Ross Confesses
(I'm sure that this will not be a popular story, but I needed to get it off my chest and out of my mind.)
"Tis not my pride that is wounded, Ross," she said bitterly. "Tis my pride in you."
He nodded; he could not bring himself to disagree with this assessment. and at first, turned to go, but came back. He sat on the chair next to the bed. "Demelza….." He covered his face with his hands.
She started to weaken, feeling the pull of the habits of their marriage, to comfort Ross. But she refrained; her own pain was too strong.
"What?" she said.
"Dememlza, you have no idea how far I really have fallen," he muttered."What kind of man I am….have become."
"Worse than I think?"
"Yes, worse. Much worse." He longed for her help in confessing, but she held herself back.
"Yes?" she asked.
"What I did,….It was bad enough to betray you. But I….."
"What, Ross?"
"When I went to Trenwith, it was not with love, or passion, or even lust. It was rage. I kicked a door open! And then…"
She looked at him, but he could not meet her eyes. "And then?" she repeated.
"I forced her. She tried to make me stop." His voice filled with self-loathing.
Demelza put her cup down, her hands shaking, her head pounding. "You raped her?"
He nodded, but could not meet her eyes. "I think that describes it."
She could scarcely believe what she had heard.. Ross, the man she thought she knew better than anyone, the man she'd loved and admired for so long, that man would not force himself on a woman. He would not rape. But she knew the rage that could overwhelm him, and no one stoked that rage more than George Warleggan. So she believed him, to a point. "But you stayed the night," she said, the bitterness rising in her throat.
"I feigned sleep, " he said. "I was so ashamed, and I thought if I left, it would make what I had done even worse."
"You didn't stay to make a softer love to her?"
"No!" he said, finally looking at her. "I never touched her again, though she….."
"She wanted you to," she said, feeling disgust with him and for Elizabeth.
"I think so. But all I wanted was to flee. To come home, to come back to you, to explain….." He came closer, leaned his head on the bed, not far from her hand, the one that had sent him reeling. She itched to strike him again.
"So she is waiting for you to return?"
"I don't know," he said. "But I will not. I cannot. Oh, Demelza, what will it take for you to forgive me?"
"I don't know, Ross. But what will it take for you to forgive yourself?"
He wished he knew the answer.