It was all heady fun. Or almost all fun. The persistence of Jean-Lambert Tallien, who absolutely refused to be put off by competition from younger and better-looking men and by Demelza's distaste for him, which in the interests of good relations she tried to disguise but which a less thick-skinned man would soon have perceived, led to the first unpleasant scene of their stay. No more tolerant of people he did not like than he had ever been, Ross pursued his chosen policy of listening to everyone and being superficially agreeable to everyone, so M Tallien was accepted with a degree of patient, cold courtesy that he may have mistaken for friendship. Or perhaps he thought nothing of Ross's feelings either way, being certain that no wife long married to one man could continue to care for him and that this ingenuous Englishwoman with such a pretty face and engaging manners could not fail to fall for him who had had so many agreeable conquests in the past. It came to a head when Ross returned from Compiegne, where he had been to spend a night at the Palace there as a guest of a M Vendome, a friend of the de la Blaches. When he returned Tallien had called at their flat and found Demelza alone except for the two servants, Mrs Kemp being out with IsabellaRose and little Henry. It was midday, and Ross was dusty and tired after an early start, his horse having just been taken round to the stables by a groom. M Tallien and Lady Poldark were sipping coffee, Lady Poldark very much on the edge of her chair and preparing to retreat from the Frenchman's advances.
'Ah, Sir Ross, is it not,' said Tallien, putting down his cup and rising. 'I have called to invite you both to a supper party I am giving, with the Duke of Otranto, at the house of a good friend - Mme de Brune - who will play the hostess on our behalf. There will be supper and a little gaming. A very fashionable evening.'
'Ah, M Tallien, is it not,' said Ross. 'I regret we shall not be able to accept your invitation.'
Tallien adjusted his eye-patch and smiled at Demelza.
'But you do not know the date yet! I am sure madame will enjoy the company in which she will find herself.'
'I am sure', said Ross, 'that madame is not enjoying the company in which she finds herself at present. Do I make myself clear?'
'In what way is he clear?' The Frenchman still addressed Demelza. 'We were very happy, were we not, in simple conversation. Tell your husband, pray, that he is mistaken.'
Ross did not wait for Demelza to reply. 'All I can say, sir, is that I am not happy to see you here. Nor is my wife. Nor shall we expect any sort of meeting with you again.'
Tallien bent and finished the rest of his coffee. 'We do not take kindly to insults in this country, monsieur. Unfortunately I am somewhat handicapped in the matter of demanding satisfaction, since the absence of an eye puts one at a disadvantage. Perhaps you had counted on that before offering me such offence.'
'If you wish me to,' said Ross, 'I will meet you with a patch over one of my own eyes so that the contest can be fair. It would give me the greatest pleasure and satisfaction to rid the world of such scum as you.'
There was a change of colour in Tallien's face as he bent over Demelza's hand.
'I will take my leave of you, madame. It grieves me that you should be afflicted with such a husband.'
Ross took him by the collar. A coffee cup rolled and smashed.
'Get out,' he said. Tallien struck at the hand as Ross thrust him towards the door.
"You shall hear more of this!'
'Get out!' said Ross. 'Before I kill you now!'
II
Bella said: 'Where were you yesterday?'
'Oh ... out with some friends.'
'Drinking and wenching, I suppose.'
Havergal laughed. 'My beautiful girl, it is not proper for such words to pass your lips!'
'I have lived on a farm,' said Bella. 'I am not ignorant of life.'
'And you would rate me among your farm animals? Shame on you! Do you not admit that I am a human being with all the feelings of sentiment and attraction that a young man can feel? It is not animal, I assure you.'
'What is it, then?'
'Avuncular.'
They both burst out laughing, as Mrs Kemp came back holding the reluctant hand of Harry, who had been toddling off.
They were in the Boulevard du Temple where Punch and Judy shows were daily performed and run by a man called M Guignol. Mrs Kemp was a great one for taking the children for walks - or, in the case of Henry, partly rides - 'for the good of their health'; and after a week, during which she had gradually become reassured that there was no particular hazard in the Paris streets in daylight, she had gone farther and farther, keeping chiefly to the wide, treelined boulevards of Madeleine, Italiens and Poissonniere. They had made a longer than usual trip this time to du Temple because she thought this would prove good entertainment for both children. By some mysterious means of his own, Lieutenant Havergal had discovered them. He could of course have been mischievously following them from a distance.
'Why, Lieutenant Havergal!' said Mrs Kemp, more than half disapproving. 'How strange you should meet us here!'
'Isn't it?' said Christopher, uncovering to her with elegance and a slight bow. 'It is a popular place, and I ventured a guess that just possibly you might come this way. So this way I came, and on the way ventured to buy you a posy."
'For me?' said Mrs Kemp, staring at the violets with suspicion. 'Well, you know, I didn't ought to accept that sort of thing. A kindly thought, no doubt, but--'
'And kindly accepted,' said Christopher, handing the posy to her.
'Judy,' said Henry. 'Judy. Kempie, where's Judy?'
'In a moment. Any moment now,' said Havergal. 'See I have kept you a seat next to me, Henry. Up you get. There! And while we are waiting I have bought you a toffee-apple. How's that?'
'Kyoll,' said Henry, grasping the stick firmly and beginning to lick at the toffee.
'And for Miss Poldark,' said Christopher, handing her a packet, 'a little box of sweetmeats, specially chosen for a songbird.'
'Oh, thank you, Christopher. I do call that very genteel of you.'
Sitting in this formation with Henry between them and Mrs Kemp, they were able to mutter asides to each other which she could not hear. Havergal had soon noticed that she was a little deaf and took advantage of it. He had even worked out which was the deaf ear. Presently a man dressed as Punch came out onto the little stage and addressed the audience in harsh nasal French. It was a monologue which went on and on.
'Can you follow this?' Christopher asked.
'Not at all.'
'He reminds me of my riding instructor back in England. You could not understand a word he said and he was talking English.'
Bella giggled.
'Do you hunt, Bella?'
'Very little. My parents do not hunt at all but I have an aunt - a sort of aunt - who sometimes takes me.'
'Foxes?'
'What else?'
'Oh, I hunt everything. Rabbits, stoats, wild boars, geese, ducks, fieldmice, moles, voles, anything that hides in holes
'I have never met so comical a person as you.'
'... I even hunt men sometimes. And little girls ..."
'I'm not a little girl!'
'As you say, I am being comical. And I would never hunt you, Bella. You are only to be wooed.'
'With sweetmeats?'
'Yes indeed. But notice I give the posy to Mrs Kemp. Did you not know it is really Mrs Kemp I come to see?'
She giggled again and they chewed contentedly together as the Frenchman at last finished his introduction and the performance began. Unfortunately they had to leave - much to Henry's disgust - well before it was over, as Mrs Kemp, not without reason, judged the show to be obscene.
Ill
Demelza said: 'I am still upset for you. Even if he does not challenge you himself he can so easy get one of his officer friends to pick a quarrel with you. One hears of duels all the time.'
Ross shrugged. 'It could happen. I will be scrupulously polite to everyone.'
'I shall believe that when I see it!'
They were lying in bed together. She had herself been offended at Ross's brusqueness. Demelza said: 'It is the 1st of March, isn't it. In three weeks Dwight and Caroline will be here. I wish they would hurry.'
"You think they might look after us?'
'Not so. But they are such old friends. You can talk to them in a way, in such a way.'
'By the time they come a lot may be clearer.'
'A lot of what?'
He did not reply, wondering why he had not told Demelza the rest. After a while she said: 'Mrs Kemp tells me Lieutenant Havergal was with them again this afternoon. He is such a nice young man and such jolly company
'I'll have to warn him off.'
Demelza turned on to her side where she could see Ross's profile in the candlelight.
'I think he is just - lightly taken with her, as she is lightly taken with him. It cannot be serious. She's only thirteen.'
'Juliet was fourteen.'
'Who's juliet?'
'Romeo and Juliet'
'Oh.'
'Some girls grow up very young. Shakespeare knew well enough.'
She put her hand over his. 'Give it until the end of this week. I think his leave is nearly up.'
The candle was guttering but he delayed to put it out.
'Demelza, you may as well hear. I have not been quite frank with you, and God knows why, for there is nothing I need keep from you. About Tallien ... I know too much of Tallien. Otherwise of course I should not have said what I did say.'
'What?'
'On our second visit to the de la Blaches, I told Jodie the purpose of my visit to France. There seemed no reason why I should not. It was quite clear from what she had been saying that, although her mission in Paris as an agent of the Bourbons has ceased, since there is no more need of her; yet she has continued to remain in touch with the many sources that she had dealings with until Napoleon fell. I felt that she might help me, and she has done. Last night in Compiegne I supped with a M Vendome, who had many interesting things to tell me about the disposition of the army. Among other things that the Duke of Otranto Fouche - and his creature Tallien are conspiring to start an insurrection to depose Louis and to put Bonaparte's son, the King of Rome, on the throne (under a Regency, since the boy is only four). Jodie said she had heard that the revolt was planned to start under a general of the 6th Army Corps, from Lille in about two weeks' time, and this Vendome confirms.'
'So Fouche and Tallien are traitors. Can they not be arrested?'
'So far it is all confidences behind the hand. No solid proof. At the moment Fouche is apparently advising the King!'
'My mind spins. What shall you do?'
'Nothing except report it to Liverpool. But in truth it is not that I wanted especially to explain to you - to explain my particular animosity for Tallien. Of course I resent his insolence, his arrogant attempt to seduce you under my nose. But it is something more. Something much more. Jodie has told me ... You remember of course the landings in Brittany in 1795, in which I took part, when Jodie's fiance Charles de Sombreuil and many others lost their lives ... It was an ill-wished adventure from the start, and it was crushed by General Hoche -- as brilliant a soldier as Napoleon. At the last, only de Sombreuil remained with about eleven hundred men, in a strong defensive position until they ran out of ammunition. Then he entered into a parley with General Hoche, who agreed that they could surrender with honour and that their lives could be spared. But a man came down from the Convention in Paris and ordered that this promise should be betrayed - so, after they had surrendered, eight hundred men - most of them gentry and aristocrats - were shot to death in a field outside Autry. The others, the leaders, were taken out on to the promenade of the Garenne at Vannes - including Charles de Sombreuil - and executed. Personally supervising the execution to make sure that none should escape was the representative of the Convention from Paris. His name was Jean-Lambert Tallien.'
IV
In the afternoon of that day, on the south coast of France, in the gulf of St Juan near Frejus, a flotilla of seven small vessels began to land men on the sandy beach in the bright spring sunshine. They consisted of six hundred and fifty officers and men of the Old Guard. With them were a hundred and eight Polish lancers, unmounted but carrying their saddles, about three hundred motley volunteers, and wives and children of members of the former Imperial General Staff; something over eleven hundred in all, with arms and some scanty baggage.
Leading them was a stocky figure, grown portly, wearing a grey overcoat - for the air was chill - and the familiar battered tricorn hat decorated, since midday, with the famous red, white and blue cockade. There was no one to oppose the landing, scarcely anyone to witness it. As he stepped ashore a thin but hearty cheer from his supporters was almost lost in the wide, open air. Then some of the vessels fired off their guns in salute. It was the man who only two years before had been the master of Europe, come to reclaim his rightful kingdom.
Chapter Nine
The medical fashion of the day, which catalogued people according to their humours, would have listed Stephen Carrington as sanguine. He felt himself at present to be on a wave of success, and he had no doubt he could continue to ride it until he had made his fortune. Ever since he married Clowance things had been running his way. In years it was no time at all since he was picked up off Nampara Cove, a penniless starving seaman; yet now he was married to a beautiful, well-bred and well connected girl, financed by the most influential bank in Cornwall, and owner of three vessels - three, mind you which were in service earning him money in the coastal and cross-Channel trade. And he was building his own substantial house overlooking the harbour of Penryn. Everything was coming right. Because his nature was what it was he disregarded the problems he had to surmount in making his three ships pay. Ever since he married he had spent more than he earned, and building the house would add to his indebtedness. But these were all natural developments in the life of a man still only feeling his way in the maritime world. His principal difficulty was in keeping his ships fully employed. The trade was there but it had to be fitted in. A vessel idle for two weeks cost almost as much as one employed. Even 'light passages', as they were called, when a vessel sailed out or home half full, usually meant a loss.