Archive of Our Own

“There’s just not enough men, Elizabeth,” growled Ross, tossing his jacket across a chair in anger as he strode around the room, gesticulating wildly, “how are we supposed to do a quick and clean run with the number of men we have? It’s half of what we’d usually have so it’ll take double the time. And with gaugers about….”
He trailed off and sighed, throwing himself down on a chair as she sat down opposite him, viewing him with concern. She knew it would be hard but she had every confidence that he would get the job done.
“But why aren’t there enough men? Did they give reasons for declining?”
“Some are sick, some are unable….I understand their worry, it’s Christmas and they would rather not spend it in jail.”
Ross sighed and bent his head over the table, running his hands through his hair as he was wont to do when he was tense. Exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes and thought of tonight. He didn’t have enough energy for the run but he would have to muster it from somewhere. He’d intended to make it as quick as possible but he knew it would take time to sail to France, pick up the goods and sail back all in one day. He picked at his breakfast moodily, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth and washing it down with tea too hot for his lips.
“There are gaugers about, like you said, and the informer. Do you have someone to act as watchman?” asked Elizabeth, clearing the table and standing up.
She walked to the window to peek out as Ross talked, assuring her that there would be a watchman who would light a fire in the event of an ambush and it was someone he could trust, Charlie, Rosina’s betrothed. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she peered out of the window. It was the crack of dawn and the field seemed clear, barely lit as the sun started to rise. It was almost time for Ross to leave and from far, far away, she could see the outline of a horse bounding towards Nampara.
“It seems Dwight will be here in a few minutes. Are you ready?”
Ross sighed and got up, pushing his hair back and pulling on his coat. He was still lost deep in thought as Elizabeth returned from piling the dirty dishes in the kitchen and caught him with his back to her, looking out of the window for Dwight too.
“Ross, I think it best you keep Dwight behind to be the watchman. Take Charlie with you.”
Ross turned in confusion and stared at her as she wiped her hands on the apron she had tied around her waist. She looked back at him a matter of fact way and strode over, fixing the lapels of his coat that had carelessly turned inwards when he’d shoved it on so rudely.
“Why? Why not Charlie? I have no joy in almost forcefully involving Dwight in such a venture yet this time, we have so few men, I barely have a choice.”
“Dwight has more experience in looking out for an ambush, he would be a tool best kept secret. Charlie should go with you, he’s light on his feet. Besides, I doubt Caroline would be best pleased with you sending her beloved into the front line.”
Ross furrowed his brow as Elizabeth buttoned up the last few buttons of his waistcoat, fixing his neck cloth carefully. She made a good point. The corner of his mouth curled up in a faint smile as he watched her. Elizabeth Poldark, ever logical. His hands ghosted up the pleats of her dress to her waist, holding her tight and squeezing gently as she finished with his neck cloth, leaning over to pick his hat up from the table. His fingers rubbed softly against the pale blue fabric of her dress, feeling it rough and worn under his hands as she stepped up on her tiptoes to place his hat on his head. He set his gaze on her face as she smoothed out his coat by the shoulders and ran her hands down to press against his chest, looking up at him, barely concealing her worry.
She pressed herself closer to him and closed her eyes, wanting to remember this moment and just feel it. The fresh, chill dawn air coming in from the window, the rough stone under her feet, Ross’ warm hands at her waist and his body pressed against hers. His chest felt solid and good under her hands and she opened her eyes to see him looking down at her with the softest gaze, which she drank from hungrily.
“I know you fret for me,” he murmured softly, raising a hand to cup her cheek, “you may not say it to spare me the tension but I know you worry nonetheless.”
“Of course I worry,” she whispered back, fisting his coat in her hands as she pressed her cheek against his hand, “of course I worry. But I have faith in you.”
Ross nodded and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes before leaning down for a brief but deep kiss, drinking enough from her lips to last him the whole day away from her. She grasped his coat desperately, standing up on her tiptoes to each him, anything to feel his lips on hers for a moment longer. He pulled away from his wife reluctantly and Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, savouring the taste or what remained of it.
“Pray do not be reckless. I wish you to return.”
Ross squeezed his eyes shut as Elizabeth’s whisper ghosted over his lips in the same tone she had spoken those words all those years ago. His grip on her waist tightened and honestly, in that moment, he didn’t know whether he would ever return to this. He had helped with runs frequently in the last few weeks but this was the first time he was actively participating in one and he was perfectly aware of the high presence of the gaugers and soldiers in the area. He almost knew they suspected him and had seen them hide out in the rocks to inspect any and every ship or sailboat that came in. He knew he was treading in dangerously deep water this time around, he knew he was taking a risk that may or may not pay off but he thanked God every day that Elizabeth understood why he was doing this. He’d not heard a word of negativity from her about the enterprise. She had looked worried when he’d explained Trencrom’s offer to her and had reminded him of the illegality of the venture and the danger he would be putting them all in if it failed, but had qualified it with a statement of belief and faith in him and the reassurance that she understood it had to be done.
He’d watched her galvanise herself against it, prepare for any eventuality and he was proud of her strength and resilience. She smiled at him as he was lost in thought and was about to ask what the matter was until a loud cry pierced the calm dawn air.
“Oh, Valentine!”
Elizabeth frowned and turned, walking over to the end of the room to pick up her son from where he was swaddled in his cot, rocking him softly.
“Shall I take ‘im, Mistress, while you see Cap’n Ross off?”
Prudie appeared from the kitchen and Ross turned to see Dwight dismounting from his horse, nodding and striding towards the door.
“No, Prudie, there’s no need. He needs a feed, I’ll see to him presently. Hush now, my love, Mama’s here,” muttered Elizabeth, fixing his blanket around him to fend off the sharp cold coming in from the open door and attempting to hold him in one arm as she strode out to the threshold.
“Good morning, Dwight! Are you well? How was the ride?”
“Well, thank you! And yourself? How is the child?”
Dwight dismounted eagerly and Ross sighed, smiling nonetheless as Dwight walked over quickly to peek at Valentine’s tiny face under his blankets.
“He’s well, thank you, Dwight. Would you take some refreshment before you leave? It’s early, I know, but a small dram would go a long way to fortify you for the day ahead.”
Dwight was about to protest before Elizabeth’s forced smile made him furrow his brow and soon he found himself inside while Ross waited impatiently, already in his saddle and ready to go. Elizabeth rocked Valentine softly as Dwight sipped, the door still open. She lowered her voice and locked eyes with him, speaking quickly.
“Dwight, Ross intends to have you stay behind to act as watchman and look out for an ambush tonight. Is it possible you could send word when you see The One and All about to make port?”
Dwight blinked at her, completely nonplussed at her request. She looked down at Valentine distractedly, he had hushed and was sucking on the knuckle she had popped into his little mouth to calm him. She hadn’t forgotten her question, though and looked up at him expectantly, poised as ever.
“Well? Can you?”
“I…shall see what I can do. To what end, may I ask?”
“You may ask.”
Her reply was courteous but steely and Dwight thought he caught a glint of something in her eye that made him furrow his brows. In the short time of Ross and Elizabeth’s marriage, he’d seen Elizabeth transform from a society rose into a meadow tulip. She’d applied her hand to tasks that she previously had no knowledge of and had tried diligently to help her husband as best she could. He knew it hadn’t been easy for her to adjust to such a life at Nampara, goodness knew he’d sat with her while she’d thrown petty tantrums and paced around the kitchen sniffing and wiping her eyes, commenting hatefully on the manual nature of the chores and how inadequate she felt, how childish she felt, as if people were laughing at her behind her back, simply because she wasn’t adept at the tasks required of her as Mistress of Nampara.
“I know not how to do these things, Dwight! I shall learn, I am willing to learn yet no one is willing to teach me without reproach and laughter! Prudie is no help and Ross is away so often at the mine that I barely speak to him of it and prefer not to burden him with such things. Jinny is kind to me, she offers assistance as much as she is able yet I fear I shall never grasp the tasks required of me. I fear I shall be a failure, Dwight, to Ross. I should so hate to let him down in such a way.”
Her voice echoed through his head as she watched him hand Valentine to Prudie and give some instruction, to which Prudie nodded and took the child into the kitchen. It had only been a short while and Elizabeth had taken time to adjust. She was three quarters of the way there on her journey and had set herself small goals, which, when achieved, she would write to him about gleefully. So far, they had included collecting adequate firewood, mucking out the animals and successfully completing the laundry by hand. Dwight was none the wiser as to whether Elizabeth would share these achievements with Ross, he knew she was at pains never to let him know she found life at Nampara hard. Ross had gone through his fair share of self loathing, feeling that he couldn’t provide her with the luxurious life she had been used to with her mother after he’d realised the state Nampara was in, but she had assured him she would be comfortable and learn to adjust. And that was exactly what she was doing. Apart from her momentary loss of senses that only Dwight was privy to.
Elizabeth caught him grinning and raised her eyebrows as she followed him out to where Ross was now standing by his horse, looking like a bored teenager.
“Are you two done with your consultation?” he asked jokily, but his anxiety wasn’t so easily masked.
Dwight wordlessly swung up onto his horse and Elizabeth turned to Ross, making to speak until Ross grabbed her roughly around the waist, reins still in his free hand as he kissed her deeply, forcefully, pressing his lips harshly against hers. She melted into him quickly, easily, once more grasping his lapels to hold him to her for as long as she could before he tore himself away and swung up onto his horse too. She regained her breath, pressing her lips together as Ross took one last look at her and rode off. She stood and watched the two men ride away across the field in the dim dawn light, suddenly feeling the terrible chill of the early morning. Watching him leave like this, whether it was to sea or anywhere else uncertain filled her with a bottomless and irrational fear, made her insides seize up. For a few seconds, an almost feral panic filled her at the sight of Ross riding away on his horse, like he had done all those years ago when he’d left for war. When she hadn’t known whether she’d ever see him again. Now every time he left her, no matter how sure she was that he’d come back, all she could see and feel behind her closed eyes was the apple orchard, the smell of overripe fruit overpowering her senses completely as she watched him mount his horse, his gold braid and buttons shining in the morning light. It was a dawn just like this one, the same birdsong, the same salty Cornish air. She could see him riding off across the small path between the apple trees, watching them flank him either side and swallow him up, she could feel the basket of apples tumbling lifelessly from her hands and onto the grass around her.
A loud cry from inside alerted her to Valentine’s early breakfast and she shook herself, turning to make her way back into the house. There were many tasks to see to today and she was determined she would get at least one right. It was too early for Jinny to arrive so she had Prudie to contend with, laundry that needed soaking, dishes that needed washing, animals that needed feeding and firewood that needed chopping. She’d save that job for last.
“Ye do fare slightly better at cooking, if ye don’t mind me sayin’, Mistress,” remarked Prudie knowingly, walking past Elizabeth with a basket of laundry.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she packaged up the now cool pie into a small box along with little tins of whatever else she had managed to find around the house.
“I intend to deliver this to Jinny later, she informed me that she was sick and therefore unable to attend on….attend her duties.”
Elizabeth paused and closed her eyes at the words she had bitten back. She was trying as hard as she could to change her lexicon but sometimes words she didn’t intend slipped out. She was getting better, though. Removing her filthy apron from around her waist, she dragged the basket of dirty clothes outside into the chill air and loaded up a bucket with water, kneeling down gingerly on the muddy stone floor to pick out several of Ross’ worn, dust covered shirts he’d tossed aside after coming home from the mine. As they had no money to buy new clothes, Ross barely had two or three shirts which he wore in rotation weekly, one of which Elizabeth had already ruined by washing it in the same bucket as one of her pink gowns.
She smiled a little as she picked out his shirts one by one and pushed them into the freezing water, remembering how Ross had stared at his pink shirt for what seemed like an age as she stood gingerly at the side of the room, almost in tears during his observation. She remembered how he’d crossed his arms and turned to look at her, then burst into a snort and laughed merrily, grasping her hands and pulling her to him.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet wife. Do you imagine I should wear a pink shirt to the mine?”
“You would look a fool,” she conceded, smiling and plucking threads from the shirt he was currently wearing, pleased that he wasn’t angry with her.
“I would indeed. And I shall tell everyone that my dear wife takes such dismal care of me.”
“Oh, Ross! No, you cannot!”
He had cackled evilly and proceeded to tease her by wearing the pink shirt for the duration of the evening. Both Jud and Prudie had stared at him with unease while he’d raised his eyebrows at them as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
Her hands froze as she kneaded the shirts in the water, picking up a small bar of soap to scrub them with. Her skin turned pale and her knees began to hurt as she threw the shirt over the washboard and began to scrub. Ross had been sorry, the first time he’d seen her in this position, scrubbing and cleaning on her hands and knees, attempting unsuccessfully to squeeze the residual water out of the fabric as they had sold their wringer. She’d reassured him quietly that there was nothing to be sorry for. She was nothing if not practical and if something had to be done, she would do it quickly and without complaint if it pertained to their survival and the smoothing running of the household. There was no whining from her about not having servants to attend on her or having to get her hands dirty. Whatever displeasure she felt, she would bottle it, swallow her pride and get on with the task at hand as long as there was someone to show her how to do it. Her momentary lapses of behaviour to Dwight were the only times she allowed that negativity to pour out for fear it would eat her alive if she kept it in. Ross had imagined she’d be hardy, but would give up after a while and appeal to her wealthier connections for help in their situation, yet she had surprised him with her determination. She knew he thought she would heartily dislike having to perform menial tasks and she couldn’t lie to herself, she had disliked it to begin with. But now there was an odd relief, a reassurance almost in the daily routine of household chores, the familiarity and certainty of them in a time of such chaos for herself and her husband.
The stark poverty they faced had come as a shock to Elizabeth. When she had settled at Nampara after their marriage, it was less comfort than she was used to at home with her mother, yet it was still a comfortable arrangement. They had servants to do menial tasks like this for them, however inadequate, Prudie and Jinny would cook and clean and Elizabeth’s main tasks were tending to the house and calling on families in the surrounding area.
Often she would take Dwight with her and he would introduce her to his patients. She felt a need to build relationships with those who lived and worked with Ross, especially since most of the guests who had attended her wedding seemed unsure of her and treated her with the utmost politeness, yet no familiarity. She was aware she may seem daunting to others of a different social class than her and she had heard mutters of ‘airs and graces’ when she had first taken a walk down the harbour or into the market. She had applied the society method of friendship when she had first arrived at Nampara, baking cakes and treats and taking them to people’s houses where they viewed her oddly and took the basket or tin from her suspiciously. That plan had backfired and although she knew manners and etiquette were different, she’d never really been allowed to sit down and speak to anyone openly. Sitting down in a home and chatting freely, laughing and talking, that wasn’t something that was encouraged in her household, especially with people her mother considered ‘of the labouring classes’ yet she’d quickly found they had more in common than she’d previously thought and these days, she lived for her sometimes daily jaunts into the village.
They provided welcome relief from her chores at home since things had decidedly hit rock bottom for them. ‘Financial ruin,’ Ross liked to call it, and it had become a bit of a buzzword in the house. George was in the process of calling in their debts, having been enraged by the birth of Valentine for some inexplicable reason. Elizabeth had attempted to patch things up with the Warleggans, inviting both George and his Uncle Cary to Valentine’s christening, yet both had declined to attend in the strongest possible terms.
Debtor’s prison had become a very real threat and selling all furniture in Nampara, as well as anything else they could lay their hands on, hadn’t gone much towards covering their debt at all. It was hard enough for Elizabeth to convince Ross to take the things to market and he’d refused even to help her load the cart with the chairs and tables that they didn’t need, instead sequestering himself moodily in his study to attend to work she knew didn’t exist. She’d been successful in her effort to bring him to market with her, his eyes lowered all the way so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone he might possibly know. It was bad enough for him that common folk were seeing what an exhibition he was making of himself, how low he’d stooped, but having some friend or acquaintance see him would cause the news of his dishonour to reach George’s ears, who would perhaps hold a ball in celebration.
They’d made more than they’d intended at market, however, with Elizabeth selling all the fine gowns she had taken from her parents’ house before she’d married Ross. Now she made do with gowns of rough cotton, yet had not quite lost her penchant for colours on the softer end of the spectrum. Dark reds and browns and greens were less expensive to purchase, yet she allowed herself some luxuries. Ross was adamant she should buy a wardrobe of new gowns, both formal and casual, however much it cost him, yet Elizabeth had reminded him he still only had barely the clothes on his back.
She didn’t mind that, though, wearing less intricate dresses, eating less elaborate food, picking up chores such as tidying and cooking once in a while. They were things she knew she would have to do when she came to Nampara as a new bride and she was ready to settle into life here. Letting go of those luxuries was a small matter to Elizabeth, gowns and food and balls and sitting around all day doing nothing but embroidery or reading had never enchanted her anyway and she’d jumped at the chance to get involved in the daily grind of life on a living, breathing estate. No one had ever let her lift a finger since she’d grown up and she missed the activity, the energy and movement of her childhood where she’d been permitted to participate; the Elizabeth she’d been when Ross had chased her along the cliff at the mere age of sixteen. As soon as she’d grown up, she was forced to learn how to talk, to walk, to sit, to stand, to eat, to play, to bow. She took to these accomplishments quickly and learned well, yet when she realised this was to be her life and nothing more, she had taken issue with her mother.
Oh, her poor mother. What would she say if she saw her today? Elizabeth couldn’t help a laugh as she drained the water from the bucket and tossed the wet shirts inside, dragging them in to warm them by the fire. She fancied that perhaps her mother would be happy to see her daughter laughing, smiling, talking, being free. Expressing her emotions openly, that was something that had always been frowned upon yet here time here in Nampara had made her see things differently. Ross was a man without limits or boundaries when it came to how he felt, she’d always known that. He’d rage and shout and laugh and smile and cry at will, there was no mask, no filter through which his emotions would have to pass to reach her. She was grateful for it, there was no misunderstanding, no hesitation as to how he felt. Unless of course he decided to tease her, but that was another matter. Just being with him had allowed her to feel, to reach inside herself and unlock that door that had swung shut over the years. She retained the poise and grace of a lady, she couldn’t quite shake that, yet she was learning, slowly, to open herself up and be unafraid to feel, and most importantly, to smile. To let people know she was happy. The reception a smile received from people around her was dearer to her than any compliment from her mother on how she’d curled her hair.
“Now that Valentine is fed, I shall take him for a walk, Prudie, and deliver this to Jinny,” called Elizabeth, picking up the tin in one hand and fixing Valentine on her free arm, “would you be so kind as to fold Captain Ross’ shirts after they dry? I shall attempt to saw the firewood when I return, a task in which I could greatly use your supervision.”
Prudie stared and nodded as Elizabeth smiled courteously and thanked her, making to walk out of the house. No one had ever asked Prudie if she would be so kind as to do something. Not even her own husband.
“Mistress?”
Elizabeth turned and walked back into the kitchen, looking around for Prudie, who stood sheepishly by the table.
“Yer ‘at. It be crooked.”
“Oh, goodness, thank you for telling me.”
Elizabeth furrowed her brows as she looked down and placed the tin on the table, fixing her hat with her free hand. She only had one hat, which she wore to call on people and it was now sagging sadly at the brim from overuse.
“It do look well now, Mistress.”
“Thank you, Prudie.”
Elizabeth smiled at her, a smile which reached all the way up to her hazel eyes before turning and walking out. It wasn’t everyday Prudie was so nice to her, she knew she took issue with how spoiled and bratty Elizabeth seemed to be when it had come to chores, yet since Valentine had arrived in their house, Prudie had decidedly softened a little. This was much appreciated by Elizabeth.

“And you’ll write to Doctor Enys about that, no doubt!” laughed Prudie as she watched Elizabeth carry sizeable chunks of firewood into the house with a barely suppressed smile on her face. Out of all the tasks she’d raised her hand to today, she’d hardly been expecting sawing firewood to be the one she was best at. She’d never really tested her physical strength before she’d come to Nampara and quickly, the effort required to saw firewood as well as the unseemly method repulsed her. This had been her best effort to date and she had to say, she was very pleased with herself.
“I would write to Dwight but it would be a waste of paper and ink if I am to see him soon,” replied Elizabeth with a small smile as she emptied the wood in her arms into the small cache by the fireplace.
“Soon? But ain’t he gone to France for the run with Cap’n Ross?”
“Ross decided to keep him behind to act as a watchman in the event of an ambush,” explained Elizabeth, standing up and brushing sawdust from her dress. Her hair was sticking to her forehead and neck with the exertion and she brushed it away carefully, “as you know, there are gaugers and soldiers inspecting the area and the risk of the informer. To add to that, Ross has almost half the men he would need for a usual run and the longer the men spend in the cove, the higher the risk of being caught and arrested.”
Her manner was brusque and matter of fact as she walked around the room and began lighting candles as dusk fell outside, guarding the flame with the utmost care as she went from candle to candle. The light flickered across her face as she lowered to the wick.
“I shall need you to do something for me, Prudie. Take out a fresh gown for me and place it by the back door and look after Valentine while I’m away. I shall feed him before I leave, he should be sound asleep.”
“But—“
“While you stay with Valentine, I shall need you to find someone with a horse and keep them out on the ridge, someone willing to stay out in the cold and dark. If they see soldiers coming towards Nampara, I need them to come to the cove and inform me.”
Prudie stared at her as if she’d gone insane and watched her set the candle she’d used to light the others back in her holder. Elizabeth turned to view her primly, her back straight and her hands clasped in front of her as was her usual pose.
“And what shall ‘ee be doin’ at the cove, Mistress?” asked Prudie intrusively, narrowing her eyes.
“Well, Ross did say he didn’t have enough men. I may not be a man, but I have two hands and two legs and I shall do whatever is necessary to get this ordeal over and done with. Ross shall not go to prison. Not on my watch.”
With that, Elizabeth turned and walked purposefully into the kitchen, leaving Prudie to stare at her in undisguised shock.
“No word yet?” asked Elizabeth, furrowing her eyebrows as she walked into the room, watching Prudie shelling peas with a distracted expression on her face. After receiving an answer in the negative, Elizabeth refrained from sighing too loudly before making her way upstairs into the bedroom she shared with Ross, digging in the cupboard for the shirts Prudie had folded earlier. Retrieving a new outfit for him, she set it by her gown on the back stairs, tossing a shawl over it to cover it before heading back into the room.
The fire crackled but it did little to warm her as she sat patiently by it. There were no tasks left to do and Prudie was more than capable of finishing the vegetables by herself. It would go a way to distract Elizabeth but her mind was racing far too much to focus on such a petty task. Though she seemed composed on the outside, her eyes were set on the wall at the far end of the room, thinking through the events of tonight. She had set her mind towards what she was going to do yet fear for Ross didn’t leave her heart so quickly. It seemed the middle of the night, it was pitch black outside and there was still no word from Dwight about whether the ship was making port yet. She’d been focusing so much on what to do when the goods came ashore that she’d dismissed the fact that this was a run in its entirety. What if Ross had never made it out of France? What if something had gone awry on the ship? What if the informer had laid out some sort of ambush before the ship even reached Cornwall?
It was all too much for her and she suddenly stood up, breathing in as she straightened her dress, taking to pacing up and down the length of the fire place as she waited. The movement contained her anxiety somewhat but her thoughts still turned to the heavy military presence in the area. She knew Captain McNeil suspected Ross and his reputation for lawlessness had been blown sky high by the riot and looting of a few months previously. If he was brought before a judge again, the jury would not be as sympathetic, she knew it. And so did Ross. They were both risking everything in this venture yet she was adamant that it would be worth it to settle Ross’ debts and give him leave to call his soul his own, as he said. She had readily agreed to the prospect when Ross had told her yet now she worried she’d done the wrong thing. Perhaps she should have refused him and instead found some other, less dangerous way to settle things.
There was no use thinking about that now, she told herself as she set her hands on the small of her back, breathing in and out carefully as she paced. Every now and then, her eyes flitted to the window as if she could possibly see anything in the darkness. What if the soldiers had already arrested Ross and she was sitting here with no idea? The idea made her scrunch her eyes shut and when she opened them, tears had appeared. She tried her best to keep them in but a sniff escaped in an almost childish fashion. Thinking of Ross being taken away from her and having no knowledge of it felt like having a knife stabbed through her heart a thousand times.
She wiped her eyes, composing herself quickly as she straightened her dress. It wouldn’t do to get emotional now, not when Ross needed her. She turned to Valentine’s cot, preparing to busy herself with fixing his blankets until she heard an urgent knocking at the door. Both Prudie and Elizabeth looked up and Elizabeth pressed a kiss to Valentine’s forehead as he slept, sweeping to the door and wrapping a shawl tight round herself and over her head. In an instant, she had mounted her horse and was riding hard across the moor to the forest.

She wasn’t prepared for how cold it would be, her skin numbing as she pulled the shawl off her and threw it onto her horse’s saddle, tying him to a tree before running as fast as she could out of the forest and manouvering herself with some difficulty down the rocks and to the beach. Her worn shoes did little to protect her from the sharp rocks as she made her way down, bracing herself against the cold air rushing in from the sea. It was a rough night and she was instantly worried at how the men would make their way ashore with the sea so disturbed. Visibility was low as she walked across the beach and looked up at the sky, breathing in the salty sea air. An eerie glow fell over the beach as a cloud breezed past to reveal the moon, full and imposing, casting a cold shadow on the water. These were the conditions Ross faced when he went out to help with a run, she realised, as the wind whipped grit into her face.
She couldn’t lie to herself, she was unsure about this and of Ross’ reaction to seeing her here. Second thoughts weren’t a concept she was familiar with and if Ross disliked it, he would have to bear it. She had no intention of letting him charge towards the firing line by himself and if something had to be done for the good of the family, she would step up with Ross and do it as best she could. The logistics of the situation were uncertain to her, she knew they had to unload the goods but transporting them to the cache at Nampara with an informer in their midst would surely be the most difficult part. All of a sudden, she spotted the boat instantly. It bobbed in the rough water as if it had appeared by magic and she could make out the silhouette of more cargo than men and was surprised the small craft hadn’t capsized yet. She picked up her skirts and rushed towards it, helping to bring the boat ashore with the men that had jumped out. The tide rushed in and lapped at her feet angrily, instantly drenching her shoes, stockings and the hem of her gown. She put the discomfort aside as the men disembarked, boots splashing roughly in the water around her as focused on adjusting her eyes to the darkness and making sense of the chaos around her.
“Unload, as quickly as you can!”
Ross’ voice was unmistakable and a rush of relief ran through her, rendering her momentarily paralysed as she straightened and looked around for him. The sharp moonlight coasted over his face in an almost heavenly way as he reached for a sack of goods and Elizabeth swallowed, wishing she could touch him and tell him how relieved she was that he was safe, but there was no time for that. She looked back over the cliff to see darkness, a good sign that Dwight was there and the coast was clear. Her dress was getting heavier by the minute and it was hard to see anything in the dark. The moonlight didn’t provide much assistance and the gaggle of men around her made it difficult to focus on any one thing at one time. They were calling instruction to one another and the chill was making its way over Elizabeth’s body, crawling uncomfortably from her wet feet up her legs that were already shivering under her gown. The waves crashed against the boat, making it thrash uncertainly and become lighter and more prone to moving off in the high tide as the men removed goods from it. She pulled her sleeves up and reached inside the boat.
“Charlie, help me with the biggest one, it should take two of us.”
“Mistress Poldark?!”
Ross turned at the sound of those two words, tossing a sack aside to see, among the lanky silhouettes of the men he had sailed with, a tall and elegant shadow of a woman leaning gracefully over the prow of the boat. It couldn’t be, could it? Ross bounded over urgently, his breath rising in front of him in the cold as he grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and took it out of the boat, pulling her to face him.
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”
“Helping you,” she said rationally, locking eyes with him, “you said you needed men. I hope you don’t mind that I am not.”
Ross paused, searching her face as she looked at him with eyes so set and certain they made him shiver. He could see her face through the dark, up close, her eyes shining as the sea lapped harshly at their feet.
“Elizabeth, you mustn’t—“
“Do you suppose I would leave you to fend for yourself? The more hands we have, the quicker we can load and the less chance we have of being discovered. The money would make all the difference, Ross.”
Her voice was measured as but urgent nonetheless, her eyes softening. Ross knew it was useless to argue. She made a good point, they did need all the hands they could get. She waited for him to stop her, to tell her to go back home in a fit of anger, but he clenched his jaw and pressed his lips on hers as hard as he had done during their parting kiss that morning. He squeezed her arms gently and let go of her, looking to the boat and the cargo still left inside.
“We must hurry, there’s not much time,” he said urgently, letting go of her to help carry a sack inland with her, the gravel crunching under his feet as he made his way back to the boat with her.
She gritted her teeth in effort as she helped with sack after sack, the breath knocked from her body with the exertion. Adrenaline seemed to be backing up her every move and she kicked her wet skirts out of the way, panting as she removed another sack with Charlie, turning to watch the men carrying it up the rocks to the forest to load on horse and cart.
“No sign of an ambush so far,” said Ross as he encountered her again, lowering his head to speak to her as she inclined hers towards him, “Dwight is up on the cliff with a fire signal, all seems well so far. We must get the cargo through the forest and into the cache.”
Elizabeth exhaled as Ross spoke to her, hardly feeling the cold now as Ross broke news to her that they would have to take the cargo back to Nampara when she knew soldiers would be swimming around the house like sharks.
“Ross, I shan’t say it’s impossible but it will be a difficult venture.”
Ross nodded but his eyes were urgent as he pushed the boat back out with a lone oarsman, turning to her again. He viewed her properly for the first time that night, standing alone on the shore looking at him expectantly, her skirts wet to the waist, curls escaping wildly from her hastily thrown up hair and her chest heaving with the exertion of her labour. He felt like holding her right there and feeling her soft lips under his until the moon slipped away and the sun rose over the crystal blue water. She had always encouraged him in risky endeavours but this was a new phase altogether.
He was about to bound towards her to take her hand and lead her into the forest when he spotted a figure behind her. She turned behind her to look where Ross had paused to stare.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth, you must to Nampara right away,” breathed Dwight, panting, “Prudie sent word, soldiers are on their way.”
“We can’t stow the cargo in the cache now!” said Ross in frustration, running his hand through his hair as he looked up at the cliff as if he could spot a soldier in such darkness. He didn’t let the situation get the better of him as he shared a look with Dwight, his mind racing as to where they could possibly hide the goods with gaugers undoubtedly on their way if soldiers were making their way to Nampara. Elizabeth and Dwight were doing the same, breathing heavily over the rush of the tide in and out.
“Then you shall not,” said Elizabeth suddenly, her eyes sparkling as she walked to him and grasped his hands, “take the horses instead to Trenwith, stow the goods in the cellar by the back door, the cellar where we used to hide when we were younger, do you remember?”
Ross’ eyes flashed as he locked his gaze with hers, his mind racing at the thought. He opened his mouth to protest at the involvement of Francis in such an enterprise, he couldn’t count on his loyalty quite yet.
“Francis shall not have sight nor sound of it if you’re quiet. You yourself must keep watch.”
Ross didn’t like the idea of having to keep Francis occupied while his men hid illegally imported goods on his property but in the current situation, they had no choice. Elizabeth squeezed his hands reassuringly as she searched his face, turning to get back to the forest as quickly as she could. He watched Dwight turn and climb up the rocks with her and for one more second, allowed himself to marvel at the constant resourcefulness of his wife. She’d always been good at getting herself out of a tight spot, at working well under pressure and even more so after she’d married him, yet she was full of surprises. He never imagined she’d go to this length to help him even though he knew she was fully behind his decision to get involved in smuggling. She never hid her worry for his safety yet understood he wasn’t doing this for the sake of his own recklessness, to be some sort of adrenaline junkie. Like she said, the money would make all the difference if it could go towards getting George off his back. He clenched his jaw at the thought, lifting his head to look up at the wild, invisible tangle of the forest, making his way up the cliffside in time to see Elizabeth’s unmistakeable white horse bounding away to Nampara.

“They’se not ‘ere yet, Mistress, but they’se be ‘ere soon, I’m sure of it!”
Elizabeth said nothing as she closed the back door, unlacing her wet and heavy gown quickly and quietly, tossing it aside before donning the new pale pink frock on the back stairs. She bundled up her wet blue gown and shoved it under the stairs, her legs shivering as she walked into the living room. She had no time to change her wet stockings and her legs felt frozen to the bone as she stood in front of the fire in a vain hope to warm them through the thick, rough fabric of her gown. She shook her hair out of where she’d piled it on her head, letting it fall in loose, untameable waves to her waist before tying a portion up and out of her face. She tried hard to even her breathing as she thought of Ross right now, stowing those goods away at the cellar in Trenwith where hopefully no soldiers would think of going. It was too upright a household to suspect, surely. There was no point focusing on it, she would let Ross do his work and focus on her own responsibilities.
“Thank you, Prudie. And how was Valentine? Did he sleep soundly?” she asked in concern, walking over to the crib to check on her sleeping son until she heard a knock at the door.
Swallowing, she stood tall and dusted off her dress, walking calmly to the door to open it and found herself faced with the expected. Captain McNeil stood in front of her with two accompanying soldiers either side, all three in their finest regalia. He wore a sour expression on his faced but forced his lips into a smile which made his moustache twitch. She bowed slightly, a gesture McNeil returned awkwardly.
“Good evening, Mistress Poldark. We’re sorry to bother you at such a time. May we come in?”
Elizabeth nodded and turned, leading them into the receiving room where the fire blazed and Prudie sat at the table, shelling the same load of peas she’d been working on earlier in the day. McNeil looked around expectantly.
“Is Captain Poldark in?”
“I’m afraid he is not, Captain. He is away to Trenwith this evening to visit his cousin.”
McNeil raised his eyebrows at this, narrowing his eyes quickly as the two men behind him stood guard like a pair of stone gargoyles.
“An informal call at this hour?”
“I’m afraid Francis has been taken ill and Ross thought it best to pay a call to ask after his health. He is, after all, Ross’ partner in the mine. May I enquire as to the nature of your call?”
Her smile was easy and McNeil was thrown off a little, surveying Elizabeth standing elegantly with her hands clasped in front of her, every inch the lady. The room around her was almost bare, barely a table and chair in view and he knew of the difficult financial situation they were in, but Elizabeth showed no signs of distress or burden. She smiled at him as if she were standing in the lobby of a grand mansion, waiting for him to answer her question. Suddenly he was slightly embarrassed at having to respond.
“I’m afraid I have received news that smugglers intend to use your cove for their illicit activities tonight so I thought it wise to attend on your safety. And you did not go with your husband?”
Elizabeth blinked once or twice at McNeil’s weak excuse for barging in and evidently intrusive question, hardened her gaze, looking him in the eye.
“I have a child, Captain, I hardly thought it wise to leave him. Besides I can scarce find time to pay calls with the effort required to maintain our home. I appreciate the thought, Captain, but my husband shall arrive any time now and save you the trouble. Is your force not best disposed at the cove itself? I should hate to see such activities taking place on our land.”
“I’m afraid this is for your safety and the guard shall stay until the matter has been dealt with. I must to the beach, but shall return once the ordeal is over. Good evening, madam.”
“Should you leave without taking refreshment, Captain? Perhaps a glass of whisky or even some tea to warm you?”
He turned as Elizabeth gestured to the sideboard and paused a little, eyeing Ross’ decanter.
“Perhaps some tea. ‘Tis bitterly cold, you know, madam.”
His voice had eased a little as she stepped back into the centre of the room and Elizabeth matched it with an easy smile, walking quietly and carefully into the kitchen to begin the process of brewing the tea. She knew the longer she kept him here, the more likely he was to leave and take his soldiers with him rather than stationing them here for an indefinite amount of time. She gritted her teeth as she pulled the only fine China they had left out of the cupboard. Ross would surely be back soon and she hoped to get them out of here before then but her legs had begun to ache and her back hurt. Her hands were raw from dragging the harsh fabric of the sacks and her shoulders throbbed with the effort. She could keep up the pretense forever but it was gnawing at her now. The amount of focus required made her head begin to twinge and once the tea was done, she walked in to hand it to McNeil, only to find his back turned as he spoke to his fellow men.
“And send two to Trenwith, as quick as you can.”
Elizabeth froze as she caught a snatch of the conversation before McNeil turned around, thanking her and taking the cup and saucer she was offering. He sat down in front of the fire and said something which Elizabeth barely heard, her breathing suddenly becoming erratic as she flicked her eyes between McNeil and the soldiers he had just sent to Trenwith. She couldn’t stop them without arousing suspicion or send anyone to Trenwith to warn them and suddenly, she felt slightly helpless. She didn’t know where Ross was and she knew it would take the soldiers all of five minutes to ride hard to Trenwith and instantly spot any disturbance. Images of the court house and Ross in the dock swam in front of her again and she raised her hand to her stomach, clenching it tight, fisting her hand in the cotton of her dress to try to stop herself from breathing too loudly.
“Is everything quite alright, Mistress Poldark?”
McNeil’s sharp Scottish brogue cut into her thoughts and she turned suddenly, forcing a smile and willing some colour back into her rapidly paling cheeks.
“Of course, Captain. Would you take something with your tea? Biscuits, perhaps?”
“No, thank you. And how is your son? I regret I could not attend the christening.”
“He is well, thank you,” she said with an accommodating smile, walking over to Valentine’s crib to rock it softly as he slept, “he is our joy.”
McNeil smiled back and finished his tea, setting the saucer politely on the table before standing up to resume his duties, staring observantly out of the window. The sight of him with his back turned unnerved Elizabeth as she sat down near Valentine’s crib to preoccupy herself with rocking her already sleeping son. The only time she’d seen a red uniform in this house had been when Ross had worn it on the day of their wedding and brought her back to Nampara as a newlywed bride. She looked down instead at the worn lace blanket swaddled around their son, childishly wanting to retain happy memories of a red uniform.
Time had passed and Ross was still not yet back. The very thought made her bite her lip so hard she feared she would taste blood. Feeling powerless wasn’t an emotion that was new to her, in fact, she knew it very well but she hated feeling it. Especially when it came to Ross. She was used to putting all resources at her disposal to aid Ross, specifically now that they had come upon such difficult circumstances. She had sworn to support him to the best of her ability, to support his every venture and since George had called in their debts, they had both fallen into survival mode, doing anything and everything they could to stay afloat, to keep their heads above water and most importantly, to keep their son fed and safe and warm. She had worked hard with Ross to get their affairs in order, to make decisions that would secure the future of their finances even if they involved a small amount of risk. But this was something else altogether and she instantly regretted not voicing more displeasure to the idea when Ross had first aired it.
She looked out of the window too, where McNeil was standing and strained her eyes as if they could see through the darkness. The silence drummed at her ears incessantly and even the sound of her own breathing tortured her. She rocked the crib robotically, flicking her eyes from her son back to the window, not daring to think of the state Ross was in. She had been so happy to see him at the cove but now she began to fear that was the last sight she’d ever have of him until he was dragged into the dock in front of her while she watched from the sidelines. The thought made her wrench her eyes shut tightly, inclining her head to look down so McNeil couldn’t see how her delicate features scrunched as she tried to hold herself in. Seeing him go to trial again was something she wasn’t sure she could take, not now that Valentine was here. Even if they had no children, the prospect of Ross being taken away from her made her eyes burn and she found herself shivering suddenly, but not from the cold.
“Captain McNeil, it’s good to see you. To what pleasure do I owe this visit?”
Both Elizabeth and McNeil turned to stare at none other than Ross, who had stepped easily into the room like he’d been in the house all along, removing his hat as he smiled jovially at McNeil, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Elizabeth’s knuckles paled against the crib and she breathed in and out measuredly, doing all she could not to throw herself at her husband and squeeze him for dear life. She wanted nothing more than to feel him in her arms, feel his arms around her, feel him safe and warm and home and already, she was fighting the smile of pure adoration that washed over her face when she saw him. Composing herself with some difficulty, she watched as Ross smiled easily at her, his own jaw tightening as he wished he could take his wife in his arms and be done with the pretense. His entire body ached from the exertion of the evening and a fresh set of clothes hadn’t changed that, but the touch of his wife’s hand would. She locked eyes with him joyfully, unable to hide her relief as something almost painful welled up in her throat. She excused herself to the kitchen to fetch Ross a glass of port as he looked after her with a small smile.
“It was a light fever, suffice to say it’s broken,” he replied easily, turning back to McNeil as he pestered him with irrelevant questions, “folk who live at Trenwith seem to be less hardy than ourselves.”
“Indeed. As I informed your wife, we have reason to suspect that smugglers will be using your cove tonight therefore I thought it best to station a guard here in case of any unrest.”
His words tripped easily from his lips in his Scottish lilt, making Ross hold his gaze levelly. McNeil held it with the same intensity, as if the two men were trying to burn each other with their eyes. Ross smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes.
“Very kind of you. There’s no need for a guard now that I’m here.”
McNeil opened his mouth to reply, but thought the better of it, looking Ross up and down quickly. His clothes and boots were dry and none of his officers had returned to tell him they’d found any disturbance at Trenwith. There were no grounds to stay here and it was late.
Once Ross had finished showing him out, he turned and strode back into the living room, tossing his hat on the table. His arms tightened painfully around Elizabeth as she threw herself at him, burying her face in his shoulder as he in turn nestled his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her soft curls and breathing in that sweet fragrance until he was shaking. The dull ache throbbing across his body crumbled away as he held her tight, needing to feel her there, present, real and solid in his arms. She squeezed her eyes shut as she threw her arms around his neck, holding him like he was about to be torn away from her any second, her hands fisting bunches of his coat desperately until her fingertips hurt. All she wanted was him, to feel him against her, under her hands, to know he was here with her and nowhere else. She felt his hands claw similarly at her waist, even though the coarse fabric, the corset, she could feel him holding onto her for dear life and she never wanted to let go of that feeling. To know that he needed and wanted her as much as she did him, it made her chest ache as she pulled away, taking his face tenderly in her hands.
“Ross, I feared that you—“
“I know,” he murmured, cutting her off calmly as he pressed his forehead against hers, his hands still tight around her waist as if he was afraid to let her go. Elizabeth let his low, deep voice flow over her slowly, relaxing her enough to close her eyes and rest her forehead against his too, her hands brushing lightly over his upper arms to steady herself. Her touch heated wherever it fell and radiated a warmth he felt deep in his body, soothing the soreness and tightness in his muscles all at once. He tried to find the words but his voice came out deep and hoarse.
“When I was at war,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over her lips like a kiss, “I would close my eyes like this, and remember a time where you were perfect to me. And I came home to find you even more perfect than I could ever have imagined. You have given me things I never thought you could, my love.”
She gripped his coat tighter, unable to open her eyes for fear that the tears that had gathered there would never stop flowing. There was no reason to cry, Ross was here and he was safe but inexplicably, her breath shook as she inhaled and exhaled deeply and slowly, holding on to him as if he could ground her, centre her somehow. Ross’ softened as he saw her fight not to cry as she had done so many times before and this time took her face in his hands. She shivered as she felt his callused but warm hands on her cheeks, cupping her jaw lightly to lift her face to look at him. As soon as her eyes opened, she felt the tears flood down her cheeks soundlessly.
“And here I am, at home with my wife and my son,” he whispered, using his thumbs to gently brush away the warm, fresh tears, “and despite all my troubles, there could scarce be a luckier man than I.”
She smiled then, meeting his soft gaze with one of her own. It was moments like this that she lived for, waited for. Moments of stillness and softness amongst the chaos, moments like this that would warm the room around them and truly make it feel like home. Ross’ smiled automatically at her smile, he never could help himself. Smiles like this, warm and full of love, had been rare and beautiful from her when she’d first arrived at Nampara and sometimes he had to remind her it was okay to feel, to cry when things hurt, to smile when they didn’t. She had begun with small, shy smiles, the polite smiles she was used to, yet simply Ross’ presence would make her break out into a large and joyful smile she could never control. He’d laugh at the way she embarrassed herself and looked flustered when he caught her staring, and even now, he couldn’t resist.
“I see my wife has become a free trader. I shall have to ask Trencrom to give you a cut of the profits.”
Elizabeth’s features twisted delicately into the mock frown she always wore when Ross would tease her and he couldn’t resist stepping back to fold his arms, viewing her expectantly as he fought laughter.
“If you do, I shall accidentally dye all your shirts pink. You only have two left.”
Ross froze as he observed his wife. She spoke in her usual smooth, composed manner and was blinking at him nonchalantly while threatening him with making a spectacle of himself. She could be cruel sometimes.
“Wait, Elizabeth, you wouldn’t, would you?” he clarified, furrowing his brows, unable to tell whether she was teasing or not.
“Goodness knows what I could do now,” she replied easily, turning to walk calmly to the kitchen, “I am a free trader after all!”
Ross broke out into a wide grin as he followed her, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch her. The Elizabeth he’d met when he’d come back from war wasn’t the Elizabeth he saw before him now. Something had taken her from him, moulded her like clay into an unrecognisable shell of her former self when he’d seen her after all that time. Everything she was had become buried under something new, alien and she herself was becoming crushed with the weight of it. Yet it seemed like simply by making her his wife, giving her the certainty of his presence, he’d removed that load from her piece by piece, bringing her back to him bit by bit. Circumstances had changed them both and he didn’t have to delve too deep into his thoughts to remember how angry he was with himself for reducing them both to this, especially when he knew how hard it had been for her to adjust to begin with even when they had everything he’d been used to.
But adjust she had, more than anything he could ever have dreamed. She swept past him to lift Valentine carefully from his crib as Ross watched, the fire blazing behind her, casting a soft glow over the four walls. Elizabeth carried Valentine slowly around the room and began to carefully blow out each candle in preparation for sleep and Ross smiled, his eyelids heavy and warm as he revelled in watching his wife complete this simple task. He would stand and watch her do it every night; it soothed him for some reason, the methodical, slow progress of it, the way she’d purse her lips ever so slightly and blow ever so gently to extinguish the flame that seemed to bend to her will and vanish in an instant. The way she moved, so slowly and purposefully, so graciously and elegantly, it felt so out of place in a house so sparse and poor. Her ladylike graces weren’t meant for a place like this, he knew that, but he also knew she was meant to be with him and her home was wherever he was. The calm and quiet that had fallen on Nampara since she’d arrived was new to him, good for him, a man who had a reckless and turbulent mind at the best of times. His body ached from the day’s exertions and he barely believed that he’d made it back here. Here wasn’t much, he thought, casting his eyes around the meagre comfort of the property’s largest room. But here was home. Here was Nampara and Elizabeth and Valentine, and home.