The Miller's Dance (15 page)

'Do you think,' George asked, his mind just as clearly still on the same aspect of the same theme; 'do you think that if we provisionally agreed some such arrangement, Miss Cuby would willingly become a party to it?'

'Ugh - ugh. She is very sensible of my wishes. In fact I am sure she would see the wi
sdom of the arrangement. But you
r son?'

'Valentine,' George said, 'has suffered the disadvantages as well as the advantages of being a rich man's son. So he has been brought up not only to expect luxury but to need it. He is a truly charming, wholly delightful boy, as you will have observed...' He paused.

'Yes, yes,' said Trevanion impatiently..

'Though a little wayward, as most boys are. There have been occasions in the past when our opinions have differed. When it has not been important to me I have given way. This makes for give and take in a family. But when it has been of prime importance to me
he
has given way.
Always.
If it is a choice between obedience with luxury and disobedience without it, he has always chosen luxury.'

At this moment on the third floor the new kitchen maid was saying: 'Oh, Master Valentine!
Oh,
Master Valentine!'

I

Violet Kellow said: 'So you h
ave deserted me! That is perfectl
y plain.'

'Nonsense, old darling,' said Stephen, 'you know I'd never do no such thing.'

They were in Violet's bedroom at Fernmore. Stephen was sitting beside the bed, holding her hand. He had taken the opportunity of Clowance's absence in Truro to pay Violet an extra visit.

'But it is true! No wonder I am sick, ill, languishing, like a flower left put of water. Jilted! And almost at the altar. All those sweet promises you made!'

'I know, I know.'
Stephen shook his head in regret.

'I have decided what I shall do,' Violet said; 'I shall
the
before you marry and then come to haunt you at
the
altar; so that when the parson says: "If any man can show just cause why these two shall not lawfully be joined," I shall shout: "I am not a man, nor even a woman any longer, but a
ghost
!
...
and I can tell you
dreadful
things!" And Clowance will swoon — I hope — and you will be driven from the village - as you richly deserve.' Violet coughed: a thick deep-seated rustling cough which seemed too heavy for so frail a person.

'So long as you don't haunt me on my bridal night,' said Stephen.

'I'm almost sorry for that girl - even though she has thrown herself at your head. Anyway when she marries you she'll get what she deserves!'

'You know what you deserve,'
said Stephen.'A smacking. Which you'd get if you was not so sick.'

Touch me and I shall cry out!'

'What, for more?
’

She
looked at him, her fine blue eyes paler for her illness, and presently they began to fill with tears.

'Hey!' Stephen said on a different note. 'What's this? We were joking. Weren't we?'

She took her hand out of his and fished for a handkerchief. 'Oh, leave me alone! It is nothing.'

'Violet, me old dear, really - I didn't mean to offend you.'

'It's
nothing,
you fool!' 'Tel! me.'

'Well, don't think I'm crying for
you!’
'I should trust not!' 'Well, you know now.' 'Good.
’

'You're just worthless, good-for-nothing, gallows-fodder, Mr Carrington.'

'Thank ee for the compliment.' He hesitated. 'Well, I must say I've not seen you like this before.'

'And won't again, I assure you.'

'What's amiss with you?'

'Pray do not be embarrassed. See, it is all over.' She dabbed her eyes and smiled. 'Forget it.'

'Trying hard,' he said.

'Now make me laugh - if you can.'

He did not try but sat picking at his fingernail, his head lowered. 'You'll be all right,' he said.

'Do you think so?'

'I'm sure so. With the warm days you'll come brave again.'

She said in a low voice:
I
don't want to
the
.'

'Who's ever said anything about it excepting you - and then in
jest
,
Look -'

'I
do
look! And it is there, isn't it. So very, very close. D'you see, I shall never grow to be old so I don't know how I would feel then; but at least I should know
1
had
lived.
I could count so many days, so many years - which must somehow have brought
some
fulfilment - fulfilment we -we are born into the world to enjoy — or at least to experience. But I - so far yet I've had
nothing
’

'Oh yes, you have, old darling, you've had a lot of
fun for
instance -'

'Stop trying to
comfort
me! I can't
bear
you! I suppose
you
never think of it, do you - so strong and healthy - what it must be like to
the
, to be nothing, not to feel or see or think again...'

'N
ot so long ago,' said Stephen, l
ess'n eighteen months gone I lay on a raft after the
Unique
was wrecked. Me and a lascar. We drifted. No food, no water, getting weaker. I thought then. I reckoned I was going to slip my wind. I prayed
...
first time for years.'

'But you had
hope.'

'Well, and don't you? Look you, for Heaven's sake -' 'No,' she said,
I
have no hope.' He took her hand. 'What's got into you today? It isn't like old Violet-'

'No, it isn't like old Violet, is it-who always has a bright smile and a jest. Well, just now and then I lose it. Because I see my end in my mother's face. Dr Enys tries to be cheerful; he smiles and says this and that; but I know what he has told them behind my back! Nothing has got into me today, you fool, but what has been there since before Christmas - only I've
hid
it - and now I can no longer hide it. So just for a minute I'm
-
not such passing good company...'

The tears began to start again. He sat on the bed and put his hand on her cheek and pressed her head against his arm.

'There now. Have a good cry if twill help. Or curse me, if that helps more.'

'Curse you,' she said. 'Curse you, you great blundering, unfeeling, stupid male beast!'

'That's right,'
he said.'That's right.'

'And now no doubt you'll not come to see me any more.'

'Of
course
I will!'

WU not let you!'

'Nay, she's not mean-natured like that.' 'You don't have to be mean-natured to be jealous. She's always been jealous of me, ever since last Midsummer Eve.' 'I'll tell her. I'll explain.' 'Do you love her?'

Stephen hesitated. 'If I say yes, you'll hate me more. If I say no, you'll dub me a liar. What do it matter, old darling?' it matters to her!'

I
promise I'll come and see you still — every Friday - till you're well again.'

'Well
again. D'you know, Stephen, it is most strange A while ago I sowed some mignonette in pots so that they should bloom outside my window. You will see them if you go into the conservatory. They are already sturdy plants. But I wonder every day what colour they will be and if I shall ever know. It is most—frustrating.'

'Now you're sorry for yourse
lf? She pushed him away, instantl
y reacting to the challenge. 'So would you be, you clu
msy oaf! Really, I'm sorry for Cl
owance Poldark. Sh
e comes here to see me and sits
there simple and sweet, and Lord knows what she thinks she's caught! Tis like a little girl going out with a fishing net and coming back with an octopus!'

'Now I know you're feeling better,' he said,
I
always make you fell better, don't I. Dr. Carrington, they should call me.'

'Surgeon Carrington with a bloody knife, that's you! Plunging it into the hearts of innocent girls, one after the other! Go away, you irritate me beyond endurance!'

‘I’l
l come Friday, old darling,' he said, kissing her averted face,
I
promise I'll come again Friday.'

II

Downstairs Stephen ran Paul Kellow to earth behind the parlour in the small room Dr Choake had once used as his dispensary. He was writing at a desk piled with accounts books and littered with pamphlets, bill-heads, folded maps, bills of consignment, intruding?' Stephen asked.

Paul put his pen aside and swung his swivel chair. 'Pray intrude. If you gave me two pennies, which I doubt you possess, I'd gladly drop this for the rest of the day.'

‘
What are you about?'

'Drafting an advertisement for the
West
Briton
announcing a change in our routes in West Cornwall for the summer months.'

'Expanding them?'

'Reducing them. The Cornish are too damned slow to appreciate the benefits of easy travel.'

Paul Kellow had had his twenty-first birthday last week, an occasion which had gone unmarked, ostensibly because his sister was so ill. Paul was slim and not tall, with rather effeminate good looks, but his dark sleek hair, sallow skin and composed and confident manner would have passed him for twenty-seven or eight. When Dr Choake died, Polly, his lisping wife, had moved smartly into Truro where whist was available every afterno
on, but instead of selling Fern
more she had let it to her cousin by marriage, Mr Charlie Kellow, who was associated with new coaching enterprises in Truro and Penzance. Good sense would have suggested that he and his family were better accommodated nearer the centre of their business, but it was whispered that because of the relationship and because they were chronically short of money Mrs Choake had allowed them to take Fernmore at a peppercorn rent.

Nothing they had done since they came had dispelled the impression that they were hard up. Dr Choake would have been deeply offended to see his old house so neglected, with its bare pretentions at the best of times to dignity and gentility. In his day he employed eight servants - now there were only two, one indoors and one out; and although the two girls, Violet and Daisy, were at home with their mother all day, the curtains were shabby, the furniture threadbare, the garden littered and untidy.

Such were the Kellows, cursed with a tubercular strain and a chronic shortage of money, blessed with good looks and a supreme belief in their own importance in the world.

'How did you find her?' Paul asked.

Stephen shrugged. 'Depressed. That's not common. What does
Enys'say?'

'He says there's a large cavity in the right lung and the left
one is now affected. He thinks the next haemorrhage may kill her.'

'D'ye reckon she's come to know that?'

'Not from us, she hasn't. But then maybe she reads between the lines. It is not difficult. After all, it was the same with Dorrie - the year before we came here. Violet saw it all then.'

Paul went over t
o a keg of beer lying on a trestl
e in
the
corner of the small dark room. However short of some things, the Kellows were never without the essentials. He brought back two brimming mugs.

‘I’l
l never forgive that parson.'

'What parson?'

'The one at Dorri
e's funeral. Trevail. He was so drunk he damn near fell into the open grave. I wished he had, and broke his neck.'

They drank together. A bell was tinkling somewhere in the house. It was Violet ringing for their solitary maid.

Paul said: 'Well, I have to congratulate you, eh?'

'Thank you. Yes, thank you.'

'You've won yourself a fine girl there. When's the wedding?' 'Not fixed yet.'

'Twould be nice if it could be a double wedding.' 'How d'ye mean?'

'Well, Jeremy is very warm for Daisy. I think he'd take her tomorrow if she'd have him.' 'And won't she?'

Paul allowed a frown to wrinkle his smooth brow.'You -can never tell with her. She's wayward.' 'Ah,' said Stephen, disbelieving. 'I believe you're going to work for Wilf Jonas.' 'Aye.'

'When d'you begin?' 'Week after next.' Paul finished his ale.

'Will’
s a sour puss. You won't find him conversational.'' 'So I've noticed.' 'Another one?'

‘
Thanks.'

As he came back again Paul said: 'Still, it's a beginning, I suppose. I would have thought the Poldarks could have done better than that for you.'

'I seek no favours.'

'But still. Of course, if you're
satisfied...'
'I'm marrying the girl I want - that's the main thing to be satisfied about, isn't it?' 'How'
s the mine going?' 'The mine?' ‘
Wheal Leisure.'

'Nothing of note. Tis early days. Or so I'm told.'

'I heard two old miners at the Bounders Arms, night before last; they'd both worked in Leisure twenty years ago. They reckoned she was played out.'

'Captain Poldark doesn't think so. Nor Jeremy. Nor Ben Carter.
’

'Ah ... Ben Carter. You want to watch out for him, Stephen.' 'For what?'

. 'On account of his being moonstruck for Clowance. I reckon he thinks it's the worst day's work we ever did, fishing you out of the sea.'

Stephen did not reply for a while. He did not fancy Paul's manner this afternoon. The two tankards of ale Paul had just downed were clearly not the first, and it was making him cross-grained; he seemed to want to pick, to scratch, to rub things up the wrong way. But Stephen was not going to meet him at his own game. He wanted something and hoped he might be able to get it.

'Paul, would you be interested in a venture ?'

'What sort of venture?'

'Something that needs an ouday.'

'What of, money?
’

'Among other things.'

Paul gave a harsh laugh. 'Enlighten me about the other things.'

Stephen fished in his pocket, took out a crumpled cutting, from a newspaper.

I
was reading the
West Briton
Saturday. It is a useful
p
aper, like - you learn a lot about the county. When I come ere first I thought there'd be plenty of opportunity for someone like me. Are you Cornish?'
‘
Yes.'

'Well, I kind o
f thought them a bit slow.'
'Thanks.'

I
think maybe they're not so backward where money is concerned. And yet - look at this.' He extended the piece of paper. 'Penzance lifeboat for sale.'

Paul frowned at the print. 'What is there about that?'

'Did you know they had one?'

I
can't suppose I ever thought.'

'No, well they have. They've had it for ten years. Built by public subscription. Everyone real proud of it. But it has
never
been used. Never once.'

it doesn't say that here,' Paul observed.

'No, but it's true. Know why it has never once been used in all these years? I can make a good guess. Can't you?'

'Well, unless...'

'Unless the folk there better prefer the wrecks to drift ashore, eh ? I'd guess that was the reason, wouldn't you.'