The Miller's Dance (14 page)

'You will, I trust, appreciate,' said George, who realized he had expressed himself without tact, 'that were this a normal loan against property I would not presume to utter a word as to how you used it. But, totally unsecured as it is
...
You will appreciate I have to answer to my partners.'

Trevanion grunted,
I
thought this advance was from your own pocket.'

'Half only. Naturally if money were easier at the moment I should have been happy to shoulder the burden myself. But - may I be quite frank with you ?'

I
thought you always were.'

George chose to ignore this impropriety.

'Until
recentl
y, I should explain, I have had very extensive investments in the North of England, which have been hit disastrously by the continuance of the war. Had the Prince Regent been an honourable man
...
But no matter. Suffice it to say that during the last year or so I have been liquidating these investments in order to concentrate all my future interests in this county and in Devon.'

'Didn't know that,' siad Trevanion, eyeing his host warily.

'So let us for the moment be content with a move which will prevent a deterioration of your position
this
year. Eh? Until the end of the year, don't you think?'

‘
if you say so,' Trevanion acknowledged.

Sir George crossed and uncrossed his legs, turned over the. couple of bright new guineas he always kept in his fob pocket. He weighed the priorities in his life. His marriage would involve him in much new expense, no doubt of that. Already, since his mother died, Cardew had been redecorated, worn furniture replaced, part of the stables rebuilt to accommodate Harriet's horses, the drives rolled and repaired, new ovens in the kitchens so that food could be served hotter. When Harriet was installed she would no doubt want to change some things to suit her own taste, possibly to buy more hunters, to have, perhaps, a better light carriage for her personal use.

In the meantime he was involving himself voluntarily in shoring up the shaky foundations of Major Trevanion's life. More money to lay out. Money at risk. Not of course that it was more than a bagatelle compared to what he had risked and lost in Manchester. But it could mount up. And as a
result
of his losses in the North he was still very short of liquid capital. That was the galling thing. All the same, there was a handsome prize at the end of this. As a possibility. Only as a possible possibility. Did one voice any such thoughts at this stage or allow the situation to b
rew for a while? Would any harm
come of broaching it now? Could the idea be any worse for a preliminary airing?

'More brandy, Major?'

'Thank you.'

Liquid blobbed out of the decanter into the two glasses.

'Not only has my financial position been tightened by my losses in the north but I am expecting shortly to be married again...'

Trevanion frowned into his brandy as if it held some explanation of this surprising news.

'Indeed?' he said eventually. 'My - hm - congratulations.'

'Thank you.'

‘
is it someone I know?'

'The extra expense involved in such a situation must clearly be my first responsibility. But in a year that situation will have stabilized itself, as will my own position.'

'Isn't
that
your own position?'

I
mean,' said George with
a hint of testiness, 'my invest
ment position.' 'Ah, I see. Yes.'

'Therefore it would be wise for us both to look on next year as a time when something more substantial might be done to help you.'

'Yes, yes, if you say so. As I've told you, as you well know, I walk a tightrope. One bill comes due on top of another. Some cannot be
discounted; so they say. Others
-'

'How old is Miss Cuby?' George asked.

There was a brief, taut silence.

'What?'

'Miss Cuby. Your sister. How old is she?'

'Cuby? Twenty-one last month. Why d'you ask?'

'A most charming girl.'

'No doubt. No doubt. I think so, yes.'

'She must be much sought after.'

Trevanion swallowed some heartburn in his throat. 'Oh? Well, maybe, yes. She's very
close
to me, you know, Cuby is.'

'I've no doubt.'

'And
she has been an invaluable help in looking after my young children.'

Silence fell again. Trevanion looked at his glass. 'Good brandy, this. It was run, I suppose?'

it was run.'

Some drunken wastrels began quarrelling in the street below. It was one of the problems of town life; one could not withdraw oneself far enough from the vulgars.

'Cuby has been closer to me than anyone since my darling Charlotte died. She is a very proud girl.'

‘
Who would not be in her position?'

‘
We speak - she and I speak much of the future together. She feels my situation keenly.'

'As any warm-hearted girl would.'

'Ah yes. No doubt.'

'Valentine,' George said. 'Valentine was eighteen in February.'

So far as George could determine, Trevanion's expression did not change. He wondered if the coupling of the names did not register; or if they came as a complete surprise to Major Trevanion; or if they came as no surprise to him at all. Even at the end of an evening of drinking it was impossible to tell. Trevanion was no fool. Nor, did it seem, was he willing to make any of the running.

'Valentine,' George said, 'has excelled himself at Fives at Eton. He has also rowed extensively and is expecting to do well at St John's, Cambridge. His tutor spoke highly of his mathematical abilities.'

'A fine lad, I'm sure.'

'My only son.'

'You have a daughter?'

'She was twelve last December. We gave a big party for her then at my country seat of Cardew.'

Trevanion stretched his legs further towards the fire. No one can sprawl more successfully than a man with a long ancestry.

'Is your son to come into the banking world?'

'He is educated to be a gentleman. If he enters banking he will probably operate in the way de Dunstanville does, governing through his partners.'

'Cardew will go to him, I suppose?'

‘
I
had thought to include it in the wedding portion for my
daughter.' .

'In which case he will lack a country seat?'

'One can be got.'

'Ah yes, well...' The Major looked carefully at his empty glass and it was refilled. 'If you'll pardon the question, Sir

George, how old are you ?' 'Almost fifty-three.'

'And I'm not yet quite thirty-two
...
You tell me you are going to remarry?' 'Shortly. Yes.'

'Is your wife-your future wife -young?'
I

'Quite young.'

'So you may have issue. I mean further issue.' 'Quite possibly. But that would involve a dispensation far in the future.'

'Not so sure. A woman will soon start seeking proper provision for her children.'

'There should be enough for all.'

'Oh, well. So you say. Maybe you're right
...
You know your own business best
...
I must confess I'm damned disinclined to remarry myself. Charlotte was an angel -
j
specially in the way she put up with me - and I can see none | to take her place. Of course I would accept a marriage - nay, jump at it - if that way I could se
e myself out of this financial
mess. But what widow, a
suitable woman, would bring a
portion of twenty thousand?'

'Twenty is a lot of money.'

'Yes.' Major Trevanion finished his brandy again. Each glass, George noticed, who was not keeping pace, went ' more swiftly than the last. 'So...' There was a pause.

'So?' prompted his host.

'So, failing such a widow or suitable woman...' 'Some other solution must be looked for, if such can be found.'

'Yes
...
Well, yes. That's what I would want.'

It was coming near to the point. George waited but the other man did not speak. He was staring with slow-blinking eyes into the fire. In the end George went on.

'Such as one of your sisters marrying money?'

'Such as that, for instance. If it could be arranged.'

'It would be very difficult to arrange a match which would be suitable to her and suitable to yourself.'

'I don't see why. Caerhays is big enough for two families if need be. Or, if it came to the point, I might in a few years be prepared to withdraw to a dower house, which would leave Cuby's husband master of the most beautiful house in Cornwall.'

'Yes
...
Yes ...' George's lids drooped, to hide his satisfaction at the way things were now going; at the way, in the last resort, some of the proposition and some of its most important details were being squeezed out of Trevanion himself.

'But is it not the
most
beautiful, Warleggan, is it not? Nash, damn him, has all but ruined me; but nothing else compares to this castle he has put up: you have to admit it! Lanhydrock, perhaps. Cotehele. I doubt if either matches it for sheer elegance and beauty.'

I
would not quarrel with what you have said.'

In a further silence each digested the other's meaning.

'Well,'said Trevanion at last.

'Well,'said George.

'Yes, well
...
I must say -'

'Let us wait a little,' said George. 'Let us see how circumstances develop. Valentine is as yet only about to go up to Cambridge. There is no reason at all, of course, why he should not take a wife while still studying; but I think we should look at the situation again towards the end of the year.'

Major Trevanion finished his brandy but this time did not extend his glass for more. In spite of his blurry voice and appearance, the amount of alcohol he had consumed had not really affected his judgment. He had no particular relish for the company he was in, and in happier times would not have sought it. Nor would he have entertained doing any such deal with Warleggan as now was in the air. The thought of a relationship by marriage with one of this Warleggan family offended him, and his conscience stirred. His sister - his younger sister - was his companion and confidante. When she was very small he had been like a father to her. He had seen her grow and bloom into a very attractive young woman. Since Charlotte died everything unfairly had piled up on him, and he spoke freely to Cuby of it all. Often they walked by the sea together discussing his
problems. She was already like a mother to his little boys, responding as it were, as he had, to a bereavement. Altogether she was a remarkable young woman, and as such deserved better than an arranged marriage of this nature.

But a recollection of his present debts and the accommodation bills due quelled the stirrings of doubt and conscience. Who else was available to save him from a debtors' prison? - for that was what loomed. Even an escape to Europe, which he had more than once contemplated, was not really practicable while this tyrant ruled there. Who else and what else? Even though he did not wish to marry again he would have done so - as he had j ust said to Warleggan -if there were available some rich widow. None such existed. Given five years he might have gone into London society, scoured the shires, offered his great house and ancient name as his side of the deal. But no one would give him five years. Only through the piecemeal support of. Sir George Warleggan was he to be vouchsafed one year - or part of a year.

Of course if his filly, Honoria, won the Oaks
...
And if he had the confid
ence to wager heavily enough.
Warleggan, knowing his passion, his other passion, had made it a condition of the loan
...
But would he ever know? Certainly he would know if Honoria
lost.
And all his family had been at him recently to debar himself from such gambling. His own mother. Cuby even. Cuby
...

George—he supposed he must learn to call him that—had frowned sharply at the mention of £20,000. But he hadn't declared it impossible. That was what was needed. That would really set the family up again. Somehow, if it came to the point, this amount would have to be guaranteed -possibly paid over in full before the marriage took place. A dowry in reverse. Promises alone, understandings, verbal agreements, could never be enough. He would eventually have to make that clear. It must all be down in writing.

Perhaps Cuby would not at all be averse from the idea and the deal behind it. She seemed to feel almost as much for the property and the name as he did. And young Warleggan was a very handsome chap in a narrow-eyed way — at least as personable as that lanky, insolent, Poldark whelp -.who had turned up tonight a
gain - and certainly better man
nered and better educated. No doubt it took only one generation to make a gentleman. Anyway she was not being asked to marry some gouty old drunkard.