Thoughtfully Ross walked back to Nampara. He found John Gimlett cleaning the windows of the library, for which Mrs. Gimlett had been making needlework curtains. The industry of the Gimletts, contrasting with sloth of the Paynters, always surprised him. The garden prospered. Demelza had bought some hollyhock seeds the previous year, and in the windless summer they had colored the walls of the house with their stately purples and crimsons. Julia lay in her cot in the shade of the trees and, seeing her awake, he walked across and picked her up. She crowed and laughed and clutched at his hair.
Demelza had been gardening, and Ross ran with Julia on his shoulder to meet her. She was in her white muslin dress and it gave him a queer twist of pleasure to see that she was wearing gloves. Gradually, without pretentiousness or haste, she was moving toward little refinements of habit.
She had matured that summer. The essential impish vitality of her would never alter, but it was more under her control. She had also grown to accept the startling fact that men found her worth pursuing.
Julia crowed with joy and Demelza took her from him.
“There is another tooth, Ross. See here. Put your finger just here. Is your finger clean? Yes, it will do. Now.”
“Yes, indeed. She’ll soon be able to bite like Garrick.”
“Is there news of Mark?”
In an undertone Ross told her.
Demelza glanced at Gimlett. “Will it not be a great risk?”
“Not if it is done quick. I fancy Paul knows more than he has told me, and that Mark will come tonight.”
“I am afraid for you. I should be afraid to tell anyone.”
“I only hope Dwight will keep indoors until he is safe away.”
“Oh, there is a letter for you from Elizabeth,” Demelza said, as if she had just remembered.
She felt in her apron pocket and brought out the letter. Ross broke the seal.
Dear Ross,
As you may know Verity left us last night for Captain Blamey. She left while we were at Evensong and has gone with him to Falmouth. They are to be married today.
Elizabeth
Ross said, “Well, so she has done it at last! I greatly feared she might.”
Demelza read the letter.
“Why should they not be happy together? It is what I have always said, it is better to take a risk than mope away all your life in dull comfort and secureness.”
“Why ‘As you may know’? Why should she think I would know?”
“Perhaps it is already about.”
Ross pushed back the hair Julia had ruffled. It was an action that made him suddenly boyish. Yet his expression was not so.
“I do not fancy her life with Blamey. Yet you may be right in thinking she’ll be happy with him. I pray she will.” He released his other hand from Julia’s clinging grasp. “It never rains but it pours. This means I must go to Trenwith and see them. The letter is abrupt in tone. I expect they are upset.”
So it has all come, Demelza thought, and Verity by now is married to him, and I too pray they will be happy together, for if they are not I shall not be easy in my bed.
“It is less than an hour to sunset,” Ross said. “I shall have to make haste.” He looked at her. “I suppose you would not go and see them in my place?”
“Elizabeth and Francis? Judas, no! Oh, no, Ross. I would do a lot for you, but not that.”
“I don’t see that you need feel such alarm. But of course I must go. I wonder what at last brought Verity to the plunge—after all these years. I think also she might have left some letter for me.”
When Ross had gone, Demelza set Julia on her feet and allowed her to walk about the garden on her leading strings. She toddled here and there, crowing with delight and trying hard to get at the flowers. In the meantime Gimlett finished the windows and picked up his pail and went in, and Demelza thought her thoughts and watched the sun go down. It was not the sort of sunset one would have expected to follow the day; the sky was streaked and watery and the light faded quickly.
As the dew began to fall she picked up the child and carried her in. Gimlett had already taken in the cot and Mrs. Gimlett was lighting the candles. The Paynters’ going had helped Demelza in her quest for ladyship.
She fed Julia on a bowl of bread and broth and saw her safely to sleep, and it was not till then that she realized Ross had been gone too long.
She went down the stairs and to the open front door. The fall of night had drawn a cloud across the sky, and a light cool wind moved among the trees. The weather was on the change. Over in the distance she caught the queer lapdog bark of a moorhen.
Then she saw Ross coming through the trees.
Darkie neighed when she saw her at the door. Ross jumped off and looped the reins over the lilac tree.
“Has anyone been?”
“No. You’ve been a long time.”
“I’ve seen Jenkins—also Will Nanfan, who always knows everything. Two other constables are to help Jenkins. Bring a candle, will you; I’d like to get those sails down at once.”
She went with him into the library.
“The wind is rising. He must go tonight if it’s at all possible. Tomorrow may be too late for another reason.”
“What’s that, Ross?”
“Sir Hugh is one of the magistrates concerned, and he’s pressing for calling in the military. Apparently she—Keren—apparently Sir Hugh had noticed her, seen her about, thought her attractive, you know what a lecherous old roue he is—”
“Yes, Ross…”
“So he’s taking a personal interest. Which is bad for Mark. He has another reason too.”
“How is that?”
“You remember at St. Ann’s last week when the revenue man was mishandled. The authorities have sent out a troop of dragoons today to St. Ann’s. They are to be stationed there for a time as a cautionary measure, and may make a search during their stay. Sir Hugh, as you know, is a friend of Mr. Trencrom and buys all his spirits there. It would not be unnatural to take attention from the smugglers for a day by asking help in a search for a murderer.”
“Shall I come down to the cave with you?”
“No, I shall not be more than half an hour.”
“And—Verity…?”
Ross paused at the door of the library with the mast on his shoulder.
“Oh… Verity is gone sure enough. And I have had a fantastic quarrel with Francis.”
“A quarrel?” She had sensed there was something else.
“In good measure. He taxed me with having arranged this elopement and even refused to believe me when I said not. I’ve never been so taken aback in my life. I gave him credit for some degree of—of intelligence.”
Demelza moved suddenly, as if trying to shift the cold feeling that had settled on her.
“But, my dear…why you?”
“Oh, they thought I had been using you as a go-between, picking up his letters somewhere and getting you to deliver them to Verity. I could have knocked him down. Anyway, we have broken for a long time. There will not be any easy patching up after what has been said.”
“Oh, Ross, I’m…that sorry… I…”
To hide his own discomfort he said lightly, “Now stay about somewhere while I’m gone. And tell Gimlett I’m back. It will occupy him to tend on Darkie.”
So in a few minutes more she was alone again. She had walked a little way along the stream with him and had watched his figure move into the dark. From that point she could hear the waves breaking in the cove.
Before she had been uneasy, a little nervy and anxious, for it was not pleasant to be helping a murderer to escape. But her unhappiness had become a different thing, solid and personal and settled firm, as if it would never move, for it touched the all-important matter of her relations with Ross. For a year she had worked untiringly for Verity’s happiness, worked open-eyed, knowing that what she was doing would be condemned by Ross and doubly condemned by Francis and Elizabeth. But she had never imagined that it would cause a break between Ross and his cousin. That was something outside all sensible counting. She was desperately troubled.
So deep was she that she did not notice the figure coming across the lawn toward the door. She had turned in and was closing the door when a voice spoke. She stepped back behind the door so that the lantern in the hall shone out.
“Dr. Enys!”
“I hadn’t thought to startle you, Mistress Poldark… Is your husband in?”
Having begun to thump, Demelza’s heart was not quieting yet. There was another kind of danger.
“Not at the moment.”
Her eyes took in his disheveled look, so changed from the neat, comely, black-coated young man of ordinary times. He might have been without sleep for a week. He stood there indecisive, conscious that he had not been asked in, knowing something guarded in her attitude but mistaking the causes.
“Do you imagine he’ll be long?”
“About half an hour.”
He part turned away as if leaving. But there he stopped. “Perhaps you’ll forgive me for intruding on you…?”
“Of course.”
She led the way into the parlor. There might be danger or there might not—she could not avoid it.
He stood there very stiffly. “Don’t let me interfere with anything you may be doing. I don’t at all wish to interrupt you.”
“No,” she said in a soft voice, “I was doing nothing.” She went across and drew the curtains, careful to leave no nicks. “As you’ll see we are late with supper, but Ross has been busy. Would you take a glass of port?”
“Thank you, I won’t. I…” As she turned from the window, he said impulsively, “You condemn me for my part in this morning’s tragedy?”
She colored a little. “How can I condemn anyone when I know such a small bit about it?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But I have been thinking—thinking all today and speaking to no one. Tonight I felt I must come out, go out somewhere. And this house was the only one…”
She said, “It might be dangerous to be out tonight.”
“I think highly of your opinion,” he said. “Yours and Ross’s. It was his confidence that brought me here; if I felt I had forfeited it, it would be better to cut and go.”
“I don’t think you’ve forfeited it. But I don’t think he will be pleased by you coming here tonight.”
“Why?”
“I should rather not explain that.”
“Do you mean you want me to go?”
“I b’lieve it would be better.” She picked up a plate from the table and set it in another place.
He looked at her. “I must have some assurance of your friendship—in spite of all. Alone in the Gatehouse this evening I have come near to—near to…” He did not finish.
She met his eyes.
“Stay then, Dwight,” she said. “Sit down and don’t bother ’bout me.”
He slumped in a chair, passed his hands across his face. While Demelza pottered about and went in and out of the room he talked in snatches, explaining, arguing. Two things were absent, self-pity and self-apology. He seemed to be trying to make out a case for Keren. It was as if he felt she was being harshly judged and could offer no defense. He must speak for Keren.
Then the third time she went from the room and came back he did not go on. She glanced at him and saw him sitting tense.
“What is it?”
“I thought I heard someone tapping at the window.”
Demelza’s heart stopped beating altogether, then she gulped it into motion again. “Oh, I know what that is. Don’t you get up. I will see for it myself.”
Before he could argue she went out into the hall, shutting the parlor door behind her. So it had come. As she had feared. Pray Ross would not be long. Just for the moment she had to handle the crisis alone.
She went to the hall door and peered out. The dim lantern light showed an empty lawn. Something moved by the lilac bush.
“Beg pardon, ma’am,” said Paul Daniel.
Her glance met his, strayed beyond him.
“Captain Ross has just gone down to the cove. Is…anyone with you?”
He hesitated. “You know about un?”
“I know.”
He gave a low whistle. A dim figure broke from the side of the house. Paul leaned behind Demelza and pulled the hall door half shut so that the light should not shine out.
Mark stood before them. His face was in the shadow, but she could see the caverns of his eyes.
“Cap’n Ross is down in the cove,” said Paul. “We’d best go down to ’im.”
Demelza said, “Sometimes Bob Baragwanath and Bob Nanfan go fishing there at high tide.”
“We’ll wait by yonder apple trees,” said Paul. “We’ll be well able to see ’im from thur.”
And well able to see anyone leave the house. “You’ll be safer indoors. You’ll—be safer in the library.”
She pushed open the door and moved into the hall, but they drew back and whispered together. Paul said, “Mark don’t want to tie you folk up wi’ this more’n he can. He’d better prefer to wait outside.”
“No, Mark. It don’t matter to us. Come in at once!”
Paul entered the hall and after him Mark, bending his head to get in the doorway. Demelza had just time to take in the blisters on his forehead, the stone gray of his face, the bandaged hand, before she opened the door of the bedroom that led to the library. Then as she picked up the lantern to go in there was a movement at the other side of the hall. Their eyes flickered across to Dwight Enys standing in the threshold of the parlor.