Demelza Poldark (
letitbetrue) wrote2016-05-05 03:06 pm
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(june)
It's far too early for the baby to come. Far too early, but it's the middle of the night and Demelza is awake with a pain all the same.
It had begun several hours earlier, before they had even gone to bed, but she hadn't mentioned it to Ross then, seeing little reason to worry him. She had fallen asleep easily enough, as she usually does when Ross is beside her, but they'd woken her an hour ago, the pain coming in waves through her belly, and she had pressed her fingers down gently on the baby and willed him or her to move.
But the baby was still.
Demelza knows that's no reason to worry, that the baby won't always be moving, and yet there is panic beginning to claw at the back of her throat. Something is wrong. There's a terrible voice hissing low in the back of her mind, telling her she's going to suffer some horrible loss here tonight. Something is very wrong. Wake Ross.
Eventually she can no longer stand it and she sits on the edge of their bed and gently shakes Ross's shoulder.
"Ross," she whispers. "I've a pain."
It had begun several hours earlier, before they had even gone to bed, but she hadn't mentioned it to Ross then, seeing little reason to worry him. She had fallen asleep easily enough, as she usually does when Ross is beside her, but they'd woken her an hour ago, the pain coming in waves through her belly, and she had pressed her fingers down gently on the baby and willed him or her to move.
But the baby was still.
Demelza knows that's no reason to worry, that the baby won't always be moving, and yet there is panic beginning to claw at the back of her throat. Something is wrong. There's a terrible voice hissing low in the back of her mind, telling her she's going to suffer some horrible loss here tonight. Something is very wrong. Wake Ross.
Eventually she can no longer stand it and she sits on the edge of their bed and gently shakes Ross's shoulder.
"Ross," she whispers. "I've a pain."
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Before Julia had gotten sick, it'd been little Geoffrey Charles, and Ross has never been a religious man but he remembers thanking God his own daughter had been spared. Until she hadn't been.
The worst isn't supposed to happen to his family, especially not now that they're here, in a place that provides them with so many resources they'd been lacking at home. Times may be different, there still may be parts of this modern world they're still adjusting to, but by and large, Ross thinks they're better off being here than Cornwall. Simply for the sake of his wife and daughter's health, he's content to stay here forever, as long as he never has to go back to a life without his two greatest loves in it. Three, now.
"You'll be fine. So will our Jeremy, our Verity, our little boy or girl. You'll both be just fine." He softens at the sight of just how exhausted his wife seems, reaching out with his free hand to brush damp curls behind her ear. "Rest a bit here, I'm going to check on Julia and make you some tea, then we'll get you right back to bed. No argument."
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"Yes, Ross," she agrees, smiling tiredly at him. Perhaps she's not the wife he's envisioned for himself and she knows for certain she's not the one his family would have chosen, but this is where they are all the same. And in a world where he could have left her to fend for herself, he's chosen to continue to love her, to build a family with her, and she'll be grateful to that and to him for as long as she lives. She isn't afraid that he won't love this baby or that he'll feel cheated into it, not when she knows how much he loves Julia. Their family is going to grow and she suspects Ross Poldark's heart will grow with it.
"The tea is in the cupboard behind the bread," she tells him. "And the kettle is just under the sink." He spends so little time in the kitchen and it isn't that he's incapable, but that Demelza feels it her territory, much in the way the mines had been his. He does his best, as she's sure he'll do now, but a little part of her wants to get out of the water and help him, even though she's said she'll stay here and rest. So she does, her fingers clasped lightly around her belly.
"Ross?" she calls out after a moment. "Are you well enough?"
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The same will be true, too, of their second child when he or she is welcomed into the world. He can only laugh to himself when he hears Demelza call for him, checking on him, as if brewing a kettle is far too much trouble for him. While it's true he doesn't do much in the way of cooking, Ross does know how to boil water, and he doesn't bother to answer Demelza because he thinks his silence will likely speak for itself.
When he carries the finished cup of tea back into the bathroom, he lets out a heavy sigh, one that's clearly teasing. "Well enough, indeed," he tells her. "You'd think I'd volunteered to bake you a pie. That, I may have had trouble with but fortunately, I've managed to heat water without incident."
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"The kitchen is my place, not yours," she says, taking the tea from him and sipping it thoughtfully, quiet for a moment. "I know a fair few people in Darrow would be upset with me for saying that. D'you know I've read a lot about feminism at the library and it do make a good deal of sense to me, that men and women should be equal, for it's not women who are always the ones making the mistakes of those with lesser intellect." No, that's something she thinks is simply a human trait. Everyone is rather dumb now and then, some more often than others, and it isn't that women are more prone to it at all, though she's sure a few men of their time would argue such things.
"It's only that I like bein' in the kitchen," she says. "And I think they would argue that I like it because I were never given any other options and oh, maybe they're right, Ross, but I do still like it either way. And shouldn't I be allowed to do what I like?"
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Letting his wife do the cooking is one of them, and he doubts Demelza has complaints about that. In his own defense, he does occasionally bring home takeaway when Demelza is feeling unwell or overly worked. There's no need to learn how to prepare a dish when he can resort to that instead.
"As long as you're not getting into trouble, you're always free to do what you'd like," Ross tells her, leaning over to press a kiss to her hair, though he does fix her with mock sternness when he pulls back. "That includes trying to start fights with men who are cruel to your dog, mind, among many other things that I'm sure you won't need me to list." He arches a brow, a smirk playing a the corner of his mouth. "The fights are my job. And I'm allowed to do what I like, as well, am I not?"
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"No, Ross, when the baby comes and I'm brave enough again, I can't promise I won't get into any fights. Tis only that some men deserve a thrashing and sometimes it's only I that can give it to 'em. What if I-" She has to cut herself off, stifling a yawn against her first, and it only strikes her than that it's the middle of the night and Ross has to work early.
"I'll save half of 'em for you," she says, then sets her tea aside and holds out her hand. "Help me up, I should dry myself off and let you return to bed. It's late and you've work in the morning." She'll be awake awhile yet, but she knows Ross needs to sleep or he'll be quite grumpy with his students in the morning and she'd not like to be carrying that on her shoulders as having been the cause.