The Twisted Sword: A Novel of Cornwall 1815

by Winston Graham

  ‘In case you suppose there is an admiralty interest,’ said Liverpool, putting an end to speculation, ‘that is not so. But Robert Melville has been assisting me in various ways to do with the situation in France and as an old friend I have called him in to meet you and to hear what we have to say together. This is not, as no doubt you will guess, a Cabinet matter; I am sending you as a personal envoy; but if there should come some situation when you wished to report to me and I was not available, Lord Melville will be able to act as my deputy.’

  ‘I should be happier, my lord,’ said Ross, ‘if I were more sure of the sort of situation you would wish me to report.’

  Liverpool pulled the bell. ‘You’ll take a glass of brandy to keep out the cold?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have you snow in Cornwall?’ asked Lord Melville.

  ‘No, just rain – rather a deal of it.’

  ‘Must be a long and wearying journey. Three days?’

  ‘All of that. But it was in my mind to return to London shortly anyhow. The Commons have reassembled, haven’t they?’

  ‘Last Thursday,’ said Liverpool. ‘Not everybody is as assiduous as you are, Poldark.’

  ‘I often am not,’ said Ross, ‘but I learned there was a Corn Bill in the drafting and I wished to oppose it.’

  There was a pause as the servant came in, carrying a tray which he set on a side-table. Ross occupied a few moments admiring the Gobelin tapestries for which this house, and the owner, were celebrated.

  Lord Liverpool said: ‘No doubt we could discuss the proposed Corn Bill at length sometime. Perhaps this is not the time. I know, of course, that your political sympathies lie in favour of reform … Did you know, by the way, that Canning had reached Lisbon safely?’

  ‘Yes, I heard from him two weeks ago. When he wrote he was confined to his bed with gout and had not yet presented his credentials.’ Ross eased his aching ankle. ‘As for reform, my lord, this, as you say, is perhaps not the time to discuss it, but I have to confess I am disappointed and depressed that since the declaration of peace there has been no improvement in conditions in England.’

  Melville said: ‘We are proceeding, but slowly.’

  ‘Quite a number of us who supported this administration,’ said Ross, ‘felt, as I did, that reform in any important degree must wait until the defeat of Bonaparte. It was Wyndham, wasn’t it, who said: “Who would repair his house in a typhoon?” And Pitt, of course, stopped his reforms because of the war. But now … but now surely they should be resumed. The labourer, whether in the field or in the factory, should be able to live a decent, honest life. Instead one sees starvation in the midst of plenty.’

  They sipped their brandy. Ross was aware that his comments were not going down well.

  ‘Believe me,’ said Liverpool drily, ‘I am not unaware of conditions in the country, and, if later in the session you feel you wish to make your contribution to the House, it might be possible for you to come home for a spell. You can be kept informed. Certainly no Corn Bill will be presented until late March, though I am sure it will figure largely in debate up and down the country. In the meantime, as far as foreign affairs are to be measured, we face another problem.’

  ‘Which means my going to Paris in some haste?’

  The Earl of Liverpool blinked his weak eye. ‘Not haste. But I think I need you there now.’

  ‘May I ask why, my lord?’

  ‘As I believe I mentioned when we last met, there has recently – that is over the last ten months – returned to France upwards of a hundred and fifty thousand prisoners of war, coming from their camps in Russia, Prussia and England, many of them retaining the most unamiable memories of their captors and eager for any opportunity for revenge. At the same time the arrival of so many aristocratic émigrés has resulted in the enervation, the watering down, of Bonaparte’s splendid army by the reinstatement of young men and old men to positions of command which they could never justify except in terms of birth and privilege. All this leads to resentment and unrest.’

  Ross inclined his head. ‘Yes indeed.’

  ‘What I did not tell you,’ said Lord Liverpool, ‘is that last October I sent my brother, Colonel Jenkinson, on a mission which might be considered similar to yours, and he attached himself to the 2nd Infantry Corps under Lieutenant-General Count Reille at Valenciennes. His despatches have reported a disturbing degree of disaffection in the French army.’

  ‘Does he describe the disaffection?’

  ‘The army is riddled with secret societies, he says. Many of them are Bonapartist and aim to overthrow Louis – not necessarily to restore Napoleon but to put his son on the throne. Others want the Duc d’Orléans. Many of the higher officers are royalist, he says, but the rank and file cannot abide Louis and what they regard as his corrupt court.’

  ‘In what way do you believe I can be of use?’

  ‘My brother’s reports are gloomy in the extreme, and differ noticeably from those of our new minister, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, who speaks more favourably of feeling about the Bourbons. Somerset of course is very young, and, while a brave soldier, may not be versed in the world of foreign secretaries and diplomacy.’

  ‘Nor am I,’ said Ross.

  ‘Once Bonaparte went,’ said Liverpool, ‘we did, I think, everything possible to bring France back into the comity of nations. One of the most important aims of our foreign policy is to see France stable and strong. Without her, the balance is weighted heavily in favour of the Russians and the Prussians, and at Vienna Talleyrand is negotiating on her behalf to achieve an honourable settlement of the outstanding problems such as the independence of Belgium, and France’s frontier on the Rhine. If, while the Congress is in progress, France should collapse into anarchy or civil war it would be a major setback, not merely for him and for our policy but for the future peace of Europe.’

  Ross was helped to a second brandy. Melville smiled at him. ‘No longer run, Poldark,’ he said, holding his own glass towards the light; ‘properly imported from Armagnac and all duties paid.’

  Ross said: ‘I believe you think all Cornishmen are smugglers at heart.’

  ‘Are they not? I was only ever once down there myself and they gave me the impression of a society that admires – unorthodoxy.’

  ‘Is that why you send for me to embark on this – this unorthodox mission?’

  ‘I sent for you,’ said Lord Liverpool, ‘because of your record of service to the Crown – especially perhaps your last mission to Portugal when you were able to serve your country in more ways than one.’

  Ross sipped his duty-paid Armagnac. It looked as if Canning had been talking.

  ‘Do you wish me’, he said, ‘to link up with your brother, my lord?’

  ‘No. I have sent him south, to sound the feeling in Marseilles and possibly then to go on to Bordeaux. Almost certainly sentiment is more favourable to the King there than in Paris. But I need a second opinion and I need one on a different level. I want someone less obviously related to me and therefore less official. Someone of rank who is on holiday in Paris and can mix with officers in a casual way. The fact that you do not speak French fluently should be an asset. And that you are there with your family will disarm suspicion.’

  ‘It’s a wide brief,’ said Ross.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘And an uneasy one.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘You will remember, my lord, that General Wellington did not appreciate my presence at Bussaco, saying he felt I had been sent as an observer by certain members of the Cabinet who were unfavourably disposed towards him.’

  ‘I remember it, but you proved the opposite.’

  ‘Nevertheless he has never regarded me with the greatest favour. I should very much regret it if Fitzroy Somerset should feel I was being sent out as an observer of his conduct of affairs!’

  Lord Melville stretched his legs towards the fire. He was beginning to put on weight. ‘Robert tells me you’re a friend of Fit
zroy Somerset’s.’

  ‘Friend would be too much. We have met three times. I think he has friendly feelings towards me – as I have for him.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think … I hope I’m right in saying this – I don’t think you are being in any way asked to report on the judgement of our minister. You are being asked to form your own judgement on the state of affairs in France. We have conflicting reports and we should like another opinion. That is all. Am I right, Robert?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the second Robert. ‘That is precisely what I want.’

  ‘In fact,’ said Melville, ‘you are being asked to take a holiday in Paris, like many another rich and titled Englishman at this time. Form your opinion and let us know. That is all. I would have thought it a beguiling prospect.’

  ‘It is,’ agreed Ross. ‘Before I go, my lord, could you provide me with some of the arguments in favour of a Corn Bill. I know – and feel – only those against it, and perhaps it is good to keep an open mind.’

  ‘Gladly,’ said Liverpool. ‘I can promise you a list of the contentions before you leave. Chiefly, perhaps, you should realize that if other countries did not protect their farming interests we should not attempt to do so either.’

  ‘It is not so much the owners of farms I am concerned for but the labourers, both in the fields and in the towns.’

  ‘Quite so. Quite so. There are of course many things to be said on both sides…’

  The clock outside chimed the half-hour, and was almost immediately joined by a smaller, silver one on the mantelpiece. His lordship clearly kept good time.

  Ross said: ‘When do you wish us to leave?’

  Liverpool blinked his eye again. ‘Tomorrow evening, I think. The Prince Regent is returning from Brighton in the morning, and I would like you to see him before you go.’

  Ross looked his surprise. ‘Is he a party to this mission?’

  There was silence. Melville again refilled Ross’s glass.

  ‘Not exactly a party to it,’ said Liverpool. ‘But I have asked him to confer a baronetcy on you. I consider it a necessary part of the enterprise.’

  IV

  ‘What!’ shouted Demelza. ‘What, Ross?’ Fortunately the children were out with Mrs Kemp, for they would have been startled at their mother’s tone. ‘You … They … They want you to … Oh, Ross. Oh, Ross.’ She gripped his arms and reached up and kissed him. ‘But you said no! You said you wouldn’t! In Nampara, that night in Nampara when you first told me about it. You said you had refused—’

  ‘I remember very well what I said!’ Ross answered in irritation. ‘What I said to you and what I said to him! Of course I refused then and of course I refused now! I want no title that I have not earned! He has some damned fool notion that it is of great importance that I shall take it. Melville was the same. They say, they argue, that a mere captain in a Paris which abounds in titles would rate too unimportant for their purpose. Melville had a list of the officers in the French army. Practically everyone is a count or a baron. Even those rating from Bonapartist days had some title to their name – those, that is to say, who had not been created dukes or princes! My God, if I had known this…’

  She kissed him on the side of the mouth. ‘You would have refused to come?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘But now?’

  He disengaged himself roughly from her clasp and went to the window, stared out at a street scene still mantled with light snow, at a woman selling oranges, at another with a wheelbarrow packed with cabbages. For a time he said nothing, but thought of a conversation he had had with Caroline Enys just after Christmas. Caroline had said: ‘They tell me you were offered a title.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And refused it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘May I know the reasons why?’

  Ross told her. Caroline had listened to him with that loving attention she reserved specially for him, with a glint of humour lurking somewhere in her eye.

  ‘My dear Ross, do you not think you may have been mistaken?’

  ‘If you think my reasons mistaken, then you may think the same of my decision.’

  ‘You live in an ideal world, Ross, and in an ideal world titles would be abolished. But we do not and they are not. And sometimes they are useful. This one, since it is hereditary, could in time to come be very useful to Jeremy, even if you did not want it for yourself.’

  ‘Let him make his own way. People should stand on their own feet.’

  ‘Of course. But shall you not, when you die, bequeath him and the other children the mines, the house, the farm? I do not suppose any money you leave will be distributed to the poor. In what, then, is it distasteful to leave a title behind?’

  He grunted. ‘You argue like a lawyer.’

  ‘No I don’t, because I argue out of love. And think how delighted Demelza would have been.’

  ‘Demelza? What rubbish! She would detest the idea! She has said so.’

  ‘No doubt she said so after she knew you had refused it. But she would adore it – perhaps not being called Lady Poldark, but at least that you should be Sir Ross! Ask any woman, anywhere. Any woman. I mean it. I assure you.’

  He had thought of that conversation this morning, in Lord Liverpool’s study, while hovering on the brink. If he had refused again, would it have meant the cancellation of his mission? He hardly thought so. They implied it, but were they bluffing? In the end he had chosen not to call their bluff.

  As he came back from the window he touched Demelza’s arm.

  ‘What I have said was not meant in irritation.’

  ‘What if it were?’ she said. ‘No matter. You have reason to be irritated, Ross.’

  ‘Not with you.’

  She pushed a curl out of her eye. ‘Why not with me? Yes, you should be irritated with me, for I see small harm in you having this little title. And sir is only a little title, isn’t it? Do we need to use it when we go back to Cornwall?’

  ‘I think you may have to,’ he said. ‘Lady Poldark.’

  She put her hands up to her face. ‘Judas God! Yes!’

  ‘Those are the first words I ever heard you utter. It must be thirty years ago, isn’t it?’

  ‘What words?’

  ‘Judas God. You were complaining that those drunken louts had cut a piece off Garrick’s tail!’

  ‘My dear life, and they had! Ross…’ She stopped.

  ‘Yes, my dear?’

  ‘I have come a long way.’

  ‘We have both come a long way. When I met you I was an inebriate, half bankrupt squireen. You didn’t know what a catch you were making!’

  ‘I didn’t know I was making any catch,’ said Demelza.

  Ross rubbed his nose. ‘I didn’t know what sort of a catch I was making either. Dear Heaven, that was the luckiest day of my life.’

  There was silence again while he watched the cabbage girl. When he turned from the window again he was surprised to see his wife standing there with tears running down her cheeks.

  ‘Demelza, what is it?’

  ‘You don’t often pay me compliments, Ross.’

  ‘Good God, of course I do! I do it all the time, but you forget!’

  ‘I don’t forget! Perhaps it’s not that sort?’

  With a sudden tenderness overlaying his frustration and vexation he put his arms around her, fished a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped the tears away.

  ‘It’s all Canning’s damned doing,’ he said. ‘He and Liverpool were at Oxford together and have been thick ever since. When he left to take up the Lisbon appointment George made some sort of a bargain with Liverpool that his supporters in the House of Commons should be rewarded for their loyalty to him. Liverpool told me as much in November! Boringdon was made an earl, Huskisson became Commissioner of Woods and Forests, Leveson-Gower was made a viscount. And they’ve hung this upon me!’

  ‘Does – does it m-matter?’ said Demelza.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ he said, as the tears kept falling.
‘This will never do. What if the children return?’

  ‘They won’t be home yet,’ she said. ‘They’ve gone to the Tower.’

  ‘How long will they be?’

  ‘Oh, another hour, I should think.’

  ‘Let me have you.’

  She stared at him through big but watery eyes. ‘What can you mean?’

  ‘What d’you think? I like you when you’re crying.’

  ‘Dear love, it isn’t done, it isn’t proper, it isn’t decent. In the middle of the day! When we have all night!’

  ‘You sound like Jud.’

  ‘Now don’t make me laugh.’ She tried not to hiccup.

  ‘Stopped crying now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tears of sorrow, no doubt.’

  ‘I know what it is,’ she said; ‘now you’ve got this title it has gone to your head and you think to tousle a serving wench. But there’s none handy, so you reckon your wife will do.’

  ‘Just so,’ said Ross. ‘Just so.’

  ‘In fact,’ she said, ‘I don’t care a button for your title. But I still care a little for you.’

  ‘Tell me upstairs,’ Ross said.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘so it’s going to be upstairs, is it?’

  Chapter Five

  I

  They travelled to Dover on the Sunday afternoon and caught the 10 a.m. packet for Calais. The sea was choppy, the winds contrary and the crossing took six hours. Demelza felt sick, Bella and Mrs Kemp were sick, but the newly created baronet and his younger son suffered no ill.

  The Prince Regent had said: ‘So, Captain Poldark, it is about five years, isn’t it?’

  ‘Five exactly, sir, to the month.’

  ‘When you sought to instruct me on the excellence of my military commander in Portugal, and my duties to England.’

  ‘I only answered your questions, sir.’

  ‘That was not the way I remember it. Not the way I remember it at all. Anyway, whether you instructed me or not, you will have observed that England and her Regent Prince kept faith with her mission to deliver Europe from the tyrant!’