Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Demelza had never liked her job much, but it was the only one she could get. No one who knew her father trusted anyone in her family with much responsibility. He’d singlehandedly managed to give every one of his children a reputation for being a drunk bum, or at least the child of one. She hated being around alcohol.

It made her job as a bartender that much more ironic.

She could remember being very young, maybe twelve or thirteen, when she learned people with alcoholic parents were more likely to be addicted to alcohol. So she never, ever touched the devil drink that made her father act the way he did. Every day, she promised herself she would never end up like him.
The day had been a difficult one, but not very out of the ordinary. There were payments due for college, bills that needed taken care of- that her lazy father and brothers hadn’t done anything for- and she’d not had enough money for dinner.

Lost in her own thoughts as she was, she barely noticed the man who came up and ordered a whiskey. She absentmindedly poured him a few drinks (three? perhaps it was four?) before she realized who it was.

Ross Poldark. One of the Nampara Poldarks, not of Trenwith, still heir to a fortune from a copper mine. He’d come back from Iraq or Afghanistan, she couldn’t recall where, only a few months ago. Everyone had thought him dead. It’d been in the papers and everything. And his homecoming was not a joyful one. He came home to find his father dead, his sweetheart engaged to his cousin, and his family’s mine shut down. It wasn’t hard to figure the reason he was most likely here. Elizabeth Chynoweth had married Francis Poldark today.

No, she’d not paid attention to him before, but she was paying attention now, and three or four whiskeys was an awful lot for someone who couldn’t have been here an hour yet.

“How many drinks is that?” The sudden sharpness in her tone would have alerted Ross to her distress, had he been sober.
But he was not sober.

“What’s it to you?” He retorted.

Demelza’s cheeks were red as her hair. She hadn’t actually meant to speak aloud, but she wouldn’t back down now. Quick, come up with a reasonable explanation, she thought.

“If you’re driving, it’s plenty to me, and anyone else on the road.”

He laughed, low and rueful. “That’s true. What’s your name?”

“Demelza.”

“How about a drink, Demelza?”

“If you drink anything more, you won’t remember much,” she warned.

“No, I meant, would you like a drink?”

“I don’t drink.” Though she was used to saying it by now, she’d never taken kindly to people looking down on her for not drinking or worse, prying and asking for her reasons. Silently, she asked for him to please, please, not ask-

“Why?”

Dammit.

“It’d be a bit of a bad idea for me to drink on the job.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with those dark eyes she was sure could see right through her. He knew she hadn’t meant that she didn’t drink right now, she’d meant she didn’t drink ever. It was no problem for him to sit here and wait.
Finally, she gave him a real explanation. “My father.”

“Hmm?”

“My father is why I don’t drink.” Demelza full well knew that left him with two conclusions to draw: either her father was overprotective or a drunkard. People didn’t care to find out which.

“An alcoholic?”

Most people didn’t care to find out which, anyway.

She gave a sharp nod of assent.
Ross began to say something but honestly, Demelza could do without hearing it.

“Can we not talk about this?”

“Right.” For the first time, he looked a bit uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. It’s probably a difficult subject.”

Again, she only nodded.

But Ross had come to this place looking for a distraction, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t find it. The redhead- Demelza- was right. Drinking too much would probably lead him to do things he’d regret. But he needed a distraction.
She would do.

“What are you doing tonight?“

"You’re drunk, and I wouldn’t go home with you if you weren’t.”

“Hang on, I never said anything about going home with me.” And he wasn’t really drunk, anyway. Demelza only looked at him. Ross could nearly hear her say, “Do I look stupid?” He supposed it was a fair enough assumption; she likely got those sorts of propositions on a daily basis. “What about just talking? Staying right here and talking?”

She cocked her head slightly to the left, curls tipping down her shoulder. Just talking didn’t sound harmful or dangerous. What could be wrong with just talking? She wasn’t drinking anything. He couldn’t do anything to hurt her. “Alright.”

***

They talked for hours, about everything and nothing. He asked nonsensical questions, about her favorite color (blue-green, like the sea) and what her major is (education- she wants to teach primary school) and when her birthday is (March 4th). She thinks it’s like he actually cares to know her, and how strange that’d be.
At the night’s end, when dawn painted the sky, she made sure he got a cab. He seemed very sober, but not nearly enough for her to feel alright with leaving him on his own, she told herself. (She knew a bit about how long it takes for alcohol to work its way out of a body, and it hadn’t been long enough.)

It wasn’t until Demelza was sweeping the floor near a half hour later that it occurred to her he’d talked about himself as little as possible, keeping the conversation on her.

She fingered the torn edge of a piece of paper and couldn’t find it in herself to care. Rather, she thought about a little scrap of paper pressed into a dark haired man’s hand and smiled.

***

Ross woke up with a pounding headache. Thankfully, he’d had enough presence of mind to put Advil and water by his bed last night. (Half of the water was on the floor now, but he tried.) He reached for the pills on his bedside table and realized that he was holding a scrap of paper.
It read ten numbers, a message, and a name.

“Call me when you’re sober." -Demelza Carne

He set it down and took the pills, then forgot about it until late that night. (Or maybe it was early the next morning. Ross couldn’t tell anymore.) As he was about to turn off the light, he saw it laying there. Instead of turning off the lamp, he reached for his phone and put her numbers in.

She had asked him to call her when he was sober, after all. What could he do but comply?

Chapter Text

The night had always been the time of day Demelza loved best. She didn’t like the early night, no, not when the world was still awake. But the deep, dark, hours of the night (or maybe they were the wee hours of the morning) were the ones she loved. Everything was dark and obscured. It felt like the whole world was sleeping except you and there was something magical about it.

Late night was safe. It wrapped her in its arms and kept her warm.

Other people were afraid of the night. She knew better. The night wasn’t what they should be fearing. It was the people in the night.

Demelza was never more aware of that than when she had to leave the bar at three in the morning. The first night she’d had to leave in the wee hours, she’d been terrified. Her hands had shaken and she’d felt cold all over. Now, though, it was routine. She only paused before the door to make sure her keys were held in between her fingers and get her phone out.

As she considered what fake conversation she’d have tonight, her phone actually really buzzed. Her phone slipped and she nearly dropped it.
“H-hello?”

“Demelza?”

“Ross?” Demelza wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, hoping to get a better grip on her phone.

“No, it’s Pizza Hut.”

Demelza’s nose scrunched and she pushed the door open. “Very funny, Ross.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Ross would be loathe to admit it, but he’d been a little nervous about calling Demelza. He disliked talking on the phone. But he’d forgotten something. Talking to Demelza was easy. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” Ross apologized. Lately, he’d had a tendency to stay up nearly all night and so sometimes quite forgot that other people were usually asleep at three in the morning.

“I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“What are you doing at three in the morning that doesn’t involve sleeping?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it doesn’t involve sleeping,” she said lightly. “I’ve had to deal with many a client who decides to go to bed before they reach home.”

“You’re coming back from work?”

“Where else would I be coming back from?"

Ross ignored that and kept talking. “You’re coming back from work at three in the morning? Is there someone else with you?”

Demelza thought for a second. “Well, there is this one guy…”

“Oh, good,” Ross said, relieved. “Wait, who is it?” He was suddenly suspicious again. Did she know this guy?

“Relax! There’s no one with me except for you.”

“Are you driving?”

“Ross…” Demelza felt ill at ease. It was discomforting for her to think about the differences between them socially and economically.

“You’re walking, aren’t you?”

That was much easier to admit than to say no, she was walking; she doesn’t have a car or the extra money for a cab.

“Yes.”

“Demelza! You’re walking home alone from a bar at three in the morning!” Ross was almost afraid for her.

“Oh, Ross. Don’t worry about me. They’ll leave me alone. They always have.”

“Just because they ‘always have,’ Demelza, doesn’t mean they always will! I should come pick you up.” Even as he spoke, Ross was already pulling on his shoes and going to grab his keys.”

Demelza immediately shook her head, hair flying everywhere, before she realized Ross couldn’t see her. “No, Ross!” she cried. “Don’t come and pick me up.” If he picked her up, he’d have to take her home, and she didn’t want him to see that. She didn’t want him anywhere near her family.

He paused halfway out the door. “Why the hell not?”

“I’m talking on the phone. I don’t make an easy target. I’ll be fine.”

She hadn’t answered the question and both of them knew it.

“Hell, Demelza…"

“No, Ross. I’ll be fine.”

He slumped against the door. “Fine. Fine, but I’m staying on the phone with you until you get home.”

“Okay.”

It didn’t take Demelza very long to get home. They talked about mundane things. He asked about her day. She tried to ask him the same questions he’d asked her the night before, determined not to let him get away with making her do all the talking.

“Well, um, I made it home,” Demelza said reluctantly.

His end of the line was silent for a moment. “When’s the next time you have to walk home alone early in the morning?”

“I only work this late on weekends.”

“Including Sundays?”

“Yeah.”

Ross’s decision was made. “Call me tomorrow, then, and every night you walk home alone.” He only wouldn’t feel right if something had happened to her and he could’ve stopped it if he’d been talking with her.

As much as the idea comforted Demelza, she didn’t like that he thought he could tell her what to do. “Fine. But I’m doing it because I want to, not because you told me to.”

Ross couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Good night, Demelza.”

“Good night, Ross.”

Ross was quite determined not to let himself sleep through any of Demelza’s calls. He set an alarm for a quarter to three the next night so he’d be sure to be awake. Then he finally let himself go to sleep.

***

The next morning came much too soon, heralded by his mobile ringing yet again.

“Hello?”

“Ross! Did I wake you?”

“No, Verity, of course not, I was just…” Ross trailed off.

“Oh, I did wake you up!” Normally, Ross would have said something along the lines of “No shit, Sherlock,” but Verity sounded quite upset and he didn’t want to make her feel worse. Besides, Verity always had been his favorite cousin.

“It’s alright, Verity. I probably needed to get up anyway,” he mumbled. “What time is it?”

“It’s already noon. I was going to invite you to lunch, but if you’re not awake yet…”

“No, that sounds great. When do you want to go?”

They made plans to meet up at her favorite restaurant in a half hour. Verity was already sitting down when he got there.

“Ross!” She jumped up and gave him a quick hug. “How are you?”

“Fine, Verity. Better than I have been.”

"Good. I’m glad. Shall we order?”

They placed their orders and made small talk about various things. Weather, the wedding, Ross’s mining company… It was pleasant, though a little awkward.

“So, Elizabeth and Francis are throwing a party next weekend.”

Ross choked on his drink a little bit. “Oh?”

“Apparently, they’re having an after-after-wedding party,” she smiled.

“Well, good for them.”

“Ross, they both want you to come.”

“They could tell me that themselves,” he pointed out in what he considered a very reasonable tone. Verity gave him what he and Francis had christened A Look, trademark of the Poldark women. Alright, he supposed he had sounded a little bitter. But his ex-girlfriend had married his cousin! And now they tiptoed around him like he would blow up any second. He was happy for them! At least, he tried to be, and therefore no one should criticize him.

Verity was still giving him A Look, so he hurriedly spoke again. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, good! They’ll be so glad!”

***

Friday nights were Demelza’s least favorites. Everyone had just finished the work week, and they absolutely had to celebrate with drinks at the bar. Every. Week. It was terrible. As far as Friday nights went, though, tonight hadn’t been so very bad. There was only an hour to go until she could leave, and she’d not had to deal with any sleazy customers tonight. Spoke too soon, she thought as one of her least favorite people walked up to her.

“Hey, Demelzaaa,” slurred Pete. Wonderful, Demelza thought. This arsehole. Pete was in one of her classes, and most decidedly not a joy to have in class. He thought he knew everything, regularly interrupted every girl who dared to have an opinion- including the professor- and asked her out. Constantly.
“Yeah?” Demelza said curtly.

“Lemme buy ya a drink,” Pete said with what he obviously considered a charming smile.

“I’ve told you a million times. I don’t drink.”

“I don’t believe you.” Pete was suddenly aggressive. “You’re just saying that to get away from me.” He slammed his fist into the counter and Demelza flinched back away from him.

No. She was not a little girl. This was not her father. She could control this. She didn’t have to be scared. “Stop it,” she said firmly.

“Are you gonna make me?” he smirked.

“I’ll go get the manager,” she threatened.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to faze him.
“Alright, sweetheart. You do that. But I’ll be waiting for you.” With one last creepy grin, he slid away from the counter and into the crowd.

Demelza collapsed against counter, breathing shallowly. She was overwhelmed by a feeling of not being safe. Quickly, she glanced up at the clock. Her shift was over. She exhaled deeply. Then she moved around, getting ready to leave. She looked up through the windows and saw a car outside.

I’ll be waiting for you. Pete’s last words echoed through her mind. She shook her head. No, there was no basis for it. And yet…

She remembered Ross offering her a ride last week. Maybe she could call him. He’d have to see where she lives, but…

The car drove by again.

But that would be much preferable to Pete doing who-knows-what, her mind supplied. She had decided. She dialed Ross’s number and waited.

***

“Ross! I’m so glad you could make it!” Elizabeth ran toward him and hugged him, with Francis trailing behind her.

“Well, I’ve been here all night.” Ross took another swig of his drink.

“I know, Ross, we just had so many people that wanted to talk to us-”

“It’s fine, Elizabeth,” he said roughly.

She reached forward and squeezed his hand. He smiled at her.

Francis looked at them. Could what George had implied be true? No, definitely not. There didn’t seem to be anything more than the fondness of old friends between them on Elizabeth’s side, at least. She’d acted happy with him this far. And Ross would never do something like that. Yet there was still a certain something in his eyes… Francis shook his head. If he believed it true, it may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. So he only smiled and laughed as Elizabeth took his hand and led him and Ross back to the table where his father and sister sat.

***

Demelza ended a fifth call in frustration. Ross wouldn’t pick up. She knew this would happen, she knew it! He’d forgotten all about her. There was nothing for it. She’d have to brave it alone.
Quietly, she waited until she saw the car round the corner. Then she hurriedly exited the bar, trying Ross’s number again. (Maybe they’d still leave her alone if they saw she was on the phone.) But it was no good. Much too quickly, she saw the car coming towards her. She only paused to dial Ross’s number one more time, praying he’d pick up. The headlights got closer and closer.

***

Ross heard his mobile ring. He looked at the caller ID and swore. Demelza. How long had she been calling? The lock screen showed him multiple missed calls.
“Demelza? Are you alright?”

“Oh, Ross, thank God,” Demelza gasped.
He felt something sink in the pit of his stomach. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come pick me up. Please.”

He stood up. “I’m on my way.”

“No! No, Ross, please don’t hang up.” He couldn’t believe how scared she sounded.

“Okay,” he soothed. “I won’t hang up, I promise. Keep talking to me.”

He looked back at his cousins to wave goodbye and realized Elizabeth was running after him. “Ross?” she called. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go. Goodbye.” He was perhaps a bit short with her, but Demelza was scared. He wouldn’t feel right if he let something happen to her. He kept walking, thanking God he hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic.

“Demelza? Talk to me.”

***

She had pulled a hood over her head at the last second in an attempt to hide her hair. Either it worked, or whoever was in that car wasn’t Pete. Demelza wedged her way into a small space between two buildings, talking to Ross all the while, and waited.

“Alright, I’m just turning down that street,” he said. She pushed down her hood and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Okay.”

Neither one would hang up, but the line was quiet for a while. She saw headlights and started moving slightly to the car. It pulled up beside her and she heard Ross say, “Demelza, is there a car pulling up to you?! Demelza!”

The smile slid off her face and her stomach filled with dread as the person rolled down their car window.

“I told you I’d be waiting for you,” Pete sneered.

“No,” she whispered, horrified. Her phone dropped out of her hand and bounced once, twice.

Ross stared at his phone in horrified silence. He didn’t hesitate, just floored the gas.

Demelza started backing away from Pete as he put his car into park and got out.

“Come on, Demelza. Don’t make me force you.”

“No! No!” she gasped. “Get away from me!”

He had her up against the wall with her hands over her head. Demelza shut her eyes. Maybe what happened next would be more bearable with her eyes closed, she thought desperately.

Suddenly, Pete was thrown away from her. Ross had him by the collar, pinned against the wall. His voice was hot with fury. “Didn’t you hear her? She said no!” On the last word, he threw Pete down to the ground. Pete didn’t get up.

Ross stood there a while, breathing heavily. Demelza tentatively reached for him. “Ross?” she tried. “Ross?”

At last, he turned to face her. She took in his slightly disheveled appearance, the tear in his shirt, his scraped knuckles- “Oh, Ross…” Her voice filled with an emotion neither one of them could or wanted to identify.

Hearing her say his name like that brought him back to himself. “Come on, Demelza.”

The rest of his sentence was lost to her as her face went white. She knew he’d not meant to, but hearing Ross echo Pete’s earlier words… She felt her heart rate speed up and felt frozen in place, unable to hear anything except her own heart pounding in her ears.

“Demelza! Demelza, answer me!” She heard someone talking, but it seemed as though they were talking to someone else in a far-away place, not to her, not here, not now. She felt someone touch her face, brushing strands of her hair away and… wiping away tears? Funny. She’d not even realized she was crying.

“Demelza, we have to leave.” She blindly responded to the tug on her hand. A familiar smell (no, she’d only smelled it once before; it couldn’t be familiar- but it was) assured her that it was Ross.
He stopped just in front of his car and cradled her face in his hands. “Demelza? Please, talk to me. Please.”

Perhaps they’d only known each other for a week, and no, they hadn’t talked that much, comparatively, but Demelza just knew that ‘please’ was a words that rarely crossed Ross Poldark’s lips. She needed to reply. He said please. She fought her way out of her mental fog while he waited patiently.

“Ross? Ross! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault,” she wailed before bursting into tears. With Ross’s help, she eventually slowed her breathing back to normal and mostly stopped her tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Let’s get you home.” What he really wanted was to convince her that none of this was her fault, but that might be an endeavor better suited for the morning.

The drive to her house was fairly silent. Every once in a while, she would give a direction. With each of her directives, Ross’s incredulousness increased. This was a terrible part of town. How could she live here?

She pointed to a small, ramshackle place just up the filthy street they were driving down. “Well, that’s me,” she said with only a glimmer of a smile. A real smile might be a long time coming after tonight’s ordeal.

Ross only looked at the place where she lived in disgust. It wasn’t right for someone as lively as her to be living in a place as dead as this.

“Why are you living here?”

Demelza winced. She’d been hoping to avoid any questions about her living situations in light of… other events. “I can’t pay for college and housing. I’m living with my father and brothers.”

“Aren’t you close to graduating?”

“Next month,” she nodded.

“Will you move out then?” He was curious, he told himself. Of course he cared about her well-being, he liked her about as much as he ever liked anybody.
She laughed, a high, bitter thing. “Of course, I’ll be making ever so much more money then.”

He knew she was right, of course. She turned away from him, making to leave, when he saw- “What’s that on your back?”

“It’s nothing.” She raised her arms to let down her hair in an attempt to cover up the lacerations on her back but couldn’t move them about her head without wincing.

“I swear, if that jackass did that to you, I’ll-”

“Ross! He didn’t do it.” Demelza paused. “Well, he surely didn’t help it, but he didn’t do it.”

“Who was it?” His voice was low and dangerous.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him. Though she may not know him very well, she trusted him, perhaps foolishly, but she did. But she knew from experience. No matter how hard she tried to say it, no matter how much she wanted to, the words were caught in her throat. Finally she managed to only look pointedly at the place where she had lived all her life (but it was not a home, never a home) and tell him quietly, “I think you know.”

The silence that took over then felt palpable, almost heavy. Then Ross blurted, “What if I told you I knew a good job that comes with an apartment?”

“You do?” She was incredulous, but she couldn’t quite keep the hope out of her voice.

“Well, I find myself in need of a secretary,” he said.

“And you want me?!”

“You seem very qualified. College graduate with plenty of experience in English, excellent interpersonal skills, lots of patience, and you’re very clever, so it shouldn’t be very difficult for you to catch on to anything you don’t know.”

“Oh, Ross.” Her hand was at her mouth, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Do you want the job?”

Unable to speak, she merely nodded.

"Excellent. I’ll have the apartment ready for you tomorrow. You start after graduation.”

She couldn’t help herself. She leaned in and gave him a hug, a bit awkward, but it was nice. Then she slipped out of the car without saying another word.

Ross watched her leave and realized something. This is the happiest I’ve been since I got home.

(Of course it was just that he’d done a good deed. Of course it was.)

Chapter Text

"Hey."

Ross looked up from his desk and smiled at the redhead leaning against his front door. "Hey."

"Are you ready to go?" she questioned.

“Yeah, sure. Just let me grab my keys.” He rummaged around in his coat pocket and got his keys out, then smiled up at her. "Let's go."

He watched her as she grinned and headed for the door. But he didn't smile back, nor did he think about how her smile was like sunlight– that was much too poetic, give him some credit– and he definitely didn't catch her scent as she left. (But if he had, it would've smelled like lilacs, rain, and something fresh and new and utterly Demelza. Probably.)

In the month or so she'd been here, they'd somehow settled into a pattern. Every morning, after he'd arrived at the office, she would give him any messages that had come in and go over any appointments or meetings he had. She usually had a coffee ready for him. Then at noon, he took her out for lunch. He wasn't planning on it, but then when he was leaving for lunch her first day, he saw her still sitting at her desk. He'd asked her if she'd already had lunch. She'd said no, sir, and she wasn't planning to. He'd reminded her not to call him 'sir.' Remembering her reply still made him grin. She looked at him with a smart-ass grin– there was no other way to describe it– and said, "Fine, then, Mr. Poldark."

In a sudden fit of impulsiveness, he'd told her to come to lunch with him. She'd been very hesitant for whatever reason... Oh. He knew why. She didn't want to spend any money on lunch and probably didn't have much, if any, food at home. That settled it. He'd told her he wouldn't allow for any argument, so they went out to lunch. Somehow, it'd happened again the next day, and the day after that. Now it was a habit.

Sometimes, they walked down to a little sandwich place on the corner of the street. Other times, they’d go over to the little cafe where she got his coffee. (Demelza always drank tea. Not that Ross really paid attention to what she ordered.) Most of the time, they went to a new restaurant. One of them would hear about a place, or find it online, and they'd go out. Whenever she teased him about working his way through every restaurant in town, he'd tell her he was only trying to expose her to a wide variety of food. She smirked and said that was the official excuse, right?

No matter where they went, Demelza would try to pay every time. Ross would never let her. (He was very aware that the apartment she was in was only paid for the first two months, and she needed enough money to pay for it, bills, and food. In all likelihood, she couldn't afford lunch.) Every time, he reminded her of his traditional mother and how she'd roll over in her grave if he made Demelza pay. Of course, he couldn't possibly do anything to dishonor his mother's memory, she agreed with little reluctance.

Today they were going to eat at a new Italian place across town. The reviews online were excellent, as she'd informed him earlier that morning. Honestly, he didn't really want to go. If it was as popular as Demelza said, there would certainly be a lot of people there. Ross wasn't stupid. He was a public figure of interest. Taking his secretary to lunch every day would cause gossip and suspicion. It was almost a guarantee that that would make it into some piece of trash masquerading as journalism. This far, they (or he, he didn't think Demelza was really aware of that being a possibility) had managed to avoid it by going to hole in the wall restaurants, not new, popular ones. "No" was on the tip of his tongue, but her face... She was excited to go, grinning up at him with mischief sparkling in her eyes, and he somehow couldn't find it in himself to deny her.

Demelza looked at Ross from across the restaurant table. Her stomach seemed to feel with butterflies and she could feel the warmth in her chest. She knew perfectly well that he'd not wanted to come here today, though she didn't know why. Demelza was always careful not to expect kindness. Expecting always led to disappointment, she'd discovered. Whenever anyone showed her kindness, it made her maybe irregularly happy, but it wasn’t a bad attitude to have. So, though she'd never tell him, Ross agreeing to come here because she had wanted to had made her feel all... floaty... No, she shook her head, that was weird.

Suddenly, her stomach dropped sharply as she saw a flash out of the corner of her eye. Cameras. Why were there cameras?
“Ross...” she said, her voice low.

“Ignore them, Demelza.” He didn’t even glance up from his menu. That had always been the best way to deal with people who found their noses in other people's business.

"Ross, why are those people taking pictures of us?" Demelza hissed.

He looked up at her. "Don't worry about it. You know press coverage has gone up since we announced the new mine. It's nothing to be concerned about." Ross could feel the lie heavy on his tongue.

Demelza knew he was lying. It may not be a very dangerous thing to have people photographing them, but he was worried. But she couldn't bring herself to ruin his lunch, so she didn't say anything.

***

Verity was going about her normal day, thank you very much. She woke up at seven, was ready by eight, and quite calmly walking down the street to her favorite little coffee shop. That is, until she saw the morning gossip rags with her cousin’s face plastered all over them.

“An Office Romance? Ross Poldark and Secretary Dating,” she read with increasing incredulity. “Ross Poldark, 28, is the head of the Nampara mining company. After coming back from two years overseas in the military, he had everyone convinced he had grown up and left his playboy past behind. But yesterday, he was spotted out to lunch with a mysterious redheaded woman discovered to be his secretary. In fact, it would appear this lunchtime date has become a regular thing. They've been out to lunch together every day this week, our sources tell us. Could Ross be returning to his old ways? Or is love in the air?"

"Ross. Poldark!"

***

"Can I help you?" Demelza answered the phone.

"May I please speak to Ross Poldark?"

Demelza glanced at Ross, looking for her cue. He grimaced and shook his head, sure it would be what would apparently pass for a reporter or journalist.

"I'm sorry," she said smoothly, "Mr. Poldark isn't available at the moment."

Verity huffed in frustration from the other end of the line. "Obviously, since he wouldn't answer his mobile," she mumbled darkly. Collecting herself, she spoke again. "Fine. Will you give him a message?"

Demelza bit her lip. It seemed the woman knew Ross. Was he trying to avoid her? She debated for a few more seconds before saying, "Alright. What's your message?"

"Please tell him Verity Poldark called. Work and personal numbers. Five different times! ...Um, never mind, just tell him it's Verity."

Poldark? Wonderful. Was it his cousin? She thought Francis had a sister... Demelza took the phone away from her ear, rested it on her neck, and managed to catch Ross's eye again. She nodded furiously and he shook his head furiously. Eventually, she stopped and just glared.

Oh, shit. Ross gulped and nodded slowly. She smiled sweetly and spoke. "Ms. Poldark?"

"Oh! Yes?" Verity had rather given up hope of speaking to Ross at the moment and had almost decided to just call back later.

"I'll connect you to Mr. Poldark now."

"Oh, thank you!"

***

Ross grimaced before picking up his phone. He'd really wanted to avoid speaking to anyone after this morning's trash, excuse him, magazines were released. That was why he'd told Demelza everyone was to be informed he was unavailable and switched his mobile off. But he wasn't crazy. When Demelza glared at him like that, that meant he was doing whatever she wanted.

Resigned to his fate, he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Ross? It's Verity."

Well, that certainly explained the glaring.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea it was you, I thought it'd be-"

"A newspaper? Or perhaps a magazine?"

He winced. "So you've seen it?"

"I think everyone's seen it."

"No," he argued. "Demelza hasn't seen it yet."

Verity's tone changed. "Demelza," she said with interest. "Is she the pretty redhead you're dating?"

"No!" He stood up abruptly. "We're not dating!"

"Fine. Is she the pretty redhead you're allegedly dating?"

Ross pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but we're not dating," he stressed.

"Wait, is she really your secretary?" Verity said in a hushed tone.

"Yes, Verity!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't think you'd be very interested in my business hires?" he tried.

"No, not that." Verity dismissed his excuse with a wave of her hand. "Why didn't you tell me you made a new friend?" Ross attempted to give some excuse or the other, but Verity couldn't care less to hear something about how they "weren't friends" or whatever else he'd come up with. "Oh, never mind that. How did you meet her, anyway?"

Game over, Ross thought. He gave one last half-hearted attempt at evading the question. "It's a long story."

Perfect, Verity smiled to herself. Now she could see if the other rumor was true and meet Demelza, all in one fell swoop. If Ross reacted like she thought he would, anyway. "It can't be too long to explain to me over lunch."

Dammit. Ross could either admit that he had lunch with Demelza every day or leave her to fend for herself, and he was quite sure she'd skip lunch altogether if he didn't make sure she ate. Verity was good. "I can't. I always have lunch with Demelza."

"But you're not dating, of course?"

"No, Verity." He was feeling quite exasperated by this whole conversation.

"Well, then, if I'm not interrupting, I should love to meet Demelza."

She had him trapped and they both knew it.

***

"Demelza?"

She looked up from her work at Ross with just a hint of a cheeky grin. "Yes, Mr. Poldark, sir?"

Anyone else would have made a grave miscalculation. Anyone else would have gotten a death glare from Ross. But, Verity noted, not Demelza.

"This is my cousin Verity Poldark." The redhead stood up after she saw the other person with him. The woman, Ross's cousin, smiled at her and said hello. "Verity, this is Demelza." Demelza nodded. "Verity's coming out to lunch with us."

"But only if you're alright with it, of course," Verity broke in.

Well, how nice of you to give me an option, Demelza thought wryly. Really, she didn't mind much, but it would have been nice to have asked. Secretly, she liked lunches alone with Ross. It let her almost imagine... No, no we don't think about that, she reminded herself sharply. "Of course I'm alright with it."

"Excellent." Ross stood rather awkwardly, his hands folded behind his back. "Let's go."

***

Demelza smiled as they stepped out into the sunlight. She'd not expected to like Ross's cousin as much as she did. Verity was kind, though, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her. The reason why was a complete mystery, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

"Here, Demelza." Verity took her arm and led her so they were walking in front of Ross. "Listen," she said, "I'd really like to get to know you better. Would you like to spend the day together sometime?"

"Alright," Demelza said. Honestly, it made her a bit nervous to be around Verity. It wasn't that she didn't like her, really, she did! But Verity seemed so much older and more sophisticated than Demelza, even though she couldn't be more than three years older than her. Already, she had a deep-seated desire not to disappoint or mess up around anyone, but when it was someone she really wanted to be friends with, who was close to Ross, too...

Verity seemed to sense Demelza's discomfort. "Do you want my number? You can text me and we can make plans," she suggested.

"Yeah," Demelza said. Taking on the phone was much easier than talking in person, she thought with a slight shudder.

"Well, this is us," Ross broke in, stopping them in front of where the car was parked. "Sorry, Verity, but we really do have to get back to work."

"Right. Well, I'll see you later, Ross." She leaned up and gave him a quick hug. "It was nice meeting you, Demelza."

"You too, Verity." They watched her walk away together. Once she was out of hearing distance, Demelza gave a little sigh of relief. It wasn't quite little enough. Ross heard it and chuckled.

"Oh, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No!" She was quick to assure him. "No, not at all, I just– I would appreciate being asked beforehand next time." She made sure to keep her ocean eyes locked sternly with his until he looked sufficiently abashed.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I should have asked."

"Oh, Ross. It's alright." She smiled up at him as he opened the door for her. As he smiled back, she felt a little leap in her stomach. She pushed it to the back of her mind. Thinking about that and what it meant could wait, possibly forever, if it meant she could at least have this.

***

Verity left Ross and Demelza with a smile on her face. She really liked Demelza. She was funny, and sweet, even if she had been noticeably nervous. Yes, Demelza would be good for Ross. Yes, they might be "only friends," but Verity could easily see feelings on Demelza's side. Ross... Ross was a different matter, but he obviously cared for her. Honestly, if they wouldn't at least admit they had feelings for each other– well, she might have to step in. And she was terrible at playing matchmaker. No one wanted that.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice the man walking towards her- not that he noticed her, either. She yelped as they collided with each other and hurriedly kneeled down to pick the contents of her purse up off the sidewalk.

“Oh! I am so, so sorry!” the unknown man said as he bent down to help her pick up her things. He handed her her book. “I wasn’t watching where I was-” their hands touched and eyes met- “going,” he finished slowly.

“No, it’s alright.” Why was her voice so high-pitched and breathy? He was a bit attractive, but– alright, he was very attractive! “I wasn’t paying attention, either.”

“May I ask your name?” His smile was quite handsome and he seemed very polite, Verity thought.

“It’s Verity. Verity Poldark.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Nice to meet you. Though I suppose I can think of nicer ways,” he laughed. “My name is Andrew.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Andrew.”

***

She was being pinned down by someone much stronger than her, her hands being held above her head. As much as she thrashed and tried to fight, she couldn't get them off her. No, this wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to be happening, someone was supposed to come save her–

Demelza woke up screaming. Tentatively, she touched her face to find it wet. She wished she could say she was surprised. This nightmare had happened most nights for the past two months. Sighing, she went about the routine she'd established for nights like these.

She got out of bed and turned music on. Usually, she'd sing, but she couldn't trust her voice after that. She had a specific playlist she'd play whenever she woke up. Then she'd always brush her hair and put it up in a messy bun on top of her head. Her mother used to do her hair like that. Doing it now relaxed her.

Demelza pulled on a large sweater over the tank top and shorts she usually slept in, then moved to the kitchen. She reached up for the emergency stash of hot chocolate packets she kept in her cupboard. Something about it was more innocent than coffee or tea. It reminded her of the carefree childhood everyone should have.

She moved around slowly, carefully, trying to calm herself down. Stirring her hot chocolate, she moved back into her room. She opened her bedroom window and sat in the window, the cool, summer night air filling her lungs. Everyone was asleep. It was quiet and still and she was mostly at peace.

But as hard as she tried, she couldn't keep her mind blank. Someone kept dancing into her thoughts. Ross.

She couldn't love him, she couldn't even like him, not as anything more than friends. It could only end in hurt. He's still in love with Elizabeth. But he isn't, a treacherous little voice said, he can't be. Even if he isn't really in love with her, he thinks he is, and that's just as bad, she argued with herself. It wouldn't matter, anyway. She's not right for him. She's poor, she's grown up poor, with a terrible family and upbringing. She'd not know how to act with the people he was around. And even that wasn't important. The biggest reason she could never love him, the reason it would end in heartbreak was so simple. He would never love her back.

Nothing earth-shattering or surprising, she thought as she drained the last of her hot chocolate. It was only the reason so many people were never together. She climbed back in the apartment and shut the window. It was three in the morning and she had work again tomorrow. She really needed to go to bed.

Her last thoughts before she fell asleep were of a dangerous daydream that could never be the truth.

Chapter Text

The Nampara Mining Company had been very busy of late. As the CEO’s secretary, Demelza would know. Ross had announced that they would be opening a new mine, Wheal Leisure, not two weeks ago. Then, of course, they had to be photographed while they were out to lunch together last week. Demelza almost couldn’t decide which was more annoying: the reporters and investors that kept contacting them about Wheal Leisure and forcing her to answer questions they had already answered at least five times, or the trashy magazines that kept asking her about her “relationship” with Ross. She only almost couldn’t decide because she ultimately decided the magazines were more annoying. At least Wheal Leisure was actually related to her job.

The phone on her desk rang again. She sighed and picked it up. “Nampara Mining Company, may I help you?”

“What’s your opinion on Ross Poldark dating his secretary?”

Ugh. She hung up on them quickly.

Ross grinned at her through his office windows. She rolled her eyes. He mouthed, “Another one?”

She rolled her eyes again and nodded.

“Mine? Or,” he gestured between them, “us?”

She mimicked his gesture. “Us.”

He rolled his eyes this time, sighing dramatically. She giggled at his over-the-top display, but a small, deeply secret place inside her was stung, or maybe verified, she wasn’t sure; it set off a little voice inside her that said, "See? A relationship between you two is ridiculous. Just look at his reaction. Don’t you remember? He could never love you.”

Ross rather blamed himself for the publicity and he knew she was a little uncomfortable with it. He’d actually tried to keep it a secret at first. Of course, she’d known almost as soon as it’d happened. It was a little bit funny that he’d thought he could keep it from her. Now, he only tried to make her less anxious. Usually, after one of those calls, he’d come out and talk to her and she’d laughingly remind him she was his secretary, not his publicist.

This time, he didn't come and talk to her because his mobile rang. He picked it up and answered it as soon as he saw the caller ID. Demelza felt a little bit like she’d been punched in the gut. That reaction, that face– it meant that Elizabeth was calling.

She had no reason to resent Elizabeth, really, she'd never even met her! And Elizabeth was married; there was no reason to think she could still be in love with Ross. As far as Demelza knew, Elizabeth was very in love with Francis. And what was it to her if Ross still loved Elizabeth?

Still, she'd grown to know how his face looked when Elizabeth called. She suspected some form of masochism every time his face changed and it was his her face and she... She shook her head in a halfhearted attempt to clear her thoughts and attempted to focus on her work. But she kept sneaking glances at Ross, only, she told herself, because she was concerned about his... his... working ability! Right, it usually declined if Elizabeth called. That was a good excuse, no, reason.

Somehow, she managed to keep up some semblance of occupation with something other than Ross until she noticed (but only barely, it wasn't like she was watching him or anything) he was walking to her. She kept up the pretense of typing until it would be terribly obvious to anyone that he meant to speak with her. She input one final letter then turned around.she couldn't breathe. Why on earth would she care to know what his face looked like when it involved Elizabeth? Besides wanting to know how his face looked every moment for every person and any emotion– no, no, another thing we don't think about.

“Yes, Mr. Poldark?” She dragged out his name a little, maybe a little mockingly, but she hoped it would be read as teasing. She knew he preferred to be called Ross; Mr. Poldark was his father or his uncle, not him. And teasing was a better sound than bitterness or hurt, which were the other options.

Ross seemed to buy into the teasing. He gave her a look that clearly asked if they were still doing this, but it had a hint of a smile. Demelza exhaled in relief.

“The Trenwith Mining Company is hosting a dinner this weekend.”

“Right,” she nodded and pulled up a different tab on the computer. “I’ll put it on your schedule.”

“Excellent. And put it on your schedule, too.”
Demelza’s breathing stopped. Sure she’d heard wrong, she questioned, “Sir?”

“It’s not really any different than a business meeting, just dressier. You’ll attend with me like it’s a meeting.” Trusting there were no objections, he turned to leave.

"But sir!" Demelza felt utterly lost.

"Yes?" He half-turned around.

"I don't– I don't know how to act and I don't have anything to wear– Ross, I can't go!" She could already see a room full of people laughing at her, a night of embarrassing herself.

"No need to worry about that. Verity and Elizabeth wish to spend the day with you. They’ll help you find something to wear and teach you how to act. That’s alright with you?”

Demelza nodded. Her head was spinning.

“Good. Verity suggested nine on Saturday morning?”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Any more noise would have intensified the headache beginning to pound. She shook her red curls out of her face and said, only a little louder, “Yes, that’s fine.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her answer and began to walk away. “Let her know.”

Demelza waited until she was sure he couldn’t see or hear her. Then she slumped back against her desk, breathing hard. A whole day with Elizabeth?! ...And Verity, she conceded. But still...

***

Ross thought Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. He knew going to his uncle’s “party” was important for his business. There would probably be lots of investors there and it was an opportunity to make a good impression. That didn’t mean he had to look forward to it. A room full of people who thought themselves above everyone else? Who had the power to change things and yet refused to? A room full of hypocrites who could never be honest? He would hate every second.

That was likely the reason Verity had evidently instructed Elizabeth to inform Ross he could bring someone. Verity had been listening to their conversation and sent him a text that said “Bring Demelza. You need someone in your corner.” Ross did not bow to other people’s wishes. He never did anything he didn’t want to do. But Verity wasn’t bossy, and Ross was not dumb. When she told him to do something, that quickly became something he wanted to do. So he’d told Elizabeth that yes, he’d bring someone. Verity must have said something to Elizabeth, because she then informed him that they would love spend the day of the dinner with Demelza, would he please let her know? Impeding his female relatives had always been Francis's mistake. Of course he would let Demelza know.

Ross did hope that she wouldn't be horribly uncomfortable. He wasn't heartless, despite a few rumors to the contrary. But he needed someone from his company there and Demelza was an easy, obvious choice. She just was. So he'd let Verity and Elizabeth do whatever and he'd take her to the dinner party because he needed someone solely on his side. Really, that was it.

***

Saturday morning came much too quickly for Demelza's liking. Her alarm went off at eight. She groaned, pulled herself out of bed, and began to get ready.

She wasn’t even halfway ready yet when she realized it was already a quarter to nine, and she threw herself into a panic. Still vaguely singing along to the music playing, she attempted to make breakfast with one hand and brush her hair with the other.

“Dammit!” she swore as she looked down at her milk-stained shirt in horror. “Now I’m going to have to change!” she muttered as she rushed to her room, stopping on the way to grab her eyeliner and mascara from the bathroom. Somehow, she managed to only stab herself in the eye twice as she sorted through her clothing for a new shirt. There! She grabbed a purple tank top and slipped it on, barely pausing from finishing her mascara. Where had she put that shirt? It was around here somewhere...

There was a knock at the door. Demelza froze. “Oh, shit!” She ran to the door and unlocked it, not even bothering to answer it before yelling, “Come in!” and running back to her room. “I guess this will have to do.” She looked down at the white v-neck top clutched in her hands and shrugged before pulling it over her head.

"Demelza?" Verity called. Demelza stumbled out of the bedroom, hopping and trying to put a shoe on while brushing her teeth. She made some indistinguishable noise Verity assumed was an attempt at an answer. "Sorry, I suppose we're a bit early."

Demelza held up a finger and hopped her way into the bathroom. Quickly, she finished brushing her teeth. "No, Verity, it's fine!" She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and came out to say hello before finishing getting ready.

Ross's girlfriend exited the bathroom with her red curly hair piled messily on top of her head, mascara smudged, and eyeliner streaking just a little under her eyes. Despite it all, she was rather pretty, Elizabeth grudgingly admitted. Her hair was gorgeous. She had clear skin and pretty blue-green eyes that didn't leave Elizabeth's. It was an unconventional beauty, but beauty nonetheless.

Verity stepped in, trying to dissipate the tension. "Demelza, this is my sister-in-law, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Demelza is a friend of mine that works for Ross." Demelza had no reaction to the second statement. She treated it as no more than a statement of fact, Elizabeth noted with a little satisfaction. They really are only friends. Of course, Verity had explained to her that, while they might be a bit closer than employer and employee usually were, there was nothing improper about their relationship, nothing more than friendship. Elizabeth wasn’t sure she’d really believed it until now.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Demelza gave an awkward little half-wave and Elizabeth pulled herself out of her thoughts.

“You too,” she smiled. She may have some lingering feelings for Ross, but they were only habit. She loved Francis. And there was no reason this girl should have to suffer a cold shoulder over things that were long over and between her and Ross, anyway.

Really, the poor thing looked so terribly uncomfortable. Elizabeth made up her mind then and there that she wouldn’t do anything to increase her discomfort. Maybe they could even be friends. Yes, she would give it a try.

“Do you need any help getting ready? I’m rather good with hair."

***

The table erupted in giggles.

"Oh my goodness," Verity laughed. "I can't believe Francis proposed like that.”

“Well,” Elizabeth looked mischieviously over the rim of her glass, “that’s because he wants everyone to think he’s some great romantic.”

“To be fair,” Demelza said, “that is very sweet.”

“Yes, the part where he exclaimed, ‘Oh, dammit all to hell, this is not going the way I wanted it too!’ was very endearing.”

“And you still said yes...” Verity wondered.

“Very honestly, it was quite adorable." Anyone could see the love in her eyes and hear the fondness in her voice. It was quite obvious to Demelza that Elizabeth loved Francis, and she felt her heart twinge with jealousy at the evident happiness enfolding her. Her heart was briefly consumed with the desperate wish that someone– not anyone in particular, of course– would feel that way about her.

“So, what do we still need to get done?” Verity asked. “I have a dress, Elizabeth...?”

“Yes, I’ve got one.”

“Looks like we just need to find one for you, Demelza.”

***

Demelza exited the dressing room huffing in frustration. “It’s not working, Verity! We’ve not found anything and we won’t be able to!”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Demelza,” Elizabeth directed from where she looked through a stack of frilly dresses. “We’ll find you something, I’m sure.”

Verity bustled around Demelza, tugging, pinching, letting the fabric fall just so, and... “There! That looks nice, don’t you think?”

She studied her reflection in the mirror, taking in the silver and black bodice of the gown, the colors swirling around her body until it erupted into a magnificent tulle skirt. She bit her lip. "I don't know, Verity. Don't you think it's too nice for only a dinner?"

Verity snorted. "I promise you, I can think of at least three women who will be there with dresses that are much gaudier than this one."

"Yes, but everyone will quite ignore them because of their families." Elizabeth crossed over to the other two with yet another dress folded in her arms. "Demelza is new, and with the rumors, there is already scandal attached to her name. It's best if she goes in something more understated..." Her voice trailed off as she spotted something on another rack. She darted over to pull it out and held it up triumphantly. "... Like this!"

Understated! Demelza mocked as she stumbled around the dressing room. Not a single one of these dresses has been understated. Any one of them is more than I can afford, but Verity and Elizabeth keep insisting nothing simpler will do. She shuddered at the thought of admitting she didn't have the money. Despite her need for them, Demelza didn't usually find making friends easy. Trusting people was not how she'd been raised. But she thought Verity her friend already, and perhaps Elizabeth too. She couldn't bear for either of them to think less of her for any reason.

Finally, she got the back of the dress done up and stepped out of the dressing room. The other girls gasped.

"Oh, Demelza! You look beautiful!" Verity exclaimed.

The dress was green– no, blue– no, both. She watched in awe as the material seemed to change color with her slightest movements. The dress seemed sleeveless. Its neckline curved like the top of a heart with gauzy material decorated with a few tiny rhinestones covering the rest of her chest and extending down her arms. The bodice of the dress was overlaid with rhinestones, too, tiny things ending in a small, belt-like thing around her waist. From there, the skirt flowed like the sea, folding and crashing down around her ankles. The skirt was slim, molding more to her body, but it wasn't tight, only clinging a little to her hips.

She was clothed in an ocean wave. She didn't look beautiful. She looked like a mermaid, a selkie, some creature of the sea.

"Demelza," Elizabeth whispered, "you have to get that. That's the one."

The next few moments of her life blurred together. She forgot to protest, forgot anything but that dress and how incredible it was. Suddenly, she was standing in line to buy the dress and her stomach sank. She didn't have enough, she didn't have enough for it, hadn't even looked at the price tag– and she realized Elizabeth was talking to the cashier.

"Charge it to Nampara, please."

She'd never been good at concealing her emotions, and this was no exception. Her shock was clear.

"Oh, did Ross not tell you? This is a company-required activity, so Nampara is paying."

Oh. Of course. That silly man.

***

A knock sounded on the door.

“Oh!” Verity exclaimed around a mouthful of bobby pins. “That must be Ross!” She finished pinning up a final red curl and ran to the door, leaving Demelza alone in her bedroom. Slowly, Demelza stood up and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Demelza!" She heard Verity calling her but didn't respond. Verity burst back through the door, all pastel pink and lace. "Are you ready?"

Demelza couldn't respond at first. Finally, she whispered in a choked voice, "I look like my mother."

"Oh, dear." Verity reached forward and hugged her. They stood there a few moments more before Demelza blinked away the moisture she'd not even noticed gathering in her eyes and tore herself away from her reflection.

"Let's go."

***

Ross stood in the entryway of Demelza's flat with his hands folded behind his back. Looking around, the flat looked lived-in already. The walls were mostly bare, but there were little things that would alert someone to a human presence. The quilt on the back of the couch, the stacks of books in boxes and on the floor, the tablecloth on the kitchen table. Somehow, everything looked familiar and just like Demelza.

A movement down the small hall connecting the living room and kitchen to the bedroom caught his attention. Ah.

"Are you both ready?" He smiled at Verity.

"Yes, I believe we are." With a little mischievous glint in her eyes, Verity moved aside to let Demelza step through. Ross's jaw dropped. She looked...

He didn't know the right word. Different? That was the closest one, yes. She was different than the Demelza he knew, the open, laughing Demelza of the sunshine and daylight. This Demelza seemed to him blazing and mysterious, more a burning wildfire than a warm fire in the hearth. But a fire may have been the wrong comparison. She didn't look like a fire at all. That dress made her look like she, like Aphrodite, had been born of the ocean, walked straight out of it still clothed in a wave. Her eyes shimmered silver and blue-green-gray, a ocean in their own right. And her hair... It was half pinned up, looking artfully wind blown. He could almost feel it, smell the saltwater on it, see it spread out, standing out starkly against white sheets- He pulled his mind back from those dangerous thoughts with the force of someone about to get burned.

“You look wonderful, Demelza,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. Ross cleared his throat. “Yes, very- very appropriate.”

She looked him in the eyes and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Then she looked down and blushed, and he felt somehow released from her spell, however temporarily.

Verity looked between the two happily. Maybe her intervention wouldn’t be required after all. “Well, shall we?”

Ross tore his eyes away from Demelza. He’d hardly even noticed Verity’s presence. “Yes. Yes, let’s go.”

***

Demelza’s heart was pounding. She was seated across from Verity, which she thanked her lucky stars for. It was easy to follow any little social cues Verity gave her and they could talk easily, so she didn't feel completely misplaced. It would have been fine. There was only one slight problem. She was seated next to Ross.

Ross was her friend, of course, she shouldn't feel uncomfortable around him. And she didn't, really, she didn't. No, uncomfortable wasn't the right word. The air around them felt... charged, somehow, tense. Every time she so much as looked at him, a thick, warm heat slid down into her belly. She felt aware of every space between them, every inch, every movement...

Demelza attempted to focus on the conversation and clear her head of those thoughts. It was only some strange witchery that came with this dress, she was sure. Wait, was Verity saying something?

"Demelza? Demelza?"

She started. "Sorry?"

"I was just telling Francis how we heard the most interesting story about him."

She grinned. "Oh, yes. How many times did he try to propose, Verity? I forget. Was it three or four?" Ross tensed next to her, but she ignored it. Her anxiousness about the evening perhaps contributed to it. Usually, she would hate doing anything to make someone else uncomfortable, but she was just the right amount of nervous and reckless that made her not care as much.

"Well, the way Elizabeth tells it, he had a ring for over a month."

Verity clapped. "Ah, yes! And the first time, they were going to go on a picnic–"

"But it was rained out," Demelza finished. "Then the second time, they went to a lovely restaurant and he had the ring in his pocket, just about to go down on one knee–"

"And the couple one table over beats him to it! He couldn't very well propose right after them, of course." Verity shook her head at her brother's antics.

"Of course," Demelza agreed laughingly. "So, Francis thought that since the sea is so important to the both of them, he'd try his next proposal there."

"It was going to be very cute. While Elizabeth was getting some things out of the car, he wrote 'Will you marry me?' in the sand. He got down on one knee–"

"And Elizabeth turned around to see him kneeling on the beach, soaked through, and only an impression of words still etched into the sand!" Francis had his arm around Elizabeth, who was laughing into his shoulder listening to the retelling. To his credit, he was only a little red-faced while almost everyone else (Ross still seemed ill at ease) was laughing at his expense. Even his father was smiling.

"Now, this is the best part. Elizabeth saw him kneeling with a diamond ring and said yes, but he insisted on planning another proposal because he was going to get this one right. Which, of course, is how she learned about the other ones."

Demelza cut in. "His final and most successful proposal began with him taking her to Paris for the weekend."

"The official excuse being he wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Again." Verity rolled her eyes with gusto. Even Ross cracked a smile at that.

"So they had a lovely romantic evening together–"

"Filled, of course with plenty of perfect opportunities my dear brother did not take in an effort to make Elizabeth think he wouldn't propose–"

"And finally, at the base of the Eiffel Tower, Francis bends down to 'tie his shoe'," said Demelza, encasing that statement in air quotes.

"He gets the ring out, all ready to finally have the perfect proposal, but someone knocks into him and he drops it!"

"And there he is, on his hands and knees, looking for the ring. Finally, he stands up and shouts– remind us of the exact wording, Elizabeth?"

"I think it was, 'Oh, dammit all to hell, this is not going the way I wanted it to!'"

"That was it!" Demelza clapped her hands, laughing.

"In case you were under the delusion that my brother was wonderfully romantic, please allow us to inform you otherwise." Verity, Demelza, and Elizabeth all exchanged looks and laughed.

Wonderfully romantic!

***

Demelza breathed a sigh of relief. They'd made it through the most part of the dinner. Ross had promised he'd take her home soon, but they’d had to stay so they could socialize a little. They’d leave as soon as it could be considered polite, he assured her. For now, she was hiding in a corner with Verity and desperately trying to forget the way Ross looked at Elizabeth. It shouldn’t matter, she scolded herself. Elizabeth is married and she cares for Francis. And besides, she doesn’t love Ross. That doesn’t matter, because he’d not look at her twice, but she doesn’t love Ross. They’re only friends.

(Then why did it feel like a blow to the stomach when she thought of him with Elizabeth? Why had things between them felt so strange tonight?)

A sudden intake of breath from the dark-haired girl next to her caught her attention.

“Verity? Is something wrong?”

She wasn’t paying attention to Demelza, not really. “I didn’t think... I didn’t know he’d be here...”

“Who? Who is it?”

“A man,” she never took her eyes off of him, “I met him last week. His name is Andrew.”

Demelza was not blind to the blush on Verity’s cheeks or the slight hitch in her voice. “Do you fancy him?”

That brought Verity’s attention back to the redhead. Her head snapped back around and she exclaimed, “Why, Demelza! I couldn’t- I couldn’t possibly-” She continued to splutter but Demelza payed it no mind.

“Go talk to him, then.” She gave Verity a little push. “Go on!”

Verity stumbled forward. Demelza gave her a nod to encourage her. She walked forward, but kept looking back. Demelza shook her head and made a little gesture with her hand. Verity faced forward, took a deep breath, and seemed to gain some sort of confidence, because without looking back again, she walked up to Andrew Blamey.

***

Francis nudged Elizabeth. She looked away from Ross and toward her husband. “Yes?”

“Who is that talking to my sister?” He pointed to where Verity was smiling at some man in the middle of the crush of people in the hall.

“Oh, haven’t you heard of him?” George Warleggan looked at Francis in amazement.

“No,” Francis said slowly.

“That’s Andrew Blamey. His wife died a few years ago in what he said was a boating accident, but everyone knows they didn’t get along very well.”

Elizabeth twisted her hands around each other. Couldn’t they let Verity have some happiness? And that poor man! It couldn’t be more than vicious rumors.

“Honestly, George,” she smiled at them both with fond exasperation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, there are rumors,” he lowered his voice confidentially, “that it wasn’t an accident at all. There are many people who think he murdered his wife.” He took a drink and let his words sink in. “Really, though, Francis, I think it would be unwise to let your sister get too close. He seems a dangerous man.”

***

After a little effort, Ross managed to locate Demelza. She was standing alone in a corner of the room. He felt a slight twinge of regret for leaving her alone. He knew full well that she’d never been to anything like this before. It was too late now, at any rate, and time to leave, besides.

Demelza looked right at him and smiled, and something in him responded to it, tugging him towards her.

“Are you ready to go?”

The mysterious Demelza slipped and he could see daylight Demelza again. “Oh, Ross, can we leave?”

He smiled at her. “Of course. I think we’ve stayed long enough that leaving now is acceptable. Shall we?” In a fit of chivalry, or maybe it was mockery of a time long past, he offered her his arm.

She took it, grinning the nighttime Demelza grin again, and said just as mockingly, “We shall.”

“Let’s make our goodbyes.” Still arm in arm, they made their way over to where Verity, Francis, and Elizabeth were gathered just in time to see the fight break out.

Ross didn’t think. He jumped into the fray and pulled Francis and Blamey apart- not before Francis got a bloody nose and probable black eye. Elizabeth screamed and called for someone to get something to clean him up. She seemed to Ross disproportionately concerned. The Elizabeth he was accustomed to was never less than perfectly in control of her emotions. His uncle had heard the commotion and was walking over.

“Ross! Can’t you ever keep yourself out of trouble?” His uncle turned to Francis and Elizabeth, who was still trying to clean Francis up. “And you, boy,” he roared. “If you’re going to get in a fight, at least win!” Finally, he turned to Verity and Andrew who were still standing there, tense. “As for you,” he growled menacingly, “keep away from my daughter if you know what’s good for you. And Verity?”

“Yes, Father?” She bowed her head, refusing to let them see the tears threatening her eyes. People fighting! And it was her fault! Oh, this was horrible!

“You will not encourage him.”

“Yes, Father.”

Ross yanked Demelza over to stand next to him. “I think we’ll be taking our leave now, Uncle.”

Charles Poldark looked over Demelza coldly, and she felt the chill in her soul. “I think that’s best.”

Ross nodded. “Goodbye. Uncle. Francis. Verity.” His voice and gaze lingered on the last name. “Elizabeth.”

He whisked Demelza away then. She didn’t really have time to say goodbye, but she was alright with that. All she really wanted right now was to go away, get away from here. The world seemed too small, her chest too tight, and she couldn't breathe. She just wanted to go home.

***

The drive home had been beyond tense. This wasn't the breathless, almost pleasant tenseness that had existed between them earlier. This tension was uncomfortable, foreboding, and Demelza was more than happy to be away from it.

Singing under her breath to calm herself, she shed her dress and threw it in the back of the closet. She would be fine if she never wore that again, she thought. The strange witchery it caused was uncomfortable. Demelza wasn't sure she liked it.

She stepped into the shower, letting her hair down and scrubbing her face to rid herself of the makeup. Thoughts danced across her mind with the fervor of dreams or nightmares, she wasn't sure which. In her mind's eye, she could still see the fight, Verity's white face, Francis's bloody one, Ross dark, and Elizabeth upset and unsure. Ross looking at Elizabeth like that. Francis not noticing, but the man next to him did. Elizabeth looking at Ross... She wasn't sure how.

Just thinking about it made her want to cry, but she couldn't. It was such a dumb thing to upset over, she thought with sudden anger as she scrubbed at her eyes. This whole thing made her want to drink and forget everything, but no. She had an excellent example of why that'd be a bad idea.

Turning off the shower, she dried herself off with a towel. Then she put on her comfort clothes, the ones she always wore after a nightmare, and brushed her hair out and put it up. It was another hot chocolate night, but she might not go to bed.

A nightmare or her treacherous memory? No, after her hot chocolate, she'd watch movies or something, anything else besides dreaming or thinking. Demelza could always sleep in the morning.

Chapter Text

Contrary to what they both had thought, the tension between Ross and Demelza hadn’t gone away when she took off that dress. Demelza couldn’t stop that slippery, warm feeling, and for whatever reason, Ross kept seeing her laid back, breathing hard, red hair wild on his white sheets. Two weeks now, and he still couldn't banish the image of her that night, couldn't stop it from creeping into his mind late at night. There was no denying it. Something in their relationship had shifted.

Almost overnight, things had... changed. Demelza was increasingly aware (or maybe wary) of it. Things hadn't changed back after that night like she thought they would. There were glances that she was sure couldn't be more than platonic, except for a strange heat in them But that was probably only wishful thinking, or maybe it was her imagination. On Ross’s part, he saw her laughing eyes and the mischief evident in them, and it was– he didn't know the word. Or maybe he did, but he didn't want to say it.

They kept having lunch together, but it was different now, partly because they had to be more careful since the rumors of a relationship started. Ross couldn't care less what other people thought of them, really, but he knew Demelza cared, and so they were careful. It wasn't only the fault of the media, or maybe it wasn't the fault of the media at all. There was something awkward between them. Conversation that used to be easy was difficult, each thinking of hidden meanings and they didn't really mean that. Touches were not casual. Hands were quickly snatched away and apologized for. Both of them wanted to fix it, put it back the way it was or move it forward, but neither one knew how.

Currently, Demelza was sitting in the small living room of her flat, trying not to think about it. It seemed that was how she spent a good part of her life these days, trying not to think about Ross Poldark and his stupid face. (A very attractive stupid face. She might like to kiss that stupid face–no, no, dangerous thought, dangerous thought, mustn't go there.) Her legs were crossed, imprinting each other where they pressed together. She bent over the papers in her lap, sorting and resorting, trying to figure out costs and what could be afforded and how much she could put aside to pay off student loans. Absentmindedly, she reached out and drank some of her tea.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Coming!" she called. Demelza unstuck her legs from the couch and each other and walked calmly to the door. Likely it was Verity dropping in (they'd become quite good friends), or possibly Elizabeth (well, it wasn't impossible), or maybe her landlord (it was the beginning of a new month and he might be here to talk about payment), or Jim and Jinny that lived across the hall (they were having a baby, you know). Maybe it's Ross. That thought was definitely not invited into her head. She didn't know that she wanted it to be Ross. Actually, she knew that she most definitely did not want it to be Ross. Her pace slowed. Whoever it was pounded in the door again, and her heartbeat sped up. They knew she was here now, and she cursed her earlier self for calling out. Oh, what can I do?

She took a deep breath. Shush, shush, calm down, I'm sure it's nothing to worry over. Demelza eyed the door. Still... She peered hesitantly through a tiny hole in the door... and her stomach dropped.

No, no, no, no, no! How did he find me? How does he know where I am? She knew, she knew that he'd not leave her alone. There was only one thing for her to do. She leaned forward and opened the door.

"Hello, Da."

***

Ross was unknowingly mimicking the position Demelza had been holding only moments before, on his sofa bent over company finances, except his legs were spread apart, not touching, and he was cursing George Warleggan’s name to the high heavens. Damn that man and his influences! They’d sink Nampara if he was not careful. Though his business was failing, Ross was by no means poor. Considerably less well off than his cousin and uncle, yes, but he did not worry as Demelza did about food and rent and clothing and water and whatever else (which was the final and most vital difference between the two at that moment in time).

He stood up and stretched. His eyes were aching from hours of staring at tiny print with only a few hours of rest since doing the exact same thing yesterday. He wandered into the halls and various rooms of the house. Maybe he’d clean out some of his father’s things while he was at it.

Ross walked into his parents’ room. He'd only slept in here, spending as little time in here as possible. It was the master bedroom, and so was his, as master of the house, but it still felt like it belonged to his parents, like his mother would be sitting in that chair, or his father over by the bookshelf. His father... His father had been distant, but he had still loved his son. Ross loved his father and had always felt safe and loved at home, but he’d always been closer to his mother. He shivered and mentally banished the ghosts of so many years ago.

He walked over to the bookshelf where he'd imagined his father standing only moments before and hauled a box off the shelf. Ross carried it over to the bed and sat down, then started sorting through the contents. Business transactions, old papers... Then his fingers brushed against flat, smooth glass at the bottom of the box. He thought... Yes, he knew what it was. Ross reached down to the bottom of the box and drew out his parents' picture. It was a picture taken of them on their wedding day that had sat on the table next to his father’s bed for many years, until his mother died and it was too painful to look at.

When he was younger, he’d often looked at that picture and thought about himself eventually being married. It’d held no appeal until he met Elizabeth. Then he’d started thinking about it, wondering what it would be like, and actually wanting it. Any dreams about the bliss of wedded life had vanished the day Ross found out she was marrying his cousin. Ross didn’t even know if he still loved her. She’d certainly not done anything to retain his love. At this point, she was more of a habit than anything else, and a bad one, at that. It seemed almost certain she didn't still love him, if she ever had. They had been each other's first love, but now they were only each other's bad habit.

Invariably, Ross's thoughts returned to Demelza. To his surprise, he found himself comparing her to Elizabeth. It wasn't really fair to either of them. They were so different. Demelza was open and laughing. She could never conceal her emotions. Elizabeth was frosty and private. She never allowed anyone to know how she truly felt. They were warm summer day and cold winter night, sun and snow, china and earthenware. Yet he had loved (still loved?) Elizabeth, and he... absolutely, positively was not in love with Demelza. No, they were only friends. Friends with a lot of tension between them. A friend that he’d maybe like to... But no, that was ridiculous.

He stood up, the picture falling out of his lap and tumbling onto the floor. He probably ought to go find Prudie and Judd. They likely weren't doing anything of importance, and he wanted lunch.

***

"What are you doing here?" Demelza looked warily at her father.

"I came to see ya, daugh'er. Tell ya ta come home."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Make me come back to yer house, you mean. That house weren't my home." Her accent slipped. It always did around him, and she hated it. She'd carefully cultivated a near-perfect accent and way of speaking since some girls made fun of her when she was little, and she hated that her father had the power to make her forget it.

He took a step forward, trying to move into her home, encroach on her space. She mirrored his movements and blocked his access. He would not come into her safe space if she had anything to say about it.

"No, daugh'er, I'd not make ye." He twisted his hat earnestly in his hands and leaned forward.

Demelza laughed bitterly. "Aye, I'm sure of that." Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Anger contorted her father's face. “Ye will come back! I’ll no’ have ye living in sin with Poldark!” he spat in disgust.

She was shocked, utterly baffled and confused. “Sin? There is no sin. I work for him, I don’ live with ‘im!”

He stepped closer and she refused to back down. “There be sin twixt you and Poldark, I know it! I won’ stand for it!”

Demelza was only angry now. How dare he come here and try to tell her what to do! How dare he! “You’d ruther I came home wi’ ye and watched ye sin?”

He raised his arm and Demelza flinched back, bracing herself. They stood there for endless moments until he lowered his arm, breathing heavily. “Alright, daugh’er. Stay here if ye wish. But don’t come crawling back to me when he breaks yer heart. A fine gentleman,” he said with vitriol, “like tha’ doesn’t want no slut like ye.”

He turned away and left, and though he didn't touch her this time, she could feel his last blow sting her heart. Somehow, he always managed to strike where it hurt the most. Demelza stood there until she was sure he was gone, then rushed inside and locked her door. She drew all the blinds and fled to her bedroom. She curled up on the bed. Her whole body was shaking and she didn’t feel safe, even with her knees up to her chest. Blindly, she reached out to her phone and started playing music. She swiped at her eyes and looked at her hand in surprise. She’d not even realized she was crying.

Her body wouldn’t stop shaking. Demelza just wanted someone there. Someone to hold her. Someone to tell her it was okay. She took her face out from where she’d buried it between her knees and looked around her flat. It still didn’t feel safe. Nothing was safe. She needed someone and she needed to get out of here. Her mobile was still clutched in her hand. Demelza looked at it for a few seconds and made her decision.

“Ross?”

***

Ross was quite irritated with Prudie and Judd. Two lazier people he’d never known. Why he kept them around was a mystery, besides the fact they were some of the only remnants of the life he’d known before the military. Still, he almost fantasized about firing them sometimes.

His mobile rang then, and he picked it up.

“Ross?” Demelza’s voice was shaky. It sounded like she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He was immediately concerned, yes, of course he was. They were friends, even if it had been awkward lately.

“No. I’m not. I... I...” To Demelza’s dismay, her throat closed up and her eyes teared up.

Already pulling on his shoes and grabbing his keys, he said, “Are you home?”

She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see her. She choked out, “Yes.”

“Alright. I’m on my way.”

***

Demelza stayed sat on her bed until she heard someone (please be Ross, please be Ross, please be Ross) at the door. With some effort, she dragged herself to the door. It was funny, she thought, about how she’d been hoping less than an hour ago that Ross wouldn’t be here, and now if it was anyone else, she might cry.

She was infinitely more careful this time around. She made no sounds as she crept to the door and looked to see if it was Ross. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Demelza opened the door.

“Demelza!” he said instantly. “What happened?”

Her eyes teared up again just thinking about it. “My father came here.”

Ross relaxed visibly. “Oh, that’s all?” Saying that was a definite mistake.

“That’s all?!” Demelza’s voice rose in pitch. “‘That’s all'?!” she demanded incredulously. She pressed her hand to her forehead and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“No, Demelza, look, I’m sorry,” he hastily apologized. Ross still didn’t quite understand what was wrong, but she was obviously upset. Her accent was thicker, her eyes red, and her hair mussed. “Is there anything I can do?”

She looked around her flat again. Ross noted she seemed skittish. “I need to leave. I have to get out of here.”

Their eyes met. Slowly, a little wary of frightening her off, he asked, “Do you want to come with me back to my place?”

“No, no,” she was very quick to refuse.

“Yes, yes,” he teased gently, coaxing a little smile from her. “I’m going through my father’s things and I could use the help.”

Demelza thought about it for a minute, but she knew what she would choose. Anywhere but here would be better, feel safer, especially if she was with Ross. “Alright.”

***

Demelza looked around the house. It was as big a house as she’d ever seen. Everything was very modern. The parlor (parlor!), kitchen, hallways, and so on were a little dusty and messy, but Ross’s domain was impeccably clean. The library and study were spotless. His bedroom (she was standing in his bedroom and her fear and hurt were not forgotten but she didn’t think they were to blame for the butterflies in her stomach and her heart beating faster) was the only one of his room that wasn’t neater than a pin. Probably because it was still a little bit his parents room in his mind, she realized with a slight pang.

There was something laying on the ground. She reached down and picked it up. It must have been a picture of his parents. His mother had his dark, curly hair and impossibly dark eyes, but the rest of his features were his father’s. The picture looked like it had been taken on their wedding day. They looked at each other with so much love, she wondered at it.

"That's my mother and father on their wedding day."

She looked up from the photograph in her hands. "They look very happy," she offered.

"They were. At first, anyway." He offered no more information and she didn't ask.

They worked in tandem for hours, sorting and arranging what felt like endless piles of papers and things. It was mostly silent, except for some questions and comments and a half-hour of teasing Ross had to endure from Demelza after she discovered a photograph album his mother had kept from when he was a baby.

Eventually, it was decided they should stop for dinner. (Demelza had actually skipped lunch and was ravenous, not that she'd told Ross that.) Ross couldn't find Prudie and Judd– again– and there wasn't any dinner prepared.

"I can cook," Demelza volunteered.

He'd refused at first out of a sense of politeness, but his stomach quickly convinced him otherwise. Of course, he thought as he took his first bite of dinner, of course she would be an excellent cook too. Is there any end to what she can do? he caught himself wondering in amazement.

They exchanged looks over dinner, laughing words and eyes. She insisted on helping him clean up and it devolved into a towel fight that ended with both of them standing much too close and breathing much too hard. Both knew they ought to move away, their minds screaming danger. Neither seemed to be able to do it, though.

At last, Demelza broke the spell. "I should... I should go back to my flat."

"Will you be alright there?" Why were they speaking in whispers? There wasn't anyone around to overhear them.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She hoped he didn't notice how she couldn't tear her gaze away from his lips.

(He didn't. He was too busy looking at hers.)

"If you're sure," he allowed. She bit her lip and his stomach lept. “I’ll, um, I’ll take you home.” Somehow, that came out sounding differently than he meant it.

Demelza managed to move back and away from him. “I think I left something.” She gestured back behind herself.

“Of course,” Ross said politely.

“I’ll just, uh, go get it then.” She awkwardly waited until he nodded, waiting for her to leave. “Right,” she muttered under her breath as she left, cursing herself and her own stupidity.

***

What’s taking her so long? Ross wondered. Did whatever it was get buried under their things? Was it lost? Maybe she needed some help. After some deliberation, he walked back towards his room. It really did feel like it was his room now, not his parents’. Interesting that all it had needed was to be cleaned out. Or maybe it had only needed Demelza. But no, that was ludicrous.

He walked into the room and saw her. “What are you doing?!”

She hadn’t meant to, honest. She’d only seen the dress that must’ve been his mother’s, now she thought about it, and thought it prettier than anything she’d ever seen, even more than the dress she’d bought for the dinner party. It was the same color, but so much prettier and absolutely breathtaking. Like her dress, there seemed some spell cast on this one. It pulled her in and before she was even aware of what she was doing, she had the dress off the hanger and held against her chest, which was how Ross found her.

She jumped when he came in, dropping the dress like it had burned her. "I'm sorry!" she cried immediately, cowering away from him. It wasn't her father, she knew he wasn't her father, but it was his face she saw again as Ross moved towards her, her father's face screaming at her.

Ross could see it, the fear and tears welling in her eyes. He didn't know what she was afraid of, but he didn't want it to be him. "No," he said softly, his voice returning to normal, "I'm sorry." She shook her head and began to apologize again, but he cut her off. "I've frightened you." He moved closer and slowly, very slowly, brought his hand up to her face.

Demelza leaned her cheek into his touch, and it was that moment in the kitchen all over again, the tension and the overwhelming desire to kiss him and have him kiss her. Suddenly, it was all too much. It was as if there were a rubber band between them that gave up and just snapped.

Ross's lips were on hers, and it wasn't loving or sweet, only too much hunger and passion that had been contained for too long. He pushed her back until the backs of her knees hit the bed. They buckled under her and she sat down. He never stopped kissing her, laying her down softly. He started kissing her neck, his mouth caressing the place where her shoulder joined her neck. She gasped when he bit down and a moan escaped her as he soothed the bruise with his lips and tongue. It was all moving too fast and still not fast enough. She didn't know what would happen in the morning and she didn't care. Just for this moment, it was enough. Ross was kissing her all along her neckline and drawing her shirt over her head and nothing else mattered.

She sat back up, kissing him again, lips and tongues and teeth, messy and passionate. Ross let her hair down, running his fingers through it and throwing the pins somewhere. (Who cared where?) He trailed his fingers up her back and his heart skipped. There were scars. The puzzle fell into place. He knew why she was so scared of her father now and why she'd been frightened only minutes ago.

Demelza felt him stop and she knew why. She didn't want to talk or think, she only wanted to feel. Her addled mind insisted it wasn't fair she was shirtless and not him. She slipped her hand under his shirt and up his (very well-defined) chest. Immediately, he was distracted, and he let her slip his shirt over his head.

Distracted but still feeling more hesitant and careful around her, he stopped. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. "Yes, I'm sure. Now shut up and kiss me."

Grinning, he did exactly what she asked.

***

Demelza woke the next morning unsure of where she was, a pair of warm arms encircling her and holding her against a warm chest... It was all coming back to her now. Yesterday, last night, the dress, and now. Carefully, discreetly, she slipped out of Ross's arms. She gathered up her clothes and dressed hurriedly. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong. She couldn't leave unless Ross drove her home, but she didn't have to face him yet, his disgust and disdain. He'd not really wanted her, and he definitely wouldn't want her now.

Ross woke up when he felt Demelza leave. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched her dress. He didn't feel they'd made a mistake, but perhaps she did. It would be wise, he decided, to allow her time to think about it without him near. Perhaps, though, having a relationship of sorts with her isn't a terrible idea.

Chapter Text

Demelza felt sick. Her stomach was twisting and writhing, like she'd swallowed a snake. It wasn't nearly innocent or nice enough to have been butterflies. Maybe she should have eaten breakfast, but, she rationalized, she wasn't sure where the food was and she didn't want to intrude. Though it might be a bit late to not want to intrude, she thought with twinge of bitter humor.

They were on uneven ground now, even more so than they'd been before. She didn't rightly know how he'd react and it scared her. He might not talk to her anymore. They almost definitely would stop having lunch together. (That thought hurt more than she'd expected. Those lunches had almost felt like dates, like they were together, like she could pretend she had any right to him, any at all.) What if...? What if he fired her? She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield herself from the thought. She didn't know what she'd do! She began to sing under her breath without noticing it, a soft, slow song that betrayed her anxiety all the same.

Demelza was interrupted by someone saying her name. She looked up from her knees and saw an older woman standing there. Her look of confusion must have read clear on her face, because the woman said, "Hullo, dear, m'name be Prudie. Ye are Demelza, are ye no'?"

"I am," she replied hesitantly.

The woman– Prudie– smiled at her and asked kindly if she'd like some breakfast.

Demelza followed her into the kitchen. She let the woman sit her down at the table and make her some toast and tea (tooth-rottingly sweet, just the way she liked it). As Prudie moved around the kitchen, she talked a bit with the girl. Usually, Prudie was not nearly so attentive to guests, but Ross had warned her this morning to be kind to Demelza. Not to mention Mr. Poldark would probably pay less attention to her and Judd's goings on if he had a girl keeping him occupied, she thought.

Demelza was grinning at Prudie over the top of her mug when Ross entered the kitchen, laughing at some anecdote Prudie was telling her (probably about him). He hung back for a little, realizing he liked her smile and he wanted to watch it a bit longer.

Demelza started when she saw Ross. A little coffee sloshed out of her mug and splashed the counter she was sitting at. Ross started snickering loudly, but his laughter quickly died down as Demelza glared at him. Really, she thought, there isn't any need to laugh so much. I only screamed a little bit, she pouted slightly.

Ross cleared his throat awkwardly and gave Prudie a pointed look. Alright, she could take a hint. Quickly, she made some bumbling excuse or the other and left, leaving Demelza alone with Ross. Demelza’s stomach dropped like a rock, all the way down to her toes. This is it. This is when he says it was a mistake and we should forget it ever happened.

“Listen, Demelza... About what happened last night...”

She looked at her shoes. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back determinedly. Stupid, stupid. You don’t have any right to be upset, anyway. You knew this’d happen, she scolded herself. “I know,” she said quietly. “It can’t happen again and we should probably pretend it never happened at all.”

Ross didn’t mean to, really, but he couldn’t help it. He looked at her with such a look of surprise, a look that so clearly read “Are you stupid? Of course not!”

The look on Ross’s face was only making Demelza feel worse. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and focused on breathing in and out. Maybe it'd loosen the knot in her stomach and push the weight off her chest if she could only breathe.

“No. No, that’s not at all what I was thinking."

"Well, what were ye thinking, then?"

He noted the slight return of her accent and seemed to remember that only happened when she was very upset or losing control (like she lost control last night, he remembered). "Tell me, Demelza... Are you opposed to this happening again?" he asked slowly.

What is he saying? Her heartbeat sped up. It seemed a drum was thrumming in her chest. He can't possibly mean...

"Are you opposed to this happening again?" she asked doubtfully.

He paused and considered his next words. This would have to be presented carefully if she were to agree. He didn’t want to scare her off as that would be quite counterproductive. “I am not.”

She was shocked. The concrete pit in her stomach cracked. He wouldn’t fire her. He didn’t seem to regret it. It was okay. It was okay. She'd not lose him completely by having him for only one night.

“What do you mean?” There was still no harm in being certain exactly what he meant.

“I mean that... perhaps, this is an acceptable way to... blow off steam." She winced a little. It sounded a bit cold hearted, but it was more than she’d ever dared to dream she’d have. Demelza nodded and signaled for him to continue.

“We are,” he presented his idea, “both mature, consenting adults. I think our friendship can handle this.”

Friendship. Of course. Because that’s what they were, even after last night. Friends. “Right, of course.” She never wanted to think about why being friends hurt. Deep down, she thought she maybe already knew, but as much as being only friends hurt, that would make the hurt much worse. So she didn’t think about it. (At least, not for now. It would almost definitely have to be dealt with later.)

They made their arrangement-- or rather, Ross made the arrangement while Demelza only acquiesced to what he said. They sat there in tense, awkward silence. (This tension had none of the excitement and charge of before the thunderstorm and all of the discomfort of after, when you were left with a mess you didn’t know what to do with.) Demelza said she would like to go home and went to Ross’s room to pick up the remnants of her clothing she wasn’t wearing, small things like her hairpins and socks.

Ross sat in the kitchen by himself, rather congratulating himself on how that went. His goal had been achieved. This part of their relationship was very agreeable to the both of them and it would continue. However... He frowned. Demelza had seemed perhaps the tiniest bit upset, but he was sure that would change. It was likely she simply had never done anything like this before. After all, he knew how uncomfortable she could be with uncharted territory. Her discomfort would surely disappear as she became familiar with this newest aspect of their relationship. His thoughts were interrupted by someone at the door. He waited, but of course, Prudie and Judd didn't answer it.

"Elizabeth! This is a... pleasant surprise."

"Hello, Ross. May I come in?"

"Of course." He led her to the lounge.

***

Demelza hummed under her breath ("I wanna scream 'I love you' from the top of my lungs, but I'm afraid that someone else will hear me") as she put in the earrings she was wearing yesterday. Standing in front of the mirror in Ross's bedroom getting ready, she could imagine, just for a second, that she had any right to be here. But no, she didn't, and she couldn't forget that. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she left his room and headed towards the kitchen.

The thing with Ross... It might not be what she wanted, (no, it wasn't close to what she truly wanted, not really) but it was something. She'd never be so brazen to think he could love her, anyway. His heart belonged to Elizabeth. Any fool could see that. He was kind to her, they were friends, and they had pleased each other abed. That was all she could really ask for.

She walked into the kitchen with a smile and ready teasing on her lips, but Ross wasn't there. "Ross?" she called. "Ross?"

***

To be honest, Demelza had mostly been forgotten by Ross in favor of Elizabeth. He was completely focused on Elizabeth, and she could feel his attentions.

"I want to apologize, Ross," Elizabeth began. "I realize our relationship never got a clean break, and I feel it wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

"No," he cleared his throat, "you know, it's alright. I'll admit I was angry at first, but.."

"Could you give us your blessing?" She leaned forward a grasped his arms, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He nodded. She threw herself towards him and hugged him.

"Ross?" Demelza burst through the door and shrank back immediately. "Oh. Sorry." She looked down at her sandals. They were hugging! And the way he was looking at her... He looked at her like she was the sun, and it hurt because for a second last night and then again this morning, Demelza had been foolish enough to hope– just for a second– that Ross could look at her that way.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be immediately suspicious of Demelza. She regarded the other girl coldly. Why is she here? And so early in the morning... No! They didn't! If Elizabeth ever allowed herself to feel any truly strong emotion, she might have then felt something like rage. As it was, she experienced a brief moment of jealousy, anger, and perhaps betrayal before reminding herself she was not to be possessive of Ross. She was with Francis now and she loved him. She had no claim to Ross, nor did she truly want one.

"What is it, Demelza?" Ross said irritably. She looked pale and withdrawn, visibly attempting to shrink herself. He regretted his tone almost immediately. It made him feel odd when she was upset. He didn't like it and decided no one was allowed to upset Demelza again. No one, not him, not even Elizabeth.

“I was just... I’m ready to go...” Demelza said, uncertainty encasing every inch of her being.

Ross nodded. “Elizabeth, if you’ll excuse us.”

Hurriedly, she said, “No, wait! There’s one last thing I needed to tell you!”

Elizabeth had barely glanced at Demelza. Even now, her eyes were only for Ross. Demelza could take a hint. She made to leave, but Elizabeth stopped her, putting a hand on her arm and saying, “No, Demelza, stay. I wanted to tell you, too, anyway.”

Elizabeth waited until she felt the news would explode out of her. Finally, she exclaimed, “I’m pregnant!”

Ross was blindsided. How had he not thought? It felt like betrayal all over again.

Demelza squealed and hugged Elizabeth. There was a stream of happy, high-pitched chatter about how far along she was (four months) and morning sickness (not too bad) and baby names. All of it went right over Ross’s head. He wasn’t thinking at all. He was much too shocked to be thinking. Finally, the noise outside his head died down and he realized Demelza was looking at him expectantly. Say something, her face told him. "Yes, congratulations. I'm very happy for you." He gave Elizabeth an only slightly forced smile. "Demelza, shall we go?"

"Um, yes. Elizabeth?" She looked to the other woman, silently questioning if she was ready to go, also. Acting like the mistress of the house already, Elizabeth thought snidely. ...No, that's not fair. Be kind.

"Of course." They exited together with a loaded silence settling between them.

***

Verity smiled at Andrew from across the café table. They had been seeing each other since the night of that disastrous dinner party and she quite fancied him, no matter what her father and brother said. She could choose for herself who she wanted to be with. It wasn’t the nineteenth century, honestly!

“Verity, we can’t keep this a secret from your family forever.” There he went again, with her least favorite subject.

“I know, Andrew. I just...” She sighed and dropped her head onto her hands.

“Why not? Are you ashamed of me? Of us?”

“No, no, not at all! I just... I can’t tell and keep everyone happy. My father and brother will be upset, but I can’t... I can’t break up with you and keep myself happy.” She chuckled bitterly. “I can’t even keep it secret because you’re unhappy if I do that.”

He reached out and clasped her wrist. “Look, Verity, I’m sorry I brought it up. I understand you feel obligated to keep everyone happy, but you can’t control other people’s happiness.” She looked up at him as he continued. “Not everything you do will make everyone happy. You have to make decisions for yourself, sometimes. It’s alright.”

She exhaled slowly, squeezing his hand. “You’re right.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to her hand before she spoke again. “I don’t know if I’m ready to tell my family,” she said slowly, “but I will tell someone.”

***

Demelza had been home for about an hour when Verity called.

“Are you home?”

Instantly, Demelza’s mind jumped to where she had been and how she’d not been home and did Verity know? (No, she couldn’t. But did she?) “Yes, I am,” she answered a little suspiciously.

“Oh, good.” Verity didn’t know what to say next. How could she bring this up? How to explain it? “Er, do you want to go out for lunch? I’ll buy,” she offered.

“No, Verity, you don’t need to buy,” Demelza immediately refused.

“Come on, please? It was my idea. The least I can do is to buy it.”

Demelza was adamant but Verity was stubborn. Eventually, Verity managed to convince Demelza to at least come out for lunch with her. She’d take care of the paying issue later.

***

Demelza sipped her water and focused her eyes on Verity. She wasn’t a fool. It was obvious Verity wanted to tell her something, and she wouldn’t say what. That was fine by her. Demelza was perfectly alright with staring the other girl down.

They chatted about things, small talk, Demelza never taking her eyes off Verity. Finally, she broke. “I have something I need to tell you.”

I thought she’d never get there! “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Well,” this is it, the moment of truth, “Do you remember Andrew Blamey?”

That was not what Demelza had been expecting. “No... Wait, is he the one Francis fought with at--”

“Yes, that’s him.” Verity preferred not to think about that incident. “At any rate, I met him a little while before that. Actually, I met him the same day I met you. He and Francis were fighting because... Well, because I’ve been seeing Andrew and Francis and Father don’t approve!” she blurted.

Demelza laughed. "And you're still seeing him? Is that what you're so afraid to tell me?"

Verity looked at her wide-eyed. "You aren't... angry with me?"

"Of course not!" Demelza exclaimed incredulously. "Why would I be angry with you?"

Verity wrung her hands. "But I've been keeping secrets from you, and, and, he's gotten into fights with my family already, and my father hates him–"

"Well, your father isn't dating him, is he?" Confused, Verity only nodded. "Then, Verity, does he make you happy? Is he good to you?"

"Oh, goodness, yes!"

"And he cares for you, doesn't he?"

"Well, I- I hope so," Verity stumbled over her words. "I think so."

"Then," Demelza said with a hint of triumph in her voice, "what else really matters? It can be worked out." She reached across the table and put her hand over the other girl's. Demelza smiled at Verity. It was the kind of smile that communicated hope, and it was almost infectious.

Her mind made up, Verity replied, "You know, you're right. We care about each other. I want to see where this leads." She would tell her family sooner rather than later, then.

***

Demelza really needed to relax after the past few days she'd had. Of course, she couldn't do that without locking the door and windows and drawing the curtains. She still didn't quite feel safe here and she hated her father for it. And she needed to be here, be alone, needed it like air. After today, it was time for her to admit it. But she didn’t have to admit anything until she was alone and prepared for the realization.

Of course, she procrastinated as long as possible. Nothing good could come of this, and she knew it. So she took a shower, she did her hair, she got a glass of water, she sat on her bed and turned on the music. A woman's voice filled the room, singing of a secret love destined for failure. And finally, finally Demelza let herself admit what she had known for a long time: she's in love with Ross Poldark.

She never meant for it to happen, honest. Of anyone, she knew what he was. She knew how clueless, how thoughtless he could be. She saw how he was still so very in love with Elizabeth. She never should have fallen for him.

But he cared for her and her safety and well-being, even when he barely knew her. He made terrible jokes that she couldn't help but laugh at. He fought so hard for everyone in the company to be respected equally, down to the lowliest miner and up to himself as CEO. He wouldn't tolerate any harassment from male workers against the female employees. And he was so very passionate (and thorough, she blushed with memories from last night staining her cheeks) in everything he did. How could she not love him?

She stood up to go do... something. Anything would have been better than just sitting here wallowing in what she knew, what she couldn't possibly deny any longer.

I am in love with Ross Poldark. I love him, and it's going to break my heart.

Chapter Text

Demelza clapped her hands as Ross finished his speech thoroughly condemning anyone who'd ever doubted this. He'd promised them, hadn't he? she thought giddily. He'd promised them he'd open this new mine, to hell with their financial crisis, and here we are. Neither one could quite keep themselves from looking at each other. And it wasn't her fault! He'd smiled at her first, it was only right she smiled back.

(If there was perhaps too much emotion in their faces, their eyes and lips, then that was– a ridiculous thought! Any warmth or feeling there beyond friendship– with a side of benefits, she added dryly– was completely imaginary. On Ross's part, anyway.)

(Standing up in front of everyone, Ross was thinking much the same thing. Really, there was nothing more than friendship between him and Demelza. He didn't know how people saw that. Those gossip rags have a way of making the sensible look ludicrous and the ludicrous look sensible, he snorted.)

He waited impatiently for the rest of the ceremony to be done with. He'd never had much patience for that sort of thing, anyway. As soon as the ceremonial ribbon (he'd rolled his eyes at it but Demelza had thought it a great idea) had been cut, he found himself standing next to Demelza.

She handed him a cup of the punch and he immediately took a swig, praying there was at least some alcohol in it.

There wasn't.

Demelza watched him with an amused and all-too-knowing look on her face.

"What?" he asked self-consciously.

She shook her head. It appeared as though she was drawing herself out of a daydream. He found himself curious about what she'd been thinking of.

"You have a little punch," she gestured to his upper lip.

That was what she'd been thinking of, though she'd never tell: a world where she could touch his face freely, where it wouldn't be improper for her to touch him at all, where their physical relationship existed out of the bedroom (or the occasional broom closet, or, one memorable time, his office). It would be nice, she reflected, to have an actual relationship with him, not this quasi-whatever they had. It was a strange amalgamation of friendship, sex, and unrequited love. He could never love her back, and it was too much to hope for. She'd not ever let herself forget that. He was kind to her, and that was good enough. She was happy having him only a little if that was what she could get. It was infinitely better than not having him at all.

"Are the rumors true, do you think?" a man nearby asked his companion as they observed Ross and Demelza's interaction.

His friend snorted into his cup. "Well, he's a fool if they're not."

The other man nodded in agreement.

Demelza's heart leapt into her throat and her stomach twisted in knots. They couldn't know! They couldn't. No one knew the truth. Ross said!

Ross had heard the men, of course. He simply couldn't care less. They didn't know what was truly happening. No one but himself and Demelza did. And besides, it was quite true. Demelza was pretty enough and willing. He would definitely be a fool if there wasn't any truth to the rumors. And Ross Poldark was not a fool. So he let the men say what they wished and focused instead on Demelza. The pulse in her neck was intriguing. Had her heart always beat that hard and quickly? If he put his lips on that point, he wondered, would he be able to feel her heartbeat?

Abruptly, he decided he couldn't wait to find out. Ross surreptitiously brushed Demelza's hand. Her breath hitched, with only that casual touch. She couldn't help it. As usual, he didn't take any notice of it.

He leaned in carefully and whispered into her ear, "Meet me inside." He nodded his head toward the building that stood near the mine.

She nodded and slipped away from him. They'd gotten away with their rare disappearances so far. People didn't notice much when Demelza went missing, and Ross always had excuses up his sleeve. Besides that, they never left or reappeared at the same time. Still, it made Demelza a little nervous to do anything out of either Ross's house or her flat. (Though it was usually Ross's house. Demelza had a collection of things there by now.)

Now, there was a way to do this. Sneaking away without anyone noticing was a specialty of hers. It was all in the way you moved. You couldn't look uncertain or guilty; that lead to uncomfortable questions. There was a perfect balance between confidence and invisibility that one had to strike in order for people to either not notice or not care where one was going or what one was doing. Demelza slipped, completely unnoticed, inside the building and stood there silently, waiting.

***

Ross grinned as he came up behind Demelza. She kept her back turned to him, not giving any signal that she'd any idea he was there. Careful not to make a single sound, he crept up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. She turned around, smiling fondly at his antics. He very much liked kissing her neck. (As she knew extremely well by now.)

His lips stayed on her neck as she turned around. They roved over the territory they claimed as their own, kissing, licking, biting, sucking, in search of that pulse he'd seen display itself so prominently.

Had she had something to say? Demelza honestly couldn't remember. As happened when she and Ross were... physical, everything else ceased to matter. Everything else ceased to exist, even. "Ross," she sighed as he found her pulse point. His hands moved off her waist and ran up her body, brushing her chest and then going back down to grasp her hips. He backed her up against the wall as she hooked her legs over his hips, firmly pressing herself into him.

A thought broke through the haze in her mind. "Ross," she gasped, "someone could see."

He looked at her in surprise and slight distaste. How was she able to say anything but his name? How could she think at all? It didn't matter, he decided. Well, if she was worried about being seen... Roughly, he pulled the skirt of her dress up around her hips. He leaned into her and whispered into her ear, "We'll just have to make sure there's nothing for them to see, then."

***

When was the last time I saw Demelza? I can't quite remember... There had been something Verity wanted to tell her, but she steadily forgot as she realized Demelza had disappeared. No one knew where she was. For that matter, where had Ross gone? Did she have to use the restroom? Maybe she went inside.

Verity entered the building with a small amount of trepidation. After all, there probably wasn't anyone there except Demelza (and perhaps Ross). But still...

Timidly, Verity opened the door and stepped in, her footstep echoing in the corridor. No one answered her footstep's call. There was a different determination in her step. Verity knew what she was going to do, and no one would stop her.

***

Around the corner, Ross and Demelza were collapsed against the wall, her legs still around his waist. Breathing heavily, they broke apart. She shook her dress back down so it rested just above her knees and they busied themselves with making it look like they hadn't been meeting for a probably ill-advised tryst. It was easier not to make conversation afterwards. Demelza didn't trust herself not to stupidly reveal her true feelings for Ross, and he didn't care to say anything. Ross was more than content with what they had. Really. He was.

Demelza had slipped her phone out of her bra to check her hair and makeup when she heard the footstep echoing in the hall. "No," she breathed. Her wide eyes flashed at Ross. Panic was quite evident in them. Ross found himself wondering (how he'd gotten into this situation in the first place, mind you, not that he cared overmuch) if being discovered with him in their still slightly disheveled state really caused her that much dread. But of course it did, this would be a huge scandal, he reminded himself. And, he thought with a curl of his lip, the media is always more charitable to men than women. He would recover easily from the scandal. It was more than likely she would not.

"Hurry," she pleaded, the cornered-animal way she felt shining through her eyes. She grabbed him arm and pushed him into a little room off the main corridor. They couldn't be found together like this. He couldn't be seen with her like this. It would be a disaster for him and the recovering company.

(Funny, though, how in that moment, there were no thoughts for herself, how her reputation would be ruined, how her name would be splattered like mud everywhere, how people would look at her, how they'd talk... No, in that moment, Demelza's thoughts were only of protecting Ross.)

Ross had stumbled into the small room (a closet, perhaps; it was too dark to tell) not a moment too soon. Demelza had only just closed the door when a dark head poked around the corner. The person softly called her name. (Had they been doing that this whole time? She must have missed it in her panic.)

"Oh, Verity!" she gasped in recognition. Belatedly, she realized her voice had sounded much too relieved. "You, um, scared me," she explained.

Verity came to a stop beside Demelza. "What were you doing in here anyway?"

Definitely not meeting your cousin to have sex in a semi-public place."Looking for... the bathroom!" She gave the first excuse that came to mind. Verity easily accepted it. She had, after all, thought of the same reason earlier.

Quickly, Demelza hooked arms with the other girl and started moving her to the door. "Let's go."

Ross heard Verity's last words as they were only a few feet away from the door. (Demelza was naturally fast-paced, and much more so when she had been upset– wait, how did he know that?) "Have you seen Ross, by any chance?"

It seemed he almost held his breath, though he knew fully well there was no need too. Anything she said would only incriminate herself along with him. And yet...

"No." Demelza's voice sounded rather odd. "No, I haven't seen him."

***

"Well, as neither of us seems to be able to find one of my dear cousins, let's go find the one I know the whereabouts of," Verity said lightly.

Demelza brightened. "Oh, is Elizabeth here?" she said with interest. There was, perhaps, still a part of her that was jealous of the other woman for making her feel like the Other Woman, but Demelza had done her level best to destroy that part. Elizabeth was married and she genuinely cared for Francis. And besides, she'd been kind to Demelza when she'd had no real reason to be. Demelza had hungered for kindness her whole life. She never forgot anyone who showed it to her.

"Yes, Elizabeth and Francis are here," Verity nudged the redhead's arm. "Did you not notice them?"

"No," Demelza replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, "I hadn't noticed." There was a touch of irony in her voice, but Verity didn't pick up on it. "Well, then, let's go talk to Elizabeth. And Francis," she added.

***

Elizabeth pulled Verity and Demelza into her. "How are you?!"

Verity grinned at her. "Evidently not as good as you are." Her eyes moved pointedly to Elizabeth's only barely swollen stomach.

Elizabeth blushed and smoothed the skirt of her dress over the bump that was just starting to form. At only a little over four months along, she didn't look pregnant. She certainly was very conscious of her pregnancy, though. Every five seconds, she would smooth her dress again like she was caressing her baby through the walls of flesh separating them. Occasionally, she'd move her hand away from where her babe laid inside her, but it would be back.

Verity clasped Elizabeth's other hand. "Oh, but my dear, you look so happy."

"I truly couldn't be happier." Elizabeth glowed.

Demelza, for her part, only watched the scene before her in silence. She stared at Elizabeth's stomach. It wasn't on purpose. It seemed she simply couldn't tear her eyes away. There was no explanation for it. It wasn't like she wanted to be pregnant or have a baby so badly. Really, she never had. She'd always thought that maybe, if she was in a stable, committed relationship where she knew she was safe and cared for, then maybe she'd have kids. There wasn't anything in her life right now that felt like a reason for her to suddenly be staring at a pregnant woman like she had interest in sharing that state. Suddenly, there was a sharp jolt in her stomach. She gasped and went white.

"Demelza!" Someone cried her name but she barely heard them. There were arms reaching out. They caught her and lowered her to the ground. The person was crouched in front of her, softly calling her name and lightly slapping her cheeks when her vision cleared.

Ross. Of course it's Ross. It always is, isn't it? How on earth did he get over here? No, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

"Are you alright?" Concern was evident in his voice.

"Yeah. Yes, I'm fine." Her voice was breathless and she cursed it. How dare it betray her weakness? A light pink caught the edge of her vision and she looked up to find Verity, Elizabeth, and Francis standing around her. Verity reached down and helped her up.

Ross was looking at her strangely when she stood. "What?" she questioned irritably.

"Nothing." He'd thought... Just for a second, while Verity had helped Demelza up, Demelza had looked and seemed to move like a pregnant woman. That was ridiculous, of course, so instead he said, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine! I just felt dizzy for a moment. That's all." She pushed away everyone's hands, preferring to handle herself. "I think I ought to go home now."

"I can take you," Ross offered nearly immediately.

"No. You have to stay here, Ross. I'll take her," Verity said.

Demelza walked away and kept walking. Her insides twisted and turned. She didn't know why. She didn't know what the difference was, what was going on. But something had shifted again.

Chapter Text

This was possibly the worst day of Demelza's life. Well, no, there had been worse days, but this was definitely a candidate. She'd been throwing up a little these last few days, but had been fine otherwise. Mostly fine, anyway. She had been abnormally tired, now that she thought about it. And there was the incident at Wheal Leisure's opening a few weeks back...

Maybe she should have seen this coming. Actually, she probably should have seen this coming. But could anyone blame her for not foreseeing such a twist of fate? Especially when everything had been so good, nearly perfect... And nothing was okay now.

***

She'd woken up much too early that morning. It almost couldn't have been called morning, really. The clock by her bed had read 3:24 when she'd had to sprint to the bathroom where she threw up for the next fifteen minutes. Finally, she'd crawled back into bed. Of course, then she promptly slept through her alarm (Verity was going to pick her up and they were planning on spending the day together), and only awoke to someone inside her apartment calling her name.

Demelza almost jumped out of bed. Immediately, a wave of some unholy combination of nausea and dizziness came over her and she collapsed.

"Demelza!" Déjà vu, it was Wheal Leisure all over again, and she couldn't see right but there were distinctly feminine hands hauling her onto her bed with surprising strength.

"Verity?" she asked weakly.

"Yes, it's me. You stay right there," she fussed, "I'm going to go get you some water. Have you eaten anything today?" Demelza shook her head. "Then I'll find something for you to eat, as well. I'll be right back, now. Don't move."

Demelza's vision cleared, but she still felt weak and dizzy. (And nauseous, but that had been at least faintly present for a couple weeks now.) What on earth was wrong with her? She wasn't sick. No, she was sick, but not of any normal illness. It was irregular. Sometimes she was fine, and sometimes she needed to be hunched over a toilet bowl for fifteen minutes. She'd not been feverish. There wasn't any coughing, or runny noses, or sore throats. It was all fatigue and soreness and dizziness. And throwing up nearly everything she ate. Couldn't forget that.

Verity came back in the room with what felt like enough food to feed an army. "Alright, I have oranges, bananas, a couple cheese sticks, some trail mix, and I made toast. I wasn't sure what you'd like on it, so there's two slices buttered and two dry. I also have water, juice, milk, and some hot chocolate."

There wasn't really anything that sounded good to Demelza (besides the hot chocolate, which always sounded good), but Verity had gone to so much trouble, and she really did need to eat something. She managed to force a piece of toast and a small orange down while that small but powerful woman watched her with hawk eyes.

As Demelza gulped down the last of the hot chocolate, Verity began the inquisition. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Demelza set her mug down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I must be, but it's no illness I know."

"What do you mean? What are your symptoms?"

"That's part of what's so strange about it. One moment, I'll be fine, and the next..."

"No fever? No respiratory problems?"

"No, none. I get sick and I'll throw up, or I'll be dizzy. But that's only if I stand up too fast. I think. And I've been much more tired lately, sleeping more than I usually do."

Verity's face went white as a sheet. Her memory took over, reminding her of how she'd asked Elizabeth how she'd figured out that she was pregnant. Elizabeth had said she'd felt sick, but not like anything she'd experienced before. One minute it was there, the next it was gone. And she'd listed those symptoms, too. Fatigue, vertigo, nausea. Demelza wasn't sick. She was pregnant.

"Verity?" Demelza asked worriedly.

"I think I know what's wrong," she near whispered.

"What?" Demelza questioned warily. The look on Verity's face didn't encourage much hope.

"When did you last have your courses?"

"My period?” Demelza scrunched up her nose before she realized. “ ... I– I can't remember..." She thought she knew what Verity was implying but she didn't want to, no, it couldn't be–

"I think you're pregnant."

***

Demelza's mind whirled around, a tornado, a hurricane. How could this have happened? She was on the pill. And usually Ross wore a condom. Well, not when it was, um, impulsive, but they were both clean and she was on the pill, so they hadn't worried about it. Over and over, all she could come back to was how could this have happened?

But wait... There was the day, the first time they'd slept together, when she'd forgotten to take it... Her father had come, she'd been so upset, she'd forgotten. And Ross hadn't had a condom, but she'd told him not to worry, as long as he was clean. She was, and she was on the pill. But she hadn't taken it that day, or the morning after because she didn't have the pills at Ross's house.

No no no no no no no! It was like there was a scream locked inside of her rising like a tide but she couldn't let it go. Gradually, the tide receded and rational thought began again in her mind. There were no certainties yet. Verity had gone for a few.. tests, but she might not even be, well, you know. She wouldn't know until she took the tests. Until she saw the results, she wouldn't think about it. Until proven otherwise, she wouldn't consider herself you-know-what.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Demelza was staring at five bright, pink, undeniable plus signs. Finally, she let herself admit to the word she'd refused to even think beforehand. Pregnant. I'm pregnant.

I don't have to be. She was shocked by the idea as soon as it entered her mind, but her thoughts seemed to rebel. No one has to know, really. It'd just be me and Verity. Ross would never find out...

No! No, I can't do that! I could never! If it were someone else, someone I didn't love, then I could, but it's Ross. This is Ross's baby. This is my baby. She made her decision even as Verity hugged her, trying to comfort her. I will not abort my baby. I don't care if Ross wants to be involved– a lie: she did care, but she would do it with or without him– I will have my baby and raise them.

"Oh, there, there," Verity soothed. She rubbed circles on the other girl's back. "Why don't we go sit down?" There was a disconnect between Demelza's mind and her body. She was numb, moving only on Verity's command. Verity sat her down on the couch and wrapped a blanket around her. Distantly, Demelza hugged it to herself. "I'll go get you some water. Stay here."

Verity took a glass down and filled it with ice. Ice water helped with shock, right? Her fingers brushed against her mobile. Ross... He was good friends with Demelza and she could probably use the support... Before she could second guess herself, she had his conversation open and sent him a text. "Demelza needs you. Could you please come over?"

***

Demelza was curled into a ball on the couch. Her head was resting in Verity's lap as her fingers combed through Demelza's red curls. The doorbell rang and Demelza shot up. Father, she thought wildly. Her breathing quickened and her face went white.

"No, no." Verity gently pushed her back down onto the couch. "Don't worry. I'll answer the door. You lay down."

It was Ross. It had to be Ross. Still, there was hesitation as she opened the door– No, it was just Ross.

"Verity! Where's Demelza? Is she alright?" He wasn't even going to wait to hear her answer, attempting to lunge past her. She grabbed his shoulders.

"Ross, wait. Calm down. Demelza is fine."

"What's wrong, then? Why does she need me?"

"It's not for me to tell, Ross. You have to ask her yourself."

***

Ross was here. Oh, God help her, Ross was here. Despite her earlier resolution, she hadn't been wanting to tell him. She wasn't ready to tell him.

But he was here. Could she tell him there was nothing wrong? She watched him talking to Verity. The look on his face... Verity left and went into the kitchen– no no no no Verity don't leave, I can't tell him if you're still here.

(Verity knew that, of course. That was why she left them alone.)

Ross rushed over to Demelza and knelt in front of her, taking and holding her face between his hands. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Demelza couldn't help it. Her eyes welled up with tears. "N-n-nothing," she said shakily.

"Well, that's obviously not true," he said dismissively. "Tell me. I'll help you. You know that."

She laughed bitterly and sat up so she was facing Ross head on. Her hands twitched to cover her stomach, but she restrained herself. She warned him, "This is something you might not want to help me with."

He unintentionally gave her his signature are-you-stupid look. "What? No! That's ridiculous. Look, Demelza, whatever it is, I promise you can count on me."

Demelza's heart pounded in her ears. This was it. Now or never. Slowly, she took his hand and placed it over her stomach. He looked confused, but it would all be over in a second. She screwed her eyes shut. She didn't want to see his face when she told him. "I'm pregnant."

***

Ross's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Pregnant?!" ... And his voice went up an octave. "You're pregnant?!"

She nodded. "Pregnant."

"And," his voice was hesitant, "it's... mine?"

There was good reason for him to be hesitant about expressing that idea. Her body twisted away from him and her voice filled with anger. "The hell is tha' s'posed ta mean?! Of course it's yours. I 'aven't slept wi' anyone else!"

He caught her wrists. "No, Demelza, listen to me! I didn't mean it like that. This is just a lot to take in."

"Aye, it's a lot to take in for ye, I'm sure." Her voice was dripping sarcasm.

He exhaled. "You're right. We need to talk about this."

Demelza took a deep breath and told him, "I won't abort it, Ross. I won't abort my baby. You don't have to be involved. I'll raise the baby on my own, I'll even move away if you want– all I ask is for is your help. If you help me financially, I–"

"No!" he interrupted. "Oh, God no. No, don't get an abortion. Oh, God."

"Glad we agree on that," she said wryly. "I'll move away, then," she continued. "I can go at the end of the month, before anyone knows–"

"No, Demelza," he cut her off firmly. "Listen to me. I do want to be involved."

"But the scandal... It won't be good for Wheal Leisure and Nampara and you, Ross."

He snorted and sat up onto the couch, pulling her onto his lap. "I don't give a damn for their idiotic scandals." Demelza still looked upset by the thought of scandal, though, and he didn't like it. Though the gossip wouldn't upset him, it would her, and he didn't want that. This is not about me. It's about Demelza and my unborn child and taking care of them. "Fine," he said, breaking the silence, "I may have a solution, but I don't think you'll like it."

She leaned back against his chest. "What's your solution?"

"Marry me."

***

It was Demelza's turn to be shocked. She twisted in his lap to face him. "You want me to marry you?!"

He nodded. "It's the only way to stop people from talking. It will be treated as romantic, a whirlwind romance." Irony was heavy in his voice. "Besides, it will make it easier if you have someone to take care of you and the baby during the pregnancy and the first few months, especially. After that, if we want, we can get divorced," he shrugged. "I still want to be able to see my child if we do that, but we don't have to worry about that now. Marry me, Demelza."

"There are certainly more romantic proposals," she said with a twist of her mouth. "Why? You don't love me."

"Is love really the most important thing in a relationship?" He furrowed his brow. "I trust you. I care about you. I admire you. Isn't that enough?"

(Penny in the air...)

She took a deep breath. "Yes, I'll marry you."

(And the penny dropped.)

***

Demelza readied for her wedding with Verity helping her. Ross had gone back to his place to get his nicest suit. He'd agreed to meet them at the courthouse. Verity was her only bridesmaid, if this wedding could have anything like that, and a witness. Ross's housekeeper and her husband would be the others. She didn't have a white dress. Instead, she was wearing a red knee-length dress with tiny flowers all over it and lace at the hem of the full skirt, the edge of the square neckline, and trimming the elbow-length sleeves.

Quite the wedding dress, if you asked her.

So maybe she was being a bit cynical. Could you blame her? She was having a shotgun wedding to the man she loved who didn't love her and could speak of this as nothing more than a business contract and talked so easily of divorce. This was far from anything she'd dared to dream, and she wasn't sure yet if it was in a good or bad way.

Verity pinned Demelza's hair half up and nestled white wildflowers in her red curls. Demelza lined her eyes and slipped her feet into her caramel colored shoes.

"Alright, dear." Verity handed her small, silver balls of earrings and a little necklace. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She gave a half smile and fastened her necklace. "Let's go."

"Wait," Verity said, "I know, Demelza, that this isn't what you wanted, really, but I wanted to say that I'm glad you're marrying Ross. I think he needs you. Something in the war left him dead inside, but when he's around you, it's like you give him life. You having his baby– it's probably the best thing that's ever happened to him. And I think you care for him?" Demelza nodded, her throat choked up and her eyes filled with tears. "So it isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you. I suppose I'm saying that I don't think this is bad for either of you."

Demelza hugged her. "Thank you, Verity." Having her closest friend and nearly-husband's favorite relative's approval meant a lot to her.

Verity hugged her back. "You're welcome. Now, let's get you to your wedding."

***

August 31, 2015

WHIRLWIND ROMANCE... OR SHOTGUN WEDDING?

Ross Poldark, CEO of the Nampara Mining Company, surprised everyone by marrying his secretary, Demelza Poldark née Carne, in a private ceremony this last Saturday. Sources close to the couple told us it was simply a whirlwind romance unlike anyone would expect. If you see the two, it's rather easy to believe that. They have incredible chemistry and are somehow constantly gazing adoringly into each other's eyes. Other sources, however, have informed us that the couple met less than six months ago. Even for a whirlwind romance, that seems to us a bit fast. We'll be watching for a little baby Poldark to make its presence known within the next few months.

Chapter Text

Sunlight streamed through the windows in Ross’s bedroom– their bedroom, she corrected herself. She still wasn’t used to it, this being a shared space instead of one she invaded. It had been a little over a week since their hasty marriage and not much had changed. Yes, they shared a living space, but beyond that, their relationship remained mostly the same it had been. Demelza hadn’t brought up the baby again. She’d been waiting for Ross to say something, but she needed to go to a doctor and soon. Something had to be said.

The problem with that was the delicate balance they’d struck in this new situation. It was evident to her that they were only married for the baby’s sake and she never expected that to change. Ross may not care for her but heaven forbid he let a member of his family go without his protection. But neither of them wanted to mention the elephant in the room, though the elephant very much needed to be talked about and taken care of, thank you very much.

The delicate balance, though. She couldn’t upset it. She was afraid to upset it. Already she was so uncertain of her place in this new situation, and she couldn’t do anything to change it. Wouldn’t that just make it worse?

It had to be said, she reminded herself. It has to be said.

“Good morning.” Ross rolled over and slung an arm around Demelza.

She grinned back at him. “Morning.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips against her forehead. “And what do we have planned for today?” he smirked down at her.

Instantly, she tensed in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He looked down at her curly red head resting against the pillows. It was really a striking contrast.

“I, um...” she whispered

“What’s that?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for today– but you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, or if there’s something else you need to do–”

“What?" He snapped his head to look at her. “Why wouldn’t I come?”

“I don’t know, Ross.” There was a sort of sadness, a resignation that weighed her words. Not that Ross noticed. “I just don’t want to force you into anything. Anything else, anyway. That’s all.” She shifted away from him. He managed to pick up on that.

“That’s ridiculous. You haven’t forced me into anything.” He scooted closer to her and took her in his arms again.

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “You seem to have forgotten the whole wedding we just went through. That was quite fast; it was only a week ago. Getting old and forgetful already, husband?”

He snorted. "Very funny. And you never forced me to marry you. As I remember it, you were the one that needed convincing." He pressed his forehead to hers. Ross always was much more affectionate in the morning when he was still slightly sleep-drunk.

"Should I take that as a yes, then?" Demelza said.

"Yes to what?" he said blankly. Demelza gave him A Look. Funny, he thought that had been trademark of the Poldark women– and Demelza was a Poldark woman now. Of course. Verity must have been teaching her.

"The appointment?" Demelza was still staring him down.

He gulped. "Of course I'm coming. I want to come. What time is it again?"

***

At exactly half past ten, Ross and Demelza were sitting in the waiting room of the obstetrician's office. She couldn't seem to keep still. She had tried to read a magazine. Then she came across a story about her and Ross and she'd had to put the magazine down as she felt vaguely ill. Now one of her hands tapped rhythms into her leg while the other smoothed her hair, adjusted her short red skirt, and tugged on the hem of her white shirt.

Eventually, Ross thought he couldn't take her fidgeting any longer. He took the hand closest to him, the one drumming, and he laced his fingers with hers. Slowly, his thumb stroked the back of her hand. Her other hand came down to rest on her lower stomach and her breathing slowed. Good. He'd wanted to calm her down so she'd stop fidgeting so terribly, that was all. Maybe provide a bit of comfort. Definitely nothing more than that. It wasn't like he was in love with her or anything.

"Demelza Poldark?" a nurse called.

Ross stood up and tugged on her hand. "That's us."

The nurse led them into a little room. "This is your first visit, right?" she asked.

Demelza nodded. "Um, yes..."

"Don't worry, dear." The older woman's hair was streaked with silver, Demelza noticed. "You'll be just fine." The nurse patted Demelza's hand. "Now, dear," she said briskly, "do you know what we're doing here?" Demelza shook her head. "Well, it's very simple. We'll take a couple urine and blood samples, just testing for some different things that can complicate a pregnancy. Then the doctor will come in and figure out how far along you are, calculate a due date, and you might even be able to hear your baby's heartbeat."

Demelza had not been excited when she heard the words "urine and blood samples", but she perked back up when the nurse mentioned her baby's heartbeat. It was incredible to think that there was a tiny, living thing inside of her that had a heartbeat. And they might be able to hear it! So she let the lady poke and prod her, taking measurements and feeling up her stomach while she held Ross's hand. He stayed with her the whole time. Well, almost the whole time. When the nurse handed her a cup for the, um, urine sample, they silently agreed that she could do that part alone.

Finally, the nurse was finished with her testing. She let them know that they would have the results of the tests by tomorrow, and the doctor would be there in a few minutes, and left.

Demelza sat on the examination table. Ross stood next to her, still holding her hand. Silences between them always felt awkward to some degree now. She always felt wrong-footed and tongue-tied. Usually, she just waited for Ross to say something.

"That was very... thorough." There he went.

She snorted. "You're telling me."

He couldn't keep himself from grinning at her sarcastic tone. "I thought I was telling you. You are Demelza, aren't you? Demelza Poldark?" He drew out her new name for what was probably an unnecessary amount of time, just to see if he could make Demelza blush. He could. "I wasn't telling someone else, was I?"

"Oh, Ross." Demelza shook her head at his antics. There was a little rap on the door just then before the doctor entered.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Sarah Kuracisto. I'll be your doctor for the rest of your pregnancy and postnatal care." The small, dark woman came forward and shook their hands as she shook their hands and introduced herself. "And of course, you're Demelza and Ross Poldark."

"It's nice to meet you," Demelza said. She nudged Ross with her elbow and gave him a pointed look.

"Yes, nice to meet you," he murmured.

"Alright," Doctor Kuracisto clasped her hands together, "let's get started." She sat down and gestured for Ross to do the same. He remained standing. "I'm going to start by asking you some questions. Please keep in mind that I am required to ask all of these, and that we won't be able to help you if you don't answer them truthfully." She waited for Demelza's nod of assent before continuing. "We'll start off easy. Full name?"

"Demelza Carne Poldark."

"Age and date of birth?"

"Twenty-two, March 4th, 1993."

The doctor smiled. "Not so terrible, yeah?"

Demelza smiled in response.

"Now, this is your first pregnancy, right? You've never had a miscarriage or an abortion or anything like that?"

"No."

“Have you been previously diagnosed with any serious conditions such as a heart problem, diabetes, cancer...?”

“No.”

“Is there a history of pregnancy complications or birth defects in either of your families?”

Demelza looked at Ross, who shook his head, before affirming, “No.”

"Excellent." She made a couple notes on her clipboard. "Let's move on to the next set of questions. These can be a little embarrassing. If you want Mr. Poldark to leave the room..."

Ross's eyes narrowed until Demelza quickly said, "No, he can stay."

Doctor Kuracisto nodded and moved on. "Date of your last period?"

Demelza scrunched up her nose. She'd never been that good at keeping track of her cycles, but she supposed it would have been... "June twentieth."

"And your cycle has always been pretty regular?"

"Yeah, I've never had terrible periods." On second thought, this was a bit awkward...

"Sexual history?"

Never mind. Not "a bit" awkward. Totally and completely awkward. "Umm..." Next to her, Ross shifted his weight. He wasn't feeling much more comfortable than she was.

The other woman grinned at her. "It's alright, I don't need to know all the dirty details, just if any of your partners could have given you an STD."

"No," Demelza said decisively.

"Alright, then. Now, last part of your exam today will be dating the pregnancy, calculating a due date, and seeing if we can hear a heartbeat yet. You said your last period was the twentieth of June?"

"Yes," Demelza nodded.

"Alright. Your due date is March 28, and that puts you at..." She paused and looked at her calendar, then muttered under her breath a bit. "... Eleven weeks!"

Demelza's face went white and her stomach dropped. "No! That can't be right! That's impossible."

She watched Ross's face as he came to the same realization. They'd started sleeping together nine weeks ago. A sense of panic hit her and she desperately started to defend herself. "No! No, you don't understand. That's impossible! I was a virgin eleven weeks ago." She paled even more as she watched Ross's mouth drop open in shock.

"You'd never had sex before?!"

"No," she whispered. She started to fidget again. She was sinking, she was drowning, why didn't she have something to hold onto?

Ross squeezed her hand and it cut through the fog that had been rapidly forming in her mind. He brought his other hand up to cup her cheek. Demelza's breathing slowed again. "It's okay," he told her gently. "No one else before me would matter and the fact that there wasn't anyone before me doesn't matter either."

Meanwhile, Doctor Kuracisto watched the scene before her with increasing awkwardness and alarm. She kind of wanted to say "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a marriage counselor!" but that would probably be inappropriate. And if they didn't get it, it would be even more awkward. Better not say that, then. Still, she cleared her throat. Demelza and Ross both finally remembered they weren't alone in the room. "Well, when we date your pregnancy, we count from your last period. The foetus itself is probably only nine weeks old. Is that about right?"

"Yeah," Demelza exhaled. "That's right."

"Great! We should be able to hear the heartbeat, then. Go ahead and lay back and pull your shirt up." Demelza listened to the crinkling noise the paper made as she lay back and tugged her shirt up so that it lay rolled up just under the band of her bra. Still holding Ross's hand, she watched as the doctor snapped latex gloves on, then took a little device and rubbed gel on it.

She approached Demelza and said, "This will be a bit cold."

Demelza gasped as it touched her skin. The doctor rolled it around, trying to find a good position to hear the heartbeat. "Aha!" she muttered.

And there it was. Her baby's heartbeat pulsed through the room, beating much faster than her own. Instantly, her eyes filled with tears as she pressed one hand to her mouth. She’d known before, of course, that there was a little human growing inside her, and that she would love it unconditionally, but she hadn’t really felt it until this moment.

Ross’s breath brushed her ear. “That’s our baby,” he said in wonder.

“I know,” she laughed in amazement. “I know.”

***

The drive home was mainly silent. Both of them were too floored by hearing their child's heartbeat filling up that little room. Demelza's hands kept running all over her stomach. They lingered near the place the doctor had put the little handheld device to hear her baby. They remembered the rhythm of her baby's heart and tapped in time with it.

Ross was awed and a little surprised by what had happened. He'd expected Demelza to care for her child the second she learned of it. That was the kind of person she was. She cared for everyone in her circle of influence. There'd be no way she'd not love her child, and she'd love it more than anything, he had not doubt. He knew himself to be a bit more guarded, however, so while there'd been no way he'd leave his child alone and without one of their parents, he didn't expect to love them instantly. But today... He'd felt that warm rush of love when he heard his child's heartbeat. The thing was, he'd felt a rush of affection for Demelza along with the love for his child that she carried. But that was probably only normal. They were friends. He did care for her. It was natural that his affection would increase for her as she carried his child. Right?

There was something else bothering him, he remembered as they walked into their house. Ah. Right.

"Demelza?"

"Hm?" she responded as she turned to face him. Her hands still rested on her stomach.

"Should we talk...?" He really didn't want to say it.

"About how this," she rubbed her lower stomach where her baby grew, "was my first time?"

He nodded. "I would have been more careful had I known."

Knowing that was basically an apology coming from Ross, she said, "It's alright. You were careful enough. I wasn't hurt."

"I also shouldn't have just assumed–"

"That you weren't my first?" she cut in. "No, I understand. My kind of... background alone would have people assuming that. And I just got out of uni, and not many people make it through uni without having sex. I just... never really wanted to, so I didn't. Until, well, you know. But I understand why you assumed." Her eyes teared up and she angrily swiped at them. Damn pregnancy hormones. She wasn't even upset, not really.

Ross was watching her with apprehension. Looked like there was nothing else for it. "I'm sorry," he said cautiously.

"No, you don't have to apologize." She smiled at him. "It's just the hormones. Now, are you hungry? I can make lunch."

***

Verity looked around herself furtively. It was imperative that no one caught her. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. She wasn't used to doing things like this. Suddenly, a pair of arms slipped around her waist. "Andrew," she giggled. She twisted around to face him.

"Hello, my dear." He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Careful." She glanced around them again. "Someone could see."

"They won't see." He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. "They're all too occupied with your cousin marrying that girl."

"Demelza," she corrected him. "Her name is Demelza."

Andrew looked at her flushed cheeks and how she tensed and said, "Oh, is she your friend? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, I know that, it's alright," she shook her head. "It's only... well, I have to listen to everyone talk badly about her already, and she's so sweet and I really like her and she never would have wanted to be married like this and my father isn't happy, and..."

"And you're nervous to tell him about us," he finished.

"Well," she hesitated, "yes."

"Don't worry about it. It'll be fine." He paused. "Oh."

"What?"

"Is she the one you told about us?"

"Yes."

"And she took it well?"

"Of course!" Verity couldn't imagine Demelza being upset by it. "She was happy that I was happy." That was just how Demelza was.

"She seems like an alright sort, then,” he teased.

“Yeah, she is.” They began walking along, discreetly holding hands.

“Wait.” He stopped in his tracks. “You said that she wouldn’t want to be married like this.”

Verity gave him a puzzled look. “Yes, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Is she pregnant?”

Verity’s eyes widened. “Oh, you can’t tell anyone!” she pleaded.

“No, no, I won’t,” he soothed. “Have they told your father and brother?”

“No...”

“Well, then, I know what we can do.”

“What?” They started moving along again.

“When they tell your father that she’s pregnant, that’s when you tell him about our relationship!”

“What? Are you trying to give my father a heart attack?” she said lightly.

“He’ll just be happy you aren’t pregnant!”

“Actually,” she said slowly, “that’s not a bad idea...”

He turned to face her. “So it’s a plan, then?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “it’s a plan.

Chapter Text

"Ross?" Demelza called from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" He crept into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist. He was very fond of doing that.

She stilled and shook her head. "I'm cutting vegetables, Ross! If you'd scared me, I could have cut myself," she scolded.

"Yes," he turned her around to face him, "but I didn't scare you, and you weren't hurt, so..."

"Ross," she sighed.

"Alright, I'll be more careful next time," he mimicked her tone, still grinning. She rolled her eyes but eventually smiled back at him. He pressed his forehead to hers and she let them rest there for a moment, their breath mingling easily in the space left between them.

"Ross," she exhaled. Saying his name was something the both of them secretly loved. It proved to Demelza that she could, she had the right to, she had more than she ever dreamed possible. And Ross liked to hear her say his name. It sounded inexplicably better when she spoke his name than when anyone else did.

"Hmm?" he responded, leaning in and landing a kiss on her lips. She rolled her eyes again (he did make her do that a lot) and leaned back.

Ross recognized the "no-we-have-to-talk" face Demelza had on. The problem was, he wasn't really in the mood for talking. Instead, he devoured her with his smoldering dark eyes. Well, attempted to, anyway. She was unimpressed.

"Ross," she said warningly. Her red eyebrows raised as she looked up at him and her head tilted.

“Fine,” he relented sulkily. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I never said I wanted to talk.” Her eyebrows drew together in slight surprise that he'd managed to pick up on that. Usually Ross was quite terrible at subtext. Although, he was mostly more oblivious in emotional contexts, now that she thought about it.

Ross smirked and leaned into her. “I suppose I’m just that good, then.”

Demelza rolled her eyes again. (Really, he should keep a tally of how many times she did that. This must be at least the third time in as many minutes.) "Yes, I do want to talk, and you're not going to distract me from that." She brandished her knife at him, very carefully, of course.

He heaved a slightly petulant sigh. "Fine. What do we need to talk about?"

"Well," Demelza's other hand crept down to her stomach again, "I think we might have to break the news of the pregnancy to the rest of your family, not," she brought that hand up to push his chest pointedly, "just Verity."

He crinkled his nose. "No," he shook his head, "I'm really not feeling the need to do that."

She dumped the vegetables she'd been cutting into the pot on the counter. "We have to tell them sometime," she pointed out.

Ross shrugged. "I don't think we do. We can just let them figure it out."

"Really? When, exactly, are you planning on that happening?"

"Once the baby's born?" he tried.

"Hmm," she pretended to think about it, "no, bad idea."

"Are you sure? Because–"

"Bad idea, Ross!" She slammed the pot down onto the stove. He drew back quickly as he'd learned quite quickly that it was not a good idea to provoke her when she was emotional. Hormones, you know.

Sure enough, Demelza softened immediately after her little outburst. She irritatedly dashed the water from her eyes. Damn hormones. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't worry about it." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Right. As I was saying, we need to tell your family."

"And as I was saying, they hardly like me at all, family or no, and they won't really care about the baby. I don't think we have to tell them."

Slowly, her eyes raised from the floor and looked into his dark, endless ones pleadingly. "Please?" she asked.

Damn it. He never could tell her no when she looked at him like that. But not because he liked her or anything like that. It was simply very attractive. Yes, that was it. "Fine. We can tell them."

Demelza grinned at him and turned around to stir the contents of the pot. She spoke to him over her shoulder. "Good! I'm glad we agree. Should we have them over this Saturday for dinner?"

Ross had quite resigned himself to Demelza getting what she wanted at this point. After all, it wouldn't be right for him to deny his pregnant wife, would it? "Saturday. For dinner. Sound good," he said with a forced smile that was much more like a grimace.

"I know you don't want to, Ross, but it needs to happen." She turned back around to face him.

He caught her wrist and unraveled her arms from where they had twisted protectively around her body. "It does." He pulled her closer. "Now, how long until dinner is ready?"

"We have about a half hour. Why?"

"That sounds like just enough time." He kissed her hard. She made a muffled sound of surprise that quickly turned into a moan. Dinner could definitely wait.

***

Verity picked up her phone. "Hello?"

Demelza launched right in. "Verity! Oh, I'm so nervous! I talked to Ross las' night and told him we ought to tell yer family th' news, and I was right about that, I know I was, so we agreed to invite you over for dinner tomorrow, but oh–"

"Alright, Demelza, calm down. First off, of course you were right about having to tell my family that you're pregnant! What else would you do?"

Demelza raised her eyebrows. "Ross suggested waiting until the baby was born."

Verity rolled her eyes. (Contrary to what Ross thought, it wasn't just Demelza that rolled her eyes at him. He just had that effect on a lot of people.) "What a great idea," she said dryly.

"That's what I told him," Demelza said. "So he agreed that we could invite your family over for dinner tomorrow and we'll tell them then."

Verity nodded before remembering Demelza couldn't see her. "Good idea. Now, what's the problem?"

"Oh, Verity," Demelza twisted a lock of hair around her finger, "I'm so nervous."

"What exactly are you nervous about?"

She shook her head. "Everything? I know that's not very helpful, it's jus' that I've no idea what to expect from, from any of it. Hell, I don't even know how to invite them to come over!"

Verity thought for a moment. "Well, let's think about this. It'll be my father, brother, Elizabeth, and Aunt Agatha, that's all."

"That's all?" Demelza said in an increasingly panicked voice.

"It really won't be as hard as you think. Aunt Agatha wouldn't be insulted by anything you do. She'd laugh and say something about "kids these days". And you've already met Elizabeth and she likes you–"

"Does she?" Demelza asked skeptically.

"Of course she does." Verity waved her hand. "Elizabeth is a very reserved person, that's all. She doesn't show her true feelings easily. But she likes you, and Francis thinks you're "alright", and that is a direct quote. So really, you shouldn't worry about either of them. They'll do their best to be kind and respectful. Elizabeth will because she's a decent human being and she likes you, and Francis will because Elizabeth and I will make sure of it. That means the only person you have to worry about is–"

"Your father," Demelza finished.

"Exactly. And we can be assured of at least one thing."

"What's that?"

"Ross wouldn't mind at all if you offended him and that caused an estrangement. On the contrary," Verity smiled slightly grimly, "he'd probably thank you."

***

Verity ended up being a real lifesaver, in Demelza’s humble opinion. She’d helped with everything. Preparing dinner, figuring out what exactly to prepare, calming Demelza’s nerves, holding Ross off the alcohol so he wouldn’t be completely inebriated, she’d even helped Demelza get up the courage to call and extended the invitation. Fortunately, Demelza hadn’t had to actually talk to Charles Poldark thus far. Verity had accepted for her father and aunt, and Elizabeth had accepted the invitation for herself and Francis. Speaking with Elizabeth had still been terribly difficult for Demelza to do. Verity may have said that Elizabeth liked her, but that didn’t offer much comfort to Demelza, who tended to assume that people disliked her anyway. When she had had a shotgun wedding to that person’s ex-boyfriend, she (very realistically, in her opinion) assumed that person would like her even less. And when the person in question gave no sign of anything other than cool indifference towards her, well, she didn’t feel her assumptions were unfounded.

But it was time for dinner and her guests should be arriving any second now and no she wasn’t nervous where did you get that altogether ridiculous idea? Her breathing quickened.

Ross looked at his wife with concern etched on his face. She was breathing much too quickly and he knew she wanted to make a good impression on what remained of his family though he’d told her time and time again he couldn’t care less what they thought. Except Verity, he supposed. And Aunt Agatha wasn’t so bad. They were about the only two he wouldn’t tell to go to hell, probably. He glanced at Demelza. No, still breathing quickly. Slowly, as not to startle her, he took her hand. She grasped it like a drowning sailor held onto the rope that was their last salvation. But slowly and surely, her breathing slowed and calmed as her grip on his hand loosened. Ross smiled in satisfaction. Good. That anxiety was bad for- for the baby.

Prudie appeared in the doorway to their bedroom where they’d been waiting. “They’re ‘ere, sur.”

“Thank you, Prudie.” Ross stood and offered Demelza his hand. “Shall we?”

With a wry twist to her mouth and a last thought about braving the fray, Demelza took the offered hand. “We shall.”

***

“Hello, Verity, Francis, Elizabeth, Uncle Charles, Aunt Agatha,” Ross greeted as he walked into the lounge? Parlor? Whatever you wanted to call it. Best to get this over with quickly.

Demelza followed more hesitantly and waved at everyone rather timidly. Immediately, Verity and Elizabeth came over to her and Verity grabbed her arm. “Come on,” Verity tugged her forward, “you have to meet Aunt Agatha.”

The elderly woman was already sitting down in a chair. She smiled at Demelza as she approached. “Hello, my dear.” She grasped one of Demelza’s hands. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Demelza managed to smile and return the words, mumbling out a “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Are you nervous, dear?”

A chill ran through Demelza. How did she know? Was she really that transparent?

“No, no, there’s no need to be nervous.” Aunt Agatha patted the hand she was holding. “I only suspected because I know I’d be scared to death. And there’s no need to be frightened. I won’t bite. The only one who might is Charles, and,” here she leaned in conspiratorially, “no one cares about his opinion as much as he’d like to think, the old windbag.”

Demelza burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. Agatha and Verity exchanged looks as Demelza’s face changed from the almost hunted look she’d worn earlier into a more open, friendly look that was all sunshine and wildflowers and the waves crashing on the shore on a bright day-- in short, a look that was quintessentially Demelza. Even Elizabeth felt more relaxed as she recognized Demelza becoming more comfortable around them.

They began a conversation that lasted for several minutes with each of the women participating and getting along. Things were already better than Demelza had hoped for. "Oh no," Verity murmured with a wry grin on her face, "the men are approaching."

Sure enough, Ross, Francis, and Charles came up to the group of women. Ross took Demelza's hand again and tugged her to his side. "Uncle Charles, this is my wife, Demelza." Charles only nodded at her, so she only smiled at him.

"Shall we go to dinner now?" Ross jumped in. Everyone felt relieved that that introduction had gone without an incident, but no one expected that to last.

"Yes, let's," Verity replied.

Ross led them into the dining room. They were all seated and dinner began after a few moments. The table was silent for several awkward minutes before Verity seemed to take it upon herself to make conversation. She was still a lifesaver. Small, mundane things such as the weather and books and music somehow carried them through dinner without major incident. It was time for dessert and the announcement and Demelza breathed a small sigh of relief. Almost over. She was almost done with this.

Ross looked at her for his cue and she nodded. He stood up. "This has been a... lovely evening, everyone, but Demelza and I have an announcement to make. She is pregnant."

Verity (pretending she knew nothing of it), Elizabeth, and his aunt all offered their congratulations in quick succession and then started talking to Demelza about baby-related things, whatever those were. Francis also congratulated her, then refocused his attention on his wine. Charles Poldark did not bother to fake happiness for the couple. However, he didn't seem particularly upset either. Ross had high hopes of only hearing what Charles thought of this in a private conversation that didn't involve Demelza hearing them. Things had gone better than expected.

Just then, Verity also stood. "Father, there's something else you should know." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm still seeing Andrew."

Not quite a lifesaver right then.

"What?!" her father exploded. "After my explicit instructions, you defied me?!"

Verity shook her head. "Father, I am a grown woman. I can see who I want and I'm sick and tired of you thinking you can control me."

Charles Poldark's face was an interesting shade of puce. "How dare you show me such impudence!" He seemed to be choking with rage. No one realized what exactly was going on until he fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

Verity stood there in shock. What had just happened? What was going on? Demelza jumped up and yelled for someone to call an ambulance. Verity watched Elizabeth yank out her mobile and call with an air of panic tinting every motion. Ross and her brother were helping her father, but Verity still couldn't move. She felt like she had been submerged in water and everything that was happening, all of her surroundings were filtered through and distorted by the water.

Time slowed down, too, when you were underwater, and it did not resume its normal pace for Verity until her brother and father were gone to the hospital in the ambulance and Ross was driving Aunt Agatha behind them. Verity was laying down on a sofa. She could hear low voices and slowly got up to see who it was.

Demelza and Elizabeth were washing dishes from the Worst Family Dinner of All Time. They were quiet, only breaking the silence when Elizabeth asked if this dish still went there. (The casual, unintentional reminder of Ross and Elizabeth's relationship was not greatly appreciated by Demelza.)

Verity entered the kitchen and sat on one of the stools at the counter.

Demelza dried the last of the dishes and Elizabeth put it away. Then she got all three of them a glass of water and they sat down next to Verity. All was quiet between the three for a few more minutes. Finally, Demelza spoke. "That was a complete disaster."

Elizabeth took a drink of her ice water. "On the bright side, there's nowhere to go but up."

Verity burst out in manic laughter. Really, it bordered on hysterical. Eventually, Demelza laughed too. "This was definitely a worst-case scenario. At least there couldn't be anything worse than this."

Chapter Text

Her dreams were infused with the steady beep beep beep of all the machines her father had been hooked to in that hospital. She'd never imagined that her father, the imposing fright of her childhood, could look so small and frail. He looked like a particularly strong wind could have been the end of him. Some part of Verity still felt numbed by guilt and shame. It was her fault, wasn't it? No one had told her anything different.

Her fault, her fault, her fault, her fault, her fault. A little voice in her head took up the chant and wouldn’t shut up, no matter how angrily she told it too. Tears stung her eyes. She pulled her knees up to her chest and covered her ears with her hands. Shaking her head, she rocked back and forth. No. No! She wasn’t listening. She wasn’t.

But it was still there. Still chanting. Your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault.

If Demelza had known, if Ross had known, if Aunt Agatha or Elizabeth or even Francis (maybe not Francis, she was never quite sure about him) had known she felt that way, they would have assured her, would have reminded her. Verity, your father has always had a bad heart. We tried to tell him to take more care with what he ate. The doctor says the odds are in his favor. We’re lucky it happened now, when it wasn’t so bad. Now he might change. He has time to, at least. The last thought always made Verity laugh. Change? Her father was one of the singular most staid people she knew. He abhorred change. Wanted nothing to do with it. He’d get out of the hospital and continue to eat like he had when Verity was five because as far as he was concerned, he hadn’t changed at all since then and neither had she. God, she was twenty-five, but he refused to see that. He acted like he still got to rule her life, and didn’t she let him?

She let him tell her what school to go to, what to major in, what to become. Let him tell her that she couldn’t go out, that she couldn’t read, he needed her to take care of him, of the house. Verity was little more than a servant in her own home. And she’d let him tell her what to do again, even though he couldn’t say much of anything, when she broke up with Andrew.

Her tears flowed freely down her face when she remembered that confrontation. Demelza had told him what had happened. She’d been quite upset on her cousin-in-law’s behalf, and Verity loved her even more for it. Andrew had rushed to the hospital, where Verity had sat waiting for her father to wake. She’d taken him out in the hall and numbly told him that they couldn’t be together. He had almost acted like he’d been expecting it and it made her wonder what Demelza had told him. He’d said... He’d said it was alright, that she was breaking up with him. He’d said he understood, and then he’d said that he loved her. But Verity was still frozen numb. She couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t feel it. She could only see him letting her go and not fighting for them at all. That didn’t seem like love to her and she’d told him so. She’d said quite coldly that she didn’t believe him. And now it was too late. He must be gone. He probably wasn’t coming back. She would never get to tell him that she loved him too.

Everything. Her life. Her father. Andrew. Her fault, her fault, her fault.

“Verity?” There was a knock on the door that startled her out of the trap that was her own mind. “Can I come in?”

She nodded before realizing the other person couldn’t see her and hoarsely whispering, “Yes.”

Demelza came in armed with a cup of tea in hand. “How are you doing?” she asked sympathetically.

Verity raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been better.”

Silently, Demelza held out the tea and Verity accepted it. Demelza had been bringing Verity tea and her meals for the last week. She was the only one Verity would allow in the room right now. It wasn’t healthy. Demelza knew it and she was worried about her. But Verity was so very unresponsive that she didn't know how to talk to her about it. Perhaps if Demelza were more self-assured, she could stop tiptoeing around Verity, and perhaps that would make Verity snap out of it. As it was...

Still, there had to be something they could do. Ross was concerned, too. Verity was the closest thing he had to a sister, and she was the only living blood relative he had that he hadn't fallen out with. There were stronger ties between the two of them than either of them would ever possibly realized.

So when the topic of how to help Verity had come up and Demelza had suggested getting her out of town and going somewhere, Ross had not needed any convincing. They’d agreed that it would be good to spend a weekend on the coast for everyone involved. Getting out of this town was what they needed. Now she only had to breach the subject with Verity in a way that she couldn’t refuse.

“Verity,” she began hesitantly. Verity acknowledged her with a little hum. “Does your family have a house on the coast?” She sipped her tea and nodded in response. “You know, the doctor told me an’ Ross after the excitement that it might be good to go away for a weekend or so and that sea air would probably do the baby good.”

Verity finally looked at her and spoke. “You know that that house belongs to me, technically. It came from Mother’s side of the family and she left it to me. You’re welcome there anytime.”

“Oh, thank you, Verity!” Demelza said sincerely. “But the problem is, Ross has meetings in the town over most of the weekend. It wouldn’t be very relaxing if I’m alone in a new place all the day.”

“No,” Verity agreed, setting her tea down on the bedside table. Her eyes went back to the floor. “It wouldn’t.”

Demelza drew closer to Verity and put a hand on her arm. “Exactly. So Ross and I talked about it, and if you’re alright with it, we’d really like you to come too. I mean, it’d be very generous of you to let us use that house anyway, and Ross says he doesn’t want me alone as much as I’ve tried to explain to him that I’m pregnant, not deathly sick.” Verity looked unconvinced. Demelza sat by her on the bed. “Oh, please come with us, Verity. Please! I’ll get down on my hands and knees if you’re not convinced yet.” Her last sentence had something of a playful air about it and it made Verity smile for the first time in at least a week.

“No, there’s no need for that,” she said, still smiling. “Fine. I’ll go with you two as long as you can promise me that it won’t be a romantic couple’s getaway and I won’t be a third wheel.”

Demelza’s eyes sparkled with happiness. “No romance and no third-wheeling,” she promised.

***

Ross was reliably being himself, which is to say, he was being dense again. Really, for someone who was actually remarkably perceptive, he was quite terrible at anything that involved, well, you know, emotions or feelings. Demelza loved him, really, but sometimes he was just so horribly insensitive. Informing him of their vacation plans this morning had just cemented that into fact. He’d said, “Look, Demelza, I understand that Verity’s upset, but I don’t understand why. Her father is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She’d stared at him incredulously. “You think that’s all that’s wrong wit’ her?”

“Well, yes,” he shrugged. “What else is there?”

“'What else is there?!'” she cried. “The fact that she broke up with Andrew after he told her he loved her and she said she didn’t believe him? Or what about how she feels responsible for your uncle’s heart attack? Any of tha’, maybe?”

Ross looked at her in surprise and confusion. “But she’s not responsible for Uncle Charles’s heart attack.”

“I know that, Ross,” she said exasperatedly. “We all know that, excep’ Verity.”

“And beside that,” he plowed on, “if Andrew really does love her, then she can just explain that she didn’t mean it and it’ll be okay.”

“Oh, Ross.” She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Don’t you know it’s not that easy?”

“Why not?” He stared at her blankly.

“It’s hard to tell someone you love them even if you’re in a good relationship where you know you both care about each other romantically. It might be too much too fast. They might not love you back.” She stared at the floor, pushed a lock of red hair out of her eyes, and tried not to let the cement feeling in her stomach overtake her. Maybe that was a bit too close to home to be talking about it with him. “But, now, there’s a hurt and a scar for the both of them that wasn’t there before, yeah? And Andrew isn’t the one that needs to come to Verity, she has to go to him, and she knows that, but she doesn’t know how. She’s not sure he’d even want her to. He doesn’t think she wants him there at all and that she doesn’t love him back so he won’t bother her.”

Ross considered it for a second. “So I suppose I see why she’s upset,” he said slowly.

Demelza widened her eyes sarcastically. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

He grinned at her and her traitorous knees instantly weakened in response. “You think I’m cute?” he teased.

She snorted. “I think we’ve plenty of proof that I think you’re cute.” Demelza looked at her stomach pointedly.

Ross tugged her close to him so that she could feel it when he shrugged. “That we do,” he softly conceded. He placed his hand gently on her lower stomach, and for a moment, Demelza could’ve sworn that there was something there, something in his eyes that matched hers. But within the next second, it was gone, and she thought it must have never been there at all.

Chapter Text

Demelza had always loved the salty breezes coming off the ocean. The scent calmed her like nothing else she'd found. It was true that they'd come to the shore for Verity, and it was true that Ross had a meeting, but it was also true that Demelza had been stressed lately, and Doctor Kuracisto had said stress was bad for the bairn. She supposed she didn't really have much to be stressed about, it was just Ross's family didn't much like her (then again, he didn't much like them– Verity and... Elizabeth... excepted of course), and his uncle had had a heart attack, and her friend was hurting, and, and...

She knew deep down what was really hurting her and she didn't much think the weekend at the beach would make much of a difference. She loved Ross Poldark and he would never love her back. He would always love Elizabeth. Sometimes she thought it would be okay. Being his friend and lover, not love, would be okay. But lately, every moment she was aware of her relationship with Ross, it felt like a knife was slid between her ribs and she could feel it every time she breathed.

And alright, maybe she'd been avoiding him a little bit. It was difficult to avoid someone you lived with, but Demelza had practice. She just talked to him a little less than usual, went to bed earlier, you know. Pregnancy was good as an excuse for everything. The rest of it was simply hoping that Ross wouldn't notice. She thought she could count on that. He wasn't much good with emotional things.

Something loud slammed onto the floor behind her and she jumped.

“Sorry, Demelza,” Verity said between curses. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Demelza carefully picked her way over to Verity. “No, it's alright. What, you drop your suitcase on your toe?”

Verity grimaced. “Yes. I'm alright though, really.” Demelza held her hand out to take the suitcase from her. “Demelza. Ross will murder me if he finds out I let you do any heavy lifting.”

Demelza scoffed. “That's ridiculous. I'm barely even pregnant, only just four full months.”

“You know how Ross is,” Verity rolled her eyes. She hauled her suitcase down the hall to her room, set it on the bed, and turned around to face Demelza. “He's a little overprotective of you.”

Demelza looked down. “No, not me.” She gently placed a hand over the slight bump at the bottom of her stomach. “He's jus’ overprotective of the bairn.”

“Demelza.” Verity settled her hands on your hips. “You know he cares about you.”

"About," she said, a slightly bitter tinge to her voice. "He cares about me."

Verity's eyebrows drew together. "Well, what's wrong with that? Him caring about you?"

It's not caring for me, a voice in her head answered. Demelza dropped heavily on to the bed. "You know how I feel about him."

"I've guessed."

Finally, finally, Demelza looked at Verity. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She slowly shook her head before she spoke. “Verity... I love him." She swiped at her eyes and sniffed. "And I feel so stupid, so damned stupid because I know better," her voice broke, "and I know he'd never..." She stopped and seemed to regain control of herself. "He's kind to me. We're friends. And tha's plenty. But I'd never..." Briskly, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Verity! I didn't mean to burden you with all this," she waved her hand.

Verity sat down next to her on the bed and put her arm around the other girl. “No, Demelza, it's not a burden. I'm your friend. You can tell me things like this.”

Demelza tucked her hair behind her ear and dropped her hands into her lap. “I wouldn' want to get between you and Ross. You're the closest thing he has to a sister.”

Verity snorted. “Yes, so I know fully well how stupid he can be. Really, you can tell me anything. It's more than likely I'll be on your side anyway.”

The other girl’s blue-green eyes looked at her, large and slightly teary. “I'm not used to talking to people, but maybe I can try.”

“Good.” Verity said decisively. Then, more hesitantly, she said, “Demelza... You could tell Ross things, too. You could talk to him.”

Instantly, Demelza’s face shut down. The open vulnerability that had been present disappeared completely, leaving only a barren hardness on her face. She raised an eyebrow cynically. “I'm sure I could.”

“Demelza...”

She shot up. “I have to get my things.” She was out the door as fast as was possible without actually running.

Verity sighed but didn’t chase her. She knew she’d pushed too far. Instead, she got her book out and began to read. Being lost in a fictional world was much better than knowing exactly where she was in her present one.

***

It wasn’t that Demelza thought she couldn’t talk to Ross, necessarily. She didn’t think that he’d be cruel. Not on purpose at least. He would listen. Probably. But he didn’t love her back and she didn’t want to burden him with the knowledge that she'd had feelings for him that he didn't and likely couldn't return. Their relationship would be shattered. It only increase their inequality issues and he would feel... strange, wouldn’t he? Maybe he wouldn’t even want to be friends with her any more.

And what were they, anyway? Friends with benefits? Fuckbuddies? Something more? Something less?

She didn’t know. She had no idea what they were, but she had something, and she wouldn’t give it up for anything. She just... She couldn’t risk it. Maybe it was cowardly. Everything was just so confusing. Her emotions were all over the place, and they changed so easily. Was she mad? Was she sad? Hurt? Upset? Happy? In a good mood? In a bad mood? Who could tell? Certainly not Demelza.

Ross barged into the bedroom. “Did you bring your suitcase in already? Because you know you’re not supposed to be doing any heavy lifting–” He stopped short when he saw her reddened eyes. “Demelza? Is something wrong?”

She quickly wiped at her eyes. “No, I’m fine.” She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He looked at her with more than a little disbelief. He hesitated, then said, “Look, Demelza, I know you think I’m an emotional idiot–”

“Because you are,” she interrupted, eyebrows raised.

“As that may be, even I know enough to know that ‘I’m fine’ never actually means that you’re fine.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Demelza shook her head and looked at the floor.

“Alright,” Ross nodded in acceptance. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before he looked at her and said, “Did you want to go to the beach before dinner tonight?”

Demelza worried her lip between her teeth and didn’t respond.

“Is that a no, then?” He was a little bit worried he’d put his foot in it somehow. It wasn’t particularly difficult to upset Demelza at the moment, and crying women always had made him uncomfortable.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to go...” Demelza trailed off. “Just, we should be careful, shouldn’t we? The press don’ know about the bairn yet, and me in a little beach thing wouldn’ be the best way to let them know.”

Ross snorted. “Is that all?” he said dismissively.

There was a little twinge of pain inside Demelza at how easily he dismissed her concerns. Shouldn’t he pay attention to how she felt? That wasn’t right of him, was it?

Something must have shown on her face, because Ross hurriedly said, “And if you wear something loose, they’ll say it’s because you’re trying to hide your stomach. They’ll think what they want. Why do we care?”

Demelza was not entirely convinced, but she let it go. “Alright then, beach and then dinner. Where are we going?”

He named some fancy little Italian restaurant near the boardwalk. She gave him a look. “What’s wrong with that?” he said defensively.

“That sounds like a date.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“That’s the idea, yes.”

“Ross.” She raised her eyebrows warningly.

“What?” He looked at her, clearly not comprehending what was wrong with that.

“I promised Verity she wouldn’ be third wheeling.” Demelza crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wasn’t really counting on her coming with us.” Ross looked at her much more strangely, she thought indignantly, than the situation really called for.

“Were we just going to leave her here alone, then?” Demelza punctuated her statement with an angry gesture toward the room at large.

“Were we going to take her with us on a date?” Ross countered.

Demelza pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes. “We aren’t dating, are we? We aren’t really in a relationship, are we?” She panicked slightly as soon as she said it. No, no, that was too much, too close, couldn’t let him know, couldn’t let him answer that. “So there’d be no harm in taking her with us,” she hurried on.

(Ross seemed somehow disappointed by her statement. Strange, but she couldn’t let herself focus on that. It’d be beyond stupid to get your hopes up, she reminded herself forcefully.)

He sighed. There was something uncomfortable about that statement, something that didn't sit right with him, but that was ridiculous. She was only his friend, fuckbuddy, really, who had happened to get pregnant, so he'd married her. He winced a little. That may have been a little harsh. But the point stood. He had feelings for Dem– no, Elizabeth. God. He had feelings for Elizabeth, not Demelza. Right? Ross shook his head the tiniest bit and pushed that train of thought to the side. “Alright, we can take Verity out with us tonight. It's not a date.” He'd think more about that later.

Ross’s agreement that it wasn't a date hit Demelza harder than she'd like to admit. That was what she'd been after, right? And she knew that they weren't dating. But still, every reminder felt a little like a punch to the gut. She would know. She was unfortunately well-acquainted with what a punch to the gut felt like.

Demelza only nodded wordlessly and Ross began to feel a bit awkward. She wouldn't look at him. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she didn't seem to be crying... “I'll just leave you to get ready, then...” Still, she didn't look at him, she just nodded as he left.

***

Verity looked up from her book as Ross emerged into the living room. She sighed and put a bookmark in it before setting it aside and asking, “So what have you done now?”

“I haven’t done anything!” Ross exclaimed defensively. “Why is that always your first question?” He muttered something about ungrateful pseudo-siblings but still came and sat by her anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Verity said, “but have you ever been around you when you need to deal with emotions? At all? I called you Ron when Harry Potter first came out because you’re so terrible at feelings.”

Ross looked a tiny bit hurt and said, “And here I thought that was because I had the best sense of humor of all of us.”

Verity raised her eyebrows. “Not the point, Ross. The point is, what did you do now?”

Ross sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not really sure,” he admitted.

“So I may have been on to something with the nickname?” Verity teased gently.

He heaved another sigh and plopped down next to her on the sofa. “Yes, fine, I have the– what was it?”

“Emotional range of a teaspoon,” Verity supplied.

“Yes, that.” Ross paused. “Hang on, do you know what’s wrong with Demelza?”

Verity bit her lip and glanced away.

“You do!” he accused.

“Alright, fine, I do–” she said. He let out a bark of a triumphant laugh at her admission but she vehemently shook her head and quickly insisted, “–but I can’t tell you!”

Ross furrowed his brow in confusion. “Well, why the hell not?” He looked at her strangely.

“It’s not my place to tell,” Verity admonished him.

“Why the hell not?” he repeated. Verity raised her eyebrows and gave him a Look that was just like Demelza’s Look and oh shit, he realized, there were two terrifying women in his life that would kick his ass. His mother would be proud. For once. “Emotional range of a teaspoon?” he guessed.

Verity widened her eyes and nodded. She might as well have just said ‘no shit, Sherlock.’

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But why can’t you tell me?” he whined.

Verity rolled her eyes. “It’s Demelza’s secret, not mine.”

Ross flinched away from Verity almost imperceptibly. “Secret? Demelza’s keeping secrets from me?”

Verity buried her face in her hands and let out a very put-upon sigh. “My God, Ross, it’s not bad. It’s not something that will hurt you. Secret may not even be the best word for it. I only couldn’t think of anything better.” She raised her eyes to pin him with a nearly dangerous stare. “And can you really promise you’ve been one hundred percent honest with her, all the time?”

He couldn’t answer.

“Look, she’ll tell you when she’s ready to tell you. Not before. Don’t push her. Honestly.” She went back to her book, muttering something about how it could not be possible that she was the only mature, adult one of this family and why on earth couldn’t everyone just talk to each other?

***
Demelza emerged from her room not ten minutes later.

“You look nice,” Verity said.

“Oh,” Demelza blushed. “Thank you.”
Verity marked her page in her book and moved over. Demelza went and sat next to her, very composedly. “Is Ross taking you out, then?”

Demelza was surprised by her question, Verity could tell, but she wasn’t sure why. Surely Ross had told her that he’d planned a date for the two of them. Well, Ross didn’t quite realize it was a date. Of course. But he’d planned a date for them nonetheless.

“Didn’ Ross tell you? You’re coming out with us, too.” Demelza could feel her stomach twisting and her heart pounding again. God, she hated that. If her mind and body could let her at least pretend to be normal, she’d very much appreciate it, thank you.

Verity scoffed. “I am not going on your date with you, Demelza.”

“It’s no’ a date, though,” Demelza insisted.

, Verity thought. “Going to the beach and then a romantic dinner in a restaurant. That is most definitely a date.”

“Well, he didn’ tell me it was a date, and he didn’ correct me when I said that it wasn’ a date, so I think it’s no’ a date.” Demelza argued.

Verity rubbed her temples. I am not going to survive them dancing around each other like this for much longer. “That is because my dear cousin has the emotional range of a teaspoon, the sensitivity of a wart, and an emotional IQ of negative seven,” she said in an overly patient tone.

A hand grasped hers, and she looked down to see Demelza’s hand there. “I promised you tha’ you wouldn’ be a third-wheel,” Demelza said in a small voice.

Verity squeezed Demelza’s hand and smiled at her. “And if I tag along on your date, I’ll be the biggest third wheel ever,” she pointed out in a gentle, kind tone. “I’d rather not relive high school. Once was enough, thank you.” She shuddered comically.

Demelza smiled back at her. “If yer sure...” She looked searchingly at Verity.

Verity nodded decisively. “I’ll read, maybe go for a walk and get food. It’ll be nice. Peaceful.”

Demelza didn’t quite believe her, but she nodded anyway. “Alrigh’.” She paused, carefully considering what she was going to say next. “You know you’re my closes’ friend, Verity.”

Verity put her arms around Demelza and they drew each other close. “I know,” she said quietly. “You’re my closest friend too.”

***

“Demelza,” Ross called through the the cottage, “are you ready? Our reservation is at seven, so we need to leave–” He barged into the living room, stopping short when he came upon Verity and Demelza. “Oh.” He paused. “Do you... are you, um, are you alright?” he asked tentatively.

Demelza stood and wiped hurriedly at her eyes. “Oh, yeah,” she said shakily. “‘M fine.”

Ross crossed the room and grabbed her arms. Demelza tensed up as he looked, rather intensely, into her eyes. “We don't have to go to dinner tonight.”

Demelza shrugged her shoulders out of his grasp. “No, it's fine, Ross. Let's just go out, please.”

He looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Alright,” he finally said. “Alright, fine. Let's go.” Ross took maybe five steps before turning and asking, “Verity, aren't you coming?”

“Oh, no,” Verity shook her head. “I’m going to stay here.”

Ross looked pointedly at Demelza.

“Oh, no you don’t, Ross Poldark,” she said fiercely, wide eyes giving a clear warning. “I swear to you, you tell me you told me so and I’ll make sure that you sleep on the couch for the next week.”

He held up his hands placatingly, but he was laughing. “I promise I won’t tell you I told you so. Even if I did tell you so.”

Demelza jabbed a finger at him mock-threateningly. “Did I just hear the words ‘I told you so’ leave your lips?”

Ross gazed at her innocently. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Verity rolled her eyes, stood up, and began quite literally shoving the couple out the door. “Yes, yes, get laid or don't, Ross, but I don't want to hear about it.” He tried to turn to look at her, absolute shock written on his face, but she just kept pushing them as Demelza cackled. “Now will you two please just leave before I get a toothache? Ugh...” She slammed the door shut behind them and flopped down onto the couch. “I swear,” she muttered, “if those two idiots ever manage to get their act together, they'll be the best couple.”

***

Ross stood for a few moments, just staring at the door, before Demelza finally stopped laughing long enough to tell him that he'd catch flies with his mouth hanging open like that. He looked between her and the doorway a couple more times before raising his eyebrows, shaking his head, and offering Demelza his hand. She took it, still giggling, as they set off to the town.

The ride there was quiet, but somehow, not uncomfortable. Both occupants of the car were quite lost in their own thoughts. Well, Ross was thinking mostly of dinner and how hungry he was, along with the mine and business. Emotional stuff (specifically the whole Demelza/Elizabeth situation) was possibly the furthest thing from his mind. (He was not stupid enough to be trying to figure out how he felt while he was around either of them, which conveniently meant he probably wouldn't have enough time away from either of them to truly think about it. ... Nice.)

Demelza, unfortunately, could hardly think of anything nearly so positive. Her mind would not be quiet, thoughts of Ross and how he felt and how she felt about him competed loudly with thoughts of Verity and Andrew, of Elizabeth and George, of her baby– their baby, and what the hell was she gonna do? She and Ross were essentially fake-married– sure, it may be legal and all, but it was still entered into with the understanding that they'd divorce after the baby was born. Or was it? She can't exactly recall what Ross said. In her defense, that had been a very stressful day, and some of the words and events blurred. It was “if we wanted”, wasn’t it? More like, “if he wanted”. Although Demelza sometimes wasn’t sure if she’d rather be married to him or be somewhere far away. It was horrid that no matter what, she’d probably love him, and sometimes she hated that, almost hated him for it. But she could do without the knife being slid between her ribs every time there was a reminder that this is not what she wanted, not truly. Demelza was so wrapped up in her own mind that she barely even noticed when Ross parked near the restaurant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he whispered.

Demelza started. “I don’t know that these thoughts would be worth a penny,” she said ruefully.

He gave her a look and casually reached his hand out to cover hers. “They must be worth at least a penny. Pennies are nothing.”

“Then they’re worth much more than a penny,” she said archly as she slipped her and away and went to open her door. She turned back and smirked at him, saying, “They’re much too expensive to be affordable,” before she slid out of the car.

Ross’s breath left him in a tiny huff of (fond, not that he’d admit or maybe even realize it) exasperation. He had a feeling that this had to do with whatever Demelza didn’t want to tell him, but Verity was probably right. He shouldn’t push her. She’d talk when she wanted to. Their conversation had just proved that.

Demelza’s heart was pounding, but she didn’t want to talk about that. She needed Ross to think that nothing was wrong. She had to act normal. So she swayed her hips and pretended to walk away from him before turning around and mouthing, “Coming?” with a sort of suggestive smirk.

It was like Ross had taken a gulp of expensive whiskey. Some warm feeling washed over him from head to toe, making his fingers and toes tingle and his mouth curl up in a smile. Of course, he quickly shook it off and followed Demelza to the restaurant.

Still, something of that warm feeling lingered.

Chapter Text

“Ross!” Demelza called. “We have to leave!”

Ross barely looked up from his computer. “Hmm?” he said absently. “Why’s that?”

Demelza stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Surely, you can't have forgotten about the appointment?”

Ross only just managed to restrained himself from asking what appointment. That would have been a colossal mistake, he knew that much, at least, even if he wasn't quite sure what appointment. “Of course I didn't forget about the appointment.”

From the way his wife (oh, he liked that, and that couldn’t possibly be the first time he'd thought those words) raised her eyebrows, it was quite clear she didn't believe him. “The appointmen’’,” she said slowly, “tha’ I been waitin’ fer all month?”

And her accent was getting stronger and he had better think of a way out of this soon because she was getting upset and he hated making her upset (almost as much as he hated the fact that she always tried to hide it from him). “No, really, I didn't forget, see? It's on my calendar.”

She sighed and tugged on her hair. “Tis only on yer calendar because I put it there, Ross.” She gave him a long, resigned look, before saying, “I'm at eighteen weeks. The doctor said we migh’ see if the bairn be a boy or a girl.”

“Of course!” Ross exclaimed. “I can't believe I forgot! I'm sorry, Demelza.” He gave her his best apologetic look and prayed it would be enough for her to forget her ire.

Demelza smiled sadly at him. “It doesn’t matter, Ross.” Her words were once again crisp and clear. She had regained control of herself and her emotions.

But still, she looked sad, but in a way that said she wasn’t surprised, like she hadn’t expected anything else, and Ross didn’t like it. “No, it does matter. It was wrong of me to forget. I should have remembered something this important to you.” He really did look contrite.

“It’s alright.” Demelza smiled at him again, but it seemed at least slightly more cheerful. He’d take it. “Now, really, we’ve got to leave, else we’ll be late!”

“Alright, alright,” Ross laughed. He helped Demelza into her coat and laughingly bowed to her as she awkwardly, but jokingly, curtseyed. “Shall we?”

She nodded decisively. “We shall.”

***

Ross hadn't seen Demelza this nervous about a doctor’s appointment since their very first one, and it made him feel all the worser that he'd forgotten about something she was clearly so anxious about. Her hands twisted a magazine and he watched her knuckles grow whiter, heard her breathing get harsher. She got like this sometimes, he knew that, but he still wasn’t sure he understood what it was and he didn’t like it. (If she knew what it was, she hadn’t told him for whatever reason, and he didn’t much like that either.) Ross reached out to her and took her hands. He rubbed them and started a soothing litany of words, murmuring her name, telling her to look at him, telling her she was alright, she was safe. Slowly, the far-away, empty look in her eyes that scared him left. “What’s wrong, Demelza? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Her eyes filled with tears and his sense of panic increased. “Hey now, what is it? Please, Demelza, please tell me. What is it?”

She focused on the pattern of the carpet. “D’ye care...?” she started, then shook her head.

“What?” he prompted gently.

“Are ye hopin’ the bairn be a boy?” She said it quickly, like the words would get stuck in her throat and suffocate her if she didn't get them out fast enough.

He would have dismissed it as a question meant for distraction, but something in the way she phrased it, the way her breathing quickened, her hands tightened, and her eyes widened as she waited for his response, made him think this was more. “Demelza, I don't care about that,” he said carefully.

She looked at him and he could see in her eyes the skittish horse who had learned fear. “You don't?” she said in disbelief.

“Of course not,” he said to her with something like love in his eyes and his tone, but that couldn't be it, she knew it wasn't, of course it wasn't. “As long as you and the baby are healthy, nothing else matters.”

There was still something fragile and ready to bolt in her eyes and he knew that what he'd said wasn't enough. “Is this about your family?”

She stared at the carpet again. Keeping her expression carefully blank, she whispered, “M’ da... ‘e never wan’ed me. I was jus’ the firs’ try an’ a failure. ‘E loves ‘is sons, but ‘e never wan’ed a girl, much less one tha’ looks like ‘er dead mother.” Her voice rose like an ocean wave breaking over the rocks and she let out a sob.

Ross looked at her, horrified. “Demelza,” he whispered earnestly, “I promise you that it does not matter to me whether this baby is a boy or girl or both or neither. I won’t care about them any less, if their gender is whatever it is, or whatever they identify as when they get older-- it doesn’t matter to me,” he repeated fiercely.

Demelza’s fear abated, mostly. “I know, Ross. You’re nothin’ like my da. Sorry, it’s stupid.” She dashed her hand across her face, angrily smudging away the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“No!” he exclaimed. “It’s not stupid, you’re not stupid.” He squeezed her hands reassuringly. “Sometimes... Sometimes we can’t help our reactions to things.” Flashes of explosions and blood and horror spun through his mind, until a memory of the first time he’d heard a firecracker at home and dived to the ground in absolute terror stood out in sharp, shattered clarity. Ross was lost for a few minutes, shaking, until he came back to Demelza calming him in nearly the same way he’d done for her.

“Hey,” she whispered as she reached up to stroke his hair, “it's okay. What’re five things you can see right now?”

“The receptionist desk, a magazine, a red armchair, a coffee table, and you,” he responded shakily.

“Four things you can hear?”

“Magazine pages rustling, music on the speakers, people talking, your voice.”

“Three things you can feel?”

“This sofa, a draft, and you.” His voice grew in confidence.

“Good. Two things you can smell?”

“Disinfectant,” Ross wrinkled his nose, “and your hair.”

Demelza looked at him a bit curiously. He'd included her in every category. But of course, that was probably just because she was here and talking to him. “Now take a deep breath with me.” She inhaled for four seconds and exhaled for six. “Better?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes,” he almost smiled. “That was amazing, Demelza. The fastest I’ve ever..” he trailed off, shaking his head in some sort of wonder. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Oh, um, I suppose I just picked it up somewhere. I probably read it on the internet or something,” she dismissed it airily.

Ross’s eyes narrowed. Something about that seemed... not right. She had read it on the internet, whatever instinct it was told him that much was right, but there was more to the story. He didn't have time to ask anything more before a nurse summoned them back for Demelza’s appointment.

***

This was not the first time Demelza had seen her bairn with an ultrasound, but she doubted it would ever cease to be magical. It was still so unreal to her that she and Ross had made a tiny little human that lived inside her. She loved them, whoever they were, whatever they turned out to be. It didn't matter.

But no, it wasn't ‘them’ anymore. Because Doctor Kuracisto was pointing to the screen and congratulating them on their daughter and Demelza’s eyes filled out with tears as she reached out a trembling hand. Ross turned his head and pressed his forehead to hers, grinning with unabashed joy, putting his hand over her swollen stomach and murmuring, “Hello, baby girl,” and she wasn't scared anymore. She wasn't scared.

They sat that way for a few more moments before Doctor Kuracisto cleared her throat awkwardly. It had been sweet, really, and it was plain to everyone with eyes that the girl loved him, but not, she suspected to him. If she had to guess, she'd say that he was ignorant of her feelings– and his own. Because if the good doctor were offering her observations, she would venture a guess at Ross being just as in love with Demelza as she was with him. He was just unaware of both those things.

But of course, she was a doctor, not a marriage counselor, so it really wasn't her place to offer her observations. Instead, she had more information to cover in their appointment. “Your blood pressure looks normal,” she said briskly. “And your weight looks good... Everything looks good, in fact. You and the baby are very healthy.”

Demelza sighed in relief every time she heard that. Though she'd no reason to think otherwise, she had a niggling worry in the back of her mind that something would go wrong, and it eased her worry a bit more each time she was assured there was nothing wrong with the baby.

“Are there any restrictions?” Ross asked.

He sounded really concerned, but, she had to remind herself, it was probably for the bairn. And what concern he had for her as a friend, of course. No matter how he sounded, he was not in love with her. She couldn't afford to forget that.

“No,” the doctor smiled. “Beyond what i’ve already said about your diet and out of the ordinary risks, you're free to do whatever you like.”

***

They were walking out to the car when Ross said it. “Elizabeth and Francis are hosting a masquerade tonight.”

“What?!” Demelza shrieked. “Why didn' you tell me abou’ this earlier?! Ross!”

Ross looked at her in surprise. “What's the matter?”

“‘Wha's the matter?’” Demelza moaned in disbelief. She nervously tugged on her hair. “Oh, Ross, I've so much to do!”

He still was puzzled. “You can just wear one of the dresses you've worn before, can't you?”

“No, Ross!” she responded exasperatedly. “D’ye think Elizabeth or Verity’ll do tha’?”

“No?” he tried.

Demelza sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. “It's just... We need to talk, Ross. Whatever this is,” she gestured between them, “whatever we are, we are going to raise a child together. You can't just not tell me things!”

Ross raised his eyebrows. “I don't think I'm the only one not telling the other things. You aren't telling me everything either.”

Demelza paled. “That's not the same,” she said quietly.

“How is it not the same?!” He threw his hands up

Her face took on a pleading look and he almost hated it for making him feel sorry for her. He didn't want to. “Because this isn't me asking you to trust me with your deepest secrets! I'm just asking that you tell me what commitments you've made! Tha’s not even any differen’ from my job, anyway!”

“Wait.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you saying you don't trust me?”

“No, that's not it.” She reached out for him but he didn't move. “Ross... It's more complicated than that.” Her voice and her face pleaded for him to understand.

He only stared at her stonily.

“Can we not talk about this now, Ross? Please? Let's just go home.”

He nodded, took her hand and let her lead them to the car.

***

“Oh, Verity, I'm jus’ so nervous.” Demelza ran her fingertips up and down the insides of her arms anxiously.

Verity didn't pause in pinning Demelza’s hair into place. “That's exactly what you said before dinner, what, six weeks ago? And you did just fine.”

Demelza snorted. “Verity, that dinner was a disaster.”

“Well,” she nodded, “you're not wrong... But that wasn't your fault. You did a wonderful job.”

“But it's not jus’ that,” Demelza sighed. “Ross an’ I fought before this and I'm worried that he’s upset with me.”

Verity stopped abruptly. “You fought? What about?”

“Oh, I was upset tha’ he hadn't told me about the masquerade tonigh’.” She waved her hand. “It seems stupid now to be upset about tha’.”

Verity's eyebrows drew together. “It's okay that you were upset about that,” she assured Demelza. “I would've been upset about that too.”

“But it jus’ got worse!” Demelza tugged at her hair. “God, Verity... He said wasn' the only one keeping secrets and that there were things I haven' told him, and it's true! But I said I didn' want to tell him, and he thought that it meant I don' trust him... Oh, it's jus’ a mess!”

Verity let loose a tiny, exasperated puff of air. These two needed to get it together before she lost it. Honestly, it was so obvious they were in love to everyone except them and it was getting hard to put up with it. “You really ought to tell him.” She rubbed Demelza's back and spoke over her protests. “But I understand why you don't want to, and that's alright too. Sometime, you two need to talk about everything,” Verity said, almost to herself, “but this isn't the best time for it. It's okay.”

“Are you sure?” Demelza looked at Verity with large, water eyes. Damned hormones.

“Yes,” Verity said simply. “He won't be upset with you by tonight, once he's had time to cool down and think about things.” She smiled and shook her head. “In fact, he'll probably be begging your forgiveness on his hands and knees.”

“But I was in the wrong too!” Demelza said in clear distress.

“Shhh,” Verity soothed her. “It will all work out, my dear, don't fret. Now, let's finish getting you ready.” She clasped Demelza's shoulders and they stared together into Ross and Demelza’s bedroom mirror. Verity grinned and murmured, “They simply won't be able to take their eyes off you.”

***

Ross stared at Demelza with his mouth agape. She looked incredible. Her dress was a beautiful moss green and made of some floaty, gauzy material with a full skirt. It was snug on her chest, the material of her sleeves wrapping around to make up the bodice, and was loose around her waist to cover her swollen stomach. Her hair was half-up, tumbling down her back with flowers woven into her curls. The mask she wore was gold and white with green the same color as her dress and it was anchored by a ribbon curled in and reaching around with the rest of her hair.

She looked like a fairy or a princess or something from a fairy tale. She was wild and untamed and breathtaking, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Demelza smiled shyly at him and Verity, standing next to him in a dark blue dress and silver mask, gave him a nudge. (Well, nudge. It was more of a shove.) “Demelza...” he breathed. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

They stood there, completely lost in each other for a few precious moments. Verity must have left them at some point but neither of them noticed.

Eventually, Ross broke the silence. “Oh!” He fumbled around in his jacket for a minute before drawing a small object wrapped in tissue paper out of his pocket and– almost nervously– presented it to Demelza. “This is for you.” It was a necklace, a delicate gold thing with a thin, glinting chain and a small, simple diamond pendant.

Demelza may not have known much about jewelry, but she could tell that this was no cheap trinket. He gestured and she turned and swept her hair to the side so he could fasten the gift. She looked at the necklace resting on her collarbone and sighed, “Oh, Ross.”

He could hear the fondness in her tone and it set him at ease. So she wasn't still upset with him. Of course, he only cared because she was his friend and wife and mother of his child. That didn't quite explain why he’d hate it so if she were upset with him... But again, he'd think about that later.

They would have to talk about this afternoon and they both knew it. But for now, neither of them wanted to think about that. Instead, echoes of a previous scene rippled through them as Ross took Demelza’s hand and led her out the door.

**

Later, they sat in the car, exhausted. Demelza’s eyes glittered with traces of her makeup. She held her shoes in one hand and sat with her feet tucked under her. Her mask laid on the dashboard and her hair was in wild disarray. The necklace she wore was the only thing that had remained beautiful throughout the night.

It had been a hell of a night, or maybe a hellish night. Everything had blurred to Demelza, but Ross remembered it in sharp, stunning clarity. Seeing Elizabeth and Demelza next to each other, the stars, high and cold, next to the earth, warm, familiar, and here, George Warleggan trying to pick a fight, Ruth Teague trying to hit on him again, even though they were both married, and Demelza glaring at her until she was dragged away by her husband, how he had asked Demelza to dance, how they whirled across the floor, unable to take their eyes off each other as they fell more and more in– no, under the night’s spell...

“Hey,” she whispered.

Ross smoothed a lock of hair off her forehead and replied, “Hey.”

Demelza got that look on her face that said she was getting ready to do something she didn’t want to but she was steeling herself to do it. “About this afternoon,” she started.

“No, Demelza,” Ross sighed, “it’s alright. I should have told you. You were right. We need to communicate.”

“But you were right!” she insisted. “I haven’t told you everything, and it isn’t because I don’t trust you, I just... I’m not used to talking to people and having someone I can tell things to. I...”

It was clear that whatever she had planned to say next, whatever piece of her secret self she was willing to bare to him, was almost impossibly difficult for her to admit. “Really, it’s alright,” he said quickly. He clasped her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles. “I know you trust me, and I know you would tell me, but I understand that it’s hard. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.”

The utter gratitude in her eyes made his heart ache in a strange way for an unknown reason. He almost couldn’t stand to look at it.

“We were both in the wrong,” she said gently. “Let’s move on?”

Ross leaned in and gently kissed her, felt her lips break into a smile under his. She leaned as close to him as she could and laid her head on his chest. He pressed his lips to her hair and they sat there, just breathing in the silence and comfort.

(And love, though neither really knew it, was there too.)

Chapter Text

Not Just One, But Two Baby Poldarks On The Way!

As everyone knows, Elizabeth Chynoweth Poldark is pregnant. But what we have long suspected and what has only barely been confirmed is that Demelza Poldark, wife of Ross Poldark, is pregnant as well!

Friends of the couple admitted to us that she was pregnant when the couple wed in a surprise ceremony just three months ago. “Of course, the baby is only part of the reason they married. They really do love each other. It's very plain to see,” one source said.

Though we can't see any obvious baby bump, our modern Cinderella has been wearing lots of loose tops and dresses lately. And, perhaps the most damning evidence of all, Demelza hasn't been seen anywhere near alcohol for the last three months at least.

To us, at least, it appears obvious that there will be a case of history repeating itself: two Poldark cousins within months of each other. We can only hope that their relationship is less... dramatic than their parents’.

***

“Oh, look at that. Made the front page again,” Demelza muttered absentmindedly as she browsed through her news pages. Usually, she avoided articles about herself. It wasn't often anything she wanted to hear. But the title of this one caught her eye.

“Two baby Poldarks?!” She swore under her breath and opened up the article with her heart beating in her throat. There'd been plenty of stories about how everyone thought she was pregnant, but since she was officially at five months, she was a little more worried someone would figure out she was really pregnant.

“Confirmed Demelza Poldark is pregnant,” she scoffed. “How confirmed can it really be? And I'd really like to meet all these friends giving our secrets away.” She rolled her eyes. “‘They really do love each other. It's very plain to see’?!” she read, her voice rising incredulously. “And now I'm a modern Cinderella.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Although,” she said thoughtfully, “that may be one of the nicest things they've said about me...” She kept reading. “‘Damning evidence’?! ‘Hasn't been seen near alcohol’?!” she spluttered. “And there couldn’ possibly be another reason for tha’?! An’ maybe I jus’ like loose clothes! Did they ever think of tha’?”

Ross entered the kitchen to see Demelza glaring at her phone and muttering darkly about how she'd show them damning evidence. He chuckled to himself. She was not someone you'd expect to be dangerous, yet she could be if she wanted. He had to admit, it was sort of funny when she was infuriated with someone that wasn't him. They had no idea what was about to hit them.

Demelza turned at the sound of his laughter and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She arched an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, is so funny?”

“Nothing, dear.” He grinned at her and widened his eyes innocently. “What are you reading?” Ross peered over her shoulder. “Ooh, more pregnancy rumors. So what crazy ideas have they got now?” He rubbed his hands together, but Demelza didn't feel like playing that game.

“They're gonna find out that I'm pregnant.”

What was that in her voice that made it shake? Fear? Anxiety? Ross couldn't tell. “Does it matter?” He shrugged.

Demelza twisted her hands around. “I don't know what's expected,”she admitted. “Do we tell them? Will it still be bad? What would we say?” She looked at him plaintively, almost pleadingly.

“Well, we don't have to do anything that's expected. We never have,” he said trunk to be calming.

“Ross,” Demelza sighed, “I'm at five months. I can barely hide my stomach. I look pregnant. Once I hit the third trimester, there'll be no hiding it.”

He laid his hands over her stomach. “Why should we hide our child?”

“That’s not what the problem is!” She pushed her hands through her hair. “Look, we got married to try and make it so my pregnancy wouldn’t hurt Nampara, right?”

Ross nodded.

“But if we let them think whatever they want, it’ll still be bad,” she explained. “And I know you don’t really care, but I do. You know I do. I don’t... I don’t anything to do with me to hurt you.”

There it was again, that gentle, tender thing in his eyes that made her breath catch. (But it couldn’t possibly be love and she had to remember that. It would be dangerous to forget.) “Alright,” he said softly. “We can talk to Verity for her advice, or we could ask Elizabeth. Whatever you want to do, my dear.”

The term of endearment had sort of... slipped out, and it caught both of them by surprise. Demelza’s breath caught in her throat and they both stilled. “Oh. Um, alright. I think I’ll go call Verity now,” she said awkwardly.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I, uh... I think get breakfast.”

Demelza smiled at him. Judas, her love must have just been shining from her eyes. She always was too damned much of an open book. She gathered her courage anyway and leaned in and pressed a soft, innocent kiss to his lips.

Her heart leapt and she didn't think she could stay to see Ross’s reaction. Could even he miss the feelings that were so obvious with the way she was acting right now?

He didn't, exactly. Ross watched Demelza leave with a half smile on his face. Something about the whole exchange was different than what their relationship had been lately. It felt more like it had in the summer, in July, when things had been easy. What changed? He wasn't sure. Whatever it was, fixing it would probably be the only way for their relationship to... to what? Ross really wasn't sure, but there was a sense of the anticipation before a thunderstorm. There was something important happening, something hanging in the balance here.

***

Demelza flopped backwards onto the bed and groaned, her phone slipping out of her hand. Verity had assured her that it was actually a relatively simple thing. She would consult Elizabeth and they would put together a statement of how Demelza and Ross were happy to announce they were expecting, they'd found out in September– after their marriage– and they were ecstatic.

Ecstatic, Demelza sneered. The bitterness inside her at her insecurity laughed at the idea. She tried, she really did, to accept that Ross would always love Elizabeth, never her, not in the way she wanted. But still, she hated that she loved him.

(She didn’t hate him. She could never hate him.)

Ross came in and told her he was going back to the office and he’d probably be working late, so she shouldn’t wait up. Demelza barely reacted. As soon as he’d entered their room, her mind started to scream. “Why did you do that? Why did you do that? Why did you do that? Stupid!” She excused herself, said she wasn’t feeling well and she’d just stay home, if he didn’t mind.

There was something soft in his eyes again (she almost just wished it would go away because it hurt her to look at something so like love) when he told her that of course it was alright, of course she should stay home if she didn’t feel well, and to let him know if she needed something.

Demelza smiled and nodded until he left. Then she just wished that she couldn’t feel a thing as tears pricked at her eyes.

This had to end, somehow. How much longer could she handle this?

But oh, it was a bad day, just a bad day, whispered a part of her that clung to that pale imitation of love Ross felt for her. That part wouldn’t give him up for anything.

She stood and tore out of her work clothes, a black pencil skirt and blue blouse, watched as they hit the floor, black and blue against the white rug, reminding her of bruises.

Out of her closet, she pulled a too-big faded green sweater and loose, muted pink cloth shorts. Gentle, soft was what she need right now. Demelza stared at her reflection blankly as she combed out her hair and piled it on top of her head.

A wave of desperate longing for her mother swept over her. What would she have said? What would she tell Demelza? She might not have known, but the thought made her wish she were a child again, that she could sit on her mother’s lap and cry again.

It was definitely a hot chocolate night.

***

Ross blew through the door with a snap of crisp fall wind that seemed to signal winter was on its way. It was nearly one in the morning. He really hadn’t meant to be gone so long. Things were still off to a rough start with his investors, and they hadn’t stuck copper yet, though they were certain it must be there. Demelza didn’t really know that yet. He hadn’t wanted to worry her. The doctor had said that stress wasn’t good for the baby. Speaking of Demelza, he hoped she’d gone to sleep. That wouldn’t be good for the baby either.

He was hanging his coat in the closet when he heard the distinct sound of something shattering. For a half of a second, he stood there like he’d just received an electric shock. Then he took off, headed for the kitchen.

“Demelza?” Ross called. “Are you alright?”

Demelza peeled herself away from the cabinets, off of the floor, and smudged her tears across her face. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she said.

He pulled her into his arms and clutched her to his chest. “Are you sure? Something broke, I heard it.”

She moved back just enough so that she could lift her head and look at him. “No, really, I’m alright. It’s actually kind of a funny story.”

Ross raised his eyebrows. How could it be funny? Demelza was crying.

“I, uh, woke up maybe fifteen minutes ago,” she was explaining, “and I think the bairn might have a bit of a sweet tooth. I was craving cake something awful, and I couldn’t fall back asleep. You weren’t home yet, and...” She trailed off before shaking her head and continuing. “I thought I’d just bake a cake myself.” Demelza laughed and pushed her hair back out of her face. “I just knocked that jar,” she pointed at the shattered remains on the floor, “off the shelf, and for some reason, it was very upsetting.”

Ross smiled back at her in relief and wiped the remaining moisture off her face with his thumb. “I’ll just clean the-- what is it?”

“Strawberry jam.”

“Well then, let’s clean up the strawberry jam and then we can see about finishing that cake.” His arms were slung low across her hips and their foreheads were pressed together. Impulsively, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips like she had earlier.

Like she had done earlier. Demelza felt something inside of her loosen and she breathed in deeply. Somehow, it seemed as though all the world was right as he danced her around the kitchen with her music blasting happiness and contentment for everyone to her, as she flicked flour at him and he scooped up a handful of water in retaliation. And as they waited for the cake to come out of the oven, she dozed with her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her.

She wasn’t scared, she wasn’t feeling any panic clawing at her. No, Demelza was perfectly happy as she used her thumb to get frosting off Ross’s nose and they sat on the floor and ate their cake.

She forgot, for an eternity, why she had ever been upset. She forgot what she had told herself she must always remember. And when they finally went to bed and Ross laid his arm around her waist, her back to his front, his hand resting on her stomach, she was content to have forgotten.

It felt damn good.

Chapter Text

Ross woke up much too early for how late he went to bed again last night. Demelza refused to stop waiting up for him. She never would say anything, of course, but the light was always on and she was always sitting up in a chair, reading or listening to music or softly singing to herself.

(It was hard for her to sleep without him beside her, hard for her to feel comfortable without his warmth, hard for her to feel safe when he wasn't home– but she would never tell him that.)

He sat up and looked down at Demelza's peaceful face, watched her chest move shallowly up and down and she breathed, and felt that curious warmth spreading through him again. Almost of its own accord, his hand cupped her cheek. His thumb moved back and forth, stroking her face and slowly drawing her out of sleep.

Lazily, she looked up and him and whispered, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he murmured.

Demelza pulled herself up to press a kiss to Ross’s lips. When she tried to pull away, he moved with her, unwilling to let her go. A little laugh escaped her lips but she didn’t try to break away again. His hands ran up and down her sides, caressing her stomach, her hips, her breasts. Lips moved from hers as he began kissing her neck.

Darkened eyes met hers and Demelza gasped at the look in them. Hunger and want and need, yes. Those she was used to. But there was also tenderness and joy and adoration and she never had seen those in the eyes of someone who was looking at her.

An arm encircled her hips as another slipped behind her back and Ross pulled her down so that she was laying flat on the bed beneath him.

It was not long before they were lost in each other, moving together, lazy and slow, a new feeling of peace resting over them, and other feelings, other emotions, that hadn’t been there before. It was calm. It was contentment. It was comfort. It was security. It was beauty in a simple, clean way.

***

They laid there together, after. It was only a few minutes before Demelza skipped from the bed to pull on one of Ross’s shirts and get breakfast. He followed her, laughing, wearing only grey pants slung on his hips.

Ross knew, as he watched Demelza move with mischief in her eyes, that he had the power to shatter their perfect spell. He knew that what he must tell her would dull the shine and dim the spark of her bright eyes. He knew that it would take her happiness and suck it away, that he’d have to watch her deflate. But he also knew that it would upset her more if he didn’t tell her, if he kept things from her. He wanted her to trust him, wanted it more than anything, though he couldn’t explain why, and he knew that the best and only way to show her she could trust him, she could open up to him, was to to be honest with her.

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. “Elizabeth invited us to go out tonight with her, Francis, and Verity.”

Demelza stilled abruptly, just as he thought she would. “Oh.” Her voice was small as her careful mask slipped for a second and she let him see her pain. Quickly, she gathered herself and asked carefully, “Where are we going?”

Ross looked at her curiously, and, for once in his life, managed to read between the lines. “I didn't tell them yes,” he said abruptly. Demelza’s mouth dropped open slightly. “I said I had to talk to you first.”

“Oh,” Demelza said again, but it sounded different this time, surprised, not sad. The light came back into her eyes and it broke through, onto her face, as she smiled, a brilliant, sunshine thing. “So, um, what did they have in mind?”

Ross watched her carefully as he said, “They want us to go out to dinner at a little cafe that has live music. The proprietors are a couple we've known for years.”

A little apprehensiveness still shone in her eyes, but she nodded and said, “Alright. That sounds fine. We can do that.”

He moved closer to her and took her hand. Threading his fingers through hers,
he brought her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed the back of her hand. “It's up to you,” he promised.

Heat flushed Demelza's cheeks. Softly, she said, “No, really. I don't mind. We can go. There won't be many people, and
I might like to get out of the house.”

Ross's hand slid around Demelza’s waist and pulled her closer to him. “Okay,” he said. “7:30 tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiled up at him.

***

Demelza tugged at her short denim maternity skirt and pulled at the thick brown leggings she wore to protect her legs from the December cold. She was definitely not nervous at all, ever. That would be a ridiculous accusation.

Okay, maybe she was nervous, a bit. Elizabeth was always pleasant enough, but... Well... And about the same went for Francis. Nice enough, but nothing more than polite. Then of course, there was Verity, so she'd have at least one person on her side– but Ross would be there. Demelza hadn't often had to watch Ross interact with Elizabeth, but it always managed to cause her pain. So there was that to look forward to.

But Ross had been perfectly... something. She almost wanted to call it sweet. Her mind flinched away from calling it loving. Whatever it was, he'd been gentle and considerate of her all day. Even now, he still held her hand as they walked into the coffee shop.

Thank God for Verity! She rushed over to them as soon as she saw them and gave Demelza a hug.

“Oh my goodness!” Verity pulled back away from Demelza and looked down at her stomach. “You look pregnant!”

Demelza laughed as Verity covered her mouth in horror. “I'm so sorry! That sounded–”

“Accurate?” Demelza suggested with a twinkle in her eyes. “I am pregnant, Verity. Don't worry. You didn't hurt my feelings.”

Verity sighed in relief. She looked hesitantly at Demelza for a few seconds and tentatively stretched out a palm. “Do you mind...?”

“Of course I don't!” Demelza grabbed Verity’s hand and rested it on her stomach.

“Have you felt the baby move?”

Demelza nodded. “Ross hasn't been able to feel it yet, but I've felt it.”

“What's it like?” Verity looked at Demelza eagerly, almost hungrily.

One of Demelza’s hands caressed her stomach while the other held on to Ross, who'd stayed by her side the whole exchange. “It's almost indescribable,” she said with a little awe in her voice. “The first time I felt it, I was in the bathroom doing my hair. There was this flutter in my stomach that didn't feel like it was mine. I just knew it wasn't me, it was the bairn. And I gasped really loudly and dropped the hairbrush and Ross came running. I was crying and my hands were over my stomach and Ross started panicking until I took one of his hands and put it over my stomach and managed to blubber that I'd felt the babe.”

Ross looked down at Demelza with something intense in his eyes and she felt like she'd forgotten to breathe.

Verity cleared her throat and Demelza started a little bit. A soft “oh” escaped her lips when she noticed Elizabeth and Francis along with a couple she didn't recognize. Elizabeth readily took the lead. She smiled and very briefly hugged Ross and then Demelza.

“How are you feeling, Demelza?” Elizabeth smiled kindly.

“Oh, alright,” she said quietly. She was trying, Ross could tell, to seem unaffected by the arrival of people that were not him and Verity, but she wasn't quite successful.

“Back pain?” Elizabeth inquired.

Demelza nodded. She hesitated before asking, “How are you?”

“Ready to pop!” Elizabeth laughed. “I haven't seen seen my feet in so long, I've forgotten what they look like.”

Demelza managed a smile at that and Elizabeth exhaled a tiny breath of relief. If Demelza was comfortable, or at least not visibly on edge, the evening would be more pleasant for everyone involved. All she'd have to do was manage–

“Ruth Teague,” the woman behind Elizabeth introduced herself. She extended a hand toward Demelza as she said, “Demelza Carne, I presume?”

Demelza's eyes narrowed and she said, a little coldly, “It’s Demelza Poldark, actually.” She didn't like the way Ruth was looking at her. She didn't like the way Ruth was looking at Ross.

Though Elizabeth was glad to see a bit of Demelza’s backbone, that wouldn't do at all. She jumped back into the conversation. “Yes, Ruth and her husband John own the cafe.”

“Nice to meet you,” John said distantly, but not unkindly.

“Why don't we all sit down?” Elizabeth suggested.

Ruth led the way to a back table and had someone bring them coffee (or hot chocolate, for the two pregnant women) and pastries. Somehow, probably thanks to Elizabeth and Verity, they managed to keep conversation going. It wasn't horribly awkward.

Though honestly, the way Ruth kept fawning over Ross was embarrassing– to everyone except Ruth, it seemed. She had no shame for the way she blatantly paid Ross more attention than anyone else at the table, including her husband.

Or perhaps especially her husband. Demelza wasn't quite sure.

In a strange way, Demelza had to admit she was almost grateful that Ruth was as terrible as she was. It gave her something to focus on besides her anxiety. Not to mention that it felt like everyone was on her side when it came to this, even Ruth’s husband.

Judas, she hoped they’d get divorced. And soon. John seemed much too nice to be stuck with Ruth.

Slowly, Demelza’s anxiety lessened until all that remained of it was a small leaden pit resting in her stomach. She could deal with that. She was practiced at dealing with that. So she managed to disguise it, ignore it, talk and laugh like nothing was the matter. With the way Ross kept a hold of her hand, it was almost the truth.

The other customers left until it was only their little group left. Ross had been about to excuse them so they could go home, Demelza was sure, but of course, Ruth had to open her mouth.

“You know, we do live music on some days, so we have a piano. Elizabeth, you've always been an excellent pianist,” she simpered. “Would you care to grace us with a performance?”

Elizabeth nodded, and with Francis’s help, got up to the piano. The piece sounded familiar. Demelza was sure that whatever Elizabeth was playing was gorgeous, but she couldn't really listen. Her attention was focused on the malicious glint in Ruth’s eyes. The pit in her stomach grew.

Elizabeth struck the last chord and Ruth stood up and began clapping. “Oh, that was just lovely, wasn't it?” she asked the room at large. Everyone else murmured their consent and applauded.

Elizabeth smiled and thanked everyone. Ruth began gushing about her technique and the shaping of the music and the grace with which Elizabeth played–

“Would you play something for us?” Elizabeth cut her off.

“Oh, no, I couldn't possibly follow that performance,” Ruth laughed. Her eyes settled on Demelza and she grinned. “Demelza, dear,” she said, insincerity ringing in her every word, “would you perform something for us?”

Demelza blanched. “Oh, n-no,” she stuttered. “I couldn't.”

“I insist.” Ruth's smile reminded Demelza of a shark, sharp and dangerous. Then Ruth’s mouth fell open into a perfect “o” of shock and she asked with a trace of mockery, “Surely you took some type of musical lessons from someone? Or did your mother not arrange them?”

Ross's hand tightened on Demelza’s. Admittedly, she had paled at the mention of her mother. The remark hit closer to home than she'd ever admit. She wasn't sure if what she was feeling was closer to anxiety, terror, or anger.

“Demelza sings,” Ross blurted. Demelza looked at him, aghast, but he wouldn't take it back. He couldn't bear to let anyone, especially someone as awful as Ruth Teague, think themselves superior to Demelza. He wouldn't have it. So he ignored Demelza’s look of terror and said, “She has a beautiful voice.” To Demelza, he murmured, “You can do this,” and nudged her with his elbow.

Demelza was on the verge of refusing, but she looked at Ross and saw fierce pride and stubbornness and that thing she would call love if she didn't know better shining bright in his eyes. She let it give her what courage she needed. She stood up and walked to the piano.

Demelza thought of her mother, and she thought of Ross, and of their daughter growing inside her, and she knew what to sing.

No, her mother hadn't taught her much about music beyond the basics. She hadn't had time. But she'd taught Demelza enough to know what notes were what.

Demelza plucked out the note and hummed. She could hear her mother’s voice echoing through the years, feel the sunlight that had fallen on her skin, painting the memory gold, as her mother told her to, “Remember, ‘Melza, good music is all about making your listener feel.”

She took a deep breath, locked her eyes with Ross, and sang.

I d’ pluck a fair rose for my love.
I d’ pluck a red rose blowin’.
Love’s in my heart,
A-tryin’ so to prove
What your heart is knowin’.

I d’ pluck a finger on a thorn.
I d’ pluck a finger bleedin’.
Red is my heart,
Wounded and forlorn,
And your heart needin’.

I d’ hold a finger to my tongue.
I d’ hold a finger, waitin’.
My heart is sore
Until it joins in song
Wi’ your heart matin’.

For once, she let herself feel. Every ounce of emotion, her love, her heartbreak, was poured into her voice. It painted itself across her face. Demelza didn't try to stop it.

Ross couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and absolutely couldn't look away from Demelza. Whatever she was feeling, he could feel it too. He was perfectly content to leave the emotion unnamed, but the realization didn't give him a choice. About halfway through the song, when his wife sang of her heart being wounded and needing his, he knew. This wasn't just a song. She meant every word.

She loved him.

And he loved her.

Oh, God, he loved her, and he'd loved for for the longest time. How could he not have realized? He loved her laugh, her smile, her sense of humor, her kindness, her selflessness, every freckle and eyelash and strand of hair. It seemed the most obvious, basic thing. The sky was blue, the sun rose and set, and Ross loved Demelza.

And she loved him too. Looking back, it was obvious. Every action, every word since they'd first met had spoken of a woman falling and fallen. Ross frowned. No, that wasn't right. They had spoken of a woman in love, but they'd also spoken of a woman convinced her love wasn't returned.

Ross found he didn't care for that idea. Obviously, he needed to tell Demelza– but his train of thought was interrupted by watching Demelza go white and bolt from the stage for the bathroom.

***

Demelza couldn't take it, couldn't stand there for one second, not knowing what she did. Ross knew. He knew she loved him.

Her heart sped up and her chest was tight and she was gasping for air. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe.

Ross was outside the bathroom, saying things, but it was like there was water running because she couldn't hear a thing.

But suddenly Ross was there and his arms were around her shaking body trying desperately to calm her. “Hey,” he kept his voice low and soothing, “Demelza, sweetheart, please. Can you tell me five things you can see? Please,” he nearly begged.

“You,” she murmured, her words muffled into his chest. “I can see you. I can see the sink. I can see us in the mirror. I can see the floor and the walls.”

“Good, good.” He stroked her back rhythmically, rubbing around and around in circles. “What are four things you can hear?”

“You,” she said again. “I can hear your voice. I can hear other voices, outside, Verity and Elizabeth. I can hear a car horn. I can hear myself.”

“Three things you feel?”

“You,” she said simply. “You holding me, my tights against my legs, and the cold air in here.” She continued, “It smells like a bathroom in here–” she gave a tiny smile at that– “and your cologne.”

Slowly, she took a deep breath. “I think we should go home.”

“Of course,” Ross said immediately. “Whatever you want to do.”

Quickly, he made their excuses, blaming Demelza’s sudden illness on the pregnancy. Verity promised she'd call, and Elizabeth told Demelza her song had been gorgeous. Ruth hadn't said anything, knowing that between the look on Ross’s face when Demelza sang and the way he'd sprinted after her, she'd well and truly lost.

It wasn't until halfway home that Demelza realized Ross had called her sweetheart.

***

Ross didn't say anything on the drive home. He didn't say anything as he dressed for bed or as Demelza did the same. Truth be told, he didn't know what to say. So he waited until Demelza was brushing her hair out before bed.

“I need to tell you something.” His words sounded harsh and abrupt to his own ears. From the look on Demelza’s face, he would guess they hadn't sounded much better to her.

“I didn't really expect much when we started a relationship. We got on well enough. I thought you would be a good distraction and possibly a friend, but nothing more.” He watched her face fall more and more with every word as she fought whatever it was that threatened her very hold on herself. “I was wrong.”

Her eyebrows drew together and she shook her head slowly. “I don't...”

Ross took one of her hands and held it in both of his. “You are more than a distraction. You are more than a friend. You are everything.” He breathed in deeply. “I love you.”

Oh, God, the look on her face when he told her he loved he. He cursed himself a fool for not realizing it and telling her sooner. If he could have made her look that happy every day of their lives, and he hadn't... Well. He'd just have to do better now, now that he knew.

Tears welled in Demelza's eyes. She smiled as Ross wiped at her eyes, then leaned in and kissed her.

It was everything their first kiss should have been: gentle, sweet, loving. It was the kind of kiss that could make someone feel like they were floating but they knew exactly where they were, because it was warm, comfortable, intimate, and familiar.

“Just so you know,” Demelza whispered against Ross’s lips, “I love you too.”

They kissed again, but Demelza broke away shortly, her hands flying to her stomach.

“Oh,” she gasped. “The bairn is kicking, Ross!” She snatched one of his hands and pressed it to her stomach. “It was harder than ever before. I– oh!”

This time, Ross gasped along with her. “Was that..?” he asked.

“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed. “You felt that?”

Ross only nodded, unable to speak.

“Oh!” Demelza jumped. “There she goes again!”

He leaned into her and pressed his forehead to hers. Her hands rested over his on her stomach. For one brief, shining moment, everything was perfect.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong, something was very, very, wrong. It twisted in Demelza's gut and cramped up her back as liquid pooled between her legs. She pressed her fingers to the soaked mattress.

They came back damp and tinged red.

Her mouth opened in horror. She tried to scream, or she thought she did, but all that escaped her lips was a choked, terrified gasp.

Ross woke in the middle of the night to see Demelza's wide, panic-stricken eyes staring at him out of an unnaturally pale face. “What's wrong?” He shot up, immediately alert.

But she couldn't speak. She could hardly breathe. She would be crying, sobbing, but she did not have the strength.

Ross knew. This was not normal. Something was wrong. He made to kneel over Demelza, but stopped short in shock at the sight of the blood pooled on the mattress, clearly seeping from between her legs.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Oh my God!”

Demelza whimpered, and it snapped Ross out of his shocked trance. He fumbled for his phone, quickly dialing the emergency number. Ambulance, he thought wildly.

A calm voice on the other end of the line asked him was was wrong. They didn't understand, they couldn't understand, how serious this was. “It's my wife, my wife, she's bleeding. She's pregnant and she's bleeding. She's not responding. Please, I need an ambulance! She needs to go to a hospital!” Ross's voice rose with every word as his panic grew.

The calm voice assured him help was on the way, but it didn't lessen his fear.

Demelza reached out, a blank expression on her face, and settled her hand on Ross's chest. He looked down to see red blooming on his white cotton shirt wherever her fingers made contact.

But what could he do? He kissed her palm, her forehead, and her lips, then sprinted to the bathroom for towels to soak up the blood.

Ross sat there and held Demelza as tears leaked from her unseeing eyes. He stroked her hair, tried everything to calm her, but she was beyond feeling. Every breath she drew shook, her hands were cold and clammy, and still she bled.

It felt like an eternity before the paramedics arrived with an ambulance.

(It had only been ten minutes.)

Quickly, they bundled up Demelza and made to carry her out on a stretcher.

Demelza’s hand slipped from Ross’s grip. She moaned weakly, the first sign she'd shown of any awareness of her surroundings. A woman looked back at him and asked, “Are you her husband?”

“Yes,” he managed.

“Come on.” She jerked her head to indicate he should follow them.

Ross did not let go of Demelza’s hand. He held it throughout the whole ambulance ride, until suddenly, they were tearing her hand away from hers and rushing her into a room and insisting he could not follow. He was left standing in a rapidly emptying hallway in a bloodstained t-shirt and blue pajama pants, utterly alone and terrified.

***

He called Verity. It was four in the morning, so he supposed he was just luck she answered. But he knew he needed someone, Demelza would need someone, and he couldn't think of anyone better than Verity.

“Hello?”

Ross couldn't answer her. His voice got lost in his throat.

“Ross? Is something wrong?” Verity's tone became immediately more urgent.

“Yes,” he choked out. “Demelza... In the hospital. I don't know what happened, but oh my God, Verity, there was so much blood.” His breath caught on a sob.

“What hospital are you at?” He could hear rustling and clattering in the background like she was getting ready to come there and thanked God for Verity.

“St. Vincent’s,” he said.

“I'm on my way.”

***

Verity arrived no less than five minutes later. She gasped when she saw Ross, his hair a tangled mess, blood on his shirt, arms, hands, even a little smeared on his face, still in his pajamas, without a coat or even shoes, and a terrible, hollow look in his eyes. “Oh, my dear,” she breathed.

He raised his head and looked at her. “Verity,” he acknowledged. The look of concern and pity on her face was difficult to bear.

The pity fell from her face and left a brisk sensibility instead. “Come on,” she extended her hands,” let's get you cleaned up.”

She didn't touch his hands, but led him by the wrist to the nearest bathroom. He stood there and watched the blood, Demelza's blood, swirl down the drain. Verity dabbed at his face and he finally looked at the mirror and saw it smeared across his cheek, over his scar.

Ross jerked back from the mirror and began to scrub at his hands obsessively, until he thought he would bleed. His shoulders shook, his whole body ached with fear and horror and loss.

Verity finally succeeded in pulling him away from the sink. “Ross, Ross, come on,” she whispered. “It'll be okay. It'll be okay.”

Maybe, if she said it enough, it would come true.

They waited in uncomfortable hospital chairs and heavy silence for at least an eternity, maybe two. Verity called Prudie to bring Ross some clothes and shoes and a coat. She managed to convince him to change and eat something from a vending machine.

Around six o’clock, Ross said, “We were going to name her Julia Grace.”

Verity looked at him in surprise, but he wasn't looking at her. No, he stared straight ahead, a carefully blank expression on his face. In hopes of getting more out of him, Verity made a noncommittal noise and waited.

“It took us a long time to pick a name, once we found out the baby...” Is? Was? “was a girl. Demelza went through baby books, searched the internet when she had free time. She said Julia was classic but not boring, not too common, and wouldn't scar the baby for life. And then I laughed and asked her if she was planning on putting this much thought into a middle name. She said she'd had that picked out three weeks after she found out she was pregnant. Grace, for my mother, if it was a girl.”

He saw, in his mind's eye, the sticky note still on the fridge, hot neon pink against the stark black of the fridge, names written in pencil, "Grace" circled in red ink in the bottom corner, "Julia" circled in blue at the top above it.

The words burned in Verity's throat– they'll be fine, they'll both be fine, you will be able to hold your child– but she could not lie to him.

“And now...” Ross couldn't finish, wasn't sure he meant to finish his sentence. His words seemed to echo in the tiny bubble that existed and consisted of only them.

And now, and now, and now...

And now what?

***

It was only half an hour more before a dark-haired woman in a blindingly white coat came out and called, “Demelza Poldark’s family?”

Ross leapt to his feet. “That's us.”

The woman smiled kindly at him, white teeth sharp against her dark skin. “I'm Doctor Bennet.

Ross shook her hand, but it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere.

“And you are Ms. Poldark’s husband, correct?” she asked as she led them to Demelza’s room.

“Yes, and this is my sister, Verity.”

Verity's head snapped around and she stared at Ross, who hissed, “I can't have them keep you out because you're not direct family. You might as well be my sister anyway.”

Doctor Bennet nodded, a knowing glint in her eye, but didn't question their story. “Alright, well, Mr. Poldark, she isn't awake yet, but you are welcome to go in and sit with her.”

Ross hesitated. He would like nothing more than to rush in there and be at Demelza’s side as soon as possible, but he couldn't go without knowing... “Were you able to– is the–?” He couldn't get the words out.

“The baby?” Doctor Bennet’s expression was gentle, sympathetic, and Ross knew. “I’m sorry. Your wife suffered a late-term miscarriage. The baby didn't survive.”

Ross felt the words had the weight of bricks and he staggered a little under their weight. But he had to think of Demelza. He had to be strong for Demelza. He squared his shoulders and walked into her room.

Verity hung back.

“I know you aren't siblings,” Doctor Bennet said.

Verity turned to look at her, eyes wide and panicked.

“No, it's alright,” she said quickly. “I won't stop you from going in. He obviously wants you there.”

Verity bit her lip. “Could you... Would you tell me what happened, please? Ross hasn't been very clear about anything.”

Doctor Bennet nodded. “It may be a good idea for someone aside from those two to know. Essentially, she went into early labor, but she wasn't six months yet, so it's not called labor. Most of the blood was from her water breaking, though she did hemorrhage. The baby wasn't, er, born alive.”

Verity nodded. “And Demelza?”

“She should wake up in an hour or so. Physically, she will be fine in a few days. Emotionally...”

“Of course,” Verity nodded again. “Thank you for speaking with me, Doctor.”

“Take care, Ms. Poldark.” Doctor Bennet smiles at her one last time before walking away.

***

Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. Demelza's eyes flew open and her hands grasped at her stomach.

It was much flatter than it should have been. There was no movement, no reassuring firmness, and Demelza knew.

Her baby was gone.

A low, keening wail tore from her throat. Someone was there, holding her wrists, pulling her against their chest, but it was long, long minutes before she was aware of them beyond a vague presence.

She heaved great, gasping sobs for what felt like hours. Slowly, she became aware of the person holding softly chanting her name. “Demelza, Demelza, Demelza, sweetheart, please come back to me. Please. Demelza my love, Demelza...”

She knew that voice, of course she did. It was Ross. He was imprinted on her heart, tattooed on her soul. And Ross was holding her, Ross's hands were in her hair and on her back. She was crying into Ross's shirt and clinging to Ross's neck.

Demelza raised her head and looked at him. He untangled his hand from her hair and wiped the tears from her face.

Neither of them said anything. After all, what could they say?

The rest of the day passed in a blur. A nurse came in. They were able to hold the body of their child, so tiny, so fragile. She fit in Ross's palm, and was just oh-so-barely smaller than Demelza’s hand.

Demelza did not speak.

What could she say?

It looked as though Julia were only sleeping, Julia’s life was not over before it had begun. Demelza stared at her daughter, willing herself to memorize every feature, to never let her baby be forgotten. She could at least control that.

In no time at all, Demelza was pronounced fit to leave the hospital. They went home.

Ross never let go of her hand.

He hurt. It was the only way he knew to describe it. Worse than the war, worse than coming back to find Elizabeth engaged to Francis, maybe even worse than the wreck that killed his parents. It was easily among, if not the, most painful thing he had ever experienced.

Demelza... Demelza had never known suffering like this. Her father could beat her, her mother could get sick and die all over again, she didn't care– if only she could have her child. Her baby. Her Julia.

Demelza didn't speak. What could she say?

Chapter Text

Julia Grace Poldark was buried December 3, 2015, two days after she silently entered and exited the world. Her grave lay in the corner of a little cemetery, her headstone almost as small as she'd been, just a little granite square barely raised above the ground engraved with her name, birthdate, and the words “beloved daughter”.

Demelza, Ross, and Verity were the only people at the little graveside service aside from a minister from the church Ross had gone to when his mother was still alive. Verity made all of the arrangements. She would have invited Elizabeth and Francis if she didn't think it would hurt more than help, the relations between those four being shaky as it was, not to mention that Elizabeth's pregnancy would be a visible reminder of all they had lost.

The minister said hardly anything, just a few words of blessing and comfort, before she left them and let them be. Verity lingered only a minute longer, unable to bear the devastation on Ross's face and the emptiness on Demelza's. She left and went to their house to make sure everything was arranged for them to come home: ready meals made by Prudie, who’d been warned that she and Judd should leave the couple alone, and that what baby things they’d bought were packed up so they didn’t have to deal with that.

Demelza had not spoken a word in the two days since they'd been home from the hospital. She could not speak if she tried, and what was the point, anyway? Words would not give Demelza her daughter back.

She stood, wrapped in a black coat, staring at her daughter's grave. The grey granite was bleak against the blindingly white snow that lay on the ground. Demelza's knees gave out and she sank down into the snow. It prickled, wet and cold, past the barrier of her black jeans and into her skin, but she hardly felt it as she cried, tearless, for the loss of her daughter.

Ross kneeled next to her, put his arms around her, and hugged her to his chest. She was barely more aware of him than she was of the snow. He helped her up, supported her all the way to the car.

Demelza was numb. She never had liked being numb.

***

Everything blurred again, like she was on a carnival ride, and there were moments of clarity, of awareness, but they were far outweighed by the moments she felt she was just watching streaks of light flash by with no distinction.

She ate at some point, she was sure. Either Ross or Verity would have made her eat something. But she couldn't tell you when, or what. She could not tell you anything about that day, or the days previous. All Demelza knew was that she lost her baby December 1 and buried her December 3.

Time passed. Demelza put on her pajamas and went to bed at seven, but she did not sleep. She hadn't done much of that either.

She didn't know how long she lived like that. Waking up, eating, laying in bed, never getting dressed, walking around like she was a ghost, not speaking, not sleeping. Time did not matter to her. Not much did, if anything.

Ross knew. He lived every second she did not. He watched her, pale, lifeless, mute, wandering around the house. He was there the first night, when she lay there, staring at the wall. He didn't sleep the day they buried Julia, just laid there with Demelza and listened to her breath, took in the reassurance that she was there with him. Well, physically, at least.

The third night, Ross slept. It was fitful, interrupted by flashes of images stained blood red. The warmth of Demelza next to him lulled him back to sleep.

Until it didn't. Because the other side of the bed was cold and Demelza wasn't there and it was his worst nightmare. He needed her; he could not lose her; he had lost so much already, too much–

He tore blindly from their bed to the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. Nothing, nothing, nothing. His hands were shaking, but everything was shaking, his whole world was shaking. Where was she? He had to find her.

Where hadn't he looked yet? She had to be in the house. He refused to entertain the idea that she had left. It came to him, a bolt of lightning–

The other room. What was supposed to be the nursery. Of course.

Ross sprinted into the (extra, spare, unneeded, unnecessary) bedroom and stopped cold in his tracks. Demelza sat there, rocking herself back and forth, hands running over terrible scratches on her arm that oozed blood, smearing crimson across her skin. She was singing a lullaby made eerie by circumstance, something about lovers and children, copper and tin, medhel an gwyns. There was a wild, haunted expression on her face. It was something straight out of a horror movie.

He murmured her name, afraid to startle her.

"Ross?" Her voice was rough with disuse.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He approached cautiously.

"I don' want to feel numb." Her breathing was shaky and shallow. "Tha's all, I promise."

He knelt in front of her and stopped her rocking chair. It was like she was pleading with him, like she'd done something wrong and didn't want him to be angry.

"What is it, love?" He looked searchingly into her eyes.

"What isn' it?" she asked desperately. "I lost our baby, I did this again," she thrust her arms out, "and I didn' tell you everything I should ‘ave."

"No, Demelza, it wasn't anyone's fault." He grabbed her hand, desperate to make her believe him. "You didn't lose our baby. We lost our baby. We're together in this and everything."

She wanted to believe him, she really did, "But..." She held her arms out.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, and brushed his lips over the scratches. "I don't want you to hurt. That's all."

Tears shone in her eyes. Demelza nodded. "Okay," she breathed.

"Come on." He tugged on her hands and stood up. "Let me clean you up? And you can tell me what you need to?"

She paused before finally saying, "Yeah." She stood up and let Ross lead her to their bathroom.

***

Ross took a washcloth, ran it under warm water, and pressed it to Demelza's arm. She hissed softly but didn't protest.

He cleaned, bandaged, and kissed every scratch. Every action was full of tenderness and love and Demelza wasn't sure how she could have ever missed it.

She needed to tell him, she knew that, but she didn't know how to start. So she didn't.

Instead, she let him bandage her arms, lead her to the bedroom, and leave her. He promised he'd be right back– and he was, back in two minutes, carrying a mug of hot chocolate.

Still she said nothing, not until he handed her the drink. "Thank you."

"Of course." Ross climbed into bed and wrapped himself around her. "Now, was there something you needed to tell me?"

Demelza took a deep breath. "This isn' the firs' time," she gestured to her arms, "y'know, tha' this has happened. After my mum died... It was dark. And it weren't all tha' rosy before that, either. Round when I was eleven, I started havin' attacks. Mum thought it was anxiety. She had it too, see. But she got sick and there weren't any money for doctors, and after she died, my dad didn't want to– he called it 'wasting money', wouldn' believe there was anythin' wrong with me."

A sharp intake of breath from Ross made Demelza pause in her story. She looked up at him and caught the expression of pain and sadness before he wiped it from his face. He kissed her forehead and nodded for her to go on.

"I got so sick of not feeling anythin' tha' I decided I'd rather hurt. Made my dad angry, said it was a sin and I'd go to hell." Her face twisted into something terribly bitter. "Blamed me for a lot, my dad did. I look too much like my mum.”

Ross stroked her back, her hair, her arms, anything he could do to comfort her.

“Sometimes I don’ know how I survived school. Most girls weren't never very nice to me. I didn’ often have the energy t’be friendly. Boys left me alone, for the most part, and them what didn’ wished they ‘ad.”

The last memory brought something feral to her eyes. She shivered.

“But I found things, online, talkin’ about wha’ was wrong with me, figured out it was anxiety and depression, found coping skills healthier than wha’ I’d been usin’, and got myself through college. I haven’ seen my dad since the day I moved out.” Demelza finished her story and looked at Ross out of the corner of her eye. Apprehension sat low in her stomach, a companion of guilt, grief, and the merest spark of anger.

Eventually, Ross let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, Demelza. I'm so sorry."

She drew back from him a tiny bit in shock. What did he mean?

"You've had to deal with so much," he explained. "I wish... I wish I could do more." One of his hands curled in her hair and he pulled her tighter against his chest.

"Your life hasn' been easy, neither, Ross," Demelza said in disbelief.

"But I've had people there for me," he argued. "And you've been so alone..."

She made to protest but he quickly said, "No, no, I think that if we can agree on anything, it's that we're both pretty fucked up. But you never had to tell me that or anything. You don't owe me anything, Demelza."

"I know." Her voice was quiet, unconvinced.

(Didn't she, though? He had such advantage over her and he didn't even know some of it. He gave her a home, supported her, loved her. What didn't she owe him?)

"You know," Ross began, "I made a friend when I served overseas."

What was he doing now? Exchanging a story of tragedy in return? That wasn't what she intended, not at all.

"His name is Dwight Enys."

Is Dwight Enys. Is, not was.

"He works with soldiers who have... come back. A kind of peer therapist."

Demelza stilled. What was he suggesting?

"I could ask him," he rubbed the back of his neck, "if he knows anyone we could talk to?"

A soft "oh" forms on Demelza's lips. She bit her lip and nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

He kissed her gently and she kissed him back, for the first time in what could have been an eternity. And she lay in his arms, nearly on top of his chest, and finally, finally, she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

A chill afternoon in mid-December found Demelza and Ross sitting in a warm office. The shades were drawn on the windows, shutting out the harsh whiteness of the world. A fire crackled to the left of Demelza, casting cozy shadows on the comfortable red, gold, and cream armchair. Her pale hand looked lifeless against it.

A woman with dark curly hair entered the room and Demelza’s hand clenched. Ross was there instantly, soothing the tension and doing his best to calm her down. She gave him a grateful smile.

“Hello,” the woman said, coming forward to shake their hand, then sitting in a chair across from them. “I’m Anvi Ghafa. Nice to meet you.”

Ross and Demelza both murmured something in response, but Demelza was hardly focused on social niceties.

“If you like, you can go ahead and just call me Anvi. May I call you by your first names?”

Ross glanced at Demelza, who gave a brief incline of her head. Of course the woman could be on first-name basis with her. She was here to listen to all of her secrets, wasn’t she?

“That would be fine,” Ross answered.

“Thank you.”

She didn’t hold a clipboard like the therapists or maybe psychiatrists Demelza had seen on TV. It made her release her breath a little, but she was, of course, still apprehensive.

“Well,” Anvi said, looking steadily at each of them. “Would you like to talk a little bit about what’s going on?”

Demelza didn’t answer. No, she didn’t really want to talk about it. She needed to, but it was hard to talk about those things, so eye-searingly bright that it would surely blind anyone to anything else about her.

“Okay, then, I want to tell you a little bit about what therapy is going to be like. Sometimes, you’re going to hate me. That’s okay. But what we’re trying to do here is, essentially, change your thinking. I want to teach you to love yourself and to love other people. I want to teach you how to have healthier relationships and communicate. I want to teach you how to rid yourself of negative thought patterns and behaviors. Does that sound like something you want?”

“Yes,” Demelza whispered, almost surprised to hear her own voice. Responding to that question was almost an instinct, involuntary. She hadn’t necessarily meant to say anything aloud.

“Great,” smiled Anvi. “It’s much easier to work with people who are willing to be worked with. Thank you. Now, let me explain a little more about what the sessions are going to be like...”

***

“What do you think?” Ross asked, his arm slung around Demelza’s shoulders, pulling her close against his side to guard against the night chill.

“I like her. I think she’ll be good.”

“Do you want to keep coming back, then?” He opened the car door for her.

She paused and said simply, “Yes,” before climbing into the car and closing her door.

They talked the whole ride home about what Anvi had said, that they needed to be more open with each other about their feelings, that Demelza needed to remember that what people said didn’t necessarily reflect what they think, that she couldn’t possibly know that, that Ross needed to stop trying to suppress his emotions but recognize them and deal with them.

It was almost frightening, how quickly she had figured out all these things about them, but they supposed it was her job.

They were pulling into the garage when Ross finally said, “Christmas is next week.”

She knew, of course. She would prefer not to remember, she thought.

“Do you want to...?” He trailed off, then began again. “Would you rather be alone or spend it with people?”

She was silent for a few long, awkward moments, but he didn't say anything. Somehow, he knew better than to push her.

Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “I don't know. “

“Alright,” he nodded. “Alright.”

“Is it?”

“Of course! But,” he hesitated and took Demelza's hand again, “can we talk about it?”

Demelza's heart seized and her face went white.

“Don't worry, nothing bad,” he soothed. “I promise, my love, I won't get angry or upset. Whatever you want to do is perfectly fine. I just think we should talk about the reasons why.”

Demelza nodded once, slowly, then rapidly, several more times. “Yeah. Yeah,okay. Firs’ of all, I, um, don' know how I'll be feelin’. I sometimes can’ put up wi’ people very well, can’ deal wi’ the noise. And I’m still no’ sure they like me, especially your aunt an’ uncle. Then o’ course, it'd be... difficult to see everyone for the firs’ time since... you know.”

She stared at the floor of the car and willed her eyes to not fill with tears. Ross reached across the car awkwardly to try and hug her.

Demelza sniffled out a laugh. She brushed the dampness from under her eyes. “Maybe we should go inside.”

“Sure,” Ross said, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I can warm up some soup and make hot chocolate.”

“Yeah.” Demelza took a shaky breath. “That sounds good.”

***

“We should take Dwight something, maybe fudge? I make good fudge...” Demelza said thoughtfully.

Ross looked at her blankly. “Why?”

“To thank him,” Demelza said. She didn't actually say ‘duh’, but it felt implied.

Ross was still lost. “Why are we thanking Dwight?”

“He’s been really good, recommending Anvi and prescribing that medicine.” Again, Demelza did not actually say ‘of course’, but it felt like it.

Ross shrugged. “That's part of his job.”

“And he's your friend,” Demelza pointed out.

“We can give him fudge for that, I suppose, but not for being a good doctor and doing his job.”

Demelza rolled her eyes fondly. “Oh, fine.”

She left the kitchen with her glass of water and sat next to Ross at the table. She slid her chair close to his. He put his arm around her and tugged her closer. Demelza giggled and sang, “So baby, pull me closer...”

Ross groaned and made a face. She laughed louder and slung her legs over his lap. And really, he did hate that song, but it may have been exaggerated; Demelza would laugh and accuse him of being a crotchety old man every time.

They sat there for a few moments, but that was all it took for the mood to change from gold to blue and sour.

“You know,” Demelza whispered, “sometimes I'm happy, and then I hate myself for it. How can I be happy when she's... gone? And then I think, wha’ kind o’ mother would I have been, anyway? Maybe it was better...” Her last words disappeared as she hiccuped out a sob.

Ross pulled Demelza off her chair and onto his lap easily. She buried her face against his neck and cried.

“No, no, you deserve to be happy, sweetheart. We can be happy again. It's okay to be happy again. And if we decide to try for children, you will be the best mother they could have. I love you.” He repeated that, “I love you”, over and over again, until finally Demelza's tears slowed and then stopped altogether.

“You're righ’,” she said, pulling away and straightening up to wipe the tears from her face. “I know you're righ’, it's jus’ really hard to believe it sometimes.”

“I know,” he whispered. Oh-so-gently, he pushed her hands from her face and finished wiping the tears from under her eyes. And tenderly, he cupped her cheeks and smoothed hair back from her face.

She gave him a watery smile and said, “I think that's quite enough o’ tha’ for the momen’. Let's talk about something else.”

Ross reached around Demelza and gathered up the papers he'd been poring over. “And since I am obviously not getting any more work done tonight, let's go somewhere more comfortable.”

Demelza rolled her eyes. “Because you really wanted to look at those finance reports.”

All the same, she climbed off of him and held out her hand.

“You never know,” Ross said, doing his best to sound offended, “I may have found a new appreciation for finance reports while I was looking at those ones. And now no one will never know.”

“What a shame.”

***

Demelza was drowsy and warm, encircled in the warmth of Ross's arms. There was an innocence in the way they slept, face-to-face, his head on top of hers, her head on his chest. She stretched, yawned, and murmured, “Hey.”

Ross hummed and kissed her hair. “Hey.”

She snuggled closer and said something, but her words were muffled by his shirt.

“What?”

Demelza's face was suddenly only centimeters from his. “I said,” and he could almost feel her lips brush him with every word, “we should go to your family's for a little while on Sunday.”

Surprised, he pulled his head back. “You're sure?”

“Yeah,” Demelza yawned. “If it's too much, we can always leave, but we won't insult anyone by knowing.”

Ross laughed, admittedly, a little dryly. “You know that Verity is the only one I even actually like. I don't care too much about offending them.”

“Oh, come on, you may not like your uncle, but your aunt is cool, and you like Francis and... Elizabeth.” Her voice caught and she looked down.

“Hey, no, look at me.” Ross tips her chin up with his finger. “I love you. I liked Elizabeth a great deal a long time ago, but I don't think I loved her. Even if I had, it would not matter, because I love you.”

Demelza smiled. “I know. It's just... hard to believe sometimes.”

He kisses her, sweet and short, then long and slow. “Then I will do my best to ensure you will never have to doubt it.”

She couldn't think of what to say, so she just kissed him back and said, “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Christmas morning dawned entirely too early, in Demelza’s opinion. Her eyes creaked open to see strips of gold light hit the white rug and dark hardwood floor. Ross shifted against her back and tugged her closer to him. Carefully, she rolled over. He shifted a little and she smiled. Finally, his eyes crack open and she whispered, “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas,” he rumbled. A half smile curled his lips. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”

“I wasn’t watching you sleep!” she said indignantly, but she was smiling too.

“Of course, my mistake.” A beat of silence, and then-- “So how long have you coincidentally had your eyes open in my direction while I was asleep?”

She gasped, shocked into laughter, and pushed at his bare chest. Fondly, she rolled her eyes. “I haven’t been awake for very long.”

“How long is not very long?”

“Oh, I don’t know... A few minutes?”

Ross raised his eyebrows mock-disbelievingly. Whatever he’d been about to say was suddenly interrupted by another thought altogether. “What time is it?”

“Around nine, I think.” Demelza picked up her phone. “It says 8:56. What time are we supposed to be at your uncle’s house?”

“Not until one.”

Demelza snuggled closer to Ross and let out a contented hum. “We can just stay here for a little while longer.”

Ross pulled back a little and stared down at her. “Only a little while?”

“Well, of course,” Demelza said matter-of-factly.

“But we have another...” he paused and counted them up, “four hours!”

“And we need to get up and eat breakfast and shower and get dressed,” Demelza counted on her fingers. She held up four fingers and wiggled them. “Not to mention, we have to leave before one if we want to be there on time.” Another finger popped up.

Ross laced his fingers with hers and pulled her hand down, out of his face. “Who says we have to be there on time?”

Demelza didn’t answer. She just gave him a look that quite clearly communicated that she said they had to be on time and they very well would be.

“Do you want to watch something?” he asked.

She thought about it for a moment. “No, let's just lay here.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair. He was quite fond of doing that. “Alright. Let’s just lay here.”

***

Something coiled tight in Demelza’s belly as they drew closer to their destination. Her fists clenched around the edge of a cupholder and the little hollow right below the door handle.

“Are you sure about this?” Ross took in her white knuckles and shorter breathing.

“I’m sure,” Demelza replied, lips drawn in a tight line. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and said again, more softly, “I’m sure. It will be okay.”

She hummed along softly to the song on the radio, something gentle, soft, about a small town and a person who’s always on their mind.

As Francis and Elizabeth’s place came into view, Ross slid his hand into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

She turned her head away from the window, red curls streaked against the white world outside of them, and said, “Love you.”

Slowly, he shifted the gears into park, leaned over and kissed her, and said, “I love you too.”

He opened his door and a blast of icy air hit Demelza. She shivered. Her arms wrapped around her body and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. The winter was easily the worst season of the year, everything so cold and dead and sad, mind-numbingly, icy white. Ross opened her door and helped her out.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “You didn’t have to. I was coming.”

“I know, but I thought it might be nice.” His hands were cold against her skin, and she rubbed them, trying to press warmth into them.

“It was. Thank you.”

Together, they walked up to the front door. Ross raised his hand and knocked.

***

“Demelza!” Verity called. She rushed up to the couple and hugged them both.

The girl that had opened the door for them stepped forward and asked, “May I take your coats?”

Everything felt so surreal for Demelza. It was not what she was used to, not at all. She felt much more comfortable with the maid than with Ross's family, with the exception of Verity. The floors were... was that marble? And there were paintings on the walls, statues in the halls... It was nothing like her home, certainly not the one she grew up or even the one she lived in now.

Her home with Ross was modern and clean. It was nice, yeah, but it didn't look like this. This house exuded ancient regality. Demelza felt distinctly out of place.

They followed Verity to the living room. (Demelza would bet they called it something fancy-- a parlor?)

Upon their entrance, Elizabeth gushed, “Oh, we're so glad you could make it!” She struggled to stand up. Francis pulled her off the couch and she waddled over to Demelza and Ross.

Elizabeth hugged them both, thankfully, very briefly. Demelza felt like she'd been hit when Elizabeth embraced her and she felt the baby kick.

Ross took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. She swallowed her tears.

“Uncle Charles,” Ross said, a little stiffly. “Good to see you.” The old man nodded and there was actually a glimmer of a smile present when Demelza whispered hello.

“Come here, girl,” called an old woman from the corner, “Let me get a look at you.”

“Aunt Agatha,” Verity whispered. “Don't worry, she's utterly harmless.”

Still, there was an air of nervousness about Demelza as she approached the-- in her estimation-- esteemed lady. Agatha’s warm blue eyes blew her fears away effortlessly. She grasped at Demelza’s hand, squinted up at her, and commanded, “Turn around for me, dear.”

After a few seconds, Agatha passed her judgement. “Very pretty, aren't you, and so young, too! How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Did you attend university?”

Demelza nodded. “I have a degree in primary education.”

“And you're clever! With the exception of marrying Ross, of course.” Agatha turned her piercing gaze onto Ross for a moment before continuing, “Yes, you're quite as suitable for the family as dear Elizabeth.”

The tension in the air could have been cut with a butter knife, yet Agatha seemed quite oblivious. “Hmm, I think it's high time for dinner, don't you? Let's all move into the dining room.”

***

Dinner passed without incident, much to Demelza’s relief. Oh, Charles and Ross sniped at each other, as did Francis, but Charles seemed too tired to be very antagonistic. As for Ross, it was hard to be angry with his family when Demelza was sitting there, holding his hand.

And things were mostly civil on the part of the women, although it would seem it amused Aunt Agatha greatly to compare Demelza and Elizabeth. But out seemed to make Elizabeth just as uncomfortable as Demelza, which she had to admit was more than a little satisfying.

Francis had a little too much wine. Elizabeth had told him that two glasses ago. But he kept drinking, a beady eye on Ross and his wife.

“Well, it’s been nice,” Ross said, half-rising from his chair. He extended an arm toward Demelza and said, “Shall we?”

“Just curious,” Francis said, a nasty look lurking behind his eyes, “how do you know who you’re really in love with after being hung up on my wife for so long?”

“Francis!” Elizabeth said sharply.

“Well, now, I think that’s a rather unfair accusation to make, don’t you, Francis?” replied Ross with an air of forced calm. “After all, I’ve never been the one who had difficulty with being decisive.”

Francis made to swing at Ross, but Elizabeth pushed him down with ease. He was quite drunk. “Shut up, both of you!” she said.

“He started it,” Francis mumbled.

“That’s not true, and you shouldn’t be acting like a five-year-old, anyway. I married you. I love you. And if you don’t know that, maybe we shouldn’t have gotten married.”

“Nice seeing everyone,” Demelza said awkwardly, and she and Ross made their escape.

***

Demelza was oddly quiet on the way home.

“Something wrong?” Ross asked.

Demelza’s lips twisted into a wry smile. "I think I should be asking you that.”

Ross furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“It can't have been pleasant, Francis bringing up an old heartbreak like that,” she said softly.

“Well, it wasn't pleasant, but no more our less so than any other family gathering I've ever attended.”

Demelza laughed, a shaky, trembling thing, but she didn't say anything.

“Hey,” he caught her arm as she went to leave the car, “it doesn't hurt. It doesn't matter, anymore. I love you.”

She smiled, and her whole demeanor softened. “I know,” she said, and for once, she really did.

Chapter Text

In late January, on a bright, cold morning, the ground like white-stained glass, air cold and sharp like crystal, the phone rang.

“Hello!” Francis said, not even asking who it was before informing them cheerily, “Elizabeth went into labor last night.”

“Oh,” Demelza said.

“I'm so sorry, Demelza,” he said instantly. “I didn't think--”

“No, it's okay. Has-- has she-- has she had the baby yet?”

“Not yet. The doctor's predicting another couple hours. I just thought I'd let you know, in case you both want to come to the hospital.”

Demelza was quiet.

“Don't feel pressured too,” he added. “I just thought I'd give you the option. If you wanted it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Ross stumbled into the room, sleepy brown eyes, rumpled gray t-shirt, and buried his face in Demelza’s hair. “Who was it?”

“Elizabeth's in labour.”

His arms slipped down to her waist to pull her in close. She turned in his arms and pressed her face to his chest.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said decisively, swiping the beginnings of tears out of her eyes. “Are you?”

“I think so,” he said. “I think we will be.”

“We will be. But it's no easy thing.”

“No,” he agreed quietly, holding her close, face buried in her hair, hers pressed in the crook of his neck.

“But we should go see her,” Demelza said, and she looked up.

He smoothed her hair back and told her, “Sweetheart... we don't have to do anything.”

“I know. And I don't think I could go to the hos--” her voice choked on that word, but he knew what she meant, how could he not?-- “well, I don' think I could go there an’ wait like tha’, but later, after, maybe...?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. We haven't got anything else going on,” he offered.

“Tomorrow morning,” she agreed. “I'll message Francis.” Ross raised his eyebrows. “What? I can do that,” she said archly. “It's not like he's intimidating.”

***

“So,” Anvi said, closing the door behind her, “how has your week been?”

Demelza smiled. “Actually, pretty good. I've gone back to work, and... it's alright, at least ninety percent of the time.”

“Why just all right?”

“Well, I just got my bachelor's degree this last spring, in primary school education. I like workin’ with Ross, and Lord knows he needs somebody, but it isn't necessarily what I want to be doing.”

“What do you want to be doing?”

It was a perfectly reasonable question, even predictable, but Demelza hated that she asked it. “I don't know.”

Anvi’s keen dark eyes bored into her. “Don't know, or don't want to say?”

“A little bit of both,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Either, I suppose,” Anvi said, “but why don't you start with why you don't want to say?”

Demelza was quiet. “I don't want anyone to be upset.”

“Do you mean you don't want Ross to be upset?”

“Yes.” It was only a few seconds more before Demelza added, “I know, I know, I'm not supposed to take responsibility for other people's feelings.”

“That's true. People choose to feel the way they do. It's not a bad thing to be considerate and to do kind things, but we shouldn't alter ourselves and our lives for the sake of the way other people choose to feel.” She waited a minute, just to see if Demelza would say something. She didn’t. “You have to do what the real you wants to do, Demelza.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, I'm gonna give you some homework, okay?”

Demelza nodded.

“Talk to Ross. Tell him what you want. I can't promise anything, but I don't think he'll be upset.” She crossed her legs and smoothed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

“But how can I do that if I don't know what I want?” Demelza asked, eyebrow raised.

“I think you do.”

***

“Are you gonna be okay?” Ross asked. His hand pressed itself against the small of Demelza’s back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She looked through the door at the six and seven year olds she was supposed to be helping, watching them put their coats and backpacks away.

“It's been hard for me,” he admitted, “to even look at kids younger than ten.”

Her eyes widened. It was unlike him to voluntarily share his feelings. “I know what you mean. It's not easy, but this is what I want to do. I think it will help.”

“Good. I want you to be happy.”

She pulled him into a hug, faces pressed cheek to cheek, and whispered, “I love you.”

He kissed her, and their foreheads pressed together as he said, “I love you too,” and kissed her again. “I'll see you at four?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, and entered the classroom.

He watched through the window as the teacher introduced her, words muffled but audible. “This is Miss Demelza. She'll be helping with our class until the end of the year.”

Demelza waved and smiled, and he could see the edges of pain around her eyes softening.

They were going to be okay.

***

There was a day in March that ought to have been beautiful. For most people, it was.

March could be a miserable month, cold and wet and windy, snowy one day and like summer the next, as if the earth hadn't yet settled into a new season and kept just missing spring. But that day, the day their darling daughter should have been born, was a perfect spring day. It was nearing the end of the month, and March finally felt comfortable in their own skin. Green buds appeared, almost overnight, in the ground and on the trees. The ground was dappled with sunlight, beautiful and warm.

It was one of the most terrible days of Ross's life. All he could see was Demelza’s blood pooled on the floor and a picture of a baby girl too tiny to survive. She stayed home that day. They both did. Verity brought by a container of homemade stew, saying she'd figured they wouldn't like to cook. She was the only person they saw all day.

They spent most of the day in bed, holding other. Demelza put her baby clothes away, crying and hugging Ross every three minutes. She insisted they leave the rest of the things out, though, as they both wanted children someday. They watched Disney movies and old shows from their childhood.

The next day, Demelza did some research. She shoved a piece of paper under Ross's nose. “Here.”

“What's this?” Ross asked as he took the paper. In pencil, it had thistle, pink roses, primrose and rosemary written down.

“The name ‘Julia’ means regal, so I looked up plants that mean that and grace and picked the prettiest ones that would grow the best here. The primrose means eternal love and rosemary is for remembrance.”

Ross inhaled sharply as he realized. “You want to make her a garden.”

“I've always had a sort of green thumb, and I thought... this way, we never feel like we're forgetting her, or leavin’ her behind...” She pushed her hair behind her ear.

Ross stood up and kissed her. “That's a wonderful idea, Demelza.”

***

“Why the hell did she send me to the store?” Ross muttered to himself, fumbling through the mangos. “Yes, I might've burned dinner, but I don't know how to tell if a damned mango is ripe! And it's a ridiculous fruit anyway...”

“Ross?”

Thinking very dark thoughts to himself, Ross turned and saw-- “Andrew Blamey?!”

“Good to see you,” Andrew said, not entirely sincerely.

“How’ve you been?” Ross asked politely. (Demelza would be so proud.)

Andrew's face tightened. “I think it was a bad winter for everyone.”

Ross nodded absentmindedly, visions of pale skin and red-black blood and scarlet fingernails trailing through his mind.

“How is...?” Andrew's voice trailed off.

Verity.

“She's okay,” he said shortly. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and oh, Demelza would not be happy-- but then again... maybe she would be. “You know, Andrew, Demelza and I are planning a little party, just to celebrate the ending of the school year. If you'd like to come...”

“Maybe I will,” Andrew said thoughtfully. “When is it?”

“Oh, a couple of weeks. Saturday after next, at seven.” That should be enough time for Demelza, so she wouldn't murder him. Well, actually, she'd probably make him do all of it, so that should be enough time for him to get everything together.

“I'll get back to you.”

***

It should be easier.

Everyone who's ever lost someone important to them in whatever way knows the feeling, the hollowed-out longing, pain that rests like a stone in the pit of your stomach, waves of memories that threaten to drown you. It's agonizing, and there are moments it seems to much for anyone to bear.

Demelza felt it looking at herself in the mirror, pale stomach still marked with the faintest of stretch marks that she, strangely, felt cheated of. They ought to have marked her, and it seemed unfair that, for now, they would not.

Ross felt it whenever he saw the door to a little room that should have been a nursery, should have been a room for a sweet baby girl, but wouldn't be, not now.

Verity felt it, an ache for her mother, her friend, someone she'd loved. She didn't feel it so much, now, but it hit her when she saw someone across the room who looked like him. But it couldn’t be. No, he would never... and Ross hadn’t liked him much, he wouldn’t...

Then the man turned, and, dear Lord, he would. Andrew Blamey was right there. She couldn’t... she couldn’t...

Her heart leapt into her throat and she couldn’t breathe and she swore she’d pass out right there and if she died, Ross, it’d be all your fault!

Verity didn’t die. Instead, Andrew spoke to her, and they became friends. Both of them knew things now, about themselves and each other, that they hadn’t known before.

So when they decided to try again, it worked. They were married two years later, to the day. Verity’s one sadness was that her father had died and couldn’t be present. Not that he’d have wanted to be present anyway, but, well... Verity was an adult woman who could make her own decisions. Her father’s opinion was not law.

And as the years went by, they all felt it a little less.

Enough to try again, anyway, and Ross and Demelza decided on a warm, sunny day two years after losing Julia. The doctors had agreed there was no explaining the miscarriage and the odds of it happening again were infinitesimal. Demelza was twenty-five, not twenty-two. Ross’s company was doing well. Both Ross and Demelza only needed to go to therapy once a month, at most, and Ross’s PTSD and Demelza’s anxiety and depression were much better. It finally felt right, or at least, not terrifying, to throw out Demelza’s birth control pills and let things be, for now.

At Verity’s wedding, Demelza couldn’t stop vomiting. The cake made her nauseous, the chicken made her queasy, and every time she caught a whiff of champagne.

Seven months later, she held a baby boy in her arms. He’d been eight days late, was a perfectly healthy size, and cried so loudly upon his entrance to the world that his Aunt Verity had thought someone in the waiting room had screamed. Ross let the little boy wrap his tiny hand around his father’s finger, and swore right then and there no one would ever dare hurt his son.

***

July 2020

Reformations

Not many are fortunate enough to sit down with Ross Poldark, young CEO of the Nampara Mining Company, so I suppose I may count myself among the lucky few. His story still holds fascination for locals, and, indeed, many who live in the area: a young man returning from war to run his deceased father’s business.

Well, many are not particularly fascinated with that part. What’s more interesting for most people is Poldark’s personal life. He did marry his personal assistant, after they’d known each other only a few months, in a quick little ceremony, and his wife Demelza is certainly the charmer of the two. Poldark admits as much, readily. “People seem to think I’m intimidating, for some reason.” He graces me with a smirk; if people think he’s intimidating, it’s only because he’s cultivated that reputation.

I ask about the company. Poldark explains the switches they’re making to cleaner fuel sources, and says, “Demelza and I want to have a countryside to take our kids to.”

My mind catches on to kids, plural. He laughs when I ask. “Oh, she’ll have my head for telling you, but yes, we’re expecting again.” She won’t really be angry, he explains, but Demelza hates people coming up to her in the street and touching her or making comments, “so if you could pass that one along, I’d be grateful,” he says. Anything to help soften the blow, I promise.

The atmosphere inside the CEO’s office is relaxed, for which I am grateful. It makes for a much easier interview. I look around the bright room, taking in the solid, dark furniture, a comfortable sofa against one wall, and a few toys (a dump truck, Barbie, and Ken doll). I notice only two pictures on his desk. One is, unsurprisingly, of his wife and two-year-old-son, Jeremy. The other is of an obviously preterm child. Poldark tenses up when I ask about that one, mentioning only that he and his wife had lost a child.

I move on, and we discuss a few other things, but again, my mind returns to those pictures. Had any of us been told four years ago that Ross Poldark, who’d been making a name for himself drinking through the country’s liquor, would be a dedicated family man... I think we all would’ve laughed and said we’d like to see the day. I have to say, the day is lovely indeed.