Okay, so this is the same story, I just had to take down the original because there was some technical issues that I didn't notice for a while and were making it hard to continue updating.
Anyway, same story, nothing major has changed. So incredibly sorry to anyone who was following or had favorited and didn't get updated. My bad! First fic's always have bumps I would assume :(
This is going to be multi-chapter, probably pretty long considering I have no idea how it's going to end at this point... And I'm hoping to update once a week, but we'll see how well that works out.
"I make no apology for my actions. In truth, I would do the same again."
Demelza felt her heart go cold as Ross finished his impassioned speech up in the witness box. She could not deny that his intensity and fervor had painted a very vivid image of the hardships of life in poverty. He no doubt was only seeking to inspire people with the truth of the matter. But how could he be so stupid? He'd killed himself, she was sure of it.
She'd never see him again. She'd never be able to tell him of their child. She'd never wake up in his arms, or hear the soft rumble of his voice as he told her of his day at the mine. He'd be gone, and she'd be a miner's daughter once more with a hole in her heart that she was sure would never be filled again as long as she lived.
She just barely registered him, awkwardly thanking the judge as he got down from the box and walked slowly back to his seat. A soft murmur surrounded her as the court waited for Justice Lister to begin his own final statements. Someone to her left leaned over and whispered to their partner, "He'll be hung for sure, there's no way the jury will find him innocent."
"Oh, Ross," she whispered to herself as the tears flowed freely down her face.
Demelza felt Verity grip her arm as Justice Lister began to speak. "Gentlemen of the jury, this man stands accused of riot, theft, and assaulting an officer of the Crown. Your duty is to decide, beyond a reasonable doubt, if the prisoner is guilty or innocent. You may find him guilty on all three charges - or any one of them. I find it is my duty to remind you that, in law, if you are satisfied that a riot took place, you only need to be satisfied that the prisoner was involved to find him guilty as a principal. The prisoner has attempted to find mitigating circumstances in the distress generally prevailing amongst the poor. You may find this an admirable sentiment, but you would be failing in your duty if you allowed it to influence your judgment in any way. Will you now consider your verdict?" There was a pause as he addressed the jury foreman directly. "You may retire if you wish."
Demelza watched Ross hang his head and run his hands nervously over his legs. She sensed that the full weight of what he had said had finally hit him as the judge instructed the jury to disregard his speech altogether. He should have better used the time to beg for his life. At least then he would be alive.
She continued to watch him as the jury got up and fled from the room and the rest of them stood to watch them go. She had never seen Ross look so pale or nervous in all the years she'd known him.
They sat again, Ross simply staring at the table in front of him before addressing his lawyer in hushed tones that she could not hear. Whatever the man had said in return had caused Ross to look over at her, a sad, slightly apologetic, look in his eyes. She tried to look confident and encouraging, but the combination of her own suffocating dread and anxiety along with the tears streaming down her face didn't paint a very convincing image.
It only took ten minutes for the jury to return again, but for Demelza and everyone else in the room, it had seemed like a month. They all filed back into their seats as the rest of the court stood while Justice Lister came back. Everyone in the gallery sat as they waited to hear what the jury had to say.
Demelza was having a hard time breathing; it felt like her heart had dropped through the floor. The blood hammered in her ears as she twisted the fabric of her skirt roughly in her hands, searching for some way to ground herself as the Clerk addressed the Foreman of the Jury.
"Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?" He asked in rough Cornish accent.
The Foreman, looking slightly guilty, replied, "We have."
Ross's head snapped quickly in her direction, his gaze frantic, almost wild before he looked desperately over at the jury, waiting impatiently for their judgment. Demelza's emotions were sitting right in her throat, close to bursting forth in a strangled sob. She felt like she was going to vomit, or faint, or both.
"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"
"We find him..." the foreman stopped and started again. "We find him not guilty of the charges of riot and assault upon an officer of the Crown, and guilty upon the charge of wrecking."
Complete silence took over the room. No one knew exactly what had just happened. This was not the verdict any of them were expecting. The silence hung in the air like a wave, and then, broke in a cacophony of noise. Someone in the back started to yell, demanding to know what that meant, others began to cheer, while still more began to boo and hiss. The clerks gavel hammered loudly.
"If there is any further disturbance," said Justice Lister, "the courtroom will be cleared and proceedings taken against offenders." He wore a sour look and gazed intently at Ross as the room around him fell into silence.
Demelza's eyes went back and forth between Ross and the Judge so quickly that she was likely to make herself sick. What did this mean? She thought to herself. Surely there would still be a punishment, wrecking was a serious crime. Could he still be sentenced to death, or would he just be sent to jail?
It was just then that she realized that she was on her feet, Verity pulling frantically on her arm to get her to sit back down. Demelza collapsed onto the bench, her eyes never leaving Ross.
"Oh, Verity. What does this mean? What's going to happen now?" She asked in a hoarse whisper.
"I don't know, my dear," Verity answered, her voice just as cracked and emotional as Demelza's.
"Ross Vinnor Poldark," said Justice Lister, his cool eyes surveying Ross. "You have been tried on three charges by a jury of your fellow countrymen and found not guilty on two of the three charges. It only remains for me to pass sentence." His eyes flicked around the room, examining the various dumbfounded faces surrounding him before landing on Demelza for a moment. He addressed the room at large, his eyes tracking back to Ross. "However, I think I can speak for all here when I say that the verdict was an unexpected one. One wonders how the prisoner could be found innocent of riot, but guilty of wrecking, when, as he says, the traditions of the county are taken into account. Due to the unorthodox nature of this ruling there will be a sentencing hearing that will take place after a short recess. During which time, I expect both the defense and the prosecution to construct an oral statement. Jurors, I thank you for your service, you are dismissed. Court will reconvene at 4 o'clock. Bailiff, I want the courtroom cleared, the counselors may use the upstairs meeting hall for deliberation. The defendant will go with his counselor to help build his plea."
Demelza was in shock, yet a small glimmer of hope was growing inside her. If they could somehow convince the Judge, Ross may be spared from the worst and made only to suffer a stint in jail or transportation. The thought of either was enough to chill her blood, but at least she wouldn't see him hang.
Ross was staring at the judge in disbelief before his head quickly snapped in her direction. The intensity in his eyes was more telling to Demelza than anything he had done that day. He was confused, desperate, and perhaps a little afraid, but above all Demelza could see the same hope that was growing in her chest twinkling back at her from her husband's dark, soulful eyes.
Justice Lister stood and the rest of the room followed suit. He began to exit the stand when he turned, his eyes fixed on Demelza with a calculating gaze. Slowly, his eyes strayed to the Bailiff waiting patiently by the door, "Please inform Justice Jewell his services will be required. It is unlikely I will see to all my cases today."
And with that he left, his crimson robes sweeping out behind him as he climbed the stairs. Demelza looked around her as the rest of the courtroom began to empty. No one was paying her any mind, Verity was wiping her eyes and nose with a crisp white handkerchief, the jury members to her right were whispering to each other, and a sickly-looking man, dressed all in black, had made his way from the gallery and was speaking hurriedly to the prosecutor and his assistant. Following this little man's lead she practically ran from her spot towards Ross.
He saw her coming and turned just in time to catch her as she hurtled into him. "Ross!" she sobbed, wrapping her arms tightly around him, her fingers clutching tightly to his coat.
"Shh, my love," he whispered, his own arms encircling her in a vice like grip. Turning his head, he pressed kisses into her hair as the clung to each other for dear life.
"Mr. Poldark," A voice said from behind them. They separated, but just enough to look at Ross' counsel, Mr. Clymer, as he addressed them with a furrowed brow and haggard look. "I do not wish to intrude, but there isn't much time. We must go upstairs and begin planning our statement."
"Can my wife come?" Ross asked, his fingers slightly digging into Demelza's waist. Her own hands clutched at his lapels, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip.
"I'm afraid not." Claymer's tone was hurried, yet sympathetic. He did not wish to come between what could possibly be the precious last moments between husband and wife. "This is very unorthodox. Normally you would be transferred back to the prison, but seeing as we have less than an hour Mr. Poldark, I have been informed that we will be confined under lock and key until the hearing is due to start."
Ross' sharp eyes turned back to Demelza, his face full of more emotion than she'd seen in quite some time. He let go of her waist, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks as he stared deeply into her eyes. "I love you, Demelza. I know I do not say it nearly enough, but I must let you know before it is too late. You are my heart, my soul, my everything, and I thank God every day that I was fortunate enough to have met you."
His lips crashed down on her own, kissing her with so much passion and love that it almost made her dizzy. One hand moved around to the back of her head, his fingers twining themselves in the fiery curls that had escaped from updo she had managed to corral her hair into. She responded in kind, fueling the kiss with all her own love and devotion.
Had this been any other situation, they might have realized how indecent they looked, all wrapped up in each other like they were. But all either one could think, or comprehend, was that this may be the very last time they would be able hold each other.
Ross pulled back, his lips going instantly to her forehead as he closed his eyes to savor this last blissful moment. Quickly, he leaned back, his eyes roving the room frantically.
"Francis!" he yelled. Francis' eyes shot up, his wide blue gaze revealing his shock at being addressed. He quickly made his way back towards them, leaving Elizabeth, Dwight and Verity standing alone at the door.
"You told me once you had some money put by, is that correct?" Ross continued, staring at his cousin imploringly.
"Yes, some six hundred pounds." He seemed confused by the question but was more than glad that Ross was voluntarily speaking to him before it was too late.
"Look after her." The statement was somewhere between an order and a request, yet the impassioned look on Ross' face washed away any ambiguity. Francis hesitated, his eyes traveling between Ross and Demelza, who looked just as shocked as he felt. "I know we have had our differences in the past, but remember what she did for you and your family, and what we lost in return. My daughter died in your son's place. If you will not do it out of familial duty, then do it as a god damned recompense!"
"Ross," Demelza chastised, her hands going out to sooth the harshness of her tone.
"Yes, of course, Ross. You don't even need to ask." Francis answered firmly, his jaw setting in a determined way that Demelza thought made the cousins look more similar than ever before. "Demelza is family, and we Poldark's do not abandon family."
Ross stared him down, his dark eyes flashing in the dull light of the courtroom. "No," Ross replied after a beat, his eyes drifting over his cousin's shoulder to where Elizabeth and Verity continued to stand by the exit, "In the long run, we Poldark's do not abandon family. You will do well to remember that, Francis."
This struck a chord with the fair Poldark and he looked slowly between his cousin, the man he had betrayed, his cousin in law, who had risked her health and given up so much for his family, his wife, the beautiful, strong woman whom he knew he did not deserve, and finally landing on his sister, whom he had unfairly faulted for falling in love with a man he knew he had judged too harshly. Ross let go of his wife momentarily, reaching a hand out towards Francis, a silent signal that he was willing to make amends. They clasped hands tightly, Francis nodding once before letting go and beginning to back away.
"Go with him, Demelza," Ross' eyes were soft as he turned back to his wife, his fingers gently brushing wisps of flaming hair off her emotionally drawn, yet no less beautiful, face. "And eat something, you look dead on your feet."
She managed to roll her eyes at him, "I misdoubt I'll be able to keep anythin' down. Truly Ross, how am I meant to eat at a time like this?"
Ross chuckled bitterly, his attempts at keeping his mood light failing miserably. "At least try, my love."
Demelza nodded, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly before Mr. Claymer stepped up and almost forcibly separated them. "We must go Mr. Poldark. There is little time."
"I love you, Ross. Come home," Demelza said hurriedly as she felt Francis clasp her shoulder to prevent her from moving after Ross as he was led away.
"I love you too," he called back before the door was closed on him.
Demelza turned around to find that Francis had been joined by the rest of their motley crew of Poldark's, Blamey's and Enys' who had all moved forward after Ross had left.
"It will be all right, my dear. Ross will be fine," Elizabeth said, her voice strained somewhat. Demelza nodded, her gaze shifting back towards the door her husband had just disappeared behind. Somehow, she very much doubted he would be.
"Captain Ross Poldark," Justice Lister called from his stand. "You are a very popular man, with some very powerful friends."
The Justice's eyes were piercing, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he stared down at the man seated before him. Eyes still on Ross, he held out his hand and was passed a paper by a man sitting to his left.
"During our recess my chambers were bombarded with countless people who seemed to know best what punishment you deserve for the crime of wrecking. I met with none of them, seeing as I had my own deliberations to think over, yet I have been informed that more than two thirds of them were on your side." He perused the paper in front of him before handing the sheet back to the man and waving him down towards the floor. "Since these proceedings are already highly irregular I see no need to change tact now. Mr. Poldark, you are no doubt aware that wrecking is an offense that is punishable by death under what has been so kindly dubbed the Bloody Code. Currently, I am willing to follow the word of the law and pass such a sentence."
There was a collective gasp. Demelza looked anxiously between Ross, who was staring stoically ahead, and Justice Lister, who's hawk-like eyes seemed to see more than he was letting on.
"However," he began slowly, "because you have a substantial amount of support, there is clearly some circumstance concerning your character that I am not willing to overlook. I will hear from the counselors, and then from several of the names from my list which I have so kindly been provided with. From there I will make my final judgment."
"Highly irregular," whispered Mr. Claymer to Ross. "Yet we must use it to our advantage."
Ross nodded, his eyes flicking around the room, trying to think of who would be willing to speak to his good character. Were it any other circumstance, it would have warmed his heart when so many names came to mind.
"Mr. Bull," Justice Lister continued. "In brief, if you please. What sentencing do you advise?"
The tall and lanky counselor for the prosecution stood, his white wig firmly fixed atop his head without a single strand awry. "The Crown would advise the maximum sentence, if it pleases the court. We believe it would be a detriment to society, nay a danger even, if the sentence were to be anything less."
"How so?" Justice Lister's eyes narrowed, the cogs visibly turning in his head as he processed all he was hearing into a logical outcome.
"The accused has a history of jailbreaking, your honor. A one Jim Carter was taken from Bodmin Jail by Mr. Poldark, some ten days before the completion of his sentence. Who is to say he would not do the same for himself if the right opportunity presented itself. Barring that, your honor, the accused seems to have a bit of a violent temper. Just days after his illegal activities regarding Mr. Carter, Mr. Poldark beat Mr. Matthew Sanson after an unhappy gambling incident."
"Convicts often have tempers, Mr. Bull, what makes the accused any different?"
"If it pleases the court, accusations of Mr. Sanson's murder were leveled against Mr. Poldark after Mr. Sanson's body was found on the beach following the wreck."
"Did these accusations ever go to trial?" the Justice asked. Ross' eyes flicked over to where George sat, watching his enemies his smug mouth lifting up a fraction.
"No, your honor. Insufficient evidence." Mr. Bull continued.
"Do you have a counter argument to Mr. Bulls claims that your client should have been tried for murder, Mr. Claymer?" the Judge's hawk like eyes moved from one lawyer to the next as Ross's counsel stood, his head held high with determination.
"Coroner reports show that there was evidence enough that Mr. Sanson died well before his body reached the shore. If anyone should be blamed for his death it should be the ocean itself." There was a smattering of laughter at this and Mr. Claymer sat back down, allowing his opponent to finish his argument.
"Anything else to add Mr. Bull?"
"Yes, your honor, I will only remind the court of the accused's past dealings with the law. In the past, he has been accused of smuggling, brawling, assault on a customs official, the jail breaking of Mr. Carter and now leading in the plundering of a ship full of very valuable goods. It is clear that he has no regard for the laws which bind our country together, indeed he seems to show a complete lack of sense alongside some highly dangerous Jacobean sympathies that will no doubt lead this country to ruin, just like it did France!" As Mr. Bull spoke, he became increasingly agitated, punctuating his last sentence with a bang of his fist onto the table in front of him. "He is a leader of his community, an employer of many families who were down at the beach that day. His responsibility was to lead these poor, destitute, people down a good, law abiding, and God fearing path. Instead, he riles them up and sets them loose on a group of helpless survivors, all the while encouraging them to take what was not rightly theirs. He may not have been found guilty of riot, yet he neglected his duty when not putting an end to whatever violence he could."
There was complete silence as Justice Lister contemplated what was just said. Nodding slightly to himself, he waved his hand almost nonchalantly in the direction of Ross and Mr. Claymer. "And what sentence do you propose, Mr. Claymer?"
"We propose a Jail stint of no more than 6 years, or transportation to the Australian colonies, lasting no more than 4 years." His voice was determined, yet something in the way his hands shook indicated, at least to Ross, that he was asking for a lot.
If the court had been silent before, it was nothing as compared to now. No one dared speak, or even breath, as the Honorable Judge stared daggers at the young lawyer. "You do realize, Mr. Claymer, that the any instance of transportation lasting less than 7 years is highly unusual? Why should I invite any further nonconformity into this case by allowing such a lenient sentence?"
"Your honor, I believe you will see throughout your questioning of the names you have listed that Captain Ross Poldark is a very well respected man among all classes. He owns a business that employs a large number of people, he works closely and is very friendly with his neighbors, he has a wife, and he is a gentleman from an ancient family that goes back centuries into the history of the county. I believe you will find that there are many aspects of life in the parishes of Grambler, Sawel and Truro that only operate smoothly with Poldark involvement. To send him away for any longer than this would be asking for catastrophe." It was somewhat surprising to Ross how confident his lawyer seemed and took it as a good sign. Yet, it seemed to him that his case was entirely based on sentimentality, which did not seem like something Justice Lister would be known for taking into account.
"We shall see if what you claim is true, Mr. Claymer." Justice Lister looked over to his clerk, who stood, looking down at the paper in front of him.
"The Court calls Captain Henshawe to the stand."
Both Demelza and Ross turned as Captain Henshawe stood from his place deep in the gallery and made his way forward. He took the stand, looking somewhat shocked at being asked to speak. Ross gave him an encouraging nod before their attentions were once again recaptured by Justice Lister.
"Captain Henshawe, I know you have had little time to prepare for this questioning so think of this more as a personal curiosity of mine and just answer my questions to the best of your ability. What is your relation to Captain Poldark?"
"I work as Mine Captain at Mr. Poldark's mine, Wheal Leisure, your honor," Henshawe answered calmly and evenly.
"And how many men does Mr. Poldark employ at his mine?"
"Near on a hundred. We've taken on as many as we could since the closure of Grambler mine some 12 months gone. It is safe to say that Wheal Leisure is the only profitable mine for ten miles round."
"In your professional opinion, Mr. Henshawe, how long do you believe this mine will remain profitable if Mr. Poldark were to no longer be around for an extended period of time?" Justice Lister was leaning forward, his arms bracing him on his high table.
"Not very long, your honor. Mr. Poldark prefers to put all of his personal profit back into the mine. In truth, it is much a part of what keeps us going."
"Could no one take his place and do the same?"
"Not so well as he does."
"Thank you, Captain Henshawe. You may step down." There was a smattering of hushed whispers as Henshawe made his way down from the stand. As he passed, Demelza whispered a hushed 'thank you' not wanting to draw any attention to herself.
"The Court calls Thomas Harry to the stand," the clerk called out over the hushed voices and a big man in a blue coat with a red beard stood, as he passed the sickly-looking man, Tankard, he nodded and smiled before taking the witness stand.
"Mr. Harry, what is your relation to Captain Poldark?" Justice Lister asked, seemingly following the same line of questioning he had used on Henshawe.
"No direct relation, your honor. I work in private security and he and my master do feud." He stood with his arms crossed across his chest, his arms bulging in a very intimidating way.
"Who is it you do security for?"
"Wouldn't be private if I told ye' sir," he answered, earning himself a chorus of laughter from his supporters.
"I presume you have some evidence as to why the accused should be put to death then?"
"Yes, sir, one day not long after the wreck, I ran into Mr. Poldark and overheard him a tellin' another man about the hefty sum he did make from sellin' all the goods what he stole."
"And who did he say this too?"
"Why Nic Vigus sir."
"Mr. Vigus?" Justice Lister called out, his sharp eyes searching for the man who had spoken in court against Ross earlier that day. Nic stood, his hat twisted in his hands. "Is this statement true, sir?"
Nic looked around, both Ross and Demelza were looking at him. Ross' eyes were blank, displaying none of the anger he was feeling, yet Demelza's face was ripe with fury as she stared down the sniveling, cowardly, miner.
"Yes sir, tis true sir. Cap'n Poldark did tell me of all the goods he was able to sell from the wreck."
Justice Lister nodded, actively ignoring the shouts of descent that rose at Nic's statement, including the one from the Defense council. "Thank you, Mr. Harry. You may sit down."
The hearing continued on like this for a while. People were called up in Ross' defense, each one giving a heartfelt depiction of Ross and his kind and responsible actions for the county. It was as Justice lister had said, he had people backing him from every corner of society. Ray Penvenen first spoke, arguing more for the sake of the Poldark house than for the sake of Ross himself. Then Zacky Martin, who described how Ross was more than just an employer and master, but a friend to many of the people under his charge, helping them whenever he could. After that Harry Blewitt painted a vivid image of how Ross had saved him from debtor's prison by putting his own finances at risk and giving him a loan of 250 pounds. These and ten more besides spoke, making Ross into some sort of folk hero, able to wander through society at will, always willing to lend a helping hand.
Of course, there were those who argued just as fervently for his hanging, successfully poking holes into the shining defense his friends were spinning around him. The low points came when George's Lawyer, Tankard, described Ross' finances in incredibly harsh, albeit accurate, detail, effectively erasing any notion of Ross' financial responsibility. While this was a critical blow to their case, it was nowhere near as deadly as the blow they received when Demelza's father was allowed to take the stand. From his pulpit, Mr. Carne was able to build on his statements from earlier, painting Ross as a vicious fiend who feared neither God nor man, and took whatever he pleased, from goods not belonging to himself to the chastity of a sweet and innocent child.
"My daughter has already fallen low by his hand!" He yelled, holding up the bible to illustrate his point. "He did take her from my home at the tender age of fourteen, to live in sin and misery. Tis no wonder their child did die! She was no doubt the spawn of Satan himself, called home to the fiery inferno below! Twas what ye deserved daughter!"
Ross saw red. His hands clenched in fists atop the table, it was all he could do not to lunge at the man and beat him to a pulp in a similar way to what he had done all those years ago, how dare he insult Demelza like that. There were many things Ross could stand, but an insult to his wife was not one of them. She deserved none of this.
"Thank you, Mr. Carne. You may step down." Justice Lister said quickly, cutting him off before he could continue on his tirade.
The proceedings continued for some time more as night slowly fell outside. The candles were just being lit as silence fell and the judge sat, slowly tapping out a rhythm on the podium in front of him that could be heard echoing through all of the courtroom. After a long, agonizing moment he sighed, straightening up and looking down, first at Ross, then out at the rest of the room.
"I will be calling one more person up to the stand for it doesn't seem fair to proceed to sentencing unless we have heard from the person who no doubt knows the accused best and to hear her response towards the various accusations made against her today." His keen gaze slowly slid over to where Demelza sat, her hands twisting sharply in the fabric of her skirt. Her eyes were firmly fixed on her husband, trying as hard as she could to memorize every single aspect of him. "Mistress Poldark, will you please take the stand?"
Demelza's eyes snapped away from Ross as his snapped towards her. She gave a small gasp of disbelief, her brows furrowing with confusion, neither she nor anyone else in the room expected that. In fact, to the casual observer, this was a very strange case indeed. Sentencings were hardly ever given this much deliberation and women were hardly ever allowed to speak in the courtroom.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, her eyes back on Ross, who was trying to smile encouragingly at her. She wiped her eyes fervently with the back of her hands, refusing to look like a weak, simpering lady. Instead she conjured the fierce, head strong, miner's daughter as she prepared to argue for the man she loved. Reaching the stand, she looked back at Ross, adding to her strength through the determined and supportive nod he gave her, before looking up at Justice Lister, staring him straight in the eye.
"Mistress Poldark, though I doubt there isn't a single person in the room who hasn't already guessed, please indulge us and inform the court what your relationship is with the accused." Justice Lister met Demelza's stare head on, refusing to back down.
"I'm his wife, your honor," she answered simply.
"Your father, Mr. Carne, has made some substantial claims regarding your marriage. Is there any truth to your father's words, or anything you would like cleared up before the court?"
"Oh yes, sir," she scoffed, a bitter smile spreading across her face. "What my father don't tell you is why I left home in the first place. My mother died when I was eight years old. I have six younger brothers and had to raise them myself from that tender age. This was, of course, made all the more difficult by the fact that my father beat me every day of my life and drank away all his earnin's. He may have stood before the court a God fearin' man, but I tell you he wasn't so back then. Ross didn't steal me away from my family, I ran away when I could bear it no longer."
"Your father beat you?" Justice Lister's habit of scrutinizing the scene came in very handy as a movement from the corner of his eye indicated that Tom Carne was growing red in the face, evidently not at all pleased with what his daughter was saying. This was enough evidence for him that what Demelza said was the truth, at least in part. "And what of the other accusation your father made against your husband? Did the accused ever force himself upon you?"
Demelza knew what she wanted to say, that if anything she forced herself on him, but she knew this was not the occasion for such a public advertisement of their relationship. "Nothing happened between my husband and I until we were married."
"Ye were livin' in sin, daughter!" Came her father's enraged voice as he stood up and shook his bible at her. "Confess, and live a pure life."
"I have nothin' to confess, father," she replied coolly, her clenched fists the only indicator that this outburst had any ill effect on her. "As far as I'm concerned, it is you who needs to be confessin'."
"Hear, hear!" yelled someone from the bowels of the gallery, too far off to be identified properly.
"Have Mr. Carne taken from the court," Justice Lister commanded, his eyes growing sharper and colder than ever.
There was a brief pause as Demelza's father was escorted from the hall, yelling and damning every last one of them all the way. Demelza watched him go, finally feeling as if he were walking out of her life forever. She knew it was likely not true, but at least she finally felt free of the emotional burden that had always caused her to carry. As the door banged close, her eyes found Ross. He smiled wistfully before she turned back to the judge, determined to do and say all she could to get him off.
"Your daughter, Mistress Poldark, how old was she when she passed?"
Somehow, Demelza managed to retain her composure as she answered. "Julia was not yet two when she died of the putrid throat."
"And listening to all that has been said here today, can you say that the accused acts with the same conduct within the confines of his own home?"
"Yes, your honor. Ross works tirelessly to make sure that the mine prospers, always putting others happiness and prosperity above his own."
Justice Lister nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "A noble sentiment no doubt. But what of your own happiness?"
Demelza paused, she was losing her hold on her emotions slightly. But she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and looked back up at the judge. "A lack of money doesn't bother me, your honor. As you can see, I'm of mining stock and have no need of fancy things. I am happy in my marriage. I love my husband. Ross is a good man, and when I say he do put others before himself, I count myself as one of those others."
There was silence following this. Everyone knew that this case was finally drawing to a close and no one could say what the Judge was currently thinking. He looked between Ross and Demelza, summing up some aspect of the case that only he would be privy to. His hands were clasped together under his chin as he thought. Carefully, he lay them out on the table, turning for the final time towards Demelza.
"Is there anything else you would like the court to know that would help us in our decision on your husbands sentencing, Mistress Poldark?"
This question seemed to be what did it for Demelza. The blood drained from her and she looked as though she were about to faint. She seemingly smoothed down the front of her jacket as her eyes went to her feet. Tears began to gather again as she began to make her last desperate plea. "Ross raised me up from nothin', not only by marryin' me into a great family, but by showing me and our child more devotion than I have ever experienced in my life." She looked up, her hands grasping the railing in front of her. "Ross was - is, an amazing father, and Julia was a happy baby. Which is why the thought of him not being around to watch his next child grow up, or even be born, do pain me all the more."
Whispers began to break out as the clever ones in the room caught on to what she was saying. Demelza kept her eyes firmly fixed on the wall opposite her, both in an effort to stave off tears and so that she didn't have to see the look on Ross' face. She knew he wouldn't appreciate this announcement being made so publicly, and she wished she could do it in any other way. But if it saved his life, then she had no other choice.
Justice Lister looked shocked for the first time that day. "Are you saying you are with child, Mistress Poldark?"
"Yes," her voice was choked with tears. There was a harsh scrape of chair legs as Ross stood violently. He didn't dare move, just stared at his wife desperately. She looked up at him then, the anguish on her face causing him to ache to have her in his arms, to comfort her.
"I take it you did not know of this, Mr. Poldark?" Justice Lister asked.
"No," he replied quietly, sinking back into his chair as he remembered himself, his eyes never leaving Demelza.
"Well," the judge narrowed his eyes more than he had done all day as he contemplated this new piece of information. "Thank you, Mistress Poldark. You may sit down."
Demelza nodded once before shakily making her way back across the floor towards her seat. As she passed, Ross reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a quick kiss to it before releasing her again and allowing her to move away. Once seated in between Verity and Dwight she brought the same hand up to her face, pressing the back of it to her mouth to silence the sobs that were beginning to form in her throat.
People began to murmur as the Judge paused to create his mental summary of the case. Verity wrapped an arm around Demelza, trying to sooth her despite the fact that tears were streaming down her own face. She didn't say anything, knowing full well that nothing she could say would make Demelza feel any differently. Ross was looking over at them, seemingly close to tears himself. Quickly, he turned away, leaning in to speak closely with his counselor.
"Is there anything else we can do?" he asked desperately.
"We may be able to appeal, yet I doubt he would be willing to hear it. He's already spent so much time on this case. If it were any other judge, Mr. Poldark." Claymer looked at Ross, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Any other judge and I have no doubt that the court would have a lenient view considering all the evidence given on your behalf. But Justice Lister is a mystery to me. The way I see it could still go either way."
Moments later, the gavel sounded and quiet was called in the courtroom. Justice Lister rubbed his head tiredly, his eyes closed and his face scrunched with thought. Eventually, he lowered his hand and leaned back in his chair to survey the room. He looked at Ross for a long time, a muscle ticking tightly in his jaw. After what seemed like ages he sat forward, his hands clasped tightly on the table in front of him.
"This trial," he began, looking directly at Ross, "has been entirely ridiculous. Never in my considerable career as a Judge have a seen a greater mockery of our court system. I am ashamed to say that I played into this mockery and allowed it to continue thus. Nevertheless, I have come to my decision."
Not for the first time that day Demelza felt like she was going to throw up. She continued to press her hand to her mouth, her lips touching the same spot that Ross' had. Her other hand splayed itself out over her abdomen, both for the purpose of easing her aching stomach and for the sake of connecting her to her child. The only piece of Ross she may have left after today.
"I am not a sentimental man by nature, Mr. Poldark," Justice Lister looked more severe than he had all day. His eyes sharper and more deadly than ever, "but the admiration you seem to stir up among so many has caused me to go against my better judgment. I am prepared to take Mr. Claymer's plea of four years transportation to the Australian Colonies."
A great roar went up around the courtroom as everyone began to shout their opinions at once. Demelza's tears turned to ones of joy as a large, radiant smile broke out across her face. She began to laugh in disbelief as Verity began to hug her violently. Ross wasn't going to be hanged. He would come home. Just as he promised. Her eyes met his and the look of relief on his face made her tears fall all the more quickly.
She wanted to get up and run to him but the banging of the gavel rooted her to her seat.
"Order! Order in the court!" Yelled the clerk, banging the gavel harshly on the table in front of him. Silence fell slowly until eventually murmurs were all that was left of the cacophony.
"Mr. Poldark, I have been informed that there is a fleet leaving from Portsmouth for Australia in four days time. You will be transported there over the course of the next three days starting tonight and you will board that ship, making no attempt to return until such time as your sentence of four years has run its course. If in that time, you have behaved admirably and have given us no cause to review your case, I am willing to give a grant of absolute pardon, clearing your name under the condition that once you return, your finances will be put into the hands of a trustee until the court deems you worthy of regaining that control. Do you consent to this condition?" Justice Lister asked, seeming almost bored, his hand continuing to rub lazily across his forehead.
"Yes, your honor," Ross replied quickly and evenly.
"Very well. Bailiff, have Mr. Poldark taken back to his cell, he is to be transferred to Falmouth in the morning." With that, the Judge stood and left the courtroom. And chaos descended.
Authors Note: Huge fan of the show and the books, so this has been an absolute treat to write. Beyond that I'm a huge history nerd so it pains me to say that I am going to be taking some historical liberties and tweaking some events ever so slightly to make them work with my story... (gasp!)
Before the 1780's convicts were usually transported to the American colonies, after the revolution, however that was no longer an option. Instead, they were sent to the newly discovered/founded Australian colonies starting in 1788. The second group of prisoners to arrive, coming on the aptly named Second Fleet, set out from England on January 19th, 1790. But the trial doesn't take place until summer if we're following the right time line, so for continuity's sake I'mma push that departure date back a few months...
