Chapter 1 Despairing
After the celebratory dinner, and despite the disapproving stares from his family and Elizabeth's mother, Ross drew the young woman by her left arm into the other room for a private discussion.
"What is the meaning of this, Elizabeth?" Ross hissed as he released her, careful to keep his voice low. "You promised me! And now I finally come home, from war no less, only to find you engaged to Francis of all people!"
"I am sorry, Ross," Elizabeth replied, drawing her shawl closer around her bare shoulders, almost like a shield against his displeasure. "But I have changed my mind about the arrangement."
"Clearly," Ross said, his tone scathing, his dark eyes seething with anger like a storm cloud. "What I want to know, what I will know, is why?!"
"Because I wish to be loved, Ross, for a start."
"I do love you, Elizabeth," Ross objected with a frown.
"In a way, yes," she agreed with him. "But not in the way a husband should love his wife. The way I wish to be loved. The way which leads to children. I want children, Ross."
"Damnation, Elizabeth!" Ross groaned with frustration. "I told you I would try! I need you!"
"And I respect you for that, Ross. I do. But why should we choose to put ourselves through that emotional torture? You don't need me, Ross. You need someone, but it's not me. You need someone who can love you. I do. But you also need someone who you can love. That is not me. I want you to be free to find that person. That man."
"You're not giving me a choice!"
"Elizabeth?" her mother called from the dining room. "It is time for us to go now."
"You'll thank me one day, Ross," Elizabeth said softly, her dark eyes sympathetic as she looked at him for several minutes before finally leaving the room.
One Month Later
Ross sat at the rough wood table in his house, his posture defeated as he drank straight from a glass bottle of whiskey with blurry eyes. Judd and Prudy were God knows where. Probably drinking his alcohol, too. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.
Elizabeth's wedding to Francis had been two weeks ago. He hadn't attended the occasion. He was ashamed to admit he'd been so drunk that day he'd blacked out in his chair and woken up in his bed.
He could only assume, that despite his horrible behavior, Judd had been kind enough to move him to his bed. He really should do something for the man.
He has just put the mouth of the bottle back to his lips and taken another swallow when Prudy admitted Francis into the room before quickly withdrawing. He didn't blame her. He didn't want to imagine how badly he smelled.
"Drunk again, Ross?" he inquired with obvious disapproval in his voice as his cousin's eyes studied the miserable state of him.
"No," Ross replied, somehow managing to laugh loudly despite his dark mood. "But the night is yet young! I have time."
"Why are you doing this to yourself, Ross? When I asked Elizabeth if it was because you still loved her, she told me that you never had. At least, not in the way I do. I believe her, but it was all she would tell me when I pushed for more. If you did not love her, then why are you so upset?"
"You wouldn't understand," Ross said with obvious bitterness, staring down at the floor while the nearly empty bottle dangled from the fingers of his right hand.
"Why not?"
"Because you are normal, Francis. You've never had to be afraid. Elizabeth was supposed to protect me. She promised me! And then she broke her word, for you! I trusted her, and she betrayed me!"
Ross's entire body shuddered and he dropped the bottle as he slumped forward over the table.
"..I guess you're right that I don't understand," Francis stated after a few moments of watching Ross in silence. "But that does not mean I could not, if you explained the situation more clearly to me. What, exactly, would marrying Elizabeth have protected you from?"
"Sure, what the hell! What difference does it make when I am already miserable? She would have protected me from myself," Ross confessed, looking up at Francis with eyes which were bloodshot from the alcohol, red rimmed from crying, and had dark shadows beneath them from lack of any decent sleep for days. "I can't love women. I desire other men, though I have never acted upon my urges. Partly because of fear of discovery, but also because it's not only about sex for me. I want to fall in love, Francis. I want a heart mate. I know it's impossible in this world that lacks understanding and empathy for those who are different, but it does not stop the longing for it. Nothing ever does."
"I see," Ross's cousin said simply.
"Do you? Truly?" Ross asked him with sudden hope clear in his dark eyes.
"Yes," Francis replied, moving closer to bend over and pick up the alcohol bottle. "I am not as naïve as you think I am, Ross. There is nothing wrong with you. You are who you are, cousin, and you deserve happiness as who you are. Prudy!"
The woman immediately came to the doorway, so she couldn't have been far away. "Yes, master Poldark?"
"Get rid of this," he responded, handing her the nearly empty bottle. "Then you and Judd heat water and fill the tub for your master."
"Yes, master Poldark," Prudy said, curtsying briefly before hurrying away to do his bidding.
"What are you about?" Ross inquired with confusion.
"We're going to get you cleaned up and sober, Ross," Francis informed him firmly. "Then you're going to get a good night's sleep. And tomorrow, I know someone that you need to meet."
Later that day Francis entered the home of his friend George Warleggen. He located the slender, sandy blonde haired man in his small sitting room having tea and dainty cucumber sandwiches on white bread from a silver tray sitting on his round rose wood table near his comfy cornflower blue chair.
George's long hair was pulled back from his elegant face in a ponytail with a lavender silk ribbon that matched the simple, though beautiful, lavender cotton dress he wore. His dainty feet were clad in lavender silk slippers of the same silk material as his hair ribbon.
George looked up at the sound of his approach, quickly setting aside his porcelain teacup with a soft clinking sound onto the small matching plate.
"Francis!" he called out to him happily, his plump rose pink lips curving into a pleased smile. "What a pleasure it is to see you! Though, of course, I do not blame you for your absence at all considering your recent marriage. It was such a beautiful wedding! Tell me, is Elizabeth well?"
"Yes, George, she is quite well," Francis replied, seating himself in the forest green comfy chair near his unusual friend with a smile. "Thank you for your inquiry."
"Good, good! That is good. And your father? Aunt Agatha? Verity?"
"All well. Verity has found herself a lonely sea captain. As the new head of the Poldark household I expect to be asked by him for permission for her hand any day now."
"Oh! Another wedding? I love weddings!" George cooed softly before taking a small bite of a cucumber sandwich with shining eyes.
"I know you do, dear George," Francis said with a fond smile. "Perhaps we will have one for you soon."
George gasped; flinching and dropping the sandwich back onto the plate from suddenly shaking fingers as his big, silver-gray eyes abruptly filled with moisture. "Please, Francis," he replied quietly, his usual flamboyant manner instantly gone as he spoke seriously. "Do not tease me. It hurts. You know how impossible my position is. Finding a man to court me would be hard enough even without my mannerisms and how I prefer to dress. I have no desire to hang. The risk is too great."
"I was not teasing you, George," Francis said to him, reaching out to gently touch his friend's bare right shoulder reassuringly. "And there is no risk of any kind. Certain facts have come to my attention recently. This very day, in fact. I believe it would benefit both you and he greatly if you were to meet my cousin Ross. I will, of course, be your chaperone. This will be a proper courtship fit for our society's rules, I promise you, George."
"..But, Francis.. What if we do not suit each other?" George inquired despite the tone of new hope in his voice.
"That is what courtship is designed to discover, George. You need not worry overmuch, because I will be here. And that is also why tomorrow morning you will dress in your silk rose pink dress and accessories to prepare yourself for afternoon tea with Ross. It is his favorite color, though he will not admit it if asked. I know that it will give a favorable impression of you once you explain it to him. He is a good man, George, or I would never suggest this. But he's scared, which I do not blame him for, and lonely. I know that you have the kind heart and delicacy required to reach him, and I believe you will be well suited for each other."
"Very well. I trust you, Francis. If there is an attraction, and he can accept my ways, then we shall see how it proceeds."
"Thank you, George."
"If this goes the way we wish it to, then I will be the one thanking you, my dear friend."