What was she like'

by Downtonfanfix

A story imagining Demelza died of the putrid throat instead of Julia. It portrays a scene where an almost grown up Julia asks Ross about her mother.

'What was she like?'

Just a short story supposing that Demelza died of the putrid throat instead of Julia. From Ross' POV.

I was sitting in front of the flames in my arm chair when Julia walked in. She had a teal coloured dress on that she had bought just the other day. She looked beautiful. She was growing up everyday, she was almost a woman now reminding me more and more of her mother.

She came up to me and asked 'How does it look?'

'Beautiful, you look so much like your mother.'

When Demelza had died many recommended I send her away to school or to family members so they could look after her but I had never had the heart to do so. I couldn't bare to lose them both. So maybe selfishly I kept her close by and to this day I still doubt that decision I made many years ago.

Her eyes had drop at the mention of her mother. I knew why. She was probably shocked to hear her mothers name uttered.

'Father, you never speak of her. What was she like?'

I took a deep breath. I found it hard to speak of her, my wife. It still hurt to think of her, so full of joy and so youthful.

'She loved you, she loved you so very much. Every time she looked at you I could see fear and love. Fear you would be hurt and a love, so much love.

I stopped as I felt the lump in my throat evolve. I feared if I said anymore I would get emotional and that I could not do in front of Julia.

Julia continued to look at me sorrow filling her face. I knew she deserved more. So I began telling her more ' She was a hard worker. Baking, cooking, cleaning and looking after you. Looking after me for a matter of fact. And she was always singing. Singing whilst she worked, singing whilst she rocked you to sleep even singing whist I tried to get to sleep, though I did not appreciate it quite as much as you!' I smiled at the memory but then I remember her voice, her face, her hold and tears pricked my eyes. It was why I tried not to think of her. I could not think of those happy times without feeling lost, without feeling as if I had just been stabbed in the heart.

Then I saw her, Julia looking at me. Tears were in her eyes too and I saw her need to know more. Her need to have the memories I so desperately try to forget.

I turned away from my daughter staring into the fire and once more began to speak. ' She loved flowers. She would go out early in the morning to collect them. She would put them all around the house until the place smelt beautiful. Back then we did not need flowers to make our home feel alive, it was so full of life already. She would wear the flowers in her hair and pin them to her dress.'

Then Julia spoke ' What did she look like?'

It took me a minute to know how to describe her. How do you describe a woman as beautiful and obscure as my wife. In fact her image had faded over time until all I could remember was that red hair and smile. However, I told her what details I could remember.

' She had hair much like your own. A wild red mane of flaming curls!' I joked as I touched my daughters hair.

'Stop teasing!' she exclaimed with a grin.

'She was tall and slim with green eyes' I put simply. I did not know how to put her beauty into words and what I said did her no justice.

Where some may have called her skinny I thought she was slim with the right curves in the right places. Where some saw wild ginger frizz I saw beautiful red curls. Where some saw obscurity I saw perfection. Some may have called her too outspoken, boisterous and loud but to me she a strong and confident woman who knew her own mind.

I continued to tell Julia about her mother my sadness slowly disappearing. ' Your mother was also a very witty women. Some of the things she would say, she could out talk any man. She was not the most educated person but she could wangle her way out of almost anything. She made me laugh to I continued. I never knew it possible for a woman to be so funny.'

After I had finished we both went silent staring into the flames both thinking of the fiery women who died so long ago.

She wasn't perfect but once you lose someone you love you tend to forget their flaws and only see the good that was in them. I don't remember her face clearly but what I do recall is the moments we spent together. The moments she made me laugh, the moments she made me feel loved, the moments she cared for me, the moments she gave me into trouble for doing something wrong and the day she gave me the daughter I would cherish above all else.

I look over at that young women, so like the one that gave birth to her. I am so proud of her, so pleased with her. I thank god for that child who has kept me going when it seemed all else was ruined. Just like her mother, she is so pure, so young so free. She reminds me that their is goodness in this world.

Julia then stands up and says ' Goodnight Father.'

I kiss the top of her head and wish her a goodnight. Just before she leaves the room she turns back and says ' Thank you. Thank you for telling me about her. I miss her so much despite never really knowing her.'

' I know. I miss her too.' I reply. Then she leaves and I let a solitary tear run down my face. The first in many years. I'm left staring into the fire trying to piece her image together inside my head.