Demelza (25 page)

'As soon as we can assemble ourselves. I will go and find a barber surgeon in the town and borrow some things of him. I will also call at the White Hart and bring my own bag here.'

Dwight picked up his hat and went out.

Ross sat down beside Carter and filled up the cup with brandy. He intended to get as much down the sick man as possible, and he would take some himself from the other cup. The nearer they all were to being drunk the better. Enys was right. Everything stank from that visit to the prison: the boots on his feet, his gloves, his stock, even his purse. Perhaps his nostrils were wrong. Celebrations for the King's recovery indeed! All those preparations of yesterday and last week seemed cut off from tonight by the gulf of Launceston Gaol.

"Ere, steady on,' said Jim, and coughed loosely. 'I can 'old me own, I can, and well enough.'

Jim could hold his own. The tattered scarecrow lying on the blanket with fever in his veins and poison creeping up his arm, that bearded derelict of a young man could hold his own. No doubt, so far as he had conscious will, he would try for Jinny's sake as he had done in the past. As he had done in the past. This was the crucial test.

Great shadows stirred and moved on the wall behind them. In the flickering firelight, sitting among the straw and the chaff and the feathers, Ross bent and gave the boy another drink of brandy.

On the morning of the twenty-second Ross was still away and Demelza had spent a sleepless night. At least she thought it sleepless, although she had in fact spent the time in a succession of dozes and sudden wakenings, fancying she heard the beat of Darkie's hooves outside her bedroom window. Julia had been fretful too, as if aware of her mother's unease; though with her it was no more than a sore gum.

Demelza wished she could have a sore gum in place of her own gnawing anxiety. As soon as light came she was up, and chose to revert to her old custom of going out with the dawn. But today, instead of making up the valley for flowers, she walked along Hendrawna Beach with Garrick at her heels.

There was a good deal of driftwood left by the tide, and she paused here and there to turn something over with her foot to see if it was of special value. She still sometimes had to remember that what would have been well worth the salving a few years ago now was beneath her station to bother with.

As the light grew she saw that they were changing cores at Wheal Leisure, and a few minutes later several figures came on the beach, miners who had finished their eight hours and were doing a bit of beachcombing to see what could be carried home to breakfast. The sea had not been generous of late, and every tide the beach was picked clean by the searchers. Nothing was too small or too useless. Demelza knew that this winter even the snails in the fields and lanes had been gathered to make broth.

Two or three small wiry men passed her, touching their caps as they went; then she saw that the next was Mark Daniel; and he did not seem interested in the harvest of the tide.

Tall and stiff, with a mining pick over his shoulder, he ploughed his way across the soft sand. Their paths crossed, and he looked up as if he had not noticed her.

She said: 'Well, Mark, how are you going along? Are you comfortable-like in your new house?'

He stopped and glanced at her and then looked stolidly out over the sea.

'Oh, aye, ma'am. Well-a-fine. Thank ye, ma'am, for the asking.'

She had seen very little of him since the day he had come to beg the land. He was thinner, gaunter - that was not surprising, for so was almost everyone - but some new darkness moved at the back of his black eyes.

She said: 'The tide has left us nothing this morning, I b'lieve.

'Eh? No, ma'am. There are them as say we could do with a profitable wreck. Not as I'd be wishing hurt to anyone….'

'How is Keren, Mark? I have not seen her this month; but to tell truth there is so much distress in Grambler village that makes us seem well placed. I have been helping Miss Verity with her people there.'

'Keren's brave 'enough, ma'am.' A sombre gleam showed. 'Is Cap'n Poldark back yet, if ye please?'

'No, he's been away some days, Mark.'

'Oh.... It was to see he I was comin' this way. I thought as he was back. John telled me…'

'Is it something special?'

'It can bide.' He turned as if to go.

She said: 'I'll tell him, Mark.'

He said hesitatingly: 'You was a help to me last August, and I ain't forgot, mistress. But this - this is something better only spoke of between men...'

'I expect he'll be here before morning. We have an invitation in Truro for tomorrow…'

'They separated, and she walked slowly on along the beach. She ought to getting back. Jinny would be at Nampara now, and Julia was still restless.

Some seaweed crunched behind her, and she turned to find that Mark had followed.

His black eyes met hers. 'Mistress Poldark, there's bad things being spoke of Keren.' He said it as if it were a challenge.

'Was that what you wanted to say?'

'There's tales bein' spread.'

'What tales?'

'That she be going with another man.'

'There are always tales in these parts, Mark. You know that the grannies have nothing else to do but whisper over their fires.'

'Aye,' said Mark. 'But I'm not easy of mind.'

No, thought Demelza, neither should I be, not with Keren. 'How can Ross help you?'

'I thought to have 'is view on what was best. I thought he'd know betterer than me.'

'But is - is there any man specially spoken of?'

'Aye,' said Mark.

'Have you said anything to Keren? Have you mentioned it to her?'

'No. I ha'n't the heart. Mistress, I ha'n't the heart. We've only been wed eight months. I builded the cottage for she. I can't put myself to believe it.'

'Then don't believe it,' Demelza said. 'If you've not the mind to ask her straight, leave it be and do no more. There's always evil tongues in this district, and like serpents they are. Maybe you know the things that used to be whispered about me…'

'No,' said Mark, looking up. 'I never took no heed of such talk... not - not before...'

'Then why take heed of it now? Do you know, Mark, that there's whispers about that Captain Poldark is the father of Jinny Carter's first child, all on account of them having scars similar placed?'

'No,' said Mark. He spat. 'Beg pardon, ma'am, but tis a cabby lie. I know that; an' so do any other right-minded man. A wicked lie.'

'Well, but if I chose to think there was truth in it I might be just as miserable as you, mightn't I, Mark?'

The big man looked at her, an uncertain but noticeable reassurance on his face. Then he looked down at his hands.

'I near strangled the man who told me. Maybe I was overhasty. I've scarce done a stroke at the mine these two days.'

'I know how you must have felt.'

Suddenly he sought justification and, finding it, found suspicion again. 'You see - you see, she's that pretty an' dainty, mistress. She's far above the likes of me. Maybe I did wrong in plaguing her to wed me; but - but I wanted her for wife. She's too good for a miner's wife, and when I know that, I d'feel anxious. I get hard and overhasty. I get suspecting. And then when there's whispers, and a man who belongs to call himself friend takes me aside and says - and says... It is easy to slip, Mistress Poldark, and feel there's truth in what may be lies.' He considered the sea. 'Dirty lies. If they bain't… I couldn't stand by. So 'elp me, I couldn't. Not and see 'er go to another. No… The muscles of his throat worked a moment. 'Thank ye again, ma'am. I'm more in your debt. I'll forget and start anew. Maybe I'll come and see Cap'n Poldark when he is home; but maybe what you've said'll put things straight in my mind. Good day to ye.'

'Good day,' said Demelza, and stood watching his great figure striding east towards the sand hills and his home.

She began to walk back the way she had come, towards Nampara. Who is Keren carrying on with? she thought, instinctively believing what she had sought to discredit. Who is there that she could carry on with? Keren, who affected to look down on all the cottage folk.

When Ross came back she would mention it to him, see what he said. It looked as if someone ought to warn not Mark but Keren. She would be very sorry for Keren - and the man - if Mark found them out. Keren should be told that her husband was suspicious. It might just frighten her off someone and perhaps save a tragedy. She would remember to tell Ross when he came home.

Then as she climbed the wall from the beach she saw Ross dismount at the door of Nampara and go into the house; and she ran quickly up the slope calling him. Mark Daniel and Keren were forgotten, and would stay forgotten for a long time.

SHE FOUND HIM in the parlour taking off his gloves.

'Ross!' she said. 'I thought you was never coming home. I thought…'

He turned.

'Oh, Ross,' she said. 'What's to do?'

'Is Jinny here yet?'

'I don't know. I don't think she can be.'

He sat down. 'I saw Zacky early. Perhaps he was able to tell her before she left.'

'What is it?' she asked.

He looked up at her. 'Jim is dead.'

She faltered and looked at him, then dropped her eyes. She came over and took his hand.

'Oh, my dear… I'm that sorry. Oh, poor Jinny. Ross, dear…'

'You should not come near me,' he said. 'I have been in infection.'

For answer she pulled up a chair beside him, stared again at his face. 'What happened?' she said. 'Did you see him?'

'Have you brandy?'

She got up and brought him some. She could tell he had drunk a good deal already.

'He had been taken to Launceston,' he said. 'We found him in gaol with the fever. The place should be burned down. It is worse than an ancient pest house. Well, he was ill and we took him out…'

'You took him out?'

'We were stronger than the gaoler. We carried him to a barn and Dwight did what he could. But a quack doctor had let blood while he was in the gaol, and his arm had festered and gone poor. There was only one hope, which was to have it off before the poison spread.'

'His - his arm?'

Ross finished the brandy at a gulp.

'The King and his ministers should have been there - Pitt and Addison and Fox; and Wilberforce, who weeps over the black slaves while forgetting the people at his own door, and the fat Prince with his corsets and his mistresses… Or perhaps they would have been entertained by the spectacle, they and their powdered and painted women; Heaven knows, I have lost hope of understanding men. Well, Dwight did his best and spared no effort. Jim lived until the early morning; but the shock was too great. At the end I think he knew me. He smiled and seemed to want to speak but he had not the strength. So he went: and we saw him buried in Lawhitton Church and so came home.'

There was silence. His vehemence and bitterness frightened her. Upstairs, as from a homely world, was the sound of Julia grizzling. Abruptly he rose and went to the window, stared out over his well-ordered estate.

'Was Dr Enys with you in all this?' she asked.

'We were so tired yesterday that we lay last night in Truro. That is why we are here so early today. I - saw Zacky on the way home. He was riding on company business but turned back.

'It were better that you had not gone, Ross. I…'

'It is bad that I did not go a fortnight sooner. Then there would have been hope.'

'What will the magistrates and the constables say? That you broke into the gaol and helped a prisoner to escape, Ross. Will there not be trouble over that?'

'Trouble, yes. The bees will hum if I do not plaster them with honey.'

'Then...'

'Yes, let them hum, Demelza. I wish them good fortune. I should be almost induced to go among 'em as arranged at tomorrow's celebrations if I thought they might catch the fever from me.'

She came urgently up to him. 'Don't talk so, Ross. Do you not feel well? Do you feel you have caught it?'

After a moment he put his hand on her arm, looking at her and seeing her for the first time since he came home.

'No, love. I am well enough. I should be well, for Dwight took strange precautions which seemed to please him: washing our clothes and hanging them over a burning pitch barrel to get out the stink of the gaol. But do not expect me to dance and play with these people tomorrow when their handiwork is still fresh in my mind.'

Demelza was silent. Between the thankfulness that Ross was home - perhaps safe but at least home - and the sorrow for Jim and Jinny, a desolation was beginning to appear, a knowledge that all her own plans were in ruin. She might have argued but she had neither the tongue nor the lack of loyalty to do so.

For it did seem to her just then a matter of loyalty. He must do as he chose and she, at whatever disappointment, must accept it.

He was not at all himself that day. She, who had known Jim little enough, wondered at the bitterness of his loss. For it was bitterness as well as sorrow. He had known Jim's loyalty to himself and had given a greater loyalty in return. Always it seemed to him he had striven to help the young man and always his efforts had come too late. Well, this was the last effort and the failure was final. At five he went to see Jinny. He hated the thought of meeting her but there was no one else to do it. He was gone an hour. When he came back she had a meal ready for him, but at first he would not touch anything. Later, coaxingly, like tempting a child, she got him to taste first one thing and then another. It was a new experience for her. At seven Jane cleared the table and he sat back in his chair by the fire, stretching his legs, not appeased in mind but quieter in body and just beginning to relax.

And then the frock came.

Demelza frowned at the great box and carried it in to Ross, only just getting through the parlour door.

'Bartle has just brought this,' she said. 'Over from Trenwith. They sent into Truro today for provisions, and Mistress Trelask asked would they deliver this. What can it be?'

'Is battle still there? Give him sixpence, will you.' Ross stared at the box bleakly until Demelza came back. Then she too stared at it, between glances at him.