Warleggan (11 page)

On a
late afternoon in mid-November
1792 a private coach was making its way at a fair pace along the main highway from Truro to the far west. A fine misty rain was falling, as always in that terrible year, and the woods which ran intermittently beside the road were already dark and vaporous. The road was in bad condition, potholed
and rutted deep in mud;
but the driver who had not been this way before, kept his whip constantly
flicking across his
horses because full darkness was not far away and he did not like the look of the country they were passing through. His mistress had told him that they were nearly home,
but women were unreliable in their estimates, as today's journey had proved; and in this wild county they would be a fat and easy prize for any highwayman who happened to be lurking near.

They had just emerged from one lowering copse whose branches nearly met overhead when his courage bumped into
his boots at the sight of a man
standing by a dismounted horse at the roadside. Coming across those
wild and
boggy moors this morning he had cursed himself for ever having accepted employment under a strong
-
headed, wrongheaded slip of a woman, and this was the outcome. He rose in his seat and lashed at the horses; but as they lurched forward,
the
coach splashed into a deep hole and
dipped wildly
and almost toppled him into the road. By the time, they had gained a proper speed again they were past the horseman, who was only sufficiently interested in them to raise his head.

They were past him by a few dozen yards when a loud, rapping caused the coachman to lift the hatch, and he heard his mistress telling him to stop.

`It's right enough, ma'am. No 'arm or damage done. The 'orses- '

'Stop, I tell you. That gentleman. I want to speak to him.' Sulkily the driver brought the coach to a stop.
Its back
wheels cut and slithered in the mud, and the solitary rider, who
had been attending to his own horse, again lifted his head.

He was now too far
behind to
hear any of the conversation,
but presently, the coachman got down and came splashing
gingerly back to him.

`Captain-Poldark, sir?' 'Yes?'

`Mistress Penvenen, sir. Would like a word with ee.'

In the coach were two women, one a maid. Ross took off his
hat and Caroline extended her green-gloved hand.

`You're late to be on this road, Captain Poldark, My coachman thought you were a highwayman.'

`If I were, I should choose a more opulent highway. One
might wait here six nights
in seven and not see
a private
carriage'

`Oh, sir, I
'm very poor,'
said Caroline. "But
seriously, I thought you might be in trouble.'

'Thank you, it's nothing. My mare has cast a shoe.'

'Well, that can be a trifle more than nothing. What shall you do, walk home?` It's a fatiguing long way.'

`I
can get
her shod in Chasewater. You're just returning to Cornwall, Miss Penvenen?'

`As you see. Too early
to be Santa and too late to be
Guy. Why don't you share the coach to Killewarren and borrow one of my uncle's horses? We can have yours shod and send her over in the morning.'

Ross hesitated. He was tired and. wet and depressed, and the suggestion was not a bad one. But he was a bit chary of this forward young woman.

`Thank you. Perhaps if I might come as far as you
go on
the Chasewater road. . .”

`We turn off soon. Baker, will you see that Captain Poldark's mare is securely tied to
the coach. And proceed slowly
please;
you need have no fear of highwaymen now that we have captured one of our own.'

That this was just raillery the maid, Eleanor, seemed slightly to doubt, for when the coach began to move again she stared open-mouthed at the big man opposite, bent uncomfortably on his occasional seat, with his muddied boots and his pale, lidded eyes and the scarred side of his face towards her.

Caroline, perhaps herself a little surprised at the size of him in a confined space and not as muc
h at ease as she wanted to be
changed her tone.

`I was greatly sorry to hear of
your cousin's death. Uncle Ray i
s not prolific with his letters, but he wrote about that. It w
as a very tragical occurrence.
It seems no time at all since we all met at the Trevaunance table.!

'It is no time at all. We miss him very much.'

'I hope it has not brought your mining venture to a stop:
I
-
understand you and he were partners.'

`It goes on. We've been able
to continue it! 'Profitably?'

Ross met her candid gaze. `Not profitably.'

`As yet, I suppose you would add. Uncle William was saying that if this war spreads it will help the price of metals. Is Francis's widow intending to live on in that big house alone?'

'Eventually, I think, her mother and father will live with her. But she is not alone. There is her son and her aunt and two servants....'

`And how is Dr. Enys?'

Well, at least she was not one to beat about the bush. `As diligent as ever.'

`Only diligent?'

'It was not meant as a derogatory term.'

'Of course I should have known' that,' said Caroline. `The last time we met it was to form a common front on his behalf.'

'I do not think we shall need to be so ready in his defence now. Everyone then was accusing him of killing off old Ellery. Now they're loud in wonderment because he has cured a
village girl of her lameness.'

Caroline lifted her face quickly. `Rosina Hoblyn?' `Oh, you know her?'

`By name. Dwight mentioned her, She is cured?'

`Cured. She walks as straight as you or I, and the villagers
think he is a miracle worker just for a change.'

`How very diverting! And how did he come to perform it?' `He has an explanation, but no one listens to it. Last Saturday he had fourteen lame people waiting outside his house.' Caroline smiled and pushed away a strand of her hair.

The roof lantern, which had been lighted
when Ross
got in,
swayed with the lurches of the coach, and her expression seemed
to change among the changing shadows.

After they had turned off the main road, he said: `What' time is your uncle expecting you?-'

He's not expecting me.'

'Oh .'
A sudden decision, I suppose

Not a sudden decision on my part, Captain Poldark. One carefully prepared for. This coach, the coachman engaged, my luggage packed. But Uncle Ray has not invited me; and since we hate come down probably faster than the post, I don't suspect he will have had any letter from Uncle William to warn him.' Seeing Ross's
expression, she laughed. `It's
a way people have When they first become independent. You'll re member we discussed, it at the Trevaunance party.'

So, thought. Ross, she means to have Dwight if she can. Why did I get into this coach and
accept a favour of her? To the
devil with all women. And instantly, unbidden, his mind flashed away to tha
t other woman, Elizabeth, frail
in her grief, and her black clothes, still out of his reach yet dangerously closer to him; his. first love, and loving him
-
so she, had said
-
depending on him now in all things; the contacts increased with the impediments half gone; she now half shareholder in the mine on Geoffrey Charles's, her son's, behalf;
he
; the only near male relative, head of the Poldarks now and executor with Elizabeth of his cousin's will.

Francis's
death had left an unexp
ectedly big gap in the life of
the countrvside. Duties and responsibilities had been expected of him which now devolved on Ross. Mr. Odgers, the curate of Sawle-with-Grambler, came to, Ross for everything; even seemed to expect Ross to share the family pew and the weekly victualling of the Odgers family. And another magistrate would have to be found. There had been a Poldark
to do
the job since the days of William and Mary. Could a
man be invited to sit on the bench who before now had expressed his contempt of it? It was all very difficult.

In the coach silence had fallen. Today Ross felt he had touched rock bottom in his fortunes and in his spirits. Yesterday he had received a formal notice from Cary Warleggan that the accommodations of the bill were to be withdrawn in four weeks' time, and today he had been making a last effort to find the money. Credit was tight everywhere, but that was not the main difficulty. The greatest obstacle was Wheal Grace. Everyone who knew anything knew that she was failing.

You might loan a thousand pounds to a needy squire and take the risk for the sake of the interest. But no one would lend money to a man whose mine was on the point of foundering. If you did, you visualised your capital going down the common drain. That, no doubt, was one of the reasons Nathaniel Pearce had unloaded the bill, glad to be rid of it when its, chances of redemption were small.

Ross would not altogether, have blamed him had the thing gone to anyone but the Warleggans. But of course no one but the Warleggans woul
d possibly have taken it. They
didn't want the money, they wanted the man.

A week or so after Francis's death a small bunch of good ore had been found in the tunnel he had
been exploring at the
time, but that had been almost the extent of new discovery since September. Mark Daniel, perversely had chosen this time to disappear into the maelstrom of France, and no one so far had traced him. In parts of England the blackened corn still lay in the fields. Miraculously preserved by the sloth of their enemies, the French had found fresh heart and fresh armies and last week had captured Brussels.
The
shadow of famine and of war lay on all men's minds.

The coach at last turned in at the gates of Killewarren, and the coachman steered a cautious way up the shrubby drive towards a welcome light above the front door. He had to ring three times before it was opened by a servant girl who
said: 'Why, Mistress
Caroline, good life, an' we was cleanin' your room only this morning. Why, ma'am, do
ee
come in. Is the master expecting you?''

Ross followed Caroline into the hall: it was a very ordinary house for so warm a man, shabbily genteel but no more; three candles in glass, globes thinly lit the black polished oak cupboards, the marble busts at the foot of the narrow stairs. `With your consent I'll not intrude on your uncle this afternoon. I know you'll be tired from your journey, and his pleasure
at seeing you again ..
'

Caroline smiled at him as she unfastened the strings of her hat.

`Will not be so great as you predict,' she said quietly. `So it would not be an unkind act if you came up while your saddle's changed. Do not fear you'll be detained ove
rlong, for a glass of wine is all
you'll get from him, if that, While 1 am here,
he improves; but I've been gone some months and
I
expect he will have slipped back
into
the old ways.'.

Demelza sent for Dwight about seven and, being free, he came straight over and examined Jeremy.

`It is the usual thing; a sore throat and a touch of fever. He is
prone to this overheating.'

'Too
prone,' said Demelza;
allowing Jeremy, his rather
tetchy,
freedom. 'Every time it happens, I think of Julia and get in a fever myself. Julia never was like this; at least not till the last time....'

`It's a way some children have and some have not. But I'd
like you to call' me always, just in case. Ross, is out?'

“
He went to
Truro
on
busi
ness
-
and then was to have gone on to Redruth to see Trevithick, Something is not quite right with the engine, though I think twould be all the same
now if no one bot
hered.' Demelza swooped quickly
to catch Jeremy , as he lurched drunkenly across towards her. She looked up sidelong, experimentally, at Dwight, a curl falling across her brow as she did so. 'Do you think I coddle him, Dwight?'

Dwight smiled. `Yes. But if natural-and right. In three or f
our years it will be different –“

`I don't want to be like Elizabeth and Geoffrey Charles.'

`Don't worry, on th
at score. Look at him already -
twice the child he was a few months ago-'- Dwight stopped. `Is that Ross ' now?'

'I think so. He's long overdue.' Demelza went to the window and peered out. `Yes.
But on a strange horse: I hope
there's been no mishap
.'

For the moment she could not leave Jeremy; and when at, last she got him into bed and went down, Ross was already in the parlour and insisting that Dwight should stay to supper. Dwight made several excuses, all of which were ignored; so smilingly he gave it up, and Mrs. Gimlett laid a third place.

Ross said: `We need a visitor, Dwight. We've been pretty much down these last days, and it's as much your duty to see after our moral welfare as our physical. If there's anyone with broken bones tonight, they'll trace you here quick
enough; so set your conscience at rest.'