George said: `There is much discontent in the town, and, Sir Francis Basset could well become the figure round which this discontent might centre.’
`Francis? Oh, I’m sure he is very important in his; own way and very rich and very busy, but-‘
`Of course you have also known him all your life, but my acquaintance dates only from last February. We have found much in common. As the proprietor of the third bank in Truro, he has been able to put business in my way and I in his. We are in fact collaborating in a number of matters.’
`And how does this..’
`He has been buying property in the town for two years and recently has been elected a capital burgess. He is M.P. for Penryn himself and controls several other seats. Well, I know him to be looking at the Truro seats with interest.’
Elizabeth tied the end of her plait with a piece of cornflower-blue ribbon. Dressed thus for bed, she would have passed for a girl of eighteen.
`Has he said as much?’
`Not yet. We are not yet that intimate. But I can see where his thoughts are leading. And I have a thought that if our friendship grows I might be one of his nominees.’
Elizabeth turned. `You?’
`Why not?’ he asked sharply.
`No reason at all. But - but this borough belongs to the Boscawens. Would you have a chance?’
`I think so. If things, continue as they are. Would you object?’
`Of course not. I believe I should like it well enough.’ She got up. `But Basset is a Whig!’
The Chynoweths had been high Tories for generations.
`I like the label no more than you,’ George said. `But Basset has disavowed Fox. If I went into the Commons it would be as one of his men, and as such I should support the present government.’
Elizabeth blew out one of the candles. A wisp of smoke’ drifted towards the mirror and was gone.
`But why this interest now? I have heard no talk of an election.’
`Nor is there. Though Pitt’s mandate is growing old. No .. there is no talk of an election but there is a possibility of a by-election. Sir Piers Arthur is gravely ill.’
‘I did not know.’
`They say he cannot pass water and obstinately refuses to submit to the operation of the catheter.’
Elizabeth pulled back the curtains of the bed. `Poor man…
‘I am simply telling you my thoughts and showing you which way my friendship with Sir Francis Basset may lead.’
`Thank you, George, for taking me into your confidence.
‘Of course, it is essential: that nothing of this should get’ out, for the ground has yet to be prepared.’
‘I will say nothing about it to anyone.’
George said after a moment:` `Do I not always take you into my confidence?’
‘I hope you always will,’ Elizabeth replied.
III
In yet another part of the town Ossie Whitworth, having been about his nightly exercise upon his wife, rolled over, pulled down his nightshirt, adjusted his cap and said:
`This sister of yours, if I decided to have her, when could she come?’
With a muffled voice, hiding the nausea and the pain, Morwenna said `I would have to write to Mama. I do not, think Rowella has any commitments, but she may have engagements that I do not know of.’
`Mind,’ he said, ‘we couldn’t afford to have her about the house eating her head off and just companioning you. She would be expected to see to the children, and when you have a child to help generally with household duties.’
`I’ll make that clear when I write.’
`Let’s see, how ‘old is she? You’ve so many sisters I can never remember.’
`She was fourteen in June.’
`And healthy? Educated in home crafts? We cannot afford a young lady who’s afraid to soil her hands.’
`She can sew and cook and has a little Greek.’ My father said she was his best pupil in the family.’
‘Hm .. I don’t seee that an ancient language is of value to a woman. But of course your father was a scholar, I’ll give him that.’
Silence fell.
Osborne said: ‘The bridegroom today looked tedious sickly. I would not give him long for this world.’
Morwenna did not reply.
`It’s a question of “physician heal thyself”, eh, what? … Are you asleep?’
No, no:’
`The bride I’ve met often at the meets.’ He added reflectively: `She’s mettlesome. I’ll wager she’ll be a handful, with that red hair.’
`She remembered me, although we have only met twice.’
‘That’s surprising. You have a tendency to make yourself perfectly unnoticeable, which is a great pity. Remember always that you are Mrs Osborne Whitworth and entitled to hold your head high in this town.’
‘Yes…’
‘It was a fair enough company today. But some of the fashions were unbearably dated. Did you see the Teague girls? And that man Poldark, his coat must have been cut half a century ago.’
`He is a brave man.’
Ossie settled more comfortably in the bed and yawned. `His wife keeps her looks uncommon well.’
`Well, she’s still young, isn’t she?’
`Yes, but usually the vulgars go off more quick than those who are gentle bred … She used to make quite an exhibition of herself a few years ago at the receptions and balls - when he had first married her, that was.’
`Exhibition?’
`Well, flaunting herself, attracting the men, I can tell you. She wore low-cut frocks … She greatly fancied herself. Still does, I suspicion.’
`Elizabeth never mentioned that - and I do not think she greatly cares for her sister-in-law.’
`Oh, Elizabeth…’ The Reverend Mr Whitworth yawned again, snuffed out the solitary candle and drew the curtains together. Rounding off the evening in his customary way produced a pleasant and customary sleepiness after. `Elizabeth speaks no ill of anyone. But I agree, there’s no love lost.’
Morwenna sighed. The worst soreness was subsiding, but she had no sleep, in her. `Tell me about that. What is the cause of the feud between the Poldarks and the Warleggans? Everyone knows of it but no one speaks of it.’
`You angle for a fish that is not in my pond. All I know is that’ it’s something to do with some jealous rivalry. Elizabeth Chynoweth was promised to Ross Poldark and instead married his cousin Francis. Some years later Francis was killed in a mining accident and Ross wanted to throw over his kitchen maid, whom he’d married, in the meanwhile, and take Elizabeth. But Elizabeth would have none, of it and married George Warleggan, who had been Ross’s sworn enemy - ever; since they were at school together..,.’ Like someone retreating down a tunnel, Ossie’s voice was fading fast.
Through a nick in the bed curtains Morwenna looked at the spears of moonlight falling into the room. Inside the canopy of the bed it was so dark that she could hardly see her husband’s face; but she knew that in a few moments he would be asleep and would be unconscious on his back with his mouth wide open for the next eight hours. Mercifully, although his breathing was heavy, he did not snore.
`And I loved Drake Carne, Mrs Poldark’s brother,’ she said in an undertone.
`What? What’s that … you say?’
`Nothing, Ossie. Nothing at all … Why were Ross Poldark and George Warleggan such enemies before?’
`What? Oh I don’t know. It was before my time. But it’s oil and water, ain’t it. Anyone can see that … They’re both stiff-necked, but for opposing reasons. I expect Poldark despises Warleggan for his low origin and hasn’t always hid it. And you can’t do that safely with George … Did I say my prayers tonight before?…’
`Yes, Ossie.’
`You should be more assiduous about yours … And remind me in the morning,’ he said. `I have a christening at eleven … and it is the Rosewarnes … substantial family.’ His breathing became deep and steady. Body and mind relaxed together. Since his marriage to Morwenna he had been in supreme good health. No more of those frustrations of a lusty widower, in holy orders in a small town.
`I still love Drake Carne,’ she said,, aloud now, in her soft gentle voice. `I love Drake Carne, I love Drake Carne, I love Drake Carne.’
Sometimes after an hour or two this repetition lulled her into sleep. Sometimes she wondered if Ossie would wake and hear her. But he never did. Perhaps only Drake Carne awoke and heard her, many miles away
IV
In the old house of Killewarren bride and bridegroom were in their bedroom together. Caroline was sitting on the bed in a long green peignoir; Dwight in loose silk shirt and breeches was idly stirring the fire. Horace, Caroline’s little pug and the agent of their first meeting, had been banished from the room and taken far enough away for his protests not to be heard. In the early months he had shown an intense jealousy of Dwight, but with patience Dwight had won him round, and in the latter weeks he, had come to accept the inevitable, that there was going to be another claimant for his mistress’s attentions.
They had come home, for there seemed nowhere better to go. It. had been their common home since Dwight returned’ an emaciated wreck from the prison camp of Quimper. Caroline had insisted that he stay where she could best look after him. In these months, while flouting the overt conventions, they had observed a separateness of establishment which would have satisfied the most prudish of their neighbours.
It had not altogether been moral considerations which had influenced them. Dwight’s life had flickered and wavered like a candle with a thief in it; to introduce the demands of passion might have seen it flicker out.
Caroline said: `Well, my dear, so we are here together at last, unified and sanctified by the church. D’you know, I find it very difficult to detect any difference.’
Dwight laughed. - `Nor I. It’s hard not to feel adulterous. Perhaps it’s because we have waited so long.’
`Too long.’
`Too long. But the delay has been outside our control.’
`Not in the first place. The fault was mine.’
`It was no one’s fault. At least it has come right in the end.’
He put down the poker, turned and looked at her, then came to sit on the bed beside her, put his hand on her knee.
She said: ‘D’you know, I heard of a doctor who was so earnest in his study of anatomy that he took a skeleton away on his honeymoon and the wife woke to find him fingering the bones in the bed beside her.’
Dwight smiled again. `No bones. Not at least for the first two days.’
She kissed him. He put his hands to her hair, pressing it back from either cheek.
She said: ‘Perhaps we should have waited longer until you were quite recovered.’.
He said: `Perhaps we should not have waited so long:’
The fire was flickering brightly, sending nodding shadows about the room.
She said: `Alas, my body has no surprises for you. At least so far as the upper half is concerned, you have examined it, thoroughly in the harsh light of day. Perhaps it is fortunate that I never had a pain below the navel.’
`Caroline, you talk too much.’
`I know. I always shall. It is a fault you have married.’ `I must find ways of stopping it?
`Are there ways?’
`I believe so.’
She kissed him again. `Then try.’
I
Except in one particular Sam Carne was a happy man. A few years ago, while still in the arms of Satan, he had been half persuaded, half bullied by his bullying father into attending a Methodist prayer meeting. There his heart had suddenly warmed within, him, he had wrought deeply and agonizingly with his, spirit and had come to experience the joy of sins forgiven: thereupon he had embraced the living Christ and his life, had been utterly transformed. Now, having moved far from his home in search of work at the mine of his brother-in-law, Captain Ross Poldark, and having found the neighbourhood of Nampara a dry and barren wilderness in which regular meetings had been discontinued and all but a very few had long since fallen back into carnal and sinful ways, he had in less than two years reformed the Society, inspirited the few faithful, wrestled with Satan in the souls of many, of the weak and erring, and had attracted several newcomers, all of, whom had been prayed for, had discovered for themselves the precious promise of Jehovah, and had in, due time been sanctified and cleansed.
It was a notable achievement, but it did not end there. Acting without the sanction of the leaders of the Movement, he had caused to be raised on the edge of Poldark land a new Preaching House which would contain fifty people seated and which now was nearing completion. Furthermore he had recently walked in to Truro and met the stewards and the leaders there, who had now conferred on him the official title of Class Leader and had promised to send out one of their best Travelling Preachers for the opening of the House in the spring.
It was all wondrous in his sight.. That God had moved through him, that Christ had chosen him to act as his missioner in this small part of the land, was a source of constant wonderment and joy. But every night he prayed long on his knees that this privilege which had been awarded him should never lead him into the sin of pride. He was the humblest of all God’s creatures and would ever remain so,
serving Him and praising Him in time and through all eternity.
But perhaps some weakness and wickedness still moved in him and had not been rooted out, and this was why he had a cross to bear in the shape of a fallen younger brother.’
Drake was not yet quite twenty, and, while never so ardent, had laid hold of the Blessing it an earlier age than Sam and had achieved a condition of real and true holiness of heart and life. The two brothers had lived together in that perfect unity which comes from the service of Jesus; until Drake had taken up with a Woman.
Marriage with a suitable wife was a part of God’s holy ordinance, and not at all to be discouraged or despised; but unfortunately the girl Drake had become enraptured with came of a different class from his own, and although, being a clergyman’s daughter, she no doubt dutifully and sincerely worshipped God, her whole upbringing and, the authoritarian beliefs with which she had been instilled made her an unsuitable partner for a Cornish Methodist. They had been separated - not by Sam, who could not have controlled his brother had he so wished, but by the girl’s cousin, Mr Warleggan, and by her mother; and she had been married off very suitably to a rising young clergyman in Truro.