Warleggan

by Winston Graham

  ‘I understand you escaped somewhat earlier and somewhat better than the others.’

  The candles were between them, but she saw his sharply raised eyes. ‘Who told you that?’

  She laughed. ‘Unwin. He said once that you and Sir John made a deal with the Warleggans and left the ship to sink. That was his phrase.’

  ‘The ship – as you term it – was already on the rocks when we came to an arrangement with the Warleggans. We did so only to preserve capital investments we had made, he in his furnaces, I in the battery mill. No one lost a penny more because of our action. Unwin knew nothing of the situation at first hand.’

  She held a piece of meat under the pug’s nose, but he only sniffed at it and turned away. ‘Is the horrid beef not to your liking, my pet? Very well, you shan’t be pressed. Thomas, bring me the sweet biscuits – you know the ones Horace adores.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘But you shall have to go back in your basket for those, my sweet, or you would crumble them all over my frock. There, is that to your liking? . . . I hear Ross Poldark is on the verge of insolvency now.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Her uncle had not appreciated her comments, and his reply was short.

  ‘He has some debts outstanding from that time, and the Warleggans have got hold of them and are pressing him hard.’

  ‘You are well informed.’

  Thomas came back with the biscuits, and she thanked him with a smile. For a minute or two she devoted her whole attention to Horace. ‘Not so very well informed, Uncle, for I cannot ask him to his face and I do not know the Warleggans well enough to ask them. But it seems a pity that so big a man should be squeezed out for so small a sum, don’t you think? If he went out at all, he should go in the grand manner – to suit his looks and his style.’

  Mr Penvenen said: ‘I imagine Dr Enys could enlighten you on any further details you wished to know.’

  Horace snuffled over his biscuit in the sudden silence. Caroline said: ‘I believe I shall go into Truro tomorrow morning. It is a poor place to shop, but I need some shoes made. In Oxford shoe buckles are quite out of fashion and I myself prefer the string. And do you know there is quite a craze for feathers in the hair. I don’t personally favour them, I feel too much like yesterday’s fowl.’

  ‘I think,’ said Ray Penvenen, ‘that although you are now your own mistress, Caroline, you should not allow a natural pleasure in your freedom to obscure the observances of good society in which it has been my privilege and your Uncle William’s to enlighten you since your parents died. Although we may seem to be in a rough and isolated part of the country here, it would be a mistake to think that the conventions do not obtain. For instance, to ride far and unattended in the company of a young man of eligible years is to invite comment of an unsavoury nature, whether one is in Cornwall or in Oxfordshire. No doubt this is quite innocently intended, but it can have far-reaching consequences and is neither quite fair to me, who may seem to be countenancing it, nor to the young man, who may derive encouragement from it and ambitions beyond his proper sphere.’

  Soft-footed, the manservant closed the door and went out. After a second or so a breath of air imperceptible to the skin reached the candles and their flames trembled like fronds in a still pool.

  Caroline said: ‘I’d always thought – I’ve always believed – that a mark of true quality and rank is to behave according to one’s personal lights and to pay no attention beyond that to the mesh of artificial conventions with which would-be people of quality surround themselves.’

  ‘That is true to a point But a person of quality only acts in such a way so far as his behaviour affects himself. When it affects other people, he is no longer a free agent.’

  ‘It was what I was going to say. There are only two people concerned in this beside myself, and that is you and Dr Enys. Your concern is that you might be thought to be approving of my behaviour. Is that it? Well, if I am too much on your conscience, should I not be better advised to leave this house and live elsewhere?’

  ‘Possibly,’ he agreed quietly, ‘if it were not for the affection that we hold for each other.’

  She frowned a moment, looking angry and troubled. Then she covered her feelings by turning to Horace. ‘Another biscuit, my love? Uncle Ray is becoming cross with me. There will, I fear, shortly be angry words on both sides. And possibly a scene. And things would be said which we should both later somewhat regret. That is a pity, don’t you think? Do you not suppose we should better change the subject?’

  Horace made a gruff noise in his throat and contrived to lick her fingers and his own nose at the same time. Ray stared across at his pretty niece in perplexity, partly disarmed but not at all less suspicious. There was a genuine bond between them, and he often blamed himself for weakness in his treatment of her. But he did not know how to continue the attack without provoking the scene she forecast. He did not suppose that what he had said would make any difference to her early-morning rides, but he knew that insistence at this stage might well lead to her carrying out her threat – to the grief and detriment of them both. And such a move would completely defeat his object by taking her right outside his influence. He wondered if he was approaching this problem from the wrong quarter and through the wrong person.

  Supper ended in peace. Later, when he was in his study, he summoned his servant and asked if he could find out what arrangements Miss Caroline had made for visiting Truro in the morning. The man came back to say she had ordered her carriage for nine-thirty. Mr Penvenen bit the end of his quill for a few seconds and then wrote a short note.

  Dear Dr Enys,

  If you are free, I should be obliged if you could call on me tomorrow morning between ten-thirty and eleven. It is some time since you made a routine medical call.

  Yours etc.,

  R. R. E. Penvenen

  About five minutes to eleven Dwight turned his horse in at the gates of Killewarren, not without a quickening of anticipation at the prospect of seeing Caroline again without the necessity of contrivance. But no Caroline was about when he went in, and he was silently shown upstairs into the big untidy drawing-room with its antlers and its sporting pictures where he had first met Ray Penvenen.

  Mr Penvenen was there to meet him again, or rather was standing with his back to him, staring out at the grey day. His coat as usual was sizes too big for him, and the warts were noticeable on his clasped hands. After a studied pause he turned.

  ‘Ah, Dr Enys, you had my letter?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dwight, knowing now and blaming himself for not having known before. ‘I hope I’ve not kept you waiting.’

  ‘There’s time enough. My niece happens to be in Truro, and I thought this would be an opportunity to discuss matters with you.’

  ‘Medical matters?’

  ‘No. I must apologize if my note gave you that impression.’

  ‘Well, yes, it did.’

  Ray Penvenen picked up his spectacles from the desk but did not put them on. His lashless eyes were lowered. ‘Perhaps you would care to sit down.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Somewhere near at hand Horace was yapping monotonously. ‘I imagine you have some idea why I have sent for you.’

  ‘I don’t think it is for me to speculate, Mr Penvenen.’

  ‘I could have wished you showed a similar delicacy in all your dealings, Dr Enys.’

  ‘I’m sorry you should think I have not.’

  ‘Yes . . . well, yes . . . I think you have not – though I should be happy to learn that you have been offending thoughtlessly and without a full appreciation of what is involved. I refer, of course, to your growing friendship with my niece.’

  ‘I wonder in what way you consider that offensive?’

  Penvenen glanced dryly at the young man.

  ‘Come, Dr Enys. You can’t be so unaware of the ways of the world. For more than a month, if not longer, you have been paying attentions to my niece. You must know that your first duty was to approach
me and ask my permission. The fact that you have not done so shows that you suspect such permission would not be forthcoming. Isn’t that so?’

  Dwight bit his lip, angry with himself as well as with the man in front of him.

  ‘All you say is true.’

  ‘Ah . . . Well, then, what explanation have you to offer?’

  ‘None at all. Except that none of it has been so deliberate as you suppose. One’s feelings grow unsolicited and unencouraged. There has been no one point when I have said to myself . . . But I now have such feelings for your niece; I won’t attempt to deny that.’

  ‘You have not considered how her ill-advised meetings with you reflect on her reputation?’

  ‘No, I have not: I don’t suppose—’

  ‘There’s no need for us to quarrel, Dr Enys.’ Penvenen folded his hands under his coattails and smiled. ‘Caroline is a forceful young woman, a thoroughly delightful person but as mettlesome as an unbroken colt. She has never been sufficiently curbed – it would be an ungenerous task, but perhaps I and my brother are to blame for not attempting it. We try to humour her so far as we can. It is nothing uncommon for her to take violent likes and dislikes to people – often she drops them as quickly as she has taken them up. It may be so in your case; it probably will; but even then I should be opposed to these quasi-secret meetings. As for a serious attachment, to a young man in your position . . . Apart from consideration of money and blood—’

  ‘I don’t think blood need enter into it.’

  ‘But I do, my dear sir. There was a Penvenen at Prince Rupert’s side at Marston Moor. And we have lived in this district for ninety years—’

  ‘An Enys fitted out and manned a ship to fight the Armada. Ninety years ago one of my ancestors was High Sheriff of Cornwall.’

  Mr Penvenen cleared his throat. His careful geniality was not quite proof against this reply. ‘And as to money?’

  ‘I admit the obstacle.’

  ‘Caroline is an heiress, Dr Enys. She is my heir and my brother’s heir, so she will be – to say the least – rich in her time. She is far too important a person to become entangled with a penniless country doctor. I’m glad you realize it.’

  Dwight had controlled his quick temper so far, but everything Mr Penvenen said made things worse. The fact that he was using arguments Dwight had used against himself added to the insult.

  ‘Ultimately, isn’t it for Caroline to decide her own life?’

  Ray Penvenen took one of his hands out and grasped the velvet lapel of his coat. ‘That is where you are in error. Caroline must marry with our consent or she will not inherit any money from us.’

  ‘That again must be for Caroline to choose.’

  ‘And how do you think she will choose when I put the choice before her? She had been brought up in the greatest luxury. Nothing for her comfort has ever been spared. D’you suppose she’ll sacrifice all that for what you have to offer? Are you justified in expecting it?’

  Dwight stared angrily across the room. The desk was open, with a litter of papers on it. Above the desk was a small water colour of a red-haired child.

  ‘It may be, of course,’ said Penvenen, ‘that you think my niece has a large private fortune of her own. Let me—’

  ‘I neither know nor care what money she has.’

  ‘Very creditable of you. But hardly practical. Caroline has about six thousand pounds of her own. That is all you could expect to get if you married her Dr Enys.’

  Dwight said: ‘Up to now, Mr Penvenen, I’ve suffered your comments with a due degree of civility. I owed it to you as Caroline’s uncle and guardian. But there are limits to what a man may stand. God knows I’ve never given you reason to imagine me a fortune hunter, and I should have thought that such knowledge as you have of me might have inclined you to a less offensive view. If you suppose that no man who has not an eye on her money can fall in love with your niece, you greatly underrate her charm and insult her as much as you do me—’

  ‘Now there is no need—’

  ‘When I came here today, I was as distracted – I suppose – as any man ever has been, over this matter of Caroline’s money. For months I’ve faced an insoluble problem. At least today you’ve given me a slender hope for the solution of it.’

  The whiter Mr Penvenen’s face became, the pinker grew the rims of his eyes. ‘You are going a little far, Dr Enys. I suppose you realize that this will mean the end of our professional relationship—’

  ‘You’ve shown me a way out,’ said Dwight, pacing across the room, ‘by telling me that Caroline’s fortune isn’t as great as I thought. One of substance, I admit, but not an insuperable bar. It would be possible for a penniless doctor to marry such a fortune without being eclipsed by it. It would be possible with such a fortune for a wife to maintain herself and yet not entirely dominate the purse strings. Thank you, sir, for that!’

  ‘You will leave this house,’ said Ray Penvenen, ‘and not come here again. You will have no further communication with my niece. I forbid it and shall take steps to enforce it. Good day to you.’

  Dwight stopped in his pacing opposite the little cold man. ‘Caroline is of age, Mr Penvenen. Your control can only be exercised within the limits of your property. But perhaps you yourself have pointed the solution to our difficulties.’

  ‘I have nothing further to say to you, Dr Enys!’

  ‘I have this to say to you, sir, in all deference. Just now you asked me if I thought Caroline would give up all you had to offer for what little I have to offer. That’s the crux, isn’t it? Well, we must leave it to her to decide!’

  ‘I see I have been gravely mistaken in your character, Dr Enys. I very much regret ever having invited you here.’

  ‘Many times in the last months I have very much regretted having come. But at least we understand each other now.’

  ‘We understand each other,’ said Ray Penvenen, as Dwight went out.

  Harris Pascoe was not busy when Miss Penvenen was announced; but he had the appearance of industry, being occupied at his favourite pastime of juggling with figures. He was not a man of strong passions, and things like credit and debit balances offered to him the cold white peaks of aesthetic pleasure. When Caroline was shown in, he reluctantly closed the last book and stood up.

  ‘Miss Penvenen. I haven’t had the p-pleasure. I know your father, of course.’

  ‘My uncle. Yes, it’s on account of his speaking of you that I’ve come to you today. Not of course that he knows I’m here . . .’

  Harris Pascoe rubbed the soft part of his pen along the line of his cheek. Although he found his dearest pleasure in mathematics, he was not insensible to figures of another sort, and he acknowledged to himself that this young woman was worth looking at.

  ‘And can I help you?’

  Caroline took off her long green gauntlet gloves, flipping them against her knee. ‘It’s a peculiar mission I’m on, Mr Pascoe; at least you may think so, and I shouldn’t quarrel with you for having that opinion. I want to know if you can help me to help a friend of mine who is in trouble. There, it sounds rather mysterious, doesn’t it? And not quite respectable. Would you like me to explain?’

  There was a suggestion of mischief in her eyes, so Harris Pascoe was at his most stolid. ‘If you please.’

  ‘I have money, Mr Pascoe, and am seeking an investment. I understand that Captain Poldark has a bill out which will shortly come due for redemption. Do I use the right professional words? I understand that the present possessor of the bill is not willing to renew it. I should like to buy that bill. Could you arrange the purchase for me?’

  The banker pulled his snuffbox towards him, opened it, and stayed for a moment with finger and thumb poised over the box. Then he closed it unused.

  ‘You are looking for an investment, Miss Penvenen?’

  She nodded brightly. ‘From what I hear it should be a good one. The rate of interest is exceedingly high. Of course if you prefer to call the transaction by some other name,
I shall not quibble.’

  ‘Forgive me, you have c-control of your money?’

  ‘Since I was twenty-one.’

  ‘What does your uncle – but you say he does not know of this visit. Does Captain Poldark?’

  Caroline smiled. ‘Do you suppose he would let me interfere in his affairs?’

  ‘No . . .’ Pascoe got up and dusted some loose snuff from his waistcoat. ‘You are putting me in rather a d-difficulty, Miss Penvenen. Captain Poldark is a client of mine and also a personal friend. It is not my custom to discuss a client’s affairs with any third person; but I’ll not disguise from you what I think you already well know – that a renewal of this bill would be a matter of the utmost importance t-to him. But also – but also your uncle is a valued client of mine, and I should be doing less than my duty to him if I allowed you to make this rash purchase – even supposing it can be made – without warning you that you could hardly make a more risky investment. Indeed, I don’t feel I could proceed as you suggest without consulting your uncle in the matter first.’

  Caroline looked down and gently stretched the fingers of her gloves. ‘I am an independent person, Mr Pascoe. If you consult my uncle, you’ll be disclosing a private conversation to a third party. I thought you never did that. And if you refuse to make this investment for me, I shall have to go elsewhere.’

  Harris Pascoe perceived that his visitor was not to be trifled with.

  ‘You’re aware that it’s not a good risk?’

  ‘I’m aware that most people would not think it a good risk. But we all have our own opinions.’

  Pascoe went to the window and stared down into the street. Absently he took note of the smart private coach waiting outside, the man in green livery on the box, the gaping urchins, the citizens too who had stopped to stare. If the girl had plenty of money, why should he exert himself to dissuade her? There’d be difficulties enough . . .

  ‘There are difficulties in your suggestion which would be not at all of my making, Miss Penvenen. For one thing, I do not think the present owner of the bill would be willing to s-sell it.’