`Yes, he is! Because he now appears to suspect the nature of that attachment!’
‘But … how can he? What do you mean?’
`What do you think I mean?’
They stared at each other.’
`I don’t know. But whatever is past is long past.’
`Not if he suspects that Valentine is not his child!’
It was something she could not have said to any other person. It was something that for a long time she had, not even said to herself.
`Oh God,’ Ross said. `God in Heaven!’
`If you think God has been concerned in this!’
Over the land it was almost night now but, seawards, sea and sky; lent a luminous light to the dark.,
Ross said. `And is he?’
`What?’
`Is he. George’s child?’
`I cannot say.’
`You mean you will not say.’ `I will not say.’ ‘Elizabeth…’
`Now I’ll go.’
She turned to thrust past him. He caught her arm and she wrenched it away. She said `Ross, I wish you would die…’
He stared after, her stupidly while she walked rapidly away. Then he ran after her, caught her arm again. She pulled with real violence but this time his grip held.
‘Elizabeth!’
`Let me go ! Or are you still so much the brute and the bully?’ He released her arm. `Hear me out!’ `What have you to say?’
`Much! But, some of it cannot be said.’
`Why? Are you the coward as well?’
He had never seen her like this, or remotely like it. She had always been so composed - except on that one occasion when he had broken her composure. But this was different, this corroding hysteria and hatred. Hatred of him.
`Yes, the coward, my dear. It’s impossible to dredge up all the memories of fifteen years. It would hurt you the more and I’m sure do my cause with you no good. Three years ago, mine, no doubt, was the crowning injury, the insult you can never forgive and forget. I only ask you when you’re of quieter mind to think over the events that led to my visit that night. Injury until then was not all on one side.’
`Do you mean- ‘
`Yes, I do mean. Not to excuse myself, but to tell you to think over the ten years before. Wasn’t it the tragedy of a woman, a beautiful woman, who couldn’t make up; her mind, and so ruined the lives of all of us?…’
She appeared about to speak again but did not. Her hair and frock gleamed, but there was not enough light now to show her face. She turned slowly and walked on. They were near the gates of Trenwith.
He said: `But that’s past. Even my offence is three, years past. It’s the present that shocks me.’ He hesitated, groping for words. `How could he ever know?’
`I, thought perhaps you had hinted
`Great God, you must have thought me a monster!
‘Having done the rest, why should you not do that?
‘For the very good reason that I loved you. You were the love of my life. Love can’t turn to that much hate.’
She was silent. Then in a voice somewhat changed, as if his words had at last made a difference, `Someone else, then.’
`Who could there be?’ `Demelza?’
`She knew, of course. It nearly broke up our marriage, but now I believe the break is healed. But she would say nothing, nothing ever to anyone. It - it would destroy her to speak of it.’
They walked on for a few paces.
`Was he like this when Valentine was born? ‘George? No.’
`He accepted him as a premature child?’
`I am not saying that Valentine was not. I am only speaking of George’s suspicion.’
`Very well. So he must have learned something more recently or have been given reason to suspect since.’
`Oh, what is the use of talking!’ Elizabeth said with great weariness. `It’s’ all destroyed. If your purpose in what you did was destruction, then you altogether succeeded.’
But he would not be sidetracked. `Who was in the house that night? Geoffrey Charles? He slept soundly in the turret room. Aunt Agatha? But she was almost bedridden. The Tabbs?
`George saw Tabb a few months ago,” Elizabeth said reluctantly.
‘He mentioned it to me.’
Ross shook his head. `How could it have been Tabb? You complained to me in those days that he never went to bed sober. And I came through no door as you know.’
`Like the devil,’ said Elizabeth. `With the face and look of the devil.’
`Yet you did not treat me so after the first shock.’ He had not intended to say it but she had provoked him into it:
`Thank you, Ross. That’s the sort of taunt I should have learned to expect.’
`Possibly. Possibly. But this meeting between us after these years. I can’t see the beginning or end of it
`The end of it’s now. Go on your way.’
They were at the wicket gate. `This meeting itself is a shock, Elizabeth - but what you tell me is the greater shock. How can we separate - just at this moment? There must be more said. Stay for five minutes.’
`Five years would make no difference. It’s all finished.’
‘I’m not trying to revive something between us. I’m trying to see what you have told me in some believable shape … Are you quite certain that George has these suspicions?’
`How else would you explain his attitude towards his son?’
`He’s a strange man-given to moods that might give you the wrong impression. The fact that you have a natural fear…’ `A guilty conscience, you mean.’
`Never that, for the guilt was all mine.’ `How generous!’
With the first hint of impatience he said: `Have it how you will. But tell me what makes you so sure.’
They were so silent for some moments that an owl flew by them, almost between them, and Elizabeth put up a hand to guard her face.
`When Valentine was born George could not make enough of him. He doted on him, spoke constantly of his prospects, his schooling, his inheritance. Since last September he has changed. His mood
varies, but at its worst he has not visited the child’s room for days at a time. After your last meeting with him I carried Valentine into his room and he refused to look up from his desk.’
Ross frowned into the dark, thinking all round what she said. `God in Heaven, what a pit we’ve dug for ourselves! …’
`And what a pit has been dug for Valentine.. Now if you will let me pass.’
`Elizabeth ‘Please, Ross. I feel ill.’
`No, wait. Is there nothing we can do?’ `Tell me what.’
He was silent. `At the worst - why don’t you have it out with him?’
`Out with him?’
`Yes. It’s all better to be spoken than unspoken.’
She gave a hard laugh. `What a noble suggestion! Would you not like to have it out with him yourself?’
‘No, because I should kill him - or possibly he me - and that would not help your dilemma. ‘I don’t suggest you should tell him the truth. But challenge him - make him say what he suspects and then deny it.’
`Lie to him, you mean.’
`If it’s necessary to lie, yes. If you cannot find some way of denying what you have to deny less directly. But I don’t know what is the truth. Perhaps you do not. Or if you do, only you do. He can have no proof because there is no proof. If anyone knows who is Valentine’s father it can be only you. And as for the rest - what happened between us - that’s known only to us. All else is speculation, suspicion, whispers and rumour. What can he have heard since September to destroy his peace of mind? You say his mood varies. That means he has no certainty - only some evil has been breathed into his ear and he can’t rid himself of it. You are the only one who can free him.’
`How bravely you solve the problem. I should have come to you before.
He refused to be provoked. `I solve nothing, my, dear, but I think it’s what you should do. I’ve known George for twenty-five years. And you fifteen. And I know in this you underrate yourself. Face him with his suspicions. Possibly because of this fear within you, you have come to magnify it all. But you are the one person in his world, perhaps the only one, who has no need, no possible reason to fear him.’
`Why?’
‘Because you’re still precious in his eyes - as in the eyes of many other men - and he couldn’t bear to lose you. His very passion about this … I tell you, I know him, he’d do anything to keep you, to know you love him and to be told you have eyes for no other man. He has wanted you since he first saw you; the very first time I saw, him looking at you, I knew. But I never dreamed that he had a chance. Neither did he.’
`Neither did I’ said Elizabeth.
‘No…’
The owl was screeching now in the denser blackness of the trees.
He was not sure, but some of the bitterest anger seemed to have gone out of her. He said : `Can you imagine how I felt when I learned that he was to have you?’
`You left me in no doubt?’
`It was ill done, but until now I have not regretted it.’
`I had supposed that you might have done - almost at once.’
`You supposed wrong: But I could not come to you again - break up everyone’s life afresh.’
`You should have thought of that before.’
I was mad - mad with jealousy. It’s not easy to reason with a man when he sees the woman he has always loved giving herself to the man he has always hated.’
She looked at him. Even in this dark he caught some questing look.
`I have thought many ill things of you, Ross, but not that you were devious.’
`In what respect do you suppose I am now?’
She sheered away from what had been suddenly growing between them. `Is it not devious; now to try to save a marriage you did your best to prevent?’
`Not altogether. Because now there is a third person to consider.’ `It would redeem your conscience if - ‘ `Good God, my conscience is not at issue! What is, is your life and the life of your son.’ He stopped. `In all this I’m assuming that you don’t wish your marriage to George to founder?’ `It is already foundering.’
`But you speak as if you wish to save it.’
She hesitated. ‘Yes.. I wish to save it.’
`Most of all you must save Valentine. He above all is worth fighting for.’
He saw her stiffen. `Do you think I’m not prepared to fight?’
`Whatever else,’ he said harshly, `he is your son. I hope he is George’s. I want to have, produced no cuckoo in the nest who shall inherit all the Warleggan interests. But he is your son, and as such he should grow up free of the taint of suspicion And, Elizabeth…’
`What?’
`If it should happen - if so be that you should ever give George another child…’
`What are you trying to say?’
‘If so be that you should, would it not put a seal upon the marriage that no one could dispute?’
‘It could not alter anything that had gone before.’
`But it could. If you were to contrive…’ He stopped again. ‘Well go on.’
`Women can get confused as to the months of their conception.
Perhaps you did with Valentine perhaps not. But let there be confusion next time, however arranged. Another seven-month child would convince George as nothing else would.’
She was examining something on her sleeve. `I think: she said : `can you get this off me, please?’
A July-bug, or cockchafer, had landed and attached itself to the lace of her sleeve. They were harmless insects but enormous, and most women were afraid of them getting in their hair. He took her arm and held it; with a sharp sweep he tried to knock it off; it clung, and he had to get hold of the fat yielding body between his fingers and pull it away before it would fall.
At last it was gone, somewhere in the dark grass where it buzzed helplessly, trying to take to the air again.
`Thank you;” Elizabeth said. `And now goodbye.’
He hadn’t released her arm. and though she made; a movement away from him he did not let go. Quietly he pulled her towards him and covered her face with kisses. Nothing, at all violent, this time; five or six brushing kisses, loving, admiring; too sexual to be brotherly yet too affectionate to be altogether resented.
`Goodbye,’ Ross said. ‘My dear.’
I
Dwight and Caroline had been invited to Tregothnan too, so Ross and Demelza called for them at Killewarren on the way. They drank chocolate together before setting out in procession. Ross had recently bought two new horses, called Sheridan, and Swift, from Tholly Tregirls, so he and Demelza were not so greatly outshone in the quality of their mounts, and since they had to carry night clothes and evening clothes they had brought John Gimlett with them on old Darkie. It had been a long time since Gimlett had had an outing, and Ross thought it suitable that he should eat and sleep at Boscawen expense. Caroline had brought a maid as well as a footman.
On the way down into Truro, down the long steep dusty lane, with its sheds and its hovels and its pigs rooting in the road, Dwight said that they must excuse him for half an hour, as he had a patient to visit.
Caroline said: `He is going to call on the Vicar’s wife. Dwight can never dissociate his duty from his pleasure. Though I truly believe he makes a pleasure of duty, especially when it is some pretty young woman he has to attend!’
`Caroline, please,’ Dwight said, half smiling.
`No, no, don’t deny it! All the young women adore you. Even, I blush to confess it your own wife, who takes her place in the crowd humbly hoping for a little attention!’
`Caroline,’ Dwight said, `loves to pillory me for neglect because I venture to pursue my own trade. But don’t put on this pretence among your friends; my love. They know how much I neglect you.’
Ross said: `Is it Whitworth’s wife? Morwenna Whitworth? I didn’t know she was ill.’
`Yes … ill,’ said Dwight,
`She had a baby some months ago,’ Demelza said. `Is all not well because of that?’
`She’s a little on the mend.’
`Dwight,’ said Caroline, `will not discuss his patients. It all differs greatly from my uncle’s doctor in Oxford who chatters freely about how this lady has benefited from his grated rhubarb powders and how that gentleman has caught the French pox and is responding to treatment. And always by name, of course, - always by name. It makes for an entertaining visit and keeps one abreast of local gossip.’
`Whitworth,’ Ross said. `Do you find him an agreeable fellow?’