Ross Poldark Read Online Free PDF Page A

with me into St. Ann's. I’ll thrash young Bartle for not attending to his work.”
    “They do thay,” lisped Mrs. Choake to Mrs. Chynoweth, “they do thay as how that the Prince is living at an outrageous wate. I was weading in the Mercury as how Mr. Fox had pwomised him an income of one hundred thousand pounds a year, and now that he is in power he is hard put to it to wedeem his pwomith.”
    “It would seem unlikely,” said Mr. Chynoweth, “that that would worry Mr. Fox unduly.” A smallish man with a silky white beard, his was a defensive pomposity, adopted to hide the fact that he had never in his life made up his mind about anything. His wife had married him when she was eighteen and he thirty-one. Both Jonathan and his income had lost ground since then.
    “And what's wrong with Mr. Fox, I’m asking you?” Dr Choake said deeply from under his eyebrows.
    Mr. Chynoweth pursed his lips. “I should have considered that plain.”
    “Opinions differ, sir. I may say, that if I—”
    The surgeon broke off as his wife took the rare liberty of treading on his toe. Today was the first time the Choakes and the Chynoweths had met socially; to her it seemed folly to begin a political wrangle with these still influential gentlefolk.
    Thomas Choake was turning ungratefully to squash Polly with a look, but she was saved the worst of his spleen. This time there could be no mistake that someone was knocking on the outer door. Mrs. Tabb set down the tray of tarts and went to the door.
    The wind made the curtains billow, and the candles dripped grease down their silver sconces.
    “God help me!” said the housekeeper as if she had seen a ghost.
2
    Ross came into a company quite unprepared for his arrival. When his figure showed in the doorway, one after another of those at the table broke into words of surprise. Elizabeth and Francis and Verity and Dr. Choake were on their feet; Charles lay back grunting and inert from shock. Cousin William-Alfred polished his steel spectacles, while Aunt Agatha plucked at his sleeve mumbling, “What is it? What's to do? The meal isn’t over.”
    Ross screwed up his eyes until they grew used to the light. Trenwith House was almost on his way home, and he had not thought to intrude on a party.
    First to greet him was Verity. She ran across and put her arms round his neck. “Why, Ross dear! Fancy now!” was all she could find to say.
    “Verity!” He gave her a hug. And then he saw Elizabeth.
    “Stap me,” said Charles. “So you’re back at last, boy. You’re late for dinner, but we’ve some apple tart left.”
    “Did they lame us, Ross?” said Dr. Choake. “A pox on the whole war. It was ill-starred. Thank God it's over.”
    Francis, after a short hesitation, came quickly round the table and grasped the other man's hand. “It's good to see you back, Ross! We’ve missed you.”
    “It's good to be back,” said Ross. “To see you all and—”
    The colour of the eyes under the same heavy lids was the only mark of cousinship. Francis was compact, slim, and neat, with the fresh complexion and clear features of handsome youth. He looked what he was, carefree, easy going, self-confident, a young man who has never known what it was to be in danger or short of money, or to pit his strength against another man's except in games or horse play. Someone at school had christened them “the fair Poldark and the dark Poldark.” They had always been good friends, which was surprising, since their fathers had not.
    “This is a solemn occasion,” said Cousin William-Alfred, his bony hands grasping the back of his chair. “A family reunion in more than name. I trust you’re not seriously wounded, Ross. That scar is a considerable disfigurement.”
    “Oh, that,” said Ross. “That would be of no moment if I didn’t limp like Jago's donkey.”
    He went round the table greeting the others. Mrs. Chynoweth welcomed him coldly, extending a hand from a distance.
    “Do tell us,” lisped