AN: I was rewatching the first episode of Poldark recently and the one part that seem to stick with me was when Demelza's father came to collect her from Nampara, more specifically when Prudie ran to Trenwith for help. They didn't even bother to check if Ross was alright, I mean what if he really was being murdered, they wouldn't have even known.
So in light of that little theory, I decided to write this one shot. I hope you enjoy. Reviews are welcome.
"So you can take her home and beat her?" The words erupted from Ross' lips, fueled by the fire that was already ignited inside him.
How dare this man come into his home without permission and demand he send Demalza back with them. He would be damned if he saw her back into the hands of this pathetic excuse of a human being.
Beating his own daughter? What kind of a man would do such a thing? No, not a man, Ross decided, Mr. Carne was nothing more than a slovenly, cowardly pig.
"Is that your business?"
"If I choose to make it so," Ross seethed.
A chair had been kicked out from under the table by Carne's orders, no doubt in a ridiculous attempt to intimidate him but three, over zealous ruffians were nothing compared to the battle fields of Virginia.
"We've come for justice," Carne spat.
"An army against one man, that's brave." Ross expected nothing less from a man who would lay hands on his own child.
"Afeared, are ye?" Ross shook his head.
"On the contrary, you couldn't have come at a better time."
The fire erupted into a full blow inferno. He had been pouring his frustrations into the land, trying to use his hands to build things up where he would have tore them down before but there were sometimes when a man had to use his fists to set things right.
Ross shed his jacket and tossed it on the table.
"Lord, save him," Prudie yelled as she ran from the room. The two man at Carne's side rushed at him before Carne held them back, claiming the right to take care of Ross himself.
It was the last thing Ross heard before Carne's head slammed into his own knocking him onto the floor. Dazed and disorientated he didn't have time to mount a proper defense before the brut of a man struck again this time kicking at his face.
It was fighting dirty and Ross knew he wasn't going to last long if things kept the way they were.
The next thing Ross knew, he was being hauled off the floor by strong hands and tossed straight into the next room. Was this what Demelza had to deal with her entire life? Ross suddenly found new respect for his kitchen maid, who was no more than a mere slip of a woman.
He had no time, however to dwell on Demelza's resiliance before Carne was at it again. Blow after blow, prevented Ross from getting up from the ground and he could do little more than take the beating and hope for an opening.
His ribs cracked and buckled under the force of Carne's boots and when that same boot connected with his forehead Ross felt his vision darken. He pushed it aside; unconciousness was not a luxury he could afford at the moment.
Laying sprawled out on the persian rug, Ross fought to get his breath back as Carne and his family relished in victory.
Too soon, Ross thought as he managed to pick himself off the floor. If Carne could fight dirty than so could he. He grabbed a brass candle holder and brandished it as a weapon against the larger man.
Once again he was subjected to being flung around like a sack of grain but this time he was ready for it. He managed to gain the upper hand and soon it was Carne who was sprawled on the floor.
But that didn't mean his companions were going to take the abuse lying down. Ross nearly groaned out loud as they advanced towards him. The two were more cumbersome than Carne had been and a little less eagar to do battle.
After a few good hit, Ross was able to get them to back down and not a moment too soon, he felt as if his strength was going to fail him at any moment.
"Be so good as to close the door on your way out," he told them.
Ross grabbed onto the armoire for support as Carne passed him. The two men with him stopped to shake Ross' hand before following him out the door.
God, did he need a drink. His hands shook as he tried to pull aside the door to where he had hidden the brandy; God save Jud and Prudie if they had drank it.
As the adrenaline began to wear off, Ross started to feel the pain. Namely a sharp, stabbing pain in his abdoman. Abandoning the brandy for a moment, Ross took a second to check over his injuries.
He had not been expecting to see a shard of wood piercing his side. Where had that come from? The sharp ache it had been morphed into unbareable agony the moment he laid his eyes on it.
He placed a hand at his side, hoping to quiet the pain. A tortured groan escape his lips seconds before he knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet him.
Demelza watched in horror through the crack in the armoire as Ross clutched at his bleeding stomach and tumbled to the floor.
She pushed out of her hiding spot and crawled over to him. The blood was no bother to her; she had seen far worse wounds in men after a rockslide at the mines where her father and brothers worked. But the thought of Ross being in so much pain, maybe dying was enough to draw tears to her eyes.
He had been the first person in a long time to show her any kindness. He took her in and gave her a home, made her feel like for once she had somewhere she belonged and now he was hurt because he defended her.
Her father had often said she was an albatross, maybe he had been right.
Demelza ripped the hem of her too big shirt and pressed it against the wound. Ross cried out as the shard of wood shifted. Oh, where had Prudie gone? The woman always seemed to be absent where Demelza needed her the most.
Demelza tried not to think about how much blood he was loosing as she watched a puddle grow steadily on the floor. Ross' eyelids blinked open. After a second they seemed to gain focus and her stared at her, seemingly in surprise.
"Demelza?" A wave a pain washed over him and he tried to pull away from her hands but she was stronger than she looked and held him steady.
"Careful, sir," she said. "You've been 'urt bad."
"Are you alright?" Ross asked. Demelza stared at him incredulously.
"You're the one who be bleedin', sir." Why was he asking after her well being when it was he who obviously was the one hurt.
"You should 'ave just let 'em take me," she said quietly. "This wouldn't 'ave 'appened if you did."
"You didn't deserve that." And he didn't deserve this. A tear fell from Demelza's eyes to mingle with the blood and sweat on his cheek.
"Please don't cry," Ross pleaded. Demelza hastily swiped at the pesky tears with her free hand, hating that he saw her cry.
The door swung open diverting Demelza's attention. A haggard, sweating Prudie walking in with her hands on her hips as she took big gulps of air, followed closely by Jim Carter.
Prudie let out a shriek and covered her mouth when she saw the scene before her.
"Ross!" Jim yelled as he scrambled to his friends side.
"We need the doctor," Demelza ordered to Prudie who took off again.
"We should move him to the bed," Jim suggested.
Demelza glanced at Jim and then back at herself; she doubted that even between the two of them that they would be able to lift Ross and carry him to his room.
She was about to voice her doubts when the door swung open again and Jud and Mark rushed in.
"Prudie said Ross was hurt," Mark said between breaths.
Demelza explained what had happened to them and they quickly moved Ross to the large, four poster bed in his room.
The journey to the room had done Ross no favors as sweat beaded on his forehead and he writhed against the sheets in agony. Demelza wet down a cloth and placed it against his flushed face, wiping it clean of blood. Ross moaned and leaned into her touch.
"Shhh," she said soothingly. "It'll be alright." Demelza could only pray that was true.
After what seemed an eternity, Doctor Choke calmly strolled in the room with a black bag in hand and she was quickly ushered out of the room.
She followed Prudie downstairs but the distance didn't manage to block out Ross' screams as the doctor started his ministrations.
The next time Ross woke, it was the middle of the night. A single candle burned at his bedside illuminating a sleeping Demelza who was half hanging off the side of his bed.
She looked so peaceful laying there. Sleep smoothed away the scowl she often wore during her waking hours, leaving only a soft, beautiful face.
It was that very face he saw earlier when he woke up for the first time after collapsing. Bathed in the glow of the sunlight that streamed in through the window, she had look almost like an angel.
He was used to seeing beautiful women as he lay dying; a habit he should try and break sometime in the future but he had been surprised that it was not Elizabeth who he had thought of.
Ross brushed a stray curl away from Demelza's face, causing her to stir slightly in her sleep. It hadn't been a pain induced hallucination that he was seeing this time but a real, flesh and blood woman who had saved him.
Not for one second did he consider sending her back to father, even after she told him he should have and he didn't regret the beating he took in her name.
Demelza was a part of his family now and he would protect his own.
Laying his head back down on the pillow, Ross fell into a dreamless sleep.