Warleggan (31 page)

warm blankets and kept perfectly quiet, began to come round without any operation. By seven he was taking a little light broth, and at nine he was able to walk home.

At nine Ross came up, having been below thirteen hours. He had no energy and no speech left. They had been unable to recover the two others, and the water was slowly rising.

Contrary to Dwight's every conviction, Joe Nanfan lived the night and three days later, appeared to be on the mend. Fascinated, Dwight compared him privately with one of those insects that you crush underfoot and which still contrive to move away as if nothing has happened.

On the seventh of May, Wheal Grace officially closed. There was nothing much else that could be done. It would take six
weeks
work
to remove enough
of the debris to reach the lode again, Twenty fathoms of pumping gear had been destroyed. Two hundred pounds would not
set it working.

Ross was not sure that he even wanted to see it working again. It had cost the lives of three men. It had born an ill
-wished venture from the start.

On the ninth, of May he re
ceived a letter from Elizabeth.

He had been in Truro all day, once again making arrangements with the venturers of Wheal Radiant for the disposal of the headgear of the mine. Half his life, it seemed to him, he was active in starting business ventures which he spent the other half winding up. Well, this was the end of them. From now on he farmed, his, land, and, if he was allowed, lived on in
debt-ridden poverty for the
rest of his days. Now, he had no
mine, and no interest in a mine,
and that was the way it would stay.

He was taking
this failure very hard but not
saying much about it. Looking back, he thought sometimes he had overdramatised his disappointments as a younger man. As one grew older one saw that no good ca
me of kicking at the table like
a hurt child. You took
the bad luck and swallowed
it and shook off the injury and pretended to yourself as well as to, other people that, it didn't matter.'

That was a lesson
hard
to

learn. It was particularly hard for Ross.

In the afternoon he met Richard Tonkin again and told him the news, receiving his sympathy with a better grace than most people's because they had once been fellow sufferers together. They had a meal in the Seven Stars, and it was nine before Ross arrived home.

'There had been a faint suggestion of summer heat about the day, and Demelza looked very fresh and cool in the garden in a white ruched bodice and a cream poplin skirt with a little
gr
een apron. He got off his horse
and she walked with him back to the house:
`You've supped, Ross? I thought you must have. I waited until a quarter after eight. Did that heavy s
hower catch you this morning?'

No," I had none on the way.'

`Dry both in and out, truly surp
rising. These bull-horns are s
omething terrible; I suppose it must be all the caudly weather. They eat
m
y flowers and slime my stones; and if I step on them, it makes me feel sick. I have a lady's instincts where a snail is concerned. Funny, for I can wrap a bad wound or clean a baby or pick up a mouse without distaste.'

`You should train Garrick to
eat 'em. Or pe
rhaps if we're more reduced, we shall do
it ourselves. I haven't seen that before. Is it new?' he touched her bodice,
'New?' she smiled

'Well, I have not seen it, I'm sure.'

`I made it out of two of your old shirts which were far gone fo
r patching. There
is good material if yo
u pick out where the wear does n
ot come.!

'When I asked you to marry me, I did not suppose you would be driven to making your blouses out of the tails of my
shirts.'

'Not tails
sides. And the lace I got from an old shawl But I have been in much worse straits!

Gimlett was not
about, so she walked with Ross round to the stables.

She said: `I'll unsaddle Darkie. If
you
go in, I'll follow so soon as he's comfortable. There's two letters for you.'

`Two? Who from?' Something in the lightness of her tone. No, Gimlett will be in soon, won't he? Have you read them?'

'The one that is addressed to us both. It's from Sir Hu
gh, inviting us to a party at his house next
Saturday. He mentioned it when last I saw him. It's his birthday I did not dare ask which-and he seems to be planning something to outdo Sir, John Trevaunance.'

Ross thought that he had solved the
slight peculiarity of her tone,
and so forgot to ask about the other letter.

`I hope you'll not be disappointed if we answer no.'

She said: 'I would have
thought it reasonable enough to go, as so many of our neighbours are likely to be there. But it don't matter if you'd prefer not.'

He went in glad that she'd so readily given up the idea and rather surprised that she had. Perhaps she was growing as tired of the man as he was

He did not notice that
she had not followed him into the house. He went through into the parlour and picked the two letters up off the
spinet
t
he long, twilight
was ending
and the light was very shadowy, so he took the letters to t
he window. Recently he had seen
more of Elizabeth
's writing, on documents and thi
ngs than at any other, time, and he at once recognised it on the outside of the, second one. He broke the seal

My Dear Ross [Elizabeth had written],

I do not know how to write this letter, I do not know where to begin it or where to end it or how to tell you what I have to tell. I know it will upset you, and I, who gave you so much Pain once: before, would rather do almost anything that hurt you again, and in the same way. Yet it seems that I must.

Oh, Ross, my life has been a very frustrative one; it has been an, empty one and very cold. Never more so than in these lonely months since Francis died. Perhaps I am the wrong sort of person to be left clone. I seem to need the strength and protection; that a man can give.

I have promised to marry. George Warleggan.

It will be just ten days from now. We are to be married by Licence at St. Mary's Church. At, my insistence it will be very private, only our parents and the necessary witnesses. We will live mainly at Cardew, so that from now forward you will see little of me. I feel that is what you will wish.

Ross, I cannot give you Reasons for marrying George, for reasons suggest I need justification, and I cannot begin my second marriage by being disloyal even in thought. If affection has existed between us all these years, between you and me, I pray that you should use it now to reach an understanding of my position. For to understand all may be to forgive all. Or
if not that, to excuse in part.

Your sincere and affectionate friend,

Elizabeth

While he read, it had gone dark. Or was the darkness in
his heart and in his
mind?
He listened to the drumming of
his own blood. After the first moments of utter incredulity, his brave, civil
ised thoughts of this morning
were gone, compl
etely swallowed up. You could
not fight the imponderables of life, he had thought. But was this such? Was this something t
o be accepted with resignation
and a sign?

That was as far as recognisable thought went. Beyond was all feeling
, all feeling. The thing st
uck at him two ways together, at his love and at his hate. Either by itself, he could have mastered. Together they were overpowering;
He swung round and out of the room.

'Demelza!'

There was no answer,

He picked up his cloak and went through the kitchen, out to the stables'

`Demelza'!.

No answer. Darkie was still saddled.

Jane Gimlett came hurriedly out of the stillroom.

'Can I help ee, sur? John'll be back any minute now.'

`No.
Tell your mistress
’

'I'm here, Ross,' said Demelza, coming out from the shadow
of the stables.

Jane Gimlett looked from one to the other. She could
see little, but there was that in their voices which made her
go
quickly, indoors again.

He said
: 'Demelza, I'm going to Trenwith.'

She had been hiding front shun, not because she was afraid
of him but because she could not bear to see him receive
this news. `Do not go tonight, Ross:
I m
ust. I have to see Elizabeth.'
`It will be better in the morning.'
'You
know something?' `Is it about George?' 'How did you guess?' `Something I heard,' 'You never told me,'
`How could I
..?'

`This thing
' He found he was still holding the
letter. He crumpled it into a ball `This thing must be
stopped.'

`
How can you stop it? You can't
'

`You think not. We'll see.'

'Ross, I don't want for you to go tonight!'

Perhaps you don't want me to stop it at all.'

`I don't
want you to - in the only ways you can,' she
said distressfully.

New anger grew in him, one wave overtoppling the last, `Please get out of my way.'

For a moment she did not move,
watching
him, striving 'to
see. `Always
always I had thought. . . I had never thought it would be like this.. , .' There was anger within her too, responding to his, striving to form itself. But as yet she would not let it. `Don't y
ou see,
Ross, tha
t you cannot go. For if you do’
‘
Meaning what.
’
‘
you do.., '

Although she barred his way, her white figure seemed already withdrawn, a little unreal. He tried to force himself to make some move,
some affectionate gesture towards her,
Bu
t for the first
time he failed.
The
spectre of
Elizabeth
was immovably between them, more real, more tangible to his hurt than Demelza.'

She saw that she could not stop him, He could `not stop himself'. This was something fundamental. She stepped out of his way. He mounted his horse and clattered out of the cobbled yard.

Trenwith House was in darkness, except for two lights on the first floor,- F
rom his close acquaintance with
the house he knew that one was on the landing and one in Aunt Agatha's
room. Elizabeth's room
looked out on the inner courtyard, as did Geoffrey Charles's. The Tabbs slept over the kitchens.

He slid off his horse and pulled at the, bell beside the front door. Nothing now lingered of the dying day but a bluish tinge in the far west; Stars glimmered brightly, and as he looked a meteor flickered across the sky. The ride had cooled him but not altered his, purpose. His resolutions were finer pointed, less unreasoning and impulsive.

The ring being unanswered, he pulled the bell again. After another minute or so he rapped at the door with his crop. Then he stepped back and stared up impatiently at the house, The Tabbs were most probably quite out of earshot: If they were asleep, he might ring till m
o
n .And it, would be easier to rouse Charles, from Sawle churchyard than Aunt
Agatha from her room. There was only Elizabeth and Geoffrey

He went back to the door and rapped very loudly on it. Was this a diplomatic retirement on Elizabeth's part? He had not asked what time the letter had been delivered, but perhaps Elizabeth had been expecting a visit from him all afternoon. She could hardl
y imagine that he would make no
move at all. Perhaps as darkness fell she had bolted all the floors and gone up to bed, determined she should not see him tonight.

Well that was where she might yet be mistaken. He tried the door and found it locked. He stepped away again. The front off the house was impregnable, but h
e did not suppose it would all
be.

He walked
round to the east side, and an
owl flitted, away before, his crunching footsteps. Here was the herb garden, much overgrown b
ut doubly aromatic in the late
evening. `Larded with sweet flowers which bewept to the grave did go.' Words running through, his head. Something, was stirring in the bushes now besides himself, a rat or a stray
mongrel, mute as he, was mute,
no business here.

Near the house a sycamore tree grew,
some
of its lesser branches
-
brushing the window which
had once been Verity's. Needed lopping. But it had
not been lopped. He tested the lowest branch, then swung himself into the tree. At this stage he unhooked his cloak and dropped it over a bush below him. `There's fennel for you and columbines
-
there's rue,

I would give you some violets but they with
ered all when my father died. He went on and
up, a shadow moving it seemed with no great care, till he was level with the window.

A small paned leaded casement: From below be had thought it an inch open, but this was not so.
Only a single tiny pane in
the upper' part of the window was open, too far from the catch. The one suitable thing he had was the key to the padlock on his own library door. He took this out and rapped against one of the panes until it broke. Then, almost before the glass had stopped falling; he had thrust in his gloved hand and lifted the catch. A minute later, he was in the room.

He had made som
e noise but distinctly less than at the front door.

He cam
e out in the east passage. At the end, towards the front of the h
ouse, a faint glimmer shivered o
n the
paneled
wall. It was the candle on the front landing, just round the corner from the great hall. He
went towards it,
and was nearly there when a door opened and Elizabeth came out.

She gave a sc
ream half stifled, stepped back
against the wall. They stared at each other. She looked as if she were going to faint.

`Ross!’

`I came to pay my respects.'

`Ross, I thought

That I
was a, burglar. So I am as to means of entry'

She continued to stare at him, with great eyes in a white face. She was wearing a green velvet frock, an old
one and in better light shiny,
but it suited her., Everything suited her. Th
at was the trouble. 'I heard a
noise.' How did you get in?'

`I came to thank you for your letter.'

'I thoug
ht it was Geoffrey: Charles. I
thought it was strange.'

'Is there somewhere we, can talk?'

She knew him
well enough not to be taken in by his even
voice. There was no escape
for her, now, from this interview.

`Yes.
... I'll, get a candle.
‘