Jeremy Poldark Page 7

  How to dress for her purpose had been a difficult decision and unsatisfying when made. She wanted to look her best, but could not have faced the streets in evening things. So the result was a compromise which sapped some of her dearly needed confidence.

  “Yes’m?” An impudent page boy was standing before her. She saw by his eyes that he had not quite placed her in the social scale.

  “Is Sir John Trevaunance staying here?”

  “Not’s I know, mum.”

  “I think he’s here now. He told me he’d be here this evening.” A rash claim.

  “I can’t say, mum. They’re dining. There’s guests.”

  “Still dining?”

  “Should be over soon’m. They started in at five.”

  “I’ll wait,” she said. “Do you leave me know so soon as they’re finished.”

  She sat down in the lobby of the hotel, trying to appear unconcerned and at ease. Outside the noise was worse, and she wondered how she would get back. She tried not to be nervous. Waiters were scurrying backwards and forwards from a room on her left. She did not want to be found sitting here like a beggar waiting for alms. She beckoned one of the waiters.

  “…Is there a withdrawing room where I may wait for Sir John Trevaunance in greater comfort than here?”

  “Er—yes, madam. Top o’ the stairs. Can I get you a refreshment while you wait?”

  A brilliant idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Would you bring me some port.”

  ***

  This was not the election dinner, which would be on Monday, but a preliminary gallop, as Sir Hugh Bodrugan called it. And, since there were a few women present, the evening was on a discreeter level than Monday’s would be. A few of the weaker brethren were tipsy; but most carried it off in good style.

  At the head of the table were Sir John Trevaunance and his brother Unwin. Between them was Caroline Penvenen, and on Sir John’s left was Mrs. Gilbert Daniell, with whom the other three were staying. Beyond her was Michael Chenhalls, the other candidate, and next came Miss Treffry, the mayor—their mayor—Humphrey Michell, and Sir Hugh Bodrugan. Among the other guests were notables of the town and district, wool merchants and civic officials.

  When the ladies left them the men sat over their port for half an hour before pulling in their sprawling legs and standing about in yawning, chatting groups amid the debris of the meal. The noise at the front of the hotel was not noticeable in the long dining room, but when they got upstairs the shouts and the cheers and the scuffling and the laughter were plain enough. As Unwin mounted the stairs beside his elder brother, Caroline Penvenen came towards him carrying her tiny dog. Her face was a study in charming petulance.

  “Horace is upset by the noise,” she said, drawing her long fingers over the silky head and ears. “He is of a nervous disposition and inclined to fret when frightened.”

  “Horace is a very lucky dog to have so much affection centred on him,” said Unwin.

  “I shouldn’t have brought him, only felt he would be lonely with old Mr. Daniell for company. I feel sure he would have found it quite desolate to sit in that dismal drawing room all the evening, with a draught whistling under the door and an old man snoring probably in the best chair…”

  “I would point out, my dear,” said Sir John in a lowered voice, “that we are Mr. Daniell’s guests—that Mrs. Daniell is just behind you.”

  Caroline smiled brilliantly at the younger man. “Sir John does not approve of me, Unwin. Did you know that? Sir John is convinced I shall disgrace him yet. Sir John thinks that woman’s place is in the home, and not being obtrusive and a responsibility at election times. Sir John does not look with favour on any woman until she is at least thirty and past mischief; and even then…”

  It was while the two men were politely trying to convince her otherwise that Demelza came out of a side room and saw her quarry close at hand. She came towards them with less hesitancy than she would have done half an hour ago, wondering all the same who the tall striking girl was with the red hair and the fiery grey-green eyes.

  When Sir John saw her he looked surprised.

  “Why, Mrs. Poldark; this is a pleasure. Are you staying here?”

  “For the time, yes,” said Demelza. “There is a big commotion outside. I wonder if it is to do with this election?”

  Sir John laughed. “It’s my belief so…May I introduce…I don’t think you will have met Miss Caroline Penvenen—although she is a neighbour of yours for part of each year, at Killewarren. Mrs. Demelza Poldark, from Nampara.”

  The ladies expressed themselves charmed at the acquaintance, though Caroline was summing up Demelza’s dress and Demelza knew it. “I stay with my uncle,” said Caroline, “Mr. Ray Penvenen, whom you may know. I have no parents and he reluctantly takes the responsibility of an orphan niece, as monks take a hair shirt. So at times I remove the penance by removing myself; and others wear the shirt for him. I was but then condoling with Sir John in the matter.”

  “Believe me,” said Unwin, who did not look very pleased at Demelza’s arrival, “you do yourself less than justice. If responsibility you are, which I doubt, there are many who would have it. You have but to say the word for half the men in the county to be at your side. And if—”

  “Men?” said Caroline. “Must it only be men? What’s wrong with women? Don’t you agree, Mrs. Poldark, that men put a false estimate on their own importance?”

  “I’m not sure as to that,” said Demelza. “For, you see, I’m married and am on the wrong side of the fence, like.”

  “And is your husband all that important? I shouldn’t admit it if it were the truth! But, Unwin, were you not telling me there was a Poldark to be tried at the assizes this year? Is it any relation to this lady?”

  “That’s my husband, ma’am,” said Demelza, “so perhaps twill be understood why I hold him in some extra worth just now.”

  For a second or two Caroline looked confused. She patted her dog’s snub nose. “And did he do wrong? What is he charged with?”

  Gruffly Sir John told her, and she said: “Oh, la; if I were the judge, then I’d sentence him forthwith to be returned to his wife. I thought excise men were not classed as human beings these days.”

  “I wish you were judge, then,” said Demelza.

  “I’d like to be, ma’am, but since I’m not I wish your husband well, and hope he’ll come home again to domestic bliss.”

  The conversation was broken by Michael Chenhalls who said:

  “They’re shouting for us, Unwin. I suggest we go out on the balcony before they try to break into the hotel.”

  “As you please.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Caroline. “I like to hear a mob when it is baying.”

  “Baying for me?” said Unwin.

  “No…just baying.”

  “You as well may get a brick thrown as a bouquet.”

  “That’s as it should be. Spice in the pudding.”

  They moved off towards the room with the balcony, and Demelza was alone with her quarry at last. She didn’t think she would be left so for long.

  “A taking young lady, Sir John.”

  Sir John dryly agreed. “She’s but eighteen, you’ll understand, and a thought high-mettled. She’ll settle down.”

  “I am not many years older.”

  He looked at her with a quizzing interest. This was the fourth time they had met, and there were few women he had so quickly come to friendly terms with.

  “Marriage has a maturing effect…” He chuckled. “Though, drat it, take the ring off and you’d look a little older.”

  Demelza met his gaze very frankly. “I don’t want to take it off, Sir John.”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “No, no. Naturally not. No one’d wish it. Naturally not. Have no fear, ma’am, your husband’ll get a fair trial. Perhaps more than fair.
And Wentworth Lister’s a very able man. No prejudices. I can vouch for that.”

  Demelza glanced around. Well, she must plunge in now.

  “That,” she said, “was what I wanted to see you about…”

  On the balcony the candidates had been greeted with an immense roar, as if a lion had opened its mouth.

  When she could make herself heard Caroline said: “They look like a field of turnips—only not so neatly set. What a rabble, dear Unwin. What is to be gained from pandering to them like this?”

  “A custom,” said Unwin, bowing his fine head towards the mob. “It’s only for five or six days, and then they can be forgotten for as many years. I hope you’re looking gracious, for it all helps.”

  “Could I ever look anything else? You know, I should make you a very fine wife…” Unwin turned. “…If I decided to marry you. What could be more tactful than my behaviour tonight: criticizing Mrs. Daniell’s house within Mrs. Daniell’s hearing; mentioning the Poldark case before Poldark’s wife. What a triumph I should be among your parliamentaiy friends!”

  Unwin didn’t reply, but bowed and waved to the people below. Down the street towards the Queen’s Head the maelstrom was beginning to move.

  Caroline pulled her beautiful embroidered shawl about her shoulders. “I hope Horace isn’t biting the footman. His teeth are sharp, and he has a knack for choosing the painful places. What a pretty woman that Mrs. Poldark is. It’s her eyes and skin that make it all. Pity she doesn’t know how to dress.”

  “We can go in now,” said Unwin, the cleft deepening between his brows. “The novelty of seeing us is wearing off and if we stay longer they’ll start expecting something else.”

  “D’you know,” said Caroline, “I should like to go to the assize for a day. I’ve never seen the way it all works, and I believe it would be very diverting.”

  They turned to go in. “Diverting if you got fever.”

  “Oh, then I should be in bed for a few days and you should visit me. Does that appeal? Come, you promised me. What is the use of having influence if you don’t use it?”

  …In the lobby behind them Sir John pushed his wig back to mop his forehead.

  “My dear madam, I have no influence of that sort! You don’t know what you’re asking! I tell you, it would prejudice your husband’s case, not help it!”

  “Not if it was put in the right way, surely.”

  “Yes, if it was put any way. His Majesty’s judges are not to be suborned by this sort of approach when a case is sub judice!”

  Demelza felt her heart growing cold with disappointment and despair. She allowed her eyes to travel interestedly over Sir John’s face. “It is only that if you was to tell him all the truth about it before the case began he would know what to expect. What’s amiss with that? Isn’t it the truth they want? Is it real justice they want to give—or is it some other sort: law justice, made up on what lies the witnesses tell in the box?”

  Sir John gave her a look more of sorrow than of anger. It was rather plain where her friendship and charm had all this time been leading.

  “My dear ma’am, it’s a little late to explain, but I can only assure you I’m advising you right. For one thing, Wentworth Lister wouldn’t listen to me. It would be more than my friendship was worth. Ecod, I should be out of favour with every legal man in the country!”

  Sir Hugh Bodrugan had seen her now. In a minute he would be over.

  She said: “It was not as if it was money you was offering him—but only truth. Is that so much to be despised?”

  “That may be how you look at it. But how would he know it was the truth?”

  “Just now—when I was sitting here before you came up—I heard a man say your brother had paid two thousand pounds for this seat in Parliament. Is that so, Sir John?”

  “What’s that to do with you?”

  At his cold tone she gave in. “I’m sorry. I meant no ’arm—no harm coming here tonight. I—don’t understand, that’s all. I don’t see why it is right to pay electors for voting one way and so mortal hard to ask a favour of a judge. Perhaps twould be better if we did offer to pay him.”

  “Then you would be sent to gaol. No, ma’am; be assured it’s best to leave it all alone.” At her change of tone his had grown more sympathetic. “Don’t think I do not sympathize! I hope and believe Poldark will be a free man by the end of the week. The surest way of attaining the opposite—the opposite, ma’am—would be to try to influence his lordship in any way. It is one of the peculiarities of life in England. I cannot explain why it should be so, but the law has always been above corruption…”

  He was looking towards the door where Caroline and Unwin and the Chenhalls were re-entering. So he did not catch the expression that flickered in Demelza’s eyes. It was only there for a second, like a flag of defiance over a part-surrendered fort.

  Chapter Seven

  On Sunday morning there was a procession to church, headed by the legal fraternity in the town. It came down St. Nicholas Street right past their inn, and Demelza and Verity knelt and watched it go. Demelza’s knees came over weak at the sight of the two judges in the full regalia of their office—scarlet robes and heavy wigs: one of them tall and raw-boned, the other of middle size and stout. She hoped that Wentworth Lister was the stout one. The enormity of her proposition to Sir John was brought home to her at sight of the material he had to work on. In the afternoon, rallying, she called at the hotel again and took tea with Sir Hugh Bodrugan, as invited. It was a respectable genteel occasion, and for once, with him, she was successful in keeping the conversation decent. But he wouldn’t be an easy man to hold at arm’s length for long.

  On Monday morning Mr. Jeffery Clymer had his final interview with Ross. He read rapidly through the new notes Ross had made, drawing his black eyebrows together until they were a continuous irregular portico above his eyes, like the porticoes of Fore Street.

  Then he said: “It won’t do, Captain Poldark. Just won’t do.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “What I told you on Friday. Got to realize, my dear man, criminal court is not a pitched battle, it’s a field of manoeuvre. You may speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth; but it all depends how you speak it! Got to be tactful, persuasive, throw yourself on the mercy and indulgence of the law. Be humble and innocent, not stiff-backed and defiant. Say what you like after the verdict; before that have a care. Weigh every word. Look: this is the sort of case you must put forward.”

  Ross took the parchment from the plump hairy hands of the barrister and tried to concentrate above the clatter of the cells. After a minute or two he put it down.

  “There are limits even if one’s neck is at stake.”

  Clymer looked his client over, summing him up professionally, the long strong frame, the bony well-bred face, high-strung under its reticence, the scar and the hair and the blue-grey eyes. He shrugged. “If I could speak for you, that’s what I’d say.”

  “If you could speak for me, I might let you say it.”

  “Well, then, what’s the difference? Of course, it’s your own life to do with as you please, your own freedom—if that’s what you call it. Got a wife? Got a family? Don’t you think it’s worth making this concession for them? Mind, I make no promises with this line. But with yours you would as well do without me and save your guineas.”

  In another cell some men were brawling, and at the back of this one two thieves were dicing for a neckerchief another had left behind. Got a wife? Got a family? Don’t you think it’s worth making concessions? Would it really be for Demelza’s sake or for his own? The thought of captivity was stifling to one of his restless nature. In these few days he had seen enough. Was he justified in changing his defence at the last moment in an attempt to save his own skin?

  He said shortly: “Have you the list of witnesses for the Crown?”

/>   Clymer handed him another sheet and wafted a handkerchief before his nose while Ross read it.

  Vigus, Clemmow, Anderson, Oliver, Fiddick…“No one can say the law has been slipshod in making up its case.”

  “It never is, once it’s got a case. Persevering—that’s what you’d call it. Where a couple of hundred people are involved in a crime it usually fastens on one or two men—the most likely, perhaps the most culpable, though not always—it fastens on one or two and tries to force the others to turn King’s evidence. Makes one or two the scapegoats, as it were. You’re the scapegoat, Captain. Unfortunate. These men your friends?”

  “Some of them.”

  “Doesn’t follow, of course. Friend will turn nastier than an enemy to save his own skin. Bad thing about human nature—got a yellow streak. Came from Cain. Never know when it’s going to show. We’ve all got it somewhere and fear brings it out.”

  “I suppose,” Ross said, hardly listening, “these men have no choice but to appear if the law subpoenas them…Paynter! I didn’t expect him.”

  “Who’s that? Something fresh?”

  “A man who was my servant for years.”

  “Was he in this?”

  “Oh yes. I woke him first and sent him to rouse Sawle.”

  “Sawle a man?”

  “No, a village.”

  Mr. Clymer wafted vigorously. “Terrible smell in here, terrible smell. Was this Paynter on the beach when the excise men turned up?”

  “On the beach but too drunk to know anything.”