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practice,
ross

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It takes Demelza less than five minutes to discover and understand the electricity in their apartment.

By the time they've made their way to the train station to retrieve the packages left for them -- Demelza spends the better part of their walk showing Ross the various items in hers, trying to understand what they might mean -- and then to the room assigned to them, the sun has set behind the large buildings she has yet to suss out the purpose of. It's dark when they enter and she fumbles for a candle only to realize there are none.

For a moment she simply stands there, her package held in one trembling hand, then she reaches out for the wall so that she might feel her way around the room. Her fingers encounter the switch by accident and when she touches it, her curiosity increases to the point where she cannot resist.

Gently, with great caution, she jiggles the switch gently, then moves it up in the way it seems to encounter the least resistance.

And the room is flooded with light.

For a moment she's stunned to silence and then she turns to her husband, her eyes wide and her lips parted. "Oh, Ross," she says, as if the light itself were a gift from God. There are no candles in the room, nothing with which to light their way but for the instruments on the ceiling and she peers up at them, blinking as the light stings her eyes, trying to understand how it is they can chase away all the shadows in the room from just a single point.

She remembers Nampara, the dark corners even a great number of candles could not reach entirely.

"Do 'ee see? The light's been harnessed," she tells him, pointing up at it. Her fear and her trepidation have been all but forgotten in the face of such an invention. "I know not how they done it, but it's brighter than all the candles at Nampara." She grins then, bright and faintly mischievous. "Brighter than all the candles at Trenwith."

The rest of the room seems none too impressive and she frowns after a moment of exploring. "Tis terrible plain, isn't it?" she asks, letting her fingers wandering over the light wood of a table. It's too smooth, too bright to be natural and she finds herself missing the old, heavy table in the kitchen at Nampara. The homesickness comes upon her in a wave and she blinks a few times, trying desperately hard to clear the tears before Ross sees them.

She should consider herself lucky, she thinks. To be here with Ross and their daughter, who has remained quiet in his arms all this time. To have been separated and brought to such a strange place as this would be far worse a punishment than just to be sick for home.

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"Tis not without its charm, I suppose," she agrees as he wraps his arm around her waist and she leans close to drop a kiss to Julia's soft, downy hair. If nothing else, Ross and her daughter are terribly familiar and as strange as it feels not to turn around and see Prudie or Jinny working away in the kitchen -- Jinny working and Prudie complaining, more likely -- she knows it's luck she's not found herself alone. The strangers will to help them upon their arrival had commented on the unusual nature of them arriving together and she thinks they ought to count their blessings if what they've been told is true.

"Though not as grand as Trenwith, I got no doubt the three of us can make do. We've no need for countless rooms and fancy tapestries, do we, my love? There's only just the three of us and I should not look forward to the day your papa asks me not to share his bed," she teases, reaching for Julia and taking her from Ross' arms. As she leans in to kiss him again, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth, Julia wraps her hands in the ends of Demelza's hair and tugs, not hard, just enough to get her attention and Demelza pulls back and smiles widely at their daughter.

No such day will ever come. There was a time, perhaps, when she hadn't been certain of Ross or his affections. She'd thought he must like her and find her desirable, but the thought that he truly loved her had seemed impossible. And yet they're here. And he does.

"Ross?" she asks, pointing at the strange looking box in the room. "What is it? Looks terrible funny, don't it?" She's not sure she trusts it, but she also can't deny she's interested in what it might do and she crosses the room to study it closer. There's a small round place near the bottom corner, raised up off the surface and she looks at it curiously for a moment before she reaches out and presses it.

"Do not listen to your mother, Julia," Ross says, a small smirk forming over his features, "I shouldn't even justify it with a response but to tell you that it could never be true." In spite of his words, he fondly rolls his eyes at the very notion that he could ever want to spend another night in bed on his own, and not only because he's grown so used to Demelza's presence beside him.

He'd lain with Margaret before he had his wife and he'd lain with other still long before Demelza had entered into his life. As a boy, he'd been a bit of a rogue until he'd met Elizabeth but by then, Ross had found himself rooted in so much trouble that he'd made the decision to join the war. In many ways, that had been the best decision of his life because while he'd lost his first love, Ross had then been gifted with his true two. Demelza and Julia, the only people in his life that Ross could no longer live without, and he watches them now as Demelza steps closer to the box he'd observed earlier with an affection that will be forever unmatched.

He very nearly tells her to practice more caution before Demelza reaches out to press her finger against the box and in the second before the dark mirror attached to it flickers to life, Ross lets out an exasperated sigh. "Demelza, we've no idea what some of these things may do, I beg of you to wait at least until--"

It is the sound of voices not their own that interrupts him, and Ross' eyes widen when he realizes they're coming from the box Demelza has just touched. He blinks dumbly at what had once been nothing but a black window, not bursting with color and the image of folk in a home that vaguely resembles their new dwellings. Laughter sounds from the box, though nobody he can see within its confines seems to be laughing along with it, and Ross knits his brow as he steps closer.

"I must admit," he says, his gaze flickering between the box and his wife and child, "I do wish I had a bit of brandy at this moment. This is as mystifying as any number of Aunt Agatha's supposed premonitions."

For her part, Julia seems mostly uninterested in what's been happening around her, content enough to be pressed to Demelza's shoulder. She has some of her mother's hair wrapped around one fist, the other pressed into her mouth where she's chewing furiously, no doubt due to a new tooth, but Demelza barely notices this, her eyes wide as she leans closer to the display.

There are people. Not dressed as they, but as those they'd met in the street. Talking funny, too, like the folks they'd seen, the kind ones who'd helped them find their way. The burst of laughter startles her and she jerks back only to press closer again, her nose nearly up against the box. This close the picture distorts and Demelza blinks furiously before she sits back again and looks at Ross, clearly mystified. Julia continues to chew on her fist, but she looks up at Ross, too, as if expecting him to explain.

"Twould be run out of Truro as witchcraft," she says, but it draws her gaze again and though she doesn't thinks she understands the humour of it, she laughs anyway. "Is this their version of the players, Ross? A convenience to be able to turn them on and off as desired. Mostly off, I would expect." Her voice is uncharacteristically prim, the voice she uses when she knows she ought not to say what she's thinking. But perhaps her opinion of the players has been a bit coloured by her experiences with Keren Daniels and the expression she's wearing says she knows it.

His wife is right in her estimation, that the strange box with the folk moving inside would in no possible way be accepted as something commonplace anywhere in Cornwall, but it had become increasingly evident from the moment they'd arrived in Darrow that this is not a place comparable to home.

"Have a care, my love," Ross says, taking a step back to lower himself on what seems to be much like a divan, though this one with arms on each end and a material that feels much cheaper to the touch than that which would be found in Trenwith. Demelza had never expressed a desire for such a thing as that in their own home, but Ross would have found a way to get it to her if she had. He supposes he should be grateful now that someone has gifted his wife with furniture of their own accord, as he's quite certain he could not afford it himself at present.

"If you were to say such a thing to anyone else, there's no knowing who you might offend," he continues, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. It's one of Demelza's many talents, putting people in their place when they most deserve it, and there's no doubt in his mind that she speaks of Keren when she expresses her distaste for the players. In spite of his personal feelings for the woman, she is still wife to a friend and so, Ross refrains from adding any remarks on Keren (or her profession) of his own.

"Twouldn't be proper," she agrees, but she's still smiling as she says it, for whatever else might be queer about the situation in which they've found themselves, as least she has Ross and Julia. There are far worse things she might withstand for the love of her family, hardships she'd be willing to endure so long as they were there waiting for her at the end of it all. She presses the small circle again and the picture on the box disappears again, leaving the room quiet once more but for Julia's soft noises of pleasure as she tugs Demelza's hair and gnaws on her fist.

She rises and crosses to where her husband is sitting, setting Julia down beside him. She makes a sound around her fingers that isn't yet a word, but Demelza knows they'll be coming soon and she'll be well spoken like her father, something she still struggles with herself. She's no lady and maybe here it won't be such a matter. Maybe here no one will care.

"Did you see the women wearing trousers?" she asks, moving across the room to the window. The glass is strong and when she taps on it, she can tell it's not as thick as the glass in the windows at Trenwith, but somehow it seems safer. Like she might throw something at it and not yet break it. Things aren't so different here that she feels like it might be impossible to settle, but they're different enough that she's distracted, fascinated by the changes. "And no one speaks like we do, Ross. Their words are all different, but not so different that I can't understand 'em. Did 'ee notice that?"

They don't speak like any lower class she's ever known, but they don't speak like the upper class either. Demelza has spent years trying to alter the way she speaks so that she stands out less when they attend balls or visit Trenwith, but the folks in Darrow speak different still. She'll have to listen to them more before trying it out on her own.

Edited 2015-08-06 15:37 (UTC)

"I noticed," Ross answers plainly, watching his wife from where he sits and smiling softly when Julia turns her head, reaches for him as she's only begun to do when she craves the attention of both her parents. There's no part of his heart willing to deny his daughter that so he stands then, reaching his two loves in a matter of a few strides until he's close enough to rest his hand on the small of Demelza's back and press a tender kiss atop Julia's head. The baby makes a pleased gurgling sound, and Ross gazes down at her with the same sort of awe he knows he could lose himself in for hours at a time each day.

This isn't Nampara, it isn't the home he's known for most of his life, but he supposes that being here with Demelza and Julia is what will make settling in Darrow an acceptable change, if there truly is no option to leave, as they've already been told. He still isn't certain that he can allow himself to wrap his mind around the inability to escape the confines of this place, and he already wishes to find himself a steed as trustworthy as his Seamus to explore the edges of the town so that he might prove to himself what he does not want to believe; but for now, he wants to take at least a few precious moments to appreciate that his wife and daughter have not been taken from him; or that he had not been taken from them.

"I noticed," he says again, "but I promise you, we will find our way. We'll learn their words and if you want to wear trousers, by god, I will find you trousers."

Ross arches his brow just slightly in amusement at the thought of his wife walking through the streets in breeches with Julia on her hip, but he finds that he can hardly imagine it; still, if it's what she wants, she will have it because Ross never wants his wife to want for anything.

"As long as we're together, all will be well. I will do everything I can to ensure that."

"I would like trousers," she says after considering it for a moment. "They're that comfortable, Ross, especially the ones I'd steal from my brothers." He has to remember that, the way he'd found her that first day in Truro, covered in grime and dirt and crawlers as he did tend to put it, dressed in her brothers' clothes, bits stolen from one and bits stolen from another, her hair all wrapped up so as to hide she was a girl. It seems such a long time ago and yet she knows scarcely any time has passed at all. Four years is almost nothing, not when she'd gone sixteen without ever having known Ross Poldark.

And maybe she wouldn't wear them all the time, but she can see how they'd be useful for physical tasks, something she doesn't yet understand she can give up. There's no working in the fields here in Darrow, no animals to tend to, no garden to plant and weed and harvest. All the changes haven't yet caught up to Demelza and for now she's focused on what she can see, the most obvious things that will change their lives immediately. This apartment, for one, with its small kitchen and strange box of players. The furniture is odd, too, and she frowns briefly, then steps away from Ross after giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Is this meant to be for Julia?" she asks, calling down the hall to him. She's opened the door to one of the bedrooms and has found something that looks somewhat like a cot but for the bars surrounding it. "Are we to cage her? Like a prisoner?"

Ross gives his wife a pointed look at that statement, though the sternness dissolves into amusement. "There'll be no need for you to steal trousers from anyone here, Demelza, let us be clear about that from the start," he says, his tone well indicative of his intent to tease. Though certain aspects of her demeanor and spirit have very much remained the same in that they're vibrant as ever, Demelza has changed a great deal since that first day he'd mistaken her for a young boy in Truro. He'd regretted getting involved with her and her godforsaken Garrick once he'd realized his mistake, but it would be apparent to all who know him that he, too, has undergone a great deal of change.

He actually misses that dog, for one. Ross isn't sure how much more evidence of change one would even need based on that alone.

When Demelza wanders down the hall of their new home, Ross takes a moment to look out the window at the sights that are nothing like that of the vast fields of Nampara. He longs for the openness of their old home, the longing for adventure that it'd always inspired in him as a boy, and there's no helping the frown that tugs the corners of his mouth downward as he observes the folk meandering up and down the road in front of Dimera, many of them engrossed in what they've been told are called cell phones, though he hasn't bothered to examine the ones they'd been provided in their package quite yet.

Turning away from the window at the sound of Demelza's voice, he follows her into another room, arching a brow at what appears, indeed, to be a bed for their child, though he chuckles at Demelza's assessment of it. "Not a prisoner, my love," he says, already having determined what the bars are meant for, and he takes Julia back into his arms so he can walk toward the cot and set the baby down onto it. Julia looks around at her new surroundings, her expression perplexed, before her eyes find her father's again, and Ross bites back a laugh as he glances over his shoulder at his wife. "You see? This way, there's no risk of her falling."

"There'd be no risk of her falling if the cot were just closer to the floor like the one we have at home," she answers, her nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of their baby in such a cage. The purpose is understood well enough, but there are things she quite likes about this place -- the lights, for one -- and things she will decide quite quickly she doesn't. For all that Ross claims the Poldarks are strong in their likes and dislikes, Demelza is equally as capable of harsh and immediate judgments. And at the moment she does not like this barred cot.

"She'll bite her way straight through with the teeth she's growing anyway," she adds, reaching back into the strange bed so pull Julia back into her arms. The little girl goes without complaint, her wide eyes still on her father and Demelza has wondered something terrible if she'll be just like him. Prone to moods and use of few words to explain herself. It'd be quite the stroke of luck to be in a house with two of them, she thinks, then has to hide her smile at the thought. She's learned Ross' moods, she thinks she'll do well to learn Julia's as well.

"Can we go out again, Ross?" she asks, turning to look at him. The light is getting low, but unlike Cornwall, there seems to be little risk of riots or looting. If she looks out the window now she's sure she'll see countless women on the street, most of them without chaperones, which leads her to believe Darrow doesn't work the same way Cornwall did. That maybe it won't be such a terrible thing for a woman to be out alone without a friend or her husband. That they can go where they wish even after the sun goes down.

Demelza takes Julia from the barred cot as if saving her from a fire, and Ross can't help but arch a brow at her in his amusement. While neither of them have ever been especially opposed to change, already having grown used to the whirlwinds of life's gifts and misgivings, he finds it decidedly peculiar that his wife has taken an immediate disliking to what is meant to be Julia's new sleeping quarters. He suspects a great deal of that to have to do with the idea of having their child in an entirely different room, very much unlike the way they'd slept with Julia close to them at Nampara, and it's with that in mind that he softens a bit.

His wife may like to think that it's she who's learned him best, but Ross takes a certain pleasure in refraining from pointing out that he's been learning, too.

"I'm certain I can find a cot more suitable," he tells Demelza, gently soothing his hand up and down her back before cooing at their little daughter. Julia's expression brightens with the sort of sudden, infectious smile that Ross has only ever seen on a child, though he wouldn't hesitate to argue that their child's is the most joyous, and he can't help but laugh as Julia lets out an excitable gurgle before reaching out her fist toward him and shaking it. Ross takes the baby's hand in his, returning his focus to Demelza as he straightens his posture and gives her a reassuring smile. "Until we do, I'll move this one into the larger room with the bed meant for the two of us. That'll do for a little while, won't it, my love?"

The question of going back out doesn't surprise him in the slightest, and he's already guiding Demelza out of the room and out of sight of the apparently wretched excuse for Julia's cot so that his wife has something else to occupy her mind. "I wouldn't dare deny such a request," he says, walking toward the door they'd entered through and glancing over his shoulder just to make sure everything looks as if it's remained untouched. It's theirs, they've been told this, but there's still a bit of paranoia that plagues him, as if they might return to find the place never existed at all. If that means they'll be returned to Nampara, Ross wouldn't deign to stop it from happening; but if they're going to remain in this Darrow, he wants to know that there will be a permanent roof over his wife and daughter's heads.

"Come now," he says, ushering Demelza and Julia out the door, "there's surely much to see."

And he's right on that count.

It isn't long before Demelza has unloaded Julia into his arms, distracted by all that's going on around them. It isn't as packed as the streets of Truro could get now and then, but for all that night is approaching, few people seem in a rush to get indoors. There must still be danger, but she feels it has to be less so if so few people seem truly worried about what they might face once the sun sets. They're carrying food and drink, some with bags Demelza tries to peer into, and the shops still glitter with lights. She's easily distracted, always has been, and passing Julia off onto Ross isn't due to not wanting to see her, but knowing herself. Knowing she'd be likely to put Julia down somewhere without thinking after catching sight of something particularly interesting.

And here everything is interesting. One store seems to have nothing inside but boxes like that she'd seen in their new home and Demelza watches for a moment, fascinated by all the pictures moving across them. She turns to point them out to Ross and is instead caught by the sight of a woman wearing trousers so short that a giggle escapes Demelza before she can stop it. It isn't that she means to be rude and it's lucky the woman doesn't hear her, but she claps her hand over her mouth and looks at Ross over her fingers, her eyes wide.

When she thinks she might have control of herself, she lowers her hand and says, "What my father would have to say about that." Which is an approval from Demelza, even if she doesn't quite say the words. Her father disapproves of a lot, mostly of Demelza herself, and with the exception of Ruth, anything her father dislikes, Demelza finds herself liking. Sometimes it's out of sheer spite, but most of the time it's due to the fact that she thinks her father has invested a little too much in becoming a Methodist.

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