The majority of Demelza's morning had been spent avoiding Ross and by all means, his morning had been spent doing the same. Verity had apologised for his absence at lunch, saying that he had gone out early in the morning but hadn't told her where. Demelza was relieved. At least she wouldn't have to look at him during lunch and give Verity the awkward job of babbling mindlessly again.
Lunch was an informal affair as Ross wasn't there, and Verity spent most of her time ticking off things on her to do list on her phone while chatting absently to Demelza.
"I spent some time with Dad today….took my clothes to the dry cleaner," muttered Verity, deleting items off her list, "all that's left is grocery shopping for next week….need to get someone in to fix the taps….oh, my God, I completely forgot! I need to pick my dress for the hunt ball!"
Verity's exclamation made Demelza raise her eyebrows a little, but she didn't fully register what she'd said and continued picking at her food.
"Demelza? Demelza!" Verity waved her hands in front of her face. "You need to help me pick my dress for the hunt ball!"
"The what ball?"
"The hunt ball! I totally forgot, I got a text from Francis today. He's invited me and Ross to the Warleggan Hunt Ball. It's like an annual event, usually takes place after a big hunt….hence why it's called the….hunt….ball. But anyway, it's hosted by George Warleggan, he owns the grounds in which Francis and Elizabeth go hunting. Will you pick out a nice dress for me while I call the plumber? Please? We can kill two birds with one stone, right?"
Verity's voice was both enthusiastic and pleading and Demelza agreed, nodding soundlessly and smiling. If they both went to the hunt ball, that'd mean Ross would be out of her hair for a while.
"Does this mean you'll both be out tonight?"
Demelza instantly regretted asking that question. Verity finished her food and took her plate into the kitchen, calling back to the table.
"Yeah, we will, but you can come too if you'd like! I mean, I know you'd like to have the house to yourself, but really, what will you do here?" Verity reappeared at the kitchen doorway. "You should come with us. I'd love to introduce you properly to Francis and Elizabeth. I'm not too fond of George, but we've known them for a long time. They'll love you."
Demelza froze while Verity spoke and she put her fork down, attempting a smile.
"No, no, it's fine, honestly. You guys go, I'm more than happy to stay home. There's tonnes to do here, I wanted to get started on cleaning up the living room and there are dishes to be done—"
Verity strode in and sat down, facing Demelza eagerly.
"Oh, come on! Jinny can do that, it can be done another time! Oh, Dee, you'd love it, a hunt ball is always so much fun for a newbie. I'm an old hand, I've been going since I was little, but it'll be so much fun for you. There are pretty dresses and drinks and hot guys. Plus, George's house is an attraction in itself. You don't have to spend too long there if you don't want to, but at least come."
Demelza smiled along as Verity repeatedly squeezed her hands. She felt awful. She was living here free of charge and Verity had only ever asked this one thing of her, why couldn't she do it? Besides, if she'd promised she didn't have to spend much time there, Demelza would just say hello and leave after a few drinks.
"Fine, I'll go with you. But only if you stay with me. Promise?"
"Promise."
Verity grinned like the Cheshire cat and grabbed Demelza's hand, pulling her up and towards the stairs.
"Now we're going to spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready. We don't have time to go out shopping to buy you an evening dress, you'll just have to borrow one of mine. But don't worry, I can pin it and tuck it so it fits you perfectly. I have magic hands with a needle and thread, you know that."
Demelza jogged upstairs to keep pace with her friend and closed her eyes in regret. The fact that Ross would be there was the least of her worries. She'd never been to a hunt ball, she didn't even know such things existed before Verity had told her. She wasn't made to socialise with people like the Poldarks, she'd explained that to Ross before. They had money, she didn't. And consequently, their habits were different. She was acutely aware of the subtle hint of a Cornish accent to her words, whereas both Ross and Verity enunciated correctly despite being born and bred in Cornwall. They had never made her feel less than equal to them. Verity treated her like a friend and Ross, whenever he spoke to her seriously, made her feel like her opinions were as valuable as his own.
But she wasn't sure about people like Francis and Elizabeth. She'd only seen them twice and she still remembered the way Francis had looked her up and down from his horse like he was viewing a compost heap. The way his nose turned up and a grimace formed on his face. Would everyone look at her like that? She knew she'd looked starved and homeless on that horse with Ross, but she wasn't much better in her daily life. She walked around in jumpers and shirts two sizes too big for her and hair tied up in a curly, frizzy mess. Mostly her face was covered in a light sheen by the way she worked over the stove and she was all about practicality, sleeves rolled up, ready to dive into house chores. She wished that she knew how to look as good as people like Elizabeth and Verity, she wished she knew how to do her hair and make up without looking like a clown with a perm. Elizabeth had been wearing jodhpurs and a blazer, standard hunting gear, but she still looked like such an elegant lady on her horse.
Verity sat her down on her bed and to her, it was just a girly night out. Demelza sighed and stared straight ahead at the closet.
"What am I even supposed to say to the people I'm going to meet?"
"Just make conversation," said Verity, opening the wardrobe door and rifling through plastic covered dresses, "small talk and stuff. We're British, so it's always good to start with the weather. George's house is lovely too, so you could always compliment that. Talk about what you do, what they do—"
"Tell them I work as a cook?"
"No, tell them you live with Ross and Verity Poldark and you're Ross' model. Say 'have you seen Ross' paintings? Aren't they exquisite? You really should come around to view them sometime, I'm sure Ross would appreciate that.'"
Demelza stared at the ground as Verity pulled a selection of dresses out and tossed them on the bed next to her. A thumping and rustling was heard from the ground floor, which made both girls look towards the door.
"I think Ross is home."
Verity bit her lip and crept towards the door, walking out and bending over the balcony, looking down at the lobby below.
"Ross?"
A loud grunt indicated his presence and by this time, Demelza had found her way out to stand next to Verity. Verity suddenly turned to her with the same furrowed eyebrows she had every time she begged Demelza to go somewhere or do something with her.
"Okay, so Ross doesn't know about the hunt ball because I totally forgot to tell him. Which makes sense because I only just remembered when I saw it on my phone, but that's not the point. The point is that Ross hates George, Ross hates hunt balls and most of all, Ross hates people. Like….any people. Especially the kind of people that are going to be there, like our old school friends and stuff."
Demelza stared at her with a decidedly puzzled expression on her face.
"So? Ross can stay at home?"
"No, Ross has to come with us! It'll look so stupid if we go there without him!"
"But you said Francis invited you, so you can just make an excuse for Ross, can't you? Say he's busy with his newest canvas or something."
Verity sighed and stomped back into her room, fishing something out from her desk and walking back, thrusting it into Demelza's hands.
"This is the invite. And Francis just reminded me, the invite's actually from George. For Ross. And me, but mainly for Ross. George just tolerates me because I'm Francis' sister."
Demelza looked down at the rectangular card Verity had given her. It was white, with a shining gold border and gold lettering. A crest of some sort graced the top of the card, which read something about George Warleggan cordially invites Ross and Verity Poldark to the annual Warleggan Hunt Ball. There was a start time, information about drinks and dinner and 'carriages from midnight.'
"Carriages? Like horses?"
"Oh, carriages just means cars to get home. It will be a horse, though, because George lives so close to us, there's no point taking a car there and back. Anyway, the point is that Ross is invited and Ross has to go."
"So….go and tell Ross to go? Why are you telling me?"
There was silence from Verity, but she smiled keenly at her friend. Demelza's eyes widened in horror as she realised what Verity wanted.
"No. No. No way, no way am I going to convince him to come. It'll be like speaking to a stroppy teenager! I'm not doing it, Verity, you can't make me. No, I'm not doing it, whatever you say, I'm not going to—"
Verity suddenly slipped behind Demelza and pushed her forward a little. Demelza stared straight ahead and saw Ross pounding up the stairs. He had an apple in one hand and a large canvas wrapped in black fabric in the other which he was hauling up the stairs. He got to the top and looked at Demelza, then walked straight past her to get to his bedroom.
"Ross, Demelza has something she wants to tell you!"
Ross turned at the sound of Verity's voice and looked at Demelza oddly. Verity peeked out from behind her and patted the small of Demelza's back for encouragement. Demelza gritted her teeth and made her voice flatline as best she could.
"Verity would like me to tell you that George Warleggan's hunt ball is tonight and she would like you to go with her."
Ross flicked his gaze to his cousin hiding behind Demelza. His eyebrows gathered in the middle and Verity frowned.
"Oh, Ross!" she exclaimed dramatically, jumping out from behind Demelza, "Ross, won't you go? Please? It'll only be for a while, you can leave early if you want to but you know it'll be so rude if you don't go and I'll be there all by myself and you know all those idiots from school hate me and I wasn't popular then and I'm not popular now and you'll be consigning me to an evening of loneliness and misery and that's just horrid of you!"
Demelza turned to stare at her friend's melodramatic performance with amusement. It was surprisingly realistic and made her forget momentarily how awkward it was to look at Ross, something she'd been trying to avoid all day.
"I hate those parties and balls, Verity, you know that. I'd much rather spend my time alone tonight. If you two want to go, by all means, go. I'll even come and collect you afterwards if you'd like. Just don't drag me into it. You know I hate balls, I hate all that fake politeness and civility, it's so mind numbing. These people have nothing better to do than hunt, ride, spend money and party. You know I don't like being around them."
"But Ross, they're your old friends from school and I know they'd love to see you. Some of them are coming down from London just for tonight."
"I don't care if they're coming from the Middle East. I'm not going. And you full well know my feelings about George, Vee. He's a first rate conman, a fraudster and a fucking arsehole while I'm at it. If you want to go, you can go, like I said. But I recommend you don't go, Verity. Move on with your life. We've left school, we've got degrees, we're moving forward. I know boarding school is a family for life and all the rest of that shit they told us on the open days, but we have our own families, our own lives now. Forget about all that shit in your past."
Verity was angry now, her cheeks flushing red. Demelza had never seen her angry before and felt rather afraid. Verity balled her fists by her sides.
"Forget about it? Have you ever forgotten about your past? Never. Don't tell me to move on. You live with me, but do you even see me? In all the time we've lived together, have I ever said 'bye, Ross, I'm going on a night out with my friends'? Have I ever said I'd be back late because I was out partying? Have I ever even met any of my friends for coffee? Mum and Dad trapped me in that stupid boarding school for seven years and you knew I was bullied there! You knew people made fun of my looks so why can't I go to George's now? I haven't seen them for years and I want them to know that I'm—"
"You're what?" cut in Ross scoffingly, setting his canvas down by the balcony railings, "You're better now? Prettier now? Do you really need validation from bitches who bullied you? And let me tell you, Vee, if they were bitches then, they'll almost certainly be bitches now. I'm sorry if I don't monitor your movements, but I care about you and you know that. It's not good for you to be thinking about this. You don't need them. Why don't you just stay at home with me and we can watch some trash TV and eat junk food?"
Verity's eyes burned with anger and she wiped them quickly, making Ross sigh and look down at his feet. He'd never meant to make her cry, all he wanted was for her to know that she was better than needing other girls to tell her she was pretty.
"I'm going. And you might want to come too. Elizabeth will be there."
And on that bombshell, Verity turned on her heel and walked back into her room. Ross looked up at her words and stared at where his cousin was a split second ago. His face hardened and he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I'm coming with you," he called into Verity's bedroom, "to make sure no one upsets you."
Verity scoffed loudly from her bedroom and Demelza soon realised how awkward it looked for her to be standing there in the middle of what clearly was a fight between cousins. She ran into Verity's bedroom and placed a hand on her friend's back as Verity searched frantically in the closet.
"He's so annoying! I hate him, I hate living with him, he just doesn't care about anything!"
Demelza frowned and pulled Verity into a hug. Verity held her back too and they stood like that for several seconds until Verity was only sniffling into Demelza's jumper. She pulled away and wiped her eyes with her sleeves, squeezing her friend's hands.
"Thanks. Now come on, let's get ready to go out. We'll have dinner there so you don't need to cook tonight."
"Will I have to eat the food in some special way? Vee, you have to tell me all about the etiquette, I don't want to do anything wrong that'll make people stare at me or…laugh at me."
Verity sat her down on the bed and began taking the plastic sheets off the gowns, calmly explaining anything and everything that Demelza would encounter at the dinner table and how to deal with it. Everything from wine glasses to cutlery, asparagus spears to game meat and dinner conversation. Demelza listened closely and watched how Verity moved her hands while she explained where everything would be on the table placement. She loved how Verity never laughed at her or never patronised her while explaining anything. Whenever she was worried about anything, she would always ask Verity for help because she knew she wouldn't judge her, but help her unconditionally.
"And that's about it," she finished, picking up a red chiffon gown, "I like this, it's fun and bright and it has sleeves. What do you think, will it suit me?"
She held it up on the hanger and Demelza could only wonder at it. It was a full length gown with a deep V and elbow length sleeves. She was sure it was one of the prettiest things she'd ever seen.
"I think it'd be perfect for you," she said with a wide smile, "it'll look so good on you."
"That's sorted, then," said Verity, hanging the gown up from a hook, "now we have to find yours and do our hair and make up. That'll take around an hour and we should leave half an hour before the time written on the invite. So we really don't have long. Take a look and see if anything jumps out at you."
Verity turned away and began arranging her make up on her desk, picking up her large mirror and setting it down. Demelza faintly heard her pulling her curler and straightener out of a cupboard as she dragged her fingertips across all the evening gowns Verity had in her closet.
"Anything?" came Verity's voice from the desk as she carefully set her curler to heat.
Demelza smiled and flicked through beautiful princess gowns and sexy black dresses with chains and slits until she ran a hand over a gold silk gown. It wasn't anything too flashy or out there, just a plain gold silk off the shoulder dress, the neckline banded with a little ruffle, tied with a set of laced ribbons at the back to give it some shape. It was straight up and down, but she wouldn't look too much like a shapeless bin bag in this. It was simple, but that was Demelza all over.
"This one?" she asked, taking it out and showing Verity.
Verity squealed and clapped her hands, but Demelza thought she would have done that regardless of which dress she'd picked.
"Girls? Can we pick it up, please? It's time."
Ross' voice echoed around the lobby and he sighed, twirling around on the heel of his dress shoes. Verity had barged in earlier to make sure he was wearing a suit and bow tie. She was afraid he'd decide to be rebellious and wear jeans and a Henley shirt, but he assured her he knew what dress codes were.
"Hustle, please, ladies, come on."
He ushered them towards the car and sat down, with Demelza staring constantly out of the window as the car made its way up George Warleggan's driveway. Ross began to mutter as he caught sight of the house.
"So, Ross, what have you been doing lately? I haven't seen you for ages," he said in a deeper, mock-toff voice, "painting, yah? Wow, so original! No, I've just been working as a ski rep in Verbier, yah, yah, it's just so great, just loving life right now."
Verity managed a chuckle and Ross grinned at her. He was glad their relationship was mended, but they both knew they were never really angry at each other even if they seemed it.
As they pulled up to the door, a man with white gloves came forward to open the car door and they all clambered out, with Verity handing their invite to another man at the doorway. He welcomed them and all three went in. Demelza was temporarily speechless as she looked around the room she was led into. She presumed it was the ballroom due to the sheer size and capacity of it, but it was the most beautiful room she had ever seen. It was covered in stunning frescoes like an Italian basilica, gilded with bright, almost fake looking gold and windows on every wall. The shimmering glass gave way to the garden outside which was softly lit by little fairy lights and lamps, whereas the ballroom was bathed in a gold glow from several large candelabras and the pride of George's house, a colossal crystal chandelier which hung above them elegantly.
"Welcome to the Warleggans," smiled Verity, squeezing Demelza's hand, "isn't it beautiful?"
Demelza nodded along, barely able to speak as Verity set a glass of wine in her hand.
"Now, let me introduce you to a few people."
Demelza nodded and looked around for Ross, but he had disappeared almost instantly. The people around her were strange. She watched them converse with each other as Verity led her through the crowd, and she caught snatches of some of the strangest conversation she'd ever heard.
"Yah, so I asked her where she'd been and she said she'd gone back to South America, where she'd had her gap year, to try and find herself again. I mean, who finds themselves at this age?"
"Remember that muck up day where we bought blow up dolls and tied them to the front of the boarding house? That was literally the most hilarious thing."
"No, she's been working at her dad's art gallery in London and she said she was going into party planning, but I haven't heard anything yet. Her boyfriend is so hot, though, he's like a banker or something?"
The men were all suited up and the women wore beautiful gowns much like hers. But they carried themselves in a different way, they stood taller and accentuated their best features. Most of all, they seemed to be understanding everything that was going on in their conversations and laughing at the right moments. Demelza instantly felt sick as Verity stopped dragging her and motioned over for a girl to join them. She held Verity's hand tight and felt her skin go clammy. Her clutch trembled in her hand.
"Demelza, this is Margaret, someone I know from school. Margaret, this is Demelza, my friend."
"Nice to meet you, darling."
She air kissed with Demelza and smiled at her. Margaret's voice was more of a bored drawl than a greeting and she was wearing a nightie-style black dress with a lace neckline and straps, which made her look ten times more elegant than any of the other girls Demelza had seen. She exuded an air of relaxed glamour, something Demelza felt she couldn't achieve no matter how much she tried.
"Nice to meet you too. How are you?"
"Fine, darling, fine," she waved the question away boredly.
"I'm going to get a refill, be back in a second."
Verity's words lit warning signals in Demelza's mind and she tried to hang on to her friend's hand, but Verity was already gone. Margaret leaned forward and whispered to Demelza.
"Between you and me, I always find these occasions very dull. I mean, who wants to know what some girl from school's doing now? If you really cared about her, you'd talk to her."
Demelza smiled and nodded. She didn't even remember half the girls at her high school.
"I'm just here to people watch," stated Margaret, sipping from her wine glass languidly, "well, guy watch, that's what I mean. That Francis over there, he's quite a dish, don't you think?"
Demelza turned to see Francis in deep conversation with Ross. She stared at Margaret.
"But he's Verity's brother. And I think he's engaged to Elizabeth."
Demelza was pleased she'd made this connection and dropped a name in a conversation. It was a start.
"Oh, Elizabeth Chynoweth," breathed Margaret with irritation, "she's such a social climber. The only reason she's dating Francis is because her mother's planning the wedding so she can get her grimy hands on the Poldark fortune. Mrs Chynoweth's been orchestrating this for years now. Papa Poldark's got one foot in the grave and Francis is this close to becoming the Alpha Poldark."
Demelza stared at Margaret again, shocked at the honesty and brutality with which she was speaking.
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? I mean, I ain't saying she's a golddigger."
The words sounded odd in her clipped accent but Demelza got the picture.
"Oh. Right. So you don't like Elizabeth?"
"I don't think anyone likes Elizabeth, darling. She's greedy, can't get enough. Most of us have trouble finding one guy, she's bouncing between two like a tennis ball."
"Who's the other guy?" asked Demelza, fully invested in the gossip.
"Why, Ross Poldark, of course." Margaret began snorting as she sipped her wine, "Two Poldarks, can you believe it? She just can't make her mind up. Her mother wants Francis because he's got the money. Ross is hot, but poor and that's never a good combination unless you can get some nice Lady Chatterley style extra-marital sex out of it."
Demelza stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Margaret as she continued speaking.
"And Elizabeth would have been okay with Francis too, if Ross hadn't come back from America. She has history with him, you see, they used to go out and all that, but they broke up because he went to the States for study. She and Francis were bumbling along like happy, brainless geese until Ross turned up. Feelings started, you know what I mean," Margaret made hand movements and looked at Demelza, "she still likes him but now he knows she's with Francis, he tries not to give a shit. But he does give a shit, you know?"
Demelza nodded along mindlessly but her breath was coming in uneven streaks. Ross and Elizabeth had been together? This was the first she'd ever heard of anything like this. And Ross still liked her? Why had he kissed her last night, then? Demelza's mind flitted back to earlier in the day where Verity had told him that Elizabeth would be coming to the ball, after which Ross had swiftly stated he would be accompanying them too. Full well knowing that the girl he kissed the night before was right in front of him.
Ross had paid her no attention since last night and Demelza had thought it was because he didn't know what to say, but maybe it was because he didn't care. He still liked Elizabeth, he came to the ball to see her, meaning he still felt they had a chance. Demelza was nothing more than an afterthought, a bad mistake made in a moment of madness. It had been hot in that room, she'd felt sleepy and half awake, perhaps Ross had felt the same way and thought that intimacy was a good idea?
Demelza gripped her wine glass tightly as her jaw tensed. She tried to breathe in and out to stop the tears from falling, but they began to well anyway, escaping her waterline and tumbling down her face.
"Excuse me."
She turned from Margaret and took herself over to the balcony. She stared out of the window and quickly tried to compose herself, fishing clean tissues meant for make up out of her clutch. She pushed the window latch open and stuck her head out into the biting cold air, breathing it in rough gulps as she wiped her face messily. Her eyes squeezed shut and she dabbed at them, careful not to get mascara or eyeshadow all over her face. She didn't want to disappoint Verity and she certainly didn't want to embarrass herself. The more she breathed in the cold air, the more her mind began to slow. If Ross wanted to try again with Elizabeth, he was free to do that and she was no one to stop him. She and Ross weren't in a relationship. She didn't know why he'd kissed her, maybe he hadn't meant to, maybe he'd gotten carried away, but that wasn't any of her business. Yes, she had enjoyed it and yes, perhaps she'd thought she'd had a chance with Ross, but everything was much clearer after Margaret's charitable explanation. She and Ross lived in different worlds. Ross was part of a different group, a group who knew each other, got the scoop on all the dramas happening around them. Ross, Francis and Elizabeth had known each other all their lives and they understood each other's problems and hardships. Francis' father's deteriorating health and businesses, Ross' family situation and time spent in the US, Elizabeth's engagement to Francis. It was all in one little world, from which Demelza was far removed. Far, far removed. She was just Ross' model and the Nampara family cook. Nothing more, nothing less. No matter how nicely Verity treated her, how much they went shopping together and shared clothes, she could never be part of that world. She could be in it, just not amalgamate into it. And she was okay with that.
What she wasn't okay with was Ross viewing her as some sort of bright, new toy to play with and cast aside when he saw a favourite, long lost one hiding behind the toy box. That wasn't acceptable. She may not be in his circle of posh friends, but she was a human being with feelings nonetheless.
"Ah, this is who you're talking about, Verity? Hello, George Warleggan. Welcome to my home, I trust you're having a good evening."
Demelza turned from the window to find Verity and George standing primly, smiling at her. George held his hand out and Demelza smiled, shaking his hand warmly. His duck's arse hair, as Ross had once put it, bobbed back and forth as they shook hands.
"Hello. I'm Demelza, it's lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful house."
"Thank you. You're Ross' model, aren't you? I saw you at his graduation presentation at the art gallery. What a beautiful picture he drew of you. You still model for him now, I take it?"
"I do, yes. You must come and view Ross' portraits some time, I'm sure he'd appreciate it."
She caught Verity's eyes and carefully recited the lines she remembered from her bedroom. George's small smile was not welcoming.
"I'm sure he would. You look lovely tonight, if I may say. We're just having dinner now, would you care to sit with me?"
Verity nodded from behind George and Demelza nodded too reflexively.
"Wonderful. May I?"
He stuck his arm out and Demelza took it clumsily, swapping her clutch in her hands. They walked across the ballroom through to the dining room and Verity joined Margaret behind them, chatting away merrily. The dining room was just as beautiful, with a long table decorated with all the food anyone could ever wish for. Game meats were the centrepiece, of course, and the rest of the table was filled with vegetables, potatoes and all sorts of homely food. Demelza spied asparagus on one dish and vowed to keep away from it. George swept her to the head of the table and docked her at a seat while he stood at the head, spreading his arms out.
"Bonjour, tout le monde! Merci beaucoup for coming to my ball tonight and thank you once again for allowing me to host you in my own home. I trust you've all had a good time mingling and meeting after so long and I do hope the drinks were more than satisfactory."
A small chuckle rose from the tables as George grinned and set his hands down on the wood in front of him.
"A selection of prize game meat, fish and all accompaniments have been lovingly prepared for you by my kitchens, so please, let's waste no more time. Let's celebrate the fruit of the very successful Warleggan hunt. Bon appetit."
He sat down and everyone began to clap. Demelza hastily set her clutch down and clapped too, perhaps a bit too noisily in her hurry, and sat down carefully, tripping a little over the ends of her dress as someone pushed the chair in for her. The starter was soup, already decanted into a bowl, and Demelza knew how to eat soup, she didn't need anyone's instruction. She waited for the host to start eating as Verity had told her, and carried on with her meal. A butler from behind topped up her wine glass with Moet, something she'd only seen in adverts, and brought the fish, main and dessert courses along one by one. The portions were stingy, not at all enough to fill her up and her hand itched to dump more potatoes onto her plate from the bowl in front of her, but she abstained.
Ross was sitting on the opposite side of the table, a little way down alongside Verity. He looked angry and had rolled his eyes during George's speech. Demelza watched as he picked at his food in irritation and Verity glanced over at her, giving her a thumbs up. She was obviously doing everything right and even in this situation, she couldn't help but be pleased with herself. She did have a little mishap with the guest sitting next to her during the fish course. He had attempted to make conversation with her and Demelza remembered what Verity had said about small talk. She tried the line about the weather and deer hunting, which made the man look at her oddly and smile. He didn't speak to her any more after that, but the evening had been going so well, Demelza didn't even care to notice.
George had attempted to speak to her too, mainly about Ross. He kept asking what Ross was up to and how he was doing lecturing at the university. He seemed annoyed with Demelza's generically positive replies, almost as if he was looking for some sort of gossip. Nevertheless, the dinner was soon over and after dessert, guests began to lounge on their chairs. She watched the women flick their hair tiredly as they drank their wine and it seemed like apathy was the cool thing. Before she could attempt to emulate it, Verity appeared behind her chair.
"It's time to go," she said briskly, with a smile plastered on her face, "let's say goodnight."
Demelza got up dutifully and retrieved her clutch, moving to follow Demelza until she heard a voice.
"Going so soon? It is late, I suppose. At least let me escort you outside."
George was all smiles as he walked out through the ballroom with both women. Ross waited for them at the doorway of the house, stamping his feet against the bitter cold. His and Verity's horses were doing the same outside and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place as quickly as possible.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Carne, and I do hope you come by again for dinner. Did you enjoy your evening?"
Ross turned to hear George addressing Demelza with his contemptuous drawl and Ross' face contorted uncomfortably. He'd sat her down next to him and now he wouldn't let her leave.
"It was lovely, thank you. And thank you for inviting us into your home."
George smiled his strange semi-smile and waved her off out of the door. Ross turned without word and followed the two girls outside as Verity hitched herself up onto her horse.
"You'll have to ride with me, Demelza. Jim only brought Hugh and Seamus."
Demelza turned and looked at him, but maintained her composure. He ripped his bowtie off and shoved it in his pocket, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and pulling on his riding gloves. Once he'd swung himself up, he helped Demelza up to ride in front of him and set off on a quiet canter down the driveway.
"Comfortable?" he asked quietly.
She nodded in reply and sat silently as they made their way home.
"Did you have fun?"
"Yes. I spoke to Margaret. Verity's friend."
"Oh, yeah. Queen of the Gossip Mill. What did she tell you? Anything juicy?"
Demelza thought about biting her tongue as she bobbed up and down with every step the horse took. She didn't.
"Nothing much. Just stuff about you and Elizabeth and Francis."
She felt Ross' posture straighten behind her. She played with her clutch absently as the bobbing motion of the horse began to loosen the bobby pins meticulously placed by Verity in her hair.
"What did she say?"
"She told me all about that whole story. You and Elizabeth were a thing, then you went away to study in America and Elizabeth began dating Francis, now they're both engaged."
"Yeah. Only because her mother—"
"I heard that bit too. Margaret said that Elizabeth's mother has always been after a rich guy for her daughter. And that if her mother hadn't pushed her towards Francis, you and Elizabeth might still—"
"That's not true."
There was silence once again and Demelza let it be for a while. Nampara was in sight and she could barely make out the silhouette of Jim and Verity's horse.
"Elizabeth and I aren't a….thing. Not anymore. And I certainly don't want to be."
"That's why you agreed to come to the ball when Verity said Elizabeth would be there? Even though you hate George so much?"
Ross swung off the horse and guided it into the stable, handing the reins to Jim before holding a hand out to help Demelza off the horse. She glared at him and swung herself off clumsily, muddying the hem of her dress in the process.
"You still haven't answered my question," she said as Ross strode quietly into the house.
She followed him as he entered the house and Verity was nowhere to be seen. He tossed his gloves angrily onto the sofa in the living room, walking over to the fire and turning to stare at her.
"I'll answer your question now. I agreed to go to George's house because I had something I needed to say to Elizabeth in person, otherwise I wouldn't have touched George or his nouveau riche house with a barge pole."
Demelza opened her mouth to ask the inevitable next question but she was beaten there by Ross, who seemed like he was on fire.
"I told her to stop calling me, to stop texting me, to stop contacting me in any way. She's been harassing me incessantly since the engagement dinner and I won't have any of it. It's not my fault if she can't pick the Poldark that takes her fancy and her excuses don't interest me."
Demelza stared at him, completely nonplussed. He didn't want to be with her?
"You don't believe me? Here, look at this."
He fished his phone out of his pocket and in a few short taps, held it up to show her. She saw white and blue speech bubbles and yards of text as Ross scrolled along to show her.
"This is her, this is all from her. All these endless explanations and excuses and I don't want to hear it. I'm living my life by myself, living with my cousin, working a decent job and trying to make a living. I don't like the way she and Francis and the entire damn family look down their noses at me. I hold them in the utmost contempt. That's what Verity says anyway."
"And why is that?"
He turned and stared at her oddly, his eyes gleaming a menacing orange in the fire light.
"Because they deceived me, Demelza. While I was away in New York, my father died here in Cornwall. My aunt and uncle neglected to tell me until I came back. They buried him, they did everything and didn't tell me a thing. Verity tried, but her parents stopped her. Elizabeth was there. Francis was there. Why didn't they do anything? I played with them both when I was a kid, we spent our childhood together here in Cornwall, between Nampara and Trenwith and back then, we were all equal. Money, status, family, it didn't mean anything to us as long as we could play together after school and have a good time. The more you grow up, the more you lose that carelessness and selflessness. Now all anyone thinks about is themselves.
"And I'm not immune to that. I was guilty of being selfish when I left my dad and went to America, and I'm sure I've done loads of horrid things in my life, but nothing so bad as deceiving someone I love. It'd only been six months, Demelza," said Ross passionately, stepping towards her, "it'd only been six months that my dad was dead and I come back to this?"
He raised his arms to the room around him. Demelza bit her lip and looked around too.
"I come home to this? They knew Dad wasn't well, they could have helped, they could have taken care of the place, but no. Instead, I come home from Trenwith to find Verity alone here. Just Verity and Jim and Jinny and they tried as hard as they could to fix it up, but what can three people do? It's a shithouse, Demelza. It's breaking apart, it's full of mould and damp and crumbling stairs. This is my inheritance."
The last word was almost a laugh. She ventured an idea calmly.
"But surely alongside the house, you got monetary inheritance? Which you could use to fix the house?"
"Money? I don't know how much you've seen since you've been here, but I have no money. I live on the wage I get from my residency, which isn't enough. Verity's profits from her bakery and my salary, it's not enough for both of us, especially if we have to pay the salaries of our staff, groceries, shit like that. It's not working. And I know some of it is my fault, but now do you understand why I want nothing to do with those people who live in Trenwith? And that includes Elizabeth. She's complicit in this and I don't care what anyone says. This isn't about me and her and Francis and some sort of movie love triangle, or even about love, it's about trust, about family, about taking care of each other. Common fucking courtesy," he spat, turning towards the fire and sitting down on his chair.
He buried his face in his hands and Demelza heard a shaky, quiet sigh. Her heart hurt after hearing him talk and she didn't know how she could make anything better. She walked over and crouched down, looking up at him.
"Well….perhaps we could go to B&Q tomorrow and get some paints? There's 50% off on Wednesdays if you're over 60. We could dress you up as a pensioner. I'm sure it'd work."
Ross blinked at her and snorted, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. Demelza joined in too and suddenly, he was very grateful for her presence.
"You're so cheeky. Now off you go, it's late, time for bed."
Demelza grinned and got up, walking towards the stairs with her shawl and clutch. She was glad there wasn't any awkwardness between them anymore. She made her way up to the balcony, but paused as she saw Ross' fabric covered canvas still resting against the railings. She looked down for any sign of him coming and quickly crouched down to unwrap the fabric. She felt terribly naughty, but she was just dying to see what he'd created today. The knots came undone easily and the fabric fell to reveal a canvas full of monotone, but the subject matter was what struck Demelza speechless. The painting was of her, sitting on the floor in front of a bright fire, her head tipped back to rest on a green leather seat, the most beautiful and fantastical shadows cast over her whole body. Dark, precise charcoal marks were visible over Demelza's neck, thrown into light while the rest of her body was cast into shadow. She sat on her hind legs and looked at it for what felt like an eternity. It was more beautiful than any other portrait of her Ross had ever drawn or painted.
She heard Ross' footsteps lazily make their way up the stairs but she couldn't move.
"Do you like it?" came his voice from the top of the stairs.