The Miller's Dance (7 page)

'When
I walk on me 'eels,' he said, I
d'feel like a duck.'

'Perhaps you would for a while.'

'Ducks d'walk on their 'eels. Quack, quack! Same as 'ens. Same as geese.'

'Human beings - most of them - use both heel and toe. That's the important thing.'

They would soon be in Grambler village. Dwight said: 'Well, I must be getting along.'

'Surgeon.'

‘
Yes.
’

‘
What's amiss wi' me?'
‘
I've told you.' 'Just that?'

‘I
can't be sure. I would have to examine you.'

"Xamine me? What do that mean?'

'If I looked at your feet I could probably tell you whether there was any malfunction - whether there was anything wrong with the ligaments of your feet which made it impossible to use your heels. That sort of thing.'

After a moment Music said: ‘I
got feelins just like normal.' And laughed in embarrassment.

'Good. Well, try what I have suggested. If you make no progress come to see me and I will see if I can advise you further.'

Music touched his forelock and stepped back as Dwight urged his horse into a trot along the muddy stinking lane that divided the cottages. Music rubbed his long nose and watched him go. Then gingerly he lowered himself on to his heels as if afraid something in his feet might break.

As Dwight went on he guessed he had scared the young man off for life. Any talk of an examination was enough to frighten the villagers away, especially if they did not feel ill. It was like the threat of the knife.

All the same, Dwight reflected, if this did not occur and

Music persisted with his questions, the sort of simple examination he had in mind would have to take place in the presence of some other doctor or apothecary. Otherwise, Dwight knew the sort of stories that might spread.

I

On March x Mary Warleggan, nee Lashbrook, died. She was eighty. Her long life had spanned the rise of the Warleggans. Her small money when he married her had enabled Nicholas Warleggan to finance his first enterprises, and she had lived to inhabit a mansion near the river Fal, a splendid town house in Truro, to see her son one of the most powerful and most feared men in Cornwall, a Member of Parliament, a knight and an owner of a pocket borough.

A simple woman whom riches had changed little, content with the simple pleasures of life when her husband and son allowed her to be, slow, intensely superstitious, warmhearted in a village way, wanting no thoughts beyond the comfort and sustenance of her family, ambitious only when told to be, and then with reluctance, she died slowly but without pain, her last conscious thought being regret that the conserves were not keeping as well as usual (had they not been boiled long enough?) and that she would never now see her beloved little Ursula in her first ball gown. On March 5, the day after the funeral, Sir George rode to see Lady Harriet Carter and, finding her at home, proposed marriage.

He said with a thin smile: it may seem a little hurried to come to you in this way so close on top of a bereavement, but it is not a wife I mourn. She
...
went long ago. I flatter myself — I trust not unduly—that during the last half year we have come to an understanding of each other which will not cause this request to seem premature or abrupt for any other reasons. I am not, as I have told you, yet in the affluence I would have liked to be before I spoke to you. Thanks to unwise speculations in the Manchester district, undertaken-
‘

'Yes,' she said in her husky, drawling voice, 'you have explained why you undertook them.'

it may be five years before I am as prosperous as I was before; but there is no
risk
now, no likelihood of my remaining anything but we
ll-situated in a modest but sub
stantial way; and you, I know, have made it clear that money could never be the deciding factor in your choice
...
My mother's death — so grievous as it is - leaves Cardew without a chatelaine. I would ask you to take it - and me.'

She did not smile
at
this but lifted her black eyebrows.

'Are you inviting me to be your housekeeper or your wife?'

He was not put out. 'Both. But you should know by now

how earnestl
y I would wish you to be the latter.'

'Do I? Should I? By what means? Have you ever expressed, except in words, such an ambition ?'

‘I
n what other way would you wish m
e to express it?' 'Well
...' She smoothed her frock w
ith strong, well-kept fingers, I
know that we are supposed to be members of the
genteel landed gentry - would you so describe it? - but however reticent such a class may be—and observation of it suggests to me it is not really reticent when it comes to the
point — the functional processes of humanity still prevail.
Have you ever kissed me - tried to kiss me - on the mouth, I mean? Is there not a distinct hazard that the closer contact implicit in my becoming your wife might turn out to be distasteful to you when it was too late to change - or distasteful to me, even? For women have just as strong
- preferences as men, and are not, as I have pointed out, always swayed by thoughts of material advantage.'

He looked at her carefully, but she was staring out at the wind-tossed day. He suspected that, now it had come to the point, she was making a token show of reluctance, of

'
resistance
’
. (Her thoughts, on at least one other occasion -last Christmas - had seemed to be perfectly clear.) She was a woman like any other, and as such was the subject of whim and errant impulse, which could soon be overborne.

Yet could he be absolutely sure? Perhaps his manner
had
been stiff. Unprogressively punctilious. In dealing with the daughter of a duke he had tended to remain on his best behaviour. How change, it now?

‘
Very well, Harriet,' he said, 'if you will stand up I will certainly do my best t
o convince you that we are not
distasteful to each other.'

'Why should I stand up? Do you not think a kneeling attitude would be more suitable for this occasion?'

He almost did; and then suddenly was certain she would esteem him less if he accepted her suggestion. So he got up and took her hand. She looked up at him with a contemptuous glance. He pulled her to her feet. As they were kissing she suddenly laughed, so that her breath was on his cheek. Then she kissed him back.

'Well,' she said, I
suppose it is no worse than a cold bath. One can get used to it.'

One of the giant boarhounds snoozing near the fire looked up and gave a throaty cough, like a lion.

'Quiet, Pollux,' said Harriet 'He is not used to seeing his mistress handled by a man. They were but puppies when the infamous Toby was alive.' 'George eyed the two dogs with distaste. They were something he had not quite bargained for when he made the first approaches to her. He disliked dogs on principle. (There was also another s
trange animal with great eyes, ti
ny but ugly, that swung sometimes from the curtains.) No doubt they could all be kept in the stables after the wedding.

'The first of May?' he said. 'Would that be suitable?'

‘I
believe you are mentally opening your diary. Close it and let us talk for a while.'

'More talk? Certainly if you wish. But what is it you want to talk about?'

'Anything. Nothing. Do you not ever indulge in
bavarderie?
...
Idle chatter,' she hastened to explain.

'Of course. Not perhaps when I am waiting for an answer to one of the most important questions of my life.'

Even now he could not exaggerate, say it was the
most
important
.
The
most important had been on the
14th March, 1793. She moved a little away from him, which was not difficult for he had taken his hands off her shoulders when
the
dog growled.

Tell me, George, why do you have such a fearsome reputation in Cornwall? You have never shown a sign of earning it in my company.'

'Fearsome? My name is respected! It's impossible to be enterprising, progressive in a county such as this without making some enemies. But they bark and snap to no account.'

'My aunt tells me your name creates fear and apprehension in some circles. Small traders, mining venturers and the like.' In fact her aunt had said nothing of the kind. (At an earlier stage she had said: 'If you intend to marry an upstart, why don't you at least choose one with the
makings
of a gentl
eman.')
George said: ‘I
trust you asked your aunt if I had a fearsome reputation with women.'

'No, I did not, and I don't suppose you have.'

'Perhaps you would prefer it if I were a notorious rake.'

'Having been married to one, perhaps not. Rather am I anxious to assure myself that once we are married you will not just write me down as an item in your ledger book.'

This was rather near home,
and he was conscious that his
face was showing annoyance. With an effort he wiped it off.

'No, Harriet, I truly love you, and ask you to marry me for that reason only. I never thought to remarry until I met you. Since then it has been my consuming wish. Even though you despise money-'

'Very, very, very far from it!'

'Even though you say you are not affected by the sort of affluence your husband can claim, if you suppose me to be a man much preoccupied by his financial affairs, then as a part of that supposition you must equally admit that I risked - and lost - a great fortune in order to have a better claim to your hand. You cannot have it both ways, Harriet!'

She smiled. 'You know women always want it both ways. But I take your meaning. And am suitably impressed. Did you say the first of May? What day of the week would that be?'

'I have no idea.'

'Could
the
engagement be kept secret for another month?'
‘I’
if you wish it.
But...'

‘I
do wish it. But if that is adhered to, then may I say, dear George,
that
all this is agreeable to me?'

They embraced again. And again the dog growled. George found the embra
ce a far from unpleasant experi
ence. She had a feminine-feeling body—more so than might have been supposed by her robust manner and neck-or-nothing attitude both on and off the hunting field. It pleased him. In little more than eight weeks he would have this woman sharing his bed, in a nightdress which would soon be taken off, and he would possess, with all the pent-up passion of his fifty-two years,
the
daughter and the sister of a duke. He was very glad that he had held his tongue this afternoon when tempted by her delicate jibes to reply in kind.

Careful and cautious to the extremest degree, as soon as he became engrossed with Lady Harriet, he had employed his friend and lackey, lawyer
Hector Trembath, to make due inq
uiries not merely into Lady Harriet's life but into
the
life of her antecedents. Trembath had exceeded his instructions by going far back into the history of the Dukes of Leeds, but he had come up with some very piquant items. For instance, that the family fortunes of the Osbornes had been founded by a poor apprentice, clothworker who had jumped off London Bridge into the Thames and saved his employer's daughter from drowning, subsequently marrying her and inheriting the clothworker's money. Or, for instance, that the first Duke of Leeds had been a highly dislikeable man, described as an inveterate liar, proud, ambitious, revengeful, false, prodigal, corrupt, and covetous to the highest degree, the most hated minister, some said, that had ever been about King Charles II.

When nettled by her little sarcastic darts he had been very tempted to mention some of this to her - pointing out that not all of her family for all their eminence were above the criticism that they cared for money and power. Now he was very glad he had held his tongue. It was not the spirit in which to enter into the marriage contract.

Besides, if the occasion arose, the information could be utilized at some later date.

II

On the same day, March 5, another marriage was being discussed.

Ross said gently: 'And yo
u have just come to this conclu
sion?'

'About two weeks ago, Papa. But I have been waiting for — for a favourable opportunity. You have been in Truro, and then to Tehidy, and...'

'Does your mother know?'

'Not for certain - I'm sure she suspects.'

'So you came to me first?'

‘I
told Stephen I would.'

'Should he not be here? Surely it is his duty to ask for your hand.'

'Yes. He'll do that, of course. But I felt I wanted to speak to you first - break the news ... which may not be good news for you and Mama.'

'Why should it not be?'

'Well, Stephen is - has no money; and as you know, he has no proper employment. He... has no pedigree—oh, I know you don't want that as such - you
and Mama are above that—but if I
had a daughter I should want to know
something
of the parents of the man she was going to marry. Stephen himself knows little. I think you
all
like him in a way. But perhaps not enough to wish him to become one of the family.'

'But you love him?'

'Yes.'

'Then surely is that not sufficient?' 'You're very sweet, Papa.
Is that how you truly feel? Is
that how you will be to him?' Ross glanced away from her earnest gaze. Flicking through his mind, like
the
scenes of his life before a dying man, went memories of twenty years of fatherhood:
the
ineffable trust,
the
endearing love,
the
family squabbles, the uninhibited laughter, the intimate but sometimes prickly comradeship. And now she was in love - with a stranger. Not merely a stranger to the family, for anyone she married would be that, to begin at any rate (the closer one's family was, the more it risked in disruption), but a stranger from a distant county whose views and opinions from now on would automatically rank as more important to her than all
the
ties and loyalties of childhood. Was there even this evening a hint of hostility in her? - as if nature demanded a cleavage at this point, a clean fresh break between the old and the new, like an insert, a butterfly breaking away from its chrysalis. Something inherent in nature: one forced one's way out from the enclosing confines of family, turned
one's back
, marched on.