But Ross had not missed the procession.
They had come in force: Tom Carne himself, big and profoundly solid in his new-found respectability; Aunt Chegwidden Carne, his second wife, bonneted and small-mouthed like a little black hen, and behind them four tall gangling youths, a selection from among Demelza's brothers.
A silence had fallen on the company. Only the stream bubbled and a bullfinch chirped. The cavalcade reached the plank bridge and came across it with a clomp of hobnailed boots.
Verity guessed the identity of the new arrivals and she left old Mr Treneglos and moved to Demelza's side. She did not know how she could help Demelza unless it was merely by being there, but in so far as she could give a lead to Francis and Elizabeth that she meant to do.
Ross came quickly out of the house, and without appearing to hurry reached the bridge as Tom Carne came over.
'How d'you do, Mr Carne,' he said, holding out his hand. 'I am grateful you were able to come.'
Carne eyed him for a second. It was more than four years since they had met, and then they had smashed up a room before one of them ended in the stream. Two years of reformation had changed the older man; his eyes were clearer and his clothing good and respectable. But he still had the same intolerant stare. Ross too had changed in the interval, grown away from his disappointment; the content and happiness he had found with Demelza had softened his intolerance, had cloaked his restless spirit in a new restraint.
Carne, finding no sarcasm, let his hand be taken. Aunt Chegwidden Carne, not in the least overawed, came next, shook his hand, moved on to greet Demelza. As Carne made no attempt to introduce the four gangling youths, Ross bowed gravely to them and they, taking their cue from the eldest, touched their forelocks in response. He found a strange comfort in the fact that none of them was the least like Demelza.
'We been waiting at the church, maid,' Carne said grimly to his daughter. 'Ye said four o'clock and we was there by then. Ye'd no manner of right to do it afore. We was besting whether to go 'ome again.'
'I said tomorrow at four,' Demelza answered him sharply. 'Aye. So yer man said. But twas our right to be 'ere the day of the baptizing, an' he said the baptizing was for today. Yer own flesh an' blood 'as more call to be beside you at a baptizing than all these 'ere dandical folk.'
A terrific bitterness welled up in Demelza's heart. This man, who had beaten all affection out of her in the old days, to whom she had sent a forgiving invitation, had deliberately come on another day and was going to shatter her party. All her efforts were in vain, and Ross would be the laughing stock of the district. Already, without looking, she could see the laughter on the faces of Ruth Treneglos and Mrs Teague. She could have torn tufts from his thick black beard (showing streaks of grey now beneath the nose and under the curve of the bottom lip); she could have clawed at his sober, too-respectable jacket or plastered his thick red-veined nose with earth from her flower beds. With a fixed smile hiding the desolation of her heart she greeted her stepmother and her four brothers: Luke, Samuel, William and Bobby: names and faces she had loved in that far-off nightmare life that no longer belonged to her.
And they, at any rate, were overawed, not least by their sister, whom they remembered a managing drudge and found a well-dressed young woman with a new way of looking and speaking. They grouped round her at a respectful distance, answering gruffly her metallic little questions, while Ross, with all that grace and dignity of which he was capable when he chose, was escorting Tom Carne and Aunt Chegwidden round the garden, inexorably introducing them to the others. There was a steely politeness in his manner which bolted down the reactions of those who were not used to exchanging compliments with the vulgar classes.
As they went Tom Carne's eyes grew no more respectful at the show of fashion but harder and more wrathful at the levity these people seemed to consider suitable for a solemn day; and Aunt Chegwidden's mouth pinched itself in like a darned buttonhole as she took in Elizabeth's flamboyant crimson, Ruth Treneglos's tight low-cut bodice and Mrs Teague's rows of pearls and richly frizzled wig.
At last it was over and talk broke out again, though on a subdued note. A tiny wind was getting up, moving among the guests and lifting a ribbon here and a tail coat there.
Ross motioned to Jinny to carry round port and brandy. The more everyone drank the more they would talk, and the more they talked the less of a fiasco it would all be. Carne waved away the tray.
'I have no truck wi' such things,' he said. 'Woe unto them that rise up early in the morning that they follow strong drink, that continue until night till wine do inflame them! I've finished wi' wickedness and bottledom and set my feet 'pon a rock of righteousness and salvation. Let me see the child, dattur.'
Stiffly, grimly, Demelza held Julia out for inspection.
'My first was bigger than this,' said Mrs Chegwidden Carne, breathing hard over the baby. 'Warn't he, Tom? Twelve month old he'll be August month. A 'and some little fellow he be, though tis my own.'
'What's amiss wier forehead?' Carne asked. 'Have ee dropped 'ur?'
'It was in the birth,' Demelza said angrily.
Julia began to cry.
Carne rasped his chin. 'I trust ye picked her godparents safe and sure. Twas my notion to be one myself.'
Near the stream the Teague girls tittered among themselves, but Mrs Teague was on her dignity, drawing down her eyelids in their side-slant shutter fashion.
'A calculated insult,' she said, 'to bring in a man and a woman of that type and to introduce them. It is an affront set upon us by, Ross and his kitchen slut. It was against my judgment that I ever came! But her youngest daughter knew better. This was no part of any plan but was a mischance she might put to good use. She took a glass from Jinny's tray and sidled behind her sister's back up to George Warleggan.
'Do you not think,' she whispered, 'that we are remiss in straying so far from our host and hostess? I have been to few christenings so I do not know the etiquette, but common manners would suggest.
George glanced a moment into the slightly oriental green eyes. He had always held the Teagues in private contempt, an exaggerated form of the mixed respect and patronage he felt for the Poldarks and the Chynoweths and all those gentlefolk whose talent for commerce was in inverse rate to the length of their pedigrees. They might affect to despise him but he knew that some of them in their hearts already feared him. The Teagnes were almost beneath his notice, maleless, twittering, living on three percents and a few acres of land. But since her marriage Ruth had developed so rapidly that he knew he must reassess her. She, like Ross among the Poldarks, was of harder metal.
'Such modesty is to be expected in one so charming, ma'am,' he said, 'but I know no more of christenings than you. Do you not think it safest to consult one's own interests and follow where they lead?'
A burst of laughter behind them greeted the end of an anecdote Francis had been telling John Treneglos and Patience Teague.
Ruth said in an exaggerated whisper: 'I think you should behave more seemly, Francis, if we are not to have a reprimand. The old man is looking our way.'
Francis said: 'We are safe yet. The wild boar always raises its hackles before it comes to the charge.' There was another laugh. 'You, girl,' he said to Jinny as she passed near, 'is that more of the canary you have? I will take another glass. You're a nice little thing; where did Captain Poldark find you?'
The stress was almost unconscious, but Ruth's laugh left no doubt of the way she took it. Jinny flushed up to the roots of her hair.
'I'm Jinny Carter, sur. Jinny Martin that was.'
'Yes, yes.' Francis's expression changed slightly. 'I remember now. You worked at Grambler for a time. How is your husband?'
Jinny's face cleared. 'Nicely, sur, thank you, so far as - so far as…'
'So far as you know. I trust the time will pass quickly for you both.'
'Thank you, sur.' Jinny curtsied, still red, and moved on.
'You are taking small interest in your goddaughter, Francis,' Ruth said, anxious to turn him away from his squireish mood. 'The infant is getting well quizzed in your absence. I'm sure she would appreciate a sup of canary.'
'They say all the vulgars are brought up on gin,' said Patience Teague. 'And look no worse for it. I was reading but the other day how many, I forget how many, million gallons of gin was drunk last year.'
'Not all by babies, Sister,' said Treneglos.
'Well, no doubt they will sometimes take ale for a change,' said Patience.
This had all been watched though not heard by Tom Carne. He turned his sharp obstinate eyes upon Mrs Carne.
'Thur's ungodliness 'ere, Wife,' he said through his beard. 'Tis no proper place for a cheeil. Tis no fitty company to attend on a baptizing. I suspicioned no less. Women wi' their wanton clothes and young princocks strutting between 'em, drinkin' and jesting. Tis worse'n ye d'see in Truro.'
His wife hunched up her shoulders. Her conviction was of longer standing and was by nature less belligerent. 'We must pray for 'em, Tom. Pray for 'em all, and your own darter among 'em. Maybe there'll come a day when they'll see the light.'
Julia would not be quieted so Demelza seized the excuse to take her indoors. She was in a despairing mood.
She knew that however the day might turn now it was a black failure to her. Full-flavoured meat for the gossips. Well, let it come. There was nothing more she could do. She had tried to be one of them and failed. She would never try again. Let them all go home, ride off at once, so that she might have done with everything. Only that she might be left alone.
A few moments after she had gone Ruth succeeded in edging her friends within earshot of Tom Carne.
'For my part,' she said, 'I have no care for liquor unless it be brandy or port; I like a good heavy drink, soft to the taste and no bite until it is well down. Don't you agree, Francis?'
'You remind me of Aunt Agatha,' he said. 'The conceits of a woman of discretion.'
There was another laugh, against Ruth this time. They were passing by Tom Carne and he stepped forward, playing exactly into Ruth's hands.
'One of ye be the cheeil's godfather?'
Francis bowed slightly. Viewed from behind there seemed a hint of satire in the way the rising wind twisted his coattails.
'I am.'
Tom Carne stared at him. 'By what right?'
'Eh?'
'By what right do ye stand for the cheeil at the seat of righteousness?'
Francis had won heavily at the faro tables last night and he felt indulgent.
'Because I was so invited.'
'Invited?' said Carne. 'Aye, mebbe you were invited. But are ee saved?'
'Saved?'
'Aye, saved.'
'Saved from what?'
'From the Devil and damnation.'
'I haven't had any communication on the point.' John Treneglos guffawed.
'Well, that's where ye're at fault, mister,' said Carne. 'Them as has paid no heed to God's call has no doubt hearkened to the Devil's. Tes one or the other for all of we. There's no betwixt an' between. Tes Heaven and all the angels or hell-fire an' the brimstone pit!'
'We have a preacher among us,' said George Warleggan.
Mrs Carne pulled at her husband's sleeve. Although she professed to despise the gentry she had not Carne's genuine contempt for them. She knew that outside the small circle of their own meetinghouse people like this ruled the material world. 'Come away, Tom,' she said. 'Leave 'em be. They're in the valley o' the shadow, and nought will move 'em.'
Ross, who had gone with Demelza into the house to try to encourage her to face it out, came again to the front door. The wind was gusty. He saw the argument and at once moved towards it.
Carne had thrown off his wife's arm.
'Four years ago,' he was proclaiming in a voice which carried all over the garden, 'I was a sinner against God and served the Devil in fornication an' drunkenness. Nay, there was the smell of sulphur 'pon me an' I was nigh to Hell. But the Lord showed me a great light and turned me to salvation, an' joy an' glory. But them as has not laid hold o' the blessing and is living in wickedness an' unrighteousness has no call or sanction to stand before the Lord to answer for a puking cheeil.'
'I hope you find yourself rebuked, Francis,' said Ruth.
Francis refused to be provoked.
'For my part,' he said, eyeing Carne, 'I am a little perplexed at this sharp division of the sheep and the goats, though I know it is often done by people of your complexion. What is the hallmark of the change? Are we of different flesh, you and I, that death should bring you a golden crown and me a seat in Hell's cockpit? Who's to say that you are a better keeper of the brat's religion than I? I ask you that in genuine inquiry. You say you are saved. You say it. But what's to prove it? What is to hinder me from saying that I am Grand Vizier and Keeper of the Seven Seals? What is to prevent me from running round and announcing I am saved, mine is the Kingdom and yours the damnation: I'm going to Heaven, you go to Hell!'
John Treneglos broke into a huge gust of laughter. Carne's fleshy dogmatic face was purpled up and spotty with anger.
'Leave un be,' said Mrs Carne sharply, dragging at him again. 'Tis the Devil himself temptin' of ee to vain argument.'
The christening guests, as if under the pull of a magnet, had all drawn in towards this noisy focal point.
Ross came up behind the group.
'The wind is rising,' he said. 'The ladies would be better indoors. Perhaps you would help Aunt Agatha, Francis?'
He made a gesture towards the old lady who, with an ancient instinct for trouble, had left her window seat and was tottering unaided across the lawn.
'Nay,' said Carne. 'I'll not be under the same roof wi' such evil thoughts.' He stared sharply at Ruth. 'Cover yer breast, woman, tis shameful an' sinful. Women ha' been whipped in the streets for less.'
There was an awful pause.
'Damn your insolence!' Ruth snapped back, flushing. 'If - if there's whipping to be done it's you that'll get it. John! Did you hear what he said!'