Bella Poldark Read online

  To

  Max and Joan Reinhardt

  For many years of loving friendship

  Contents

  Note from the Author

  Book One

  VALENTINE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Book Two

  AGNETA

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Book Three

  MAURICE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Book Four

  CLOWANCE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Book Five

  BELLA

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Note from the Author:

  The Poldark Saga

  This is the twelfth and last Poldark novel. New readers may like a short account of the characters and what has gone before, and, since the eleventh Poldark was published some years ago, even former readers who remember a great deal may appreciate a brief résumé.

  W.G.

  SIR ROSS POLDARK. Belongs to the small Cornish gentry, created a baronet by Lord Liverpool on his being sent on a mission to Paris on behalf of the government during Napoleon’s exile in Elba. Owns Nampara, a small estate with two operative mines and some farm land.

  DEMELZA (née Carne). Daughter of a Cornish miner. Ross marries her when she is seventeen and they have five children: JULIA, who dies of diphtheria when a baby; JEREMY, who is killed at Waterloo; CLOWANCE, now the widow of Stephen Carrington, who has died in a riding accident; ISABELLA-ROSE, who possesses a fine voice; and HENRY (almost an afterthought), who through his brother’s death is heir to his father’s baronetcy.

  CUBY POLDARK (née Trevanion, of Caerhays Castle) is the widow of Jeremy Poldark. NOELLE is their daughter, born after Jeremy’s death.

  CLOWANCE CARRINGTON continues to run the small shipping line set up by Stephen in Penryn before his death. They have no children.

  SIR GEORGE WARLEGGAN, knighted by Pitt in return for political support. Son of the founder and now head of Warleggan & Williams’ Bank. Marries, first, ELIZABETH POLDARK (née Chynoweth), widow of Francis Poldark, Ross’s cousin, and previously affianced to Ross.

  Elizabeth has a son by Francis, called GEOFFREY CHARLES, now a veteran of the Peninsular War and living at Trenwith, the family home of the Poldarks, which is four miles from Nampara. He and his Spanish wife AMADORA (née de Bertendona) have one daughter, JUANA.

  Elizabeth had two children by George Warleggan: VALENTINE, who is married to SELINA (widow of Clement Pope) and lives with her at Place House, Trevaunance, which is about three miles further along the coast from Trenwith and near the village of St Ann’s. There is bitter enmity and suspicion about Valentine’s parentage. Elizabeth’s third child – the second by George – is URSULA, whose birth causes Elizabeth’s death.

  George’s second wife – married ten years later – is LADY HARRIET CARTER, sister of the Duke of Leeds, and by George she has twin daughters. They live at Cardew, a mansion bought from the Lemon family by the Warleggans about thirty years ago, and situated over the spine of Cornwall in the gentler part of the county, looking towards the Restronguet Valley.

  Nearest neighbours of like standing to the Poldarks of Nampara are the family of TRENEGLOS, who live at Mingoose House.

  A mile beyond Sawle Church in an inland direction live the ENYSES, at Killewarren. Thirty years ago DWIGHT ENYS came as a young doctor, and his friendship with Ross has been deep and abiding ever since. So has Demelza’s for Dwight’s wife, CAROLINE, (née Penvenen). They have two daughters.

  JINNY CARTER, one of the brood of Martins living in Mellin Cottages, lost her first husband, Jim, who, sent to prison for poaching, died of a gangrenous arm. She later married Whitehead Scoble and ever since has kept the only shop in Sawle. Her son – by Jim – is BEN CARTER, who is captain of Wheal Leisure, the only profitable Poldark mine.

  Demelza has five brothers, of whom two have close connections with the story: SAM, who has become the leader of the Methodists in the district; and DRAKE, who has moved away to Looe, where he lives with his wife MORWENNA (née Chynoweth) and their daughter LOVEDAY.

  VERITY BLAMEY (née Poldark, sister of Francis and Cousin to Ross) lives at Flushing with her husband, a retired sea captain.

  Book One

  VALENTINE

  Chapter One

  The evening was loud and wild. Black clumsy clouds were driving up from the north, lit at their edges by light from a sliver of moon. A few hazy stars speckled the patches of sky. But it was not dark. Even when the moon was quite gone there would be some luminescence from the restless sea because the longest day was still only a month past. Yet it did not seem like late summer. The sea drift was cold, the air was cold and noisy, the waves melancholy as if waiting for autumn.

  A man was climbing down the cliffs half a mile east of Wheal Leisure. He was long-legged, and firm-footed like a cat. It was not an easy climb, for though the rocks were of granite and would never break away, they were greasy in places from the morning’s rain. He was bare-headed, and wore some sort of tight black jerkin, rough barragan trousers and light canvas shoes. He carried a bundle tied to his back.

  The last bit was the most difficult. If he jumped from ten feet a large sea pool barred his way. No doubt the water would break his fall, but he would be completely soaked and the wind was cold for the ride home. And was the pool deep enough? A broken ankle would not be welcome. He decided to inch his way round the edge and if he fell on his back in the water the pool’s depth would not be so important.

  He edged round, missed his footing, found it again, squirmed round a big projection, slid down two feet, jumped and landed on soft sand.

  Satisfied, he got to his feet, moved to harder ground, took the bundle from his back and untied it. It was a riding cloak and a rolled-up black felt hat. As he put these on a voice said: ‘Good eve to you.’

  A tall, older man, taller even than he was. The climber dropped his hat, swore and picked it up, shook the sand from it.

  ‘Judas God! You gave me a fright! What are you doing here?’

  ‘It’s always wise, isn’t it,’ said the older man, ‘to get in the question first. What are you doing here? You are much further from home than I am.’

  ‘Did you know I was here?’

  ‘No, just strolling.’

  ‘At midnight? You were not sleepwalking, Cousin?’

  ‘I was strolling. Then I saw your horse.’
>
  ‘Damnation! I thought I had well hid him. But you could not recognize him: I only bought Nestor last week.’

  ‘Well – it was a nag of some quality and not many people leave their mounts untended in the middle of the night.’

  ‘So you concluded it was me?’

  ‘. . . I thought it a possibility.’

  ‘And what led you to this particular piece of the beach, Cousin? My footprints were washed away.’

  ‘I know there’s a path from here up to Mingoose House. Coming down, you lost your way.’

  ‘I suppose I did. Judas God. Don’t tell Demelza.’

  ‘I might agree to say nothing if you stopped using her special swear word.’

  ‘What? Is it? Why is it?’

  ‘Because as far as I know no one else has used it before.’

  ‘I rather fancy it.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘It’s not ladylike.’

  ‘I agree. Are you walking back to your horse?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I’ll walk with you.’

  The clouds had lifted a little, and as the wind bullied the men along it was possible for them to discern more of each other. Although there was a similarity between them – in height, in colouring, and sometimes in the voice – there were greater areas of difference. The older man had broader shoulders, an altogether bonier face, heavy eyelids not quite hiding direct, unquiet eyes. The younger man had mischievous dark eyes, but they were a blue like his mother’s, and closer together.

  They talked for a moment or two about the new horse, then Ross said: ‘It was an unusual way to call on the Trenegloses. Can I assume you were up to no good?’

  After a pause while they negotiated another pool. ‘Why should you assume that, Cousin?’

  ‘Isn’t it most likely? The direct route to Mingoose, as you well know, is via the upper lane that takes you to the front gates.’

  ‘Yes. You are entirely right.’

  ‘And in the last two years you have given no indication that you were likely to mend your ways.’

  ‘Mend my ways. A quaint phrase. It might come from Sam’s church.’

  ‘It doesn’t. It means in this instance being considerate and neighbourly. The Trenegloses are neighbours of mine.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Quite so.’

  The wind continued to buffet them, and they staggered like drunken men. The conversation so far had been on a bantering level, but there was a hint of iron in Ross’s voice.

  ‘Nearly there,’ said Valentine. ‘I’m surprised you spotted the nag.’

  ‘He neighed . . . Had you gone to Mingoose to steal something?’

  ‘Dear Cousin, I do not like being accused of theft.’

  ‘Since I helped you out of that scrape last year, I think I am in a privileged position.’

  ‘Perhaps you always were. But I have called a man out for less.’

  They stopped. Ross said: ‘Your horse is still there. I can hear him. Goodnight.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Valentine said, ‘I might as well confess, lest I be suspected of worse. It has been a sort of theft, though of the gentlest sort. Do you know a kitchenmaid, Carla May, whom Ruth recently engaged?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Indeed, why should you? Perhaps I am younger and more susceptible, but last week calling on Frederick for a morning’s shooting I espied such a sweetly pretty smiling face under a muslin cap that I had to make further enquiries. Her name is Carla May. I’ll swear I stole little from her that she was not willing to give.’

  Ross considered this. ‘How is Selina?’

  ‘Six months forward.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘In blooming health.’

  ‘She will not bloom so handsomely if she knows you have been seen climbing into the back bedrooms of Mingoose.’

  ‘That is why I took such care not to be seen! . . . But, seriously, Cousin—’

  ‘Have we not been serious so far?’

  ‘When I married her she assumed I was a saint. In spite of my affair with her while her first husband was alive, she apparently believed I had to be faithful to her unto death. That hope has long since gone. I told her that I crossed my fingers in the ceremony when it came to “forsaking all others”. I believe we do not get along too badly now. So long as I exercise a little discretion. So long as she is not privy to it.’

  ‘This is a very close-knit community. Do you think I shall be the only Paul Pry?’

  But Valentine had not quite finished what he wanted to say. ‘D’you know, my dear Cousin, I don’t really think women so very much mind if their husbands stray, so long as they know nothing about it and so long as others know nothing about it. It is not love that is so much injured, it is pride. It is self-esteem. It is vanity. Love plays a small part in their sense of outrage.’

  ‘Maybe it is the same for men. Some men. Ultimately it surely comes down to the characters of the people involved?’

  ‘Well done! You are learning fast.’

  ‘Insolent puppy.’

  Valentine laughed. ‘Now I know I am forgiven.’

  ‘I have nothing to forgive, except your impertinence. Make sure you don’t meet others less amenable.’

  ‘Give me a leg-up, will you? It’s a job to get any springboard on this soft sand.’

  Demelza was in bed when he reached Nampara, but not asleep. She was reading a book by the light of three candles. They smiled at each other.

  ‘Did you get wet?’

  ‘No, the tide was ebbing quickly.’

  ‘I thought there was a shower.’

  ‘I missed it.’

  In the candlelight she looked unchanged. In the daylight the laughter lines round her eyes and mouth had become more noticeable, but even that detracted very little from her fine looks. Only the glint of zest had gone from her eyes since Jeremy’s death.

  Her hair, which had developed pronounced streaks of grey, was now back to its original colour. For some years, knowing Ross’s dislike of hair dye, she had dabbed surreptitiously at various strands appearing around the ears and temples, believing he did not notice. But last year he had returned from London with a bottle of hair dye which had been matched to perfection because he had stolen a lock of her hair while she was asleep. When he gave her the bottle he had said simply: ‘I don’t want you to change.’

  ‘Did you see anyone?’ Demelza asked.

  ‘Valentine.’

  ‘Dear life. What was he about?’

  ‘Paying attentions, I gather, to some maid in the Treneglos household called Carla May.’

  ‘He is – impossible.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ross regretted he had said so much. Valentine had become rather a bone of contention between them. Not that he felt he had broken his pledge to Valentine, for Demelza never gossiped.

  ‘He was on the beach?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dear life. On the prowl, I s’pose. And Selina six months forward.’

  He sat on the bed and began to unfasten his neckcloth. ‘Bella safely in bed?’

  ‘She went up soon after you left. Ross, she thought you’d gone out because she was practising her high notes.’

  ‘I thought she might. I must tell her it was not so. You know how I get these impulses to take a long walk.’

  ‘It truly was not so, then?’

  He half laughed. ‘She knows I am not partial to her voice. Truth to tell, I am perhaps not very partial to women’s singing at all. Except yours, because yours is low and so easy to listen to. People say she has a good voice—’

  ‘Far, far better than mine.’

  ‘It is certainly louder!’

  ‘It is much admired, Ross. In Truro they thought most highly of it.’

  ‘I know. And when Christopher comes he flatters her.’

  ‘I don’t know if you happen to have noticed, but they are in love.’

  He patted her hand. ‘Sarcasm does not become you. But it is a condition in which one tends to e
xaggerate the talents of the person one loves.’

  ‘I don’t suppose I have often exaggerated your talents, Ross.’

  He half laughed again. ‘There have been times, but we won’t go into that. In fact that could be taken two ways . . . I must say, though . . .’

  ‘Well, say it.’

  ‘I do not think Bella needs to start singing at nine o’clock at night. She’ll disturb Harry.’

  ‘When Harry is asleep it would take a thunderbolt to wake him. And, as another point, he admires his sister.’

  ‘Admires her? Well so do I! Very much. She is – is the most engaging of our children. She’s the most like you, except that she lacks the gentleness.’

  He went to the table, opened a tin box, damped his forefinger and began to rub his teeth with his favourite red root. Then he filled a mug from the pitcher and rinsed his mouth out.

  ‘Talking of daughters,’ he went on when he had finished, ‘we have not had our usual letter from Clowance. I hope nothing is amiss.’

  ‘If I don’t hear I will go this week. She was well enough last time, though still committed to her ships. Or perhaps you should go, Ross, for a change.’

  ‘I might if I could persuade her to sell up and come back here.’

  ‘She seems – as I say – committed.’

  ‘She made a loss last year.’

  ‘That was chiefly because of the weather.’

  ‘Hm.’ He pulled on the short nightshirt that Demelza had made for him and then slipped into bed beside her. She blew out two of the candles and put her book on the floor beside the bed.

  ‘I heard the first cricket tonight,’ she said.

  ‘Did you? Yes, I suppose it’s about time.’

  ‘Do you want to talk?’ she asked.

  ‘You choose.’

  ‘Then I think I’m ready for sleep.’

  He kissed her and snuffed out the final candle. Except when there was temporary war between them – and the last time was years gone – theirs was never a perfunctory goodnight kiss: it was the resealing of a partnership, a restatement of a sexual friendship.

  Ross lay back on his pillow and took a deep breath of something not far from satisfaction. Despite the tragedies and traumas of life – far away the greatest among them the death of his elder son at Waterloo – he felt he had a deal to be thankful for. It was of course his nature to be restive; but he often found when an attack of what Demelza called the lurgies was pending, a long fast walk, preferably across the beach at low tide, and preferably alone, helped to drive it away. This had happened tonight – temporarily at least.

 
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