you will stay over the New Year?'

'Gladly. Thank you. Then I must return. Bella could stay another week.'

'I should like her to stay.'

'Indeed. So should I. She deserves a holiday. Perhaps it will depend on whether she can find someone to travel with her.'

'Ross can ask around. Friends at his bank are often travelling.'

'How do you think Bella looks?'

'No different. But she is different. Some of the girlishness has gone.'

'I know. I'm sorry. But perhaps it would go naturally, in any event. She has developed in personality. She will, I believe, be a great personality in a concert room.'

'I'm sure.'

'She told you, no doubt, about the concert Mrs Pelham gave on her birthday in October. That was a great success. And Mrs Pelham is doing so much for us, she knows many influential people. We had one great disappointment earlier this month. Did she tell you of that?'

'I don't think so.'

'At the birthday dinner party was a man called the Hon. Charles Wynford, who is a great friend of the Prince Regent. He vowed himself greatly impressed with Bella's singing, and he arranged to give a party on the third of December, where she was to be one of three singers, and the Prince Regent had promised to be present.'

'And did he not come?'

'He was laid up with some illness (the newspapers speculate but no one can be sure), and if the old King dies it will even be a matter of some doubt whether the Regent will be well enough to succeed.'

'And who will succeed if he cannot?'

'Prince William.'

'He has not a very good reputation either,' said Demelza.

'Of course the Regent may pull round, but it destroyed our plans, at least for that evening.'

'How old is the old King?'

'Eighty-one or eighty-two. But he is completely blind and mostly insane. It would be vital to Bella's advancement if she were to receive some sort of royal approval . . .'

'She is still very young, Christopher.'

Christopher looked at Demelza and stroked his moustache.

'Yes, there is time. But it was a great opportunity that went by the board. Without seeming to press the point I will continue to seek Wynford's friendship. I do not think he is well to do, and in my banking profession there may come an opportunity to do him a good turn. After all, his impulse to promote Bella was entirely selfless.'

Ben said: 'Your brothers are miners?'

'Haven't got no brothers.'

'Oh, uncles then. There be no work around Illuggan?' 'Precious little.'

'There's little round 'ere. Grace is finished. Only Leisure is still kindly.'

'Thanks be, I say. An' you are manager?'

'More or less. Y'see in big mines there's a mine cap'n and a grass cap'n. Leisure be scarce that big, but my grandfather, Zacky Martin, is manager in charge, but he's oft too sick to do it, so I do both jobs, like.'

'An' Wheal Grace?'

'Sir Ross keep her open. Forty on the pay roll. There's always the hope we maybe strike lucky again. Twas a rare money-maker over ten or more years. Big money. That's

'ow Cap'n Ross can keep open Grace even though of late she's not paying for herself.'

Essie stared suspiciously at the fruit, quartered and peeled, that had appeared on her plate.

'Is it oranges?'

'Reckon so.'

'Don't think I ever tasted one.'

'Try it. Do you good.'

Esther glanced around the table and nervously picked up a spoon and fork.

'D'ye like music?' he asked.

'That's nice, what they're playing now.'

'D'ye like organ music?'

'Dunno as I've ever heard it. D'ye mean like a harmonium? Like they have in some of the big churches?'

'Yes.'

'I've hardly heard anything of it. Why?'

'I built one,' said Ben. She looked at his dark, forbidding face. 'Sam told me you had done something like that. That's wondrous clever, Mr Carter.'

He shook his head. 'Tis only a knack. An arrangement of pipes. Some folk d'call it a box o' whistles.'

She sensed that now there was something he would like to talk about.

'Sam said you'd built one over your mother's shop.'

'Yes, that be so. But when I moved to me own little cottage I left all that behind and began anew. This one's just finished and it's much betterer than the old one. Pipes are bigger, an' the wind-chest too, and I got me new wooden sliders that make all the difference.'

She hesitated and swallowed, but now was the time if ever, if ever.

'I'd dearly love t'see it, Mr Carter, sometime, maybe if you've the time. Does it play? Can you play tunes on it?'

He looked at her, and his black eyes kindled. 'Oh yes,'

he said. 'Oh yes.'

Amadora had taken the nod from Geoffrey Charles, and got to her feet. All rose, and presently the ladies separated themselves out and proceeded to leave the room in chattering twos and threes. The last had hardly swished and rustled out of sight when a man's voice could be heard in the entrance hall raised in amused complaint. Several of the men who were about to resume their seats remained standing.

Valentine came in, followed by a plump, rosycheeked man of about his own age. They were both well dressed, but carelessly so. Valentine's cravat needed retying; his companion had lost the top two buttons of his military tunic, and his hair was awry.

'My dear GC,' Valentine said, and took his half-brother's hand. 'I know you thought I was away, but when I came home unexpectedly I felt I could not disappoint you for your party! . . . Have we missed the feast? The ladies are vanished! Never mind, we'll join in a glass of port. Oh . . . do you know Lieutenant Lake? He was my fag at Eton - for one term. We had many adventures together. Eh?' Valentine laughed infectiously. 'David knew Jeremy in Brussels, they were both in the same damn' regiment together. What was it, David?'

'Fifty-second Oxfordshires.'

'Used to gamble together too,' Valentine said. 'David and Jeremy used to gamble together. Eh? Great gambler, Jeremy, by God. Lost a lot, didn't he, David?'

'What?' said Lake. 'I've forgot. Expect he pro-probably did. Everyone seemed to lose. No one won. Is - is Cuby here?'

Valentine said: 'Is Cuby here?'

'Yes.'

'Great gathering this. May I?' He took the vacant chair opposite Paul Kellow and waved David Lake to another.

'My father, Sir George, my godfather, Sir Ross, this is Lieutenant Lake of the Fifty-something Oxfordshires. Went through Waterloo without a damn' scratch. As you did, GC, by God. Takes a clever man to go through a battle like that without a scratch. Though you got a number of scratches before that, GC. Blood and bones, this is good port! Did you run it or buy it?'

'Bought it at a reduced price,' said Geoffrey Charles,

'knowing it had been run.'

Valentine stretched his legs. 'You've a fine selection of the county here, Cousin, I must say. I nearly brought Butto.'

'Butto?'

'My pet monkey. Got him off a lascar in Falmouth Dock a few weeks ago. Twas lonely without Selina, don't you know!' He snorted with laughter. 'Nice cuddly thing. Though not so little and not so cuddly now - he grows apace! My friends make much of him - spoil him rather.'

'A monkey,' said someone. 'That's a trifle queer. What sort of monkey?'

'Damned if I know. Biggish. Scares the women.'

'Should not fancy having a monkey round the house,'

said Harry Beauchamp. 'You getting eccentric, Warleggan?'

'Always have been, old boy. Used to pets at school, d'you know. My school anyway. Popsy Pordand had a snake, claimed he fed it on mice. Johnny Russell kept an owl that would perch on his head. Nick Waldegrave kept a long tailed monkey - not at all like Butto, I must say! Well, it all adds to the fun!'

In the meantime Geoffrey Charles had decided to ignore his uninvited guests, and was superintending the clearing of the great table of all except the decanters of port. The band, after a pause for their own refreshment, struck up again.

When the ladies returned most of the men were still sitting over their port, but under discreet persuasion they got up and went about their own affairs while the chairs were swept away and the floor sanded. Groups of armchairs situated at each corner of the room were set out for those who by inclination or expectation were inclined to sit and watch. The room, even with its vast central table, looked much bigger with this arrangement, and it was clear that there would be room enough to dance, though country dances, usually group dances, would not be practicable. So the evening went pleasantly by, beginning with a minuet, followed by a gavotte and then the ever-popular waltz. At the second gavotte Vyel Vyvyan, who always had an eye for good looks, asked Demelza to dance with him. Having watched them safely launched, Ross went across to ask Lady Harriet. She was talking to Harry Beauchamp, and George was close by, standing hands clasped behind back, watching the dancers with a calculating eye as if weighing up their realizable worth. Harriet looked at Ross, pretended to fumble in her bag.

'Sir Ross. Let me see, have I got you on my card?'

'It's on your mental card, ma'am. You pledged it between the plums and the cheese.'

Harriet sighed. 'Ah yes. Between the plums and the cheese. I do remember. You'll pardon me, Mr Beauchamp. I shall hope to resume our conversation later.'

When they were on the floor Ross said: 'It hurts me to tear you away from such enlightening company.'