Trying Not to Love You-

Demelza walked back to Trenwith with a renewed resolve to talk to Francis and get her marriage back to where it was. She was proud to be Mistress Poldark and was grateful to him for choosing her and bringing her up to become his wife and lady of Trenwith. And she loved him. Yet, now Demelza wondered if she loved him enough in the way a wife should love a husband to keep him happy and satisfied. Until recently, Francis had been kind and attentive and he never gave Demelza any cause to question his devotion. And so, Demelza's feelings for him grew from that. However, since the unspoken rift in their relationship, she wondered if that kind of love was enough to sustain a marriage long term. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to feel that intense, blood surging passion she felt when she kissed Ross those months ago. It had lasted only a few moments but she had not felt the same kind of emotions with Francis since. Now Demelza wondered if he sensed a change in her and that was why he pulled away.

As she gathered wild flowers on her way home, she decided that no matter how hard the discussion would be, she would tell Francis the truth and, if they truly loved each other, would be able to overcome the obstacles and make their marriage work. Reaching the edge of the property, Demelza took a moment to look at the world that fate had given her. The majestic stone structure had years of Poldark history and she was still in awe that she was now a part of it. As she approached the oak doors, Demelza's attitude lightened tremendously. She entered the grand main hall and saw Verity sitting in the morning room, doing her needlework while Aunt Agatha dozed in the corner, her ever present port and tarot cards on the table in front of her. Verity looked up when Demelza entered and put a finger to her mouth in a sign that they should keep quiet so as not to disturb their aunt. Demelza smiled and quietly made her way over to where the old woman sat and glanced at the cards that were turned over.

There was a card with a sword holding a crown, a card with four cups, another that looked like royalty and finally one with a wheel. Demelza had no idea what they meant but something about them piqued her interest and set a chill up her spine. There was one more card separate from the deck but not turned over, and as discreetly as she could, Demelza reached over and flipped the card. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw what it was: death. Moving away from the table, she gripped her flowers and proceeded to find a vase to arrange them in. Verity saw the color drain from her face and walked over to see what she had found on the table. Seeing the cards she knew the reason for her reaction and knew she had to say something to alleviate Demelza's automatic feelings.

"Demelza, my dear, do not take these seriously. Aunt Agatha plays with these to pass the time; she's certainly no fortune teller." Verity had taken Demelza's arm and looked up at her reassuringly. Her eyes were bright and her warm smile did wonders for Demelza's suddenly cold feeling.

"Fiddlesticks," a gravelly voice said from the corner. "I'm hardly ever wrong." Agatha raised her head and looked squarely at the young women, who shared a look between them and giggled. Agatha gestured for both of them to come over to where she sat. Taking a sip of port, she picked up the deck and pointed to the cards already laid down.

"The dark Poldark," she said as her finger touched the Ace of Swords. "Triumph, the excessive degree in everything, conquest It is a card of great force, in love as well as in hatred." Agatha peered over her glass at Verity and Demelza, narrowing her eyes as she did so. Putting the glass down, she touched the card opposite that one, The Four of Cups. "Or the fair Poldark. Weariness, disgust, aversion, imaginary vexations, as if the wine of this world had caused satiety only; another wine, as if a fairy gift, is now offered the wastrel, but he sees no consolation therein."

Demelza heard her words and felt that same chill pass through her. Plastering a smile on her face she said nothing as the old woman continued.

"As the stronger rises, the weaker falls. For all is fair in love and war." Noticing her glass was empty, Agatha indicated to Verity to refill it. Going to the sideboard, Verity brought the decanter to her aunt, and poured another tot into the crystal cup. Agatha ignored her actions as looked at the card that Demelza had flipped over earlier.

"The death card," Agatha said with an ominous tone. She lifted her eyes and looked directly at Demelza. Now the feeling of foreboding was stronger than ever in Francis' young wife and she did not know how to shake it. Verity saw the exchange and interceded.

"Aunt Agatha! Stop with all the grim storytelling. Must you always predict the worst?" Verity was sharp with her aunt but didn't want to be disrespectful. However she saw how upset Demelza was and was determined to help her sister in law. "Demelza, come, let's put the flowers in some water and then start tea. I'm sure Francis will be home soon and will be famished."

Hearing her sister in law's voice, Demelza gathered the flowers and vase and walked towards the kitchen with Verity close behind, who looked over her shoulder and gave a glare to her aunt. Agatha ignored her and went back to her port and cards.

In the kitchen, Demelza moved about mechanically, starting the preparations for tea and trying to get Agatha's words and the sight of those cards out of her head. She had come home more optimistic than ever that she and Francis could regain what they seemed to be losing and now this sense of doom was washing over her. Having a quick look at the clock she saw that there was still some time until Francis would be home so she had time to mix up a batch of fresh scones for tea. Putting her mind to the business of baking, she pushed aside anything else.

As she put the ingredients in a bowl for the dough, she played the conversation she anticipated having with Francis in her head. She hoped that when she relayed what had transpired between her and Ross, Francis would not be too angry and would understand the circumstances under which their encounter happened. Her mind now determined, she shaped and formed the buns and placed them on a board to rise. With nothing more to do until they were ready to bake, Demelza made her way upstairs to her and Francis' room for a quick lie down. She had been feeling off kilter most of the day and put it down to the stress of the situation with Francis so lying down and putting her feet up was a welcome luxury. Soon she had fallen into a light sleep and dreamt of nothing.

When Demelza awoke she saw that the sun had set and that someone had lit the candles in her room. Sitting up slowly, her body was rested but her mind still felt full of thoughts and emotions. She was anxious for Francis to come home so they could dine and have some quiet time to talk. Rising from the bed, Demelza noticed the time and wondered why no one woke her for tea. She hadn't realized she had slept through the afternoon. Looking in the mirror, she smoothed her hair and dress and made her way downstairs to see if Francis had come home and had tea without her.

Reaching the large main dining room, Demelza didn't see any sign of Francis. Walking into the parlor she saw Verity sitting at her large embroidery hoop, working quietly and Agatha dozing in the corner. It appeared as though Francis did not return for tea as the table still had the remnants of the afternoon ritual which included unused cups as well as plenty of biscuits and pastries.

Verity looked up from her stitching when she saw Demelza enter.

"My dear, did you have a pleasant rest? You seemed so distraught earlier I hadn't the heart to disturb you. I hope you don't mind?" Verity's voice was full of concern and caring. Her large brown eyes stared warmly at Demelza which put her at ease.

"Thank you Verity. Did Francis come home for tea?" she asked.

Verity shook her head lightly. "No. As a matter of fact, he didn't. I didn't think anything of it until you mentioned it now. Perhaps there was some business at the mine that kept him detained." She spoke simply with no hint of worry. Demelza, on the other hand got that same sinking feeling in her that had been lingering for several weeks. She had a feeling of foreboding and without realizing it, glanced at Agatha, who was not the wiser. The older woman continued to sleep, unaware of what was going on around her. Or so Demelza thought.

Demelza walked to the window, looking towards the front gate, hoping to catch sight of Francis riding in. Subconsciously her hand drifted to her waist, wishing that the talk she and Francis were going to have would include her telling him that she was going to give him a child. For some reason she was sure that the last time they were intimate, she had gotten with child but knew logically it was too soon to be sure and to voice that hope could only be lending itself to disappointment. Demelza went back to join the ladies and reached for a biscuit as she passed the table. She realized that she was famished as she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Now as she nibbled on the sweet, she decided that perhaps a cup of tea would do wonders to calm her nerves and proceeded to pour a cup.

"Demelza," Verity cried as she jumped up from her seat. "Let me get you a hot pot." She went to take the bowl from her and Demelza stopped her.

"Verity, stop. This will do just fine. I just need something to wash down this biscuit and soothe me a bit. No need to cater to me. Sit down." Demelza's voice was insistent and so Verity smiled and returned to her loop.

Presently Agatha stirred and sitting upright, looked towards the hallway as if she expected someone. Grabbing the cane that sit next to her chair, the lifted herself up from the chair and made her way over to the table, surveying the contents. Snorting at the spread, she walked past to go to the decanters that were displayed on the sideboard. She poured herself a draught of port and stood with Demelza, waiting for something. Demelza looked down at the smaller, woman and gave a weak smile. She tried to remain non committal but her heart would not allow her to lose the fear she had. Walking around the room once more she heard what she thought were hooves on the gravel.

Turning toward the entry way, she smiled with anticipation at seeing Francis appear. So she was surprised when Tabb walked towards her with someone else in his presence. It was Ross. Demelza straightened up without a second thought and prepared to greet him when she saw his face. Immediately she knew something was wrong. He was grim, his eyes wet with unshed tears and his head bent as if he couldn't look directly at her.

Demelza noticed how Ross briefly looked past her at Verity and his aunt sitting in the parlor. She instinctively knew that what he came to say was not good news.

"Ross, what's wrong?" Demelza took a step towards him and reached a hand out to take his. She knew, whatever it was, she would need to hold on to something.

"Demelza, it's Francis. There's been an accident."