Free The Loving Cup by Winston Graham Page A

to redress the balance after the frailties of their first child, these two had ailed little and given small cause for anxiety even when they caught the childish diseases. Both thin to the point of being bony, they were bundles of vigour and energy, only exceeded in this by Bella Poldark. Sophie was going to be pretty but her looks were taking a long time to develop; Meliora didn't have the features and her mouth was too big, but she would easily make up for this lack by sheer charm of manner. Both were fair but neither, surprisingly, a redhead.
    Dwight had wondered once whether to ask Sir Humphry Davy if he might bring his wife at least as far as Paris; but he knew without asking that she would not leave the children for longer than a month at the most. The idea of meeting the French scientists filled-him with excitement; but he knew already that he had no alternative but to refuse.
    All this time there had been virtually no change in the patient; Dwight had removed the leeches and occasionally added a drop more ether to the pad he held under the sick man's nose; Selina had crossed and uncrossed her elegant legs a number of times and had lifted her arms to bind in a thick strand of yellow hair. So perhaps it was an hour -during which there had been virtually no conversation between them - before Mr Pope spoke.
    Yes, Mr Pope spoke, breaking a silence which for him had endured ever since he fell down with his heart attack.
    Quite gradually, and unnoticed by them both he regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered, staring first up at the ceiling, and then, gaining a degree of focus, at the figure of his wife, silhouetted in graceful green against the darker curtain. He licked his lips and spoke.
    'Whore,' he said quite distinctly and with some feeling. And then again: 'Whore.' After which he died.

Chapter Six
    I
     
    Mr Pope's funeral took place at midnight on the 14th August. He had decreed the time in his Will, made soon after he returned to England, on learning of the vast expense to which many widows were driven when their rich husbands died and it was expected that half the county should be invited to the exequies. A careful man in all things, he was careful not to embarrass his widow by leaving her a choice. Not, of course, that he had supposed he or she would be in such a situation for a very long time to come. People seldom do suppose such dire things, especially perhaps those of middle age returning to England to retire in comfort with daughters still to marry off and pretty young second wives to hold to their bosoms. Whether or not he had changed his opinion in the last few months one could not tell, at least he had not changed his Will.
    Whether indeed those strange last words to come from his lips referred to anyone or anything in particular it was also difficult to tell. Dwight discreetly ignored them; he also ignored the hot flush on Selina's face at the time. Eminently correct and in his most detached medical manner, Dwight did all that was required of him - including mixing a soothing draught for Selina, and for both the girls to see them through the night when they returned. Only when he was leaving and once again was being escorted to the front door by Katie Carter, did he ask a question of an unusually silent and tearful parlourmaid who seemed reluctant to let him go.
    'Your master is dead, Katie. Nothing more could have been done to save him by you or by anyone else ... You did say, didn't you, that you found Mr Pope outside his bedroom door?'
    'No, sur. Oh, no sur. Twas outside of the bedroom door next but one to 'is own. The blue bedroom they d'call it. There he was when I run up, lying flat on 'is face and Mrs kneeling beside of him.'
    'Ah, yes, I see. Well, thank you, Katie.'
    She hung at the front door, eyes aslant at another servant who was going past. 'Twasn't my fault, sur. Y'know, sur. Twasn't my fault at all!'
    'Fault? How could it be, Katie?'
    'Seeing what I seen, Dr Enys. I mean to say, was it