Warleggan (23 page)

My first wife was drownded before folk's eyes, None of the
women made move to save 'er. Not one! They left her drown.
And me?
Who put forth
a hand yelp me when I was low? Not one. Everyone looks only for theirselves in this life.'

. 'Not to betray. Not to sell', other, men for money. Judas ' was no worse.'

Lottie saw Father's hand close round the wooden stake he used for barring the door. It was behind his back,, but she saw it.

'There's naught I care for your fancy names, surgeon. I
looks
to myself just the same as you. An' ye
’
ll get no admission more'n that. When me and Rosina's wed, we'll clear out
of this place.

'If you did this to gain Rosina, you're likely to lose her by it
'I done what
I
don
e,
surgeon. You cured me of the consumptives, but ye don't order me life. Oh,
no,
'

Lottie cried out as her father jumped at the other man with the wooden bar raised. Dr. Enys m
ust have seen it coming, for he
jerked his head back and the stick cracked on his shoulder. The pain
creased across his face and he
fell against the table behind him. Transfigured, unre
cognisable, her father leaped
after him, swinging the stake again; but the doctor's fall saved him. Crash went the table, Dr. Enys rolled into the corner, sat up while her father was picking a way towards him among the legs of the table. The surgeon clutched a stool, raised it, and the stick jarred against it,
hurting
her father's hand for he almost dropped it. The doctor pulled himself up, caught, the stick; they grappled, reeled against
the wall.

Lottie swung the trap, let it fall back, went down a few steps into the room, tears trickling unheeded down her, pockmarked cheeks. She called to them but they did
not hear,
these two men who meant more to her than all the rest of life; they were fighting to kill, to maim, you could see, it in. their eyes. She wanted the courage to come between them, to stop them, too put life back where it had been an hour ago. A terrible nightmare, worse than any of her fever, worse, than personal pan.

Father had his hands on the other man's throat, but seemed to lack the strength to do what he wished. She saw his bloodshot eyes, murder still in them but fright also. Crash to the floor again, he under.

Behind her own crying Lottie heard a thin echo. May was awake now. May often cried if she woke in the night, without
reason, without
good-cause. Lottie took two more steps
down,
nearly,
tripped over the ragged edge
of her night shift, her mother's once.

Father had kicked himself free, was crawling again towards the stick; but the surgeon caught his ankle, pulled him flat. Her father kicked with his free foot, caught
the surgeon's face,
just grasped the stick. Dr. Enys freed him, started forward, leaped at his back; down aga
in. A familiar sound; something
Lottie had known all her life; her father coughing. It seemed to affect the doctor at the same time. He released his grip, straightened, a look of concern, something not to do with tonight, out of other nights, other days. Her father was down, stayed, down, climbed slowly to his knees, then did not move. For a few seconds both children had stopped crying and the only sound was the familiar rustling cough. Dr. Enys pulled himself shakily to his feet. Blood on his face, his neckcloth torn.

Her father looked round. Then he leaped up, clutched a knife lying on the side under the crockery. As he took it up, Dr. Enys saw his danger, moved after him. The knife up, but the doctor struck at the same time. The knife clattered. The doctor seemed to measure his distance and hit twice more, Father coughed again just once; he might not have been hurt, but he crumpled up, went on his knees, rolled over, and was really still.

Lottie had her hands to her ears now, helplessly, as if words and sounds would hurt more than sight, the tears beginning to trickle again, Her mouth grimaced to speak, but she could not. She stood and wept bitterly for a lost illusion, A great desolation was in her, a sense of being forsaken as no one had ever been forsaken before.

No official
word
had leached Demelza, -
but she knew, As soon as dark fell she drew the curtains across the windows and lit all the candles to give the house an extra feeling of home and security. He might not come until early morning; but she had no thought of bed. Tonight was doubly important.
She felt
she would know as soon as their eyes met whether he had good news or bad.

She delayed supper until nine before sitting down alone at the table and pecking at the cold leg of mutton and the apple yam tartlets. After, she went into the kitchen, anxious not even to hear, the telltale clop, of horses' hooves, the
j
angle of harness, the occasional gruff voice. Jane Gimlett was there alone, John Gimlett being out looking for a
lamb
which had
strayed
and to give colour to her own presence, she began to re-iron the ruffs on Ross's shirts. All of them were well worn, well darned, should long since have been cast aside.

Jane Gimlett chattered for a time; but presently, finding her mistress silent, her own talk dropped, away. Upstairs Jeremy slept soundly;

Feathers, the kitten, came and rubbed its head against Demelza's skirts. Then, finding itself unrebuffed, it wriggled under the hem of her skirt and, put its forepaws round her ankle. After another minute or so it somehow got its back legs tangled up and began to wriggle and kick. Demelza bent and disentangled it and put it on the table beside her.
It
arched its back and opened its infant mouth in a silent snarl and then stepped sideways
as if blown by the wind
and almost fell off the table. She picked it up again and put it in its basket beside the ancient Tabitha Bethia, who was asleep and let out a single mew of protest.

She turned the
chicken, which was cooking on a spit in case
Ross should, be hungry on his return, an
d thrust forward
the potato saucepan on its iron trivet
so that it stood
over the hot ashes. The tide was right about midnight, and
she
thought he would be here by then or soon after. She took the piece of bacon out of the smoke chamber, over the flue of the fire to see if it was sufficiently cured, Then she
returned to
the table.

On this
came Gimlett, bucket in hand, out of-breath, stumbling over the mat as he pushed open the door.

'John!' said his wife. 'What's amiss? Did ee find him?'

'There's a soldier!' said Gimlett, clattering the bucket down. 'By the stile at the turn of the Long Field ! I nigh bumped into un! I thought 'twas one of the tub-runners.'

Demelza put her iron down. It was as if a colder iron had moved in her. 'Are you sure, John? How are you sure?'

'I catched a glimpse of his tunic, mistress. And he was
car’
n a musket too! I says to him, '"Fine night, my son," and he says "Aye." Just the word "Aye 'Twas no Cornishman, I knew;
and the
n I catched sight of his musket'

"Did you see anything of the traders?'

'Yes, mistress, about an hour gone. I seen two moving
down to the cove.'

Oh, God, to think, to think, this might be Ross's liberty, even his life. It was what she had
feared often before, but then
it had not involved Ross except as
an accessory. This time of all
times, when he was coming home. The room closed on her like a prison. 'John, do you think
-
do you think you can get out of the house unseen, make your way down to the cove? Go out of the back again, quickly, quick, by way of the cliff. And Jane, how many candles have we? Enough to lighten all the windows d'you suppose?'

'A score, I b'lieve, ma'am We was to have bought more last week-'

'John, waste no time, Do what you can even if it means
..’

Demelza stopped. Gimlett said: 'The sky's c
learing. The stars is bright as
frost, but I can

He
had
looked. at

Demelza, and he too
stopped. She was staring past
him at the door. Captain McNeil was standing there, in uniform this time; an
d another figure could be seen
in the background
'Good evening to ye, Mrs. Poldark. I'm sorry to break in on your privacy. Your man saw one of my troopers, so I shall have to ask you all to keep within doors for the next hour or two.'

Demelza picked up one of Ross's
shirts
with t
rembling
but controlled fingers she folded it carefully.

'Captain McNeil.This is a surprise. I'm-at a loss... . 'I will explain it to ye, ma'am, if you will give me a moment
in privacy Is Captain Poldark at home?'

No. He's away.
'

A look passed across McNeils, face. 'I see. Then a word with you,
if I might
have it.'

'Certainly.
'

'One moment, How many sairvants have you, in the house, ma'am?'

‘Two. These
two only.'

'Then
I'll ask them to stay here in the care of
my
trooper, Wilkins !'

'Aye, s
ir’

With uncertain steps; her heart choking, she led: the way into the parlour.

'Please sit down, Captain McNeil 'Twas quite unthoughtful of you to appear sudden
at my kitchen door like
like a pedlar with a tray of rings, when I thought you miles away, in London or
-
or in Edinburgh. You should have, written.'

'I ask your pardon, ma'am.
I
had no
intention of disturbing
anyone in this house, but your man blundered into one of our
pickets:’

'Pickets? It has a very military ring. Do you suppose that there is an enemy about?'

He screwed in his great moustache. 'An enemy of a sort. We have news that smugglers have the intention to use your cove tonight. Vercoe,; ' the Customs Officer, has repeatedly appealed for a rein
forcement of his men. Tonight I
and my troopers are providing it. That's why I asked to see Captain Poldark.'

She had gone to a cupboard and taken out a decanter. He
was still on his feet, and in his uniform he looked enormous
-
and cumbersome beside her slightness.

'You'll take a glass of wine?' she said. 'Thank ye, no. Not while on duty.'

'But why Captain Poldark? What have we to do with it?' 'Nothing I trust
-
I hope, But it is your land, ma'am.

I think. you can hardly be so innocent as you look, Where is
Captain Poldark?'

She shook her head. From home. I hold you. He is in St. Ives.'

When
will he retairh?'

'Tomorrow-I b'lieve. Please sit down, Captain McNeil. When you are standing, the room: is too, small for, you.'

He half
smiled as he obeyed her, took
out his watch, replaced
it. 'Believe
me, it grieves me, ma'am, to be in this position relative to yourself.'

'So 'twas what some said, that when you were staying with the Trevaunan
ces you were really acting' as
a spy.'

He said sharply: 'No, most untrue! I came as a convalescent. Whilst
down, here
I did nothing but pay, a courtesy visit on the Customs authorities, since I had been concairned with them three years before. I ask you to believe, Mrs. Poldark, that it is not in
my nature
to do what is dishonourable!'

'Then why
now?'

'This is different, quite different. I came as a soldier, ma'am. This Trade, this organised -Trade, must
be stamped out.
I can only obey the orr-ders I am given!'

She was
surprised that the
note of contempt in her voice should have pricked him so,

'Yet you wish to
loc
k me in my own house....'

'For the rest of tonight. I cannot leave you or your servants free to run down and warn the smugglers.'

'So you
cannot trust, me, Captain McNeil?'

'In this I cannot.'

She looked at him trough her lashes. 'You ask me to believe in your
honour but will
n
ot believe in
mine.'

'With your husban
d out of the house and perhaps
implicated?'' He got up and stood a moment with his hands on the back of the chair. 'Captain Poldark has been a soldier himself. It will grieve me if he is involved
-
I trust for his sake that he is not, I do not lightly make war on friends. But once before I warned him of the danger of flying in the face of the law. If he has done so now, he must bake the consequences. Believe me, ma'am, for the favour of your good will I would pay a very high price. Indeed, almost—
any pairsonal price that
you ask.. But not one which involves a
-
a neglect of duty.'

A gruff voice could be heard in the kitchen. It was on her lips to tell McNeil the truth, to explain the cruel-mischance of Ross's involvement
, this once alone, and to throw
herself and
Ross on his understanding and good will But she
stopped in time
: Her meetings with McNeil had been few, but already she was coming to have an understanding of his
character
in