WARNING: Character death in this chapter.

Previously: "You need to go to Trenwith." Mrs Chynoweth said, trembling visibly. She looked as though she was going to say something else but before she was able to vocalise it, she was overcome with emotion and buried her face into her hands. Ross barely noticed, already having turned around to change direction as he ran from the town in his haste to get to his cousin's home.

Second Chances

Chapter 25

Ross's mind was racing with all sorts of horrifying possibilities as he galloped to Trenwith. Someone there had perished. Francis. Geoffrey Charles. Aunt Agatha. Elizabeth. It could have been any one of them. Maybe even more than one of them.

A thought crossed his mind. Brief and minute and harsh enough to make his heart squeeze painfully with guilt. He hated himself for ever thinking it, but in that one moment he had wished the cruel fate on Elizabeth if it had meant the illness had spared his family. It wasn't that he wished her dead or didn't care for her, but he remembered just how much heartache she had caused. No, he firmly reprimanded himself as his journey continued. He was trying to deflect the blame. He had been just as responsible if not more than her for the mess he had made of his marriage and life. She did not deserve to die anymore than anyone else.

As he reached the estate, the signs of mourning were unmistakable. Black fabric waved ominously in the breeze of the day from the points where it had been hung. A warning sign to visitors that death had visited recently. Except for the wind and his horse's breathing, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. The sounds of a busy house, with servant travelling to and fro, were totally absent and only worsened the dread Ross was feeling.

A servant dressed in black with red-rimmed eyes answered the door, and without saying a word guided him to Charles's old study. The room was familiar to Ross, and in not all together a positive way. He remembered that in his younger years, when he and Francis would get into all kinds of mischief, they were often brought here together for a stern tongue-lashing from the Poldark patriarch.

The desk that old cantankerous man had so often sat behind was now occupied by Francis. The initial rush of relief that Ross felt at the sight of his cousin, alive and well, faded as he took in his obvious grief. Francis had not even noticed their entrance, nor when the servant who had brought Ross in disappeared back into the house as quiet as a ghost.

Francis's face wasn't visible as his head was in his hands, supported by his elbows leaning on the dark wood of the desk. He hadn't stirred at all. Ross would have mistaken him for a statue if it weren't for the ever so faint sound of his breathing.

He approached his cousin carefully, wary of startling him too severely. He knew now that Francis was unharmed, but it didn't answer the more prevalent question he had on his mind about who had passed. A part of him hoped desperately that he was wrong, that Mrs Chynoweth had been mistaken about a death at Trenwith, but in his heart he knew that this was just wishful thinking.

"Francis." He called gently, trying to get his attention. It didn't work, but the silence gave him a moment with which to examine him. What he saw did not lift his spirits. Francis looked to have aged ten years overnight, skin pale and clammy with distinct red patches that marked tear tracks.

"Francis." He called again, a little more loudly this time. He seemed more successful, as his cousin stirred briefly before slowly raising his head to meet Ross's gaze.

What Ross saw in Francis's eyes made him take a step back. There was something broken about him. Something strange but yet, hauntingly familiar. While he had never seen such desolation painted on Francis's face, he had seen that same painful mixture of emotions before but on another, and for the moment it escaped him exactly who.

The creak of a door interrupted the moment. "Ross?" an unsteady voice said as a pale-faced Elizabeth emerged from the darkness of another room. Her eyes were red from crying, and from the way she gripped the wall for support, he could see that she was still weak from the illness that had ravaged the household. "Y-you heard about…" Her voice broke mid-sentence.

The horrifying realisation hit him, with all the pain of a punch to the gut and more. And then it struck Ross exactly where he had seen Francis's expression before. It had not been on Demelza. Her grief over Julia had been immense, full of devastation and regret and a large dose of blame directed inwards towards herself. In that sense, her emotions had resembled Francis's but there had been no anger mixed in her sadness. What Ross saw in Francis was much darker. Grief and misery, but also bitterness and anger and blame and hatred directed at everyone including himself. It had been the same expression Ross had seen on himself in the rare occasions he had looked at a mirror during the drunken daze that had followed from the loss of Julia.

Geoffrey Charles…

It was as though she read his thoughts. Elizabeth clutched at her chest and let out a heartbroken sob. "My poor baby." She wept.

Ross moved over to try to comfort her, still struggling to comprehend that the sweet smiling little boy he had known was gone, when a loud bang disrupted the moment. It even seemed to momentarily startle Elizabeth out of her despair, she flinched as though struck by a blow and turned her watery gaze back to her husband.

Francis had slammed his fist on the desk, knuckles bone white from being clenched so hard.

"Get out." He spoke quietly, in a deathly calm voice that Ross didn't recognise.

A look of hurt and confusion crossed Elizabeth's still lovely visage.

"Francis-" she implored.

"GET OUT!" He screamed at her, red faced and with any pretence of calm gone. The glass in his hand went sailing through the air, slamming with a crash into the wall next to Elizabeth. She screamed and covered her face as the broken shards of glass fell to the floor. The glass had been full when it had been flung. A splatter of whiskey had painted a wet stain across her dress, like a slash mark from a sword, while the remaining liquid had made it to the wall, and now dripped down to the ground.

Elizabeth fled the room without a second glance, tears flowing freely down her face. The door slammed behind her, leaving the two men alone. Ross rounded on Francis.

"Francis, what-"

"It's her fault." His cousin snapped back. "I did what you said. Quarantined the whole household, but then one of the maids snuck out and she let her back in, and now-" he stopped, so overwhelmed with emotion that he was unable to continue. He collapsed back on the chair, buried his face in his hands and cried.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Francis." Ross could not hold his atrocious behaviour against him, not in that moment. The pain was still too raw, he remembered it all too well from Julia's death. Poor Geoffrey Charles. He had never deserved this fate. And because of Ross, Francis would never see his son grow up.

Hesitantly, he put an arm around the grieving man, trying to give him what little comfort he could. Francis seemed to seize on it, clutching him back as though he was a lifeline stopping him from drifting out to sea. Ross embraced him back like a brother.

Suddenly, and without any warning, Francis pushed him away abruptly.

"I'm sorry," He said shakily, "I know you're trying to help, but I can't be around you right now."

"Of course, if that's what you want." He could understand the need for space to mourn at this time.

"George sent word." Francis bitterly spat out. "He came in person to deliver his condolences, and couldn't help but mention that Demelza had given birth to a healthy baby girl."

The blood drained from Ross's face. He hadn't even considered that the news could have travelled to Trenwith, but it had been weeks now since the birth.

"I would give you my congratulations," Francis huffed a bitter laugh, "but I can't be happy for you. Not right now."

"I understand-" Francis cut him off.

"No. You don't." He shook his head helplessly. "How could you even begin to understand what we're going through? You with your two healthy children. God wouldn't even let me keep one."

There was nothing Ross could say to that.

"Just go." Francis said, turning away from Ross. He retrieved a new glass, and poured another large measure into it which he quickly downed.

Helpless and unable to do anything else, Ross left the room.

He found Elizabeth in her bedchamber. She looked as though she had finally run out of tears, and had passed out from exhaustion on her bed, still fully dressed.

Not wanting to disturb her, he made to leave the room, but some innocuous sound or another roused her from her uneasy sleep.

"I'm sorry for waking you. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I don't think I'll ever be alright again." She said groggily, rising to sit up and rubbing her face. "But thank you for your concern. Francis has been in a rage since… since the night it happened." She couldn't bring herself to say the words aloud.

"He's hurting right now. With time, he'll calm."

"He's right though." Elizabeth said miserably. "It was my fault. If I hadn't allowed the maid back in-"

"You couldn't have known." Ross cut her off before she could blame herself any more. She couldn't have known, but he did. And he did nothing to stop it. "You were trying to be kind."

"The maid died." A strangely haunted look clouded her face. "The day before Geoffrey Charles. It was all for nothing."

"I'm sorry for everything." Ross said. "I don't think there is anything I can say that will make you feel better. But please, try not to blame yourself. I know it is difficult, but you will get through this."

Demelza had. She had been so much stronger than him, and with hindsight he had marvelled at her strength and resilience. Having Jeremy had helped heal the wound in her heart. The little boy had remained attached at her hip for the first year or so of her life, so scared was she to lose him. But Elizabeth had never had another child with Francis, and childbearing had eventually resulted in her own death.

"Maybe. But I don't think my marriage will survive this. How can we go on?" She asked sadly. "Geoffrey Charles held us together. He was everything to us."

"I don't know." Ross answered honestly. He could only hope they managed to get past this tragedy, as he and Demelza had.

His exit from Trenwith was much different from his entrance. He sombrely rode from the estate and in the direction of his home. The ride over had tired out his horse, which he now regretted as they slowly travelled. All he wanted was to get back to his children and hold them in his arms.

He passed through town on his way, and was so distracted that he barely heard George Warleggan trying to get his attention.

"Ah Ross," George greeted. "It has been a while. But given your self-imposed seclusion, that should be expected. How is dear Demelza? Is she quite recovered?"

Given that this was the blow George had struck Francis with, it was miraculous that Ross managed to restrain himself from saying and doing what he really wanted.

"She is." He managed to say through gritted teeth. "I will let her know you asked after her."

"Of course, it is terrible to hear what happened to poor Geoffrey Charles. Have you just come from Trenwith?"

"I have." An idea suddenly struck Ross. "And that reminds me. I wish to call in the favour you owe me."

"Oh?" George looked surprised.

"I know you are still angry with Francis, but I ask that you stop. He needs a friend more than ever now… and I'm not best placed to fit that at this moment."

It was not the favour Ross had wanted to ask for. He had originally wanted protection against the Carnmore Copper Company, but this was a more pressing need. Francis needed emotional support. Support that neither he nor Elizabeth could provide.

"Agreed." George answered with a smile. "I have to admit Ross, I was expecting something far more difficult or costly. I'm almost disappointed."

"Maybe next time." Ross replied drily. He made his excuses, and went directly home.

Ross didn't see Demelza when he arrived, but he wouldn't have been surprised if after such a long period of being confined to the house, she had left to visit friends or tenants. Jinny was around, keeping an eye on the children as she cleaned the house. He lightly dismissed her and immediately went to William, sweeping the child up into his arms and holding him close. The boy had been happily playing and was a little disgruntled at being interrupted by his emotional father. He wriggled about and complained until he put him down. Ross brushed a hand through the boy's hair as he ran back off to play.

He went to Julia next. She was asleep, and Ross didn't want to disturb her so he settled for sitting by her crib and holding her tiny fragile hand.

All the emotions he had supressed over the day came flooding out, and he found himself holding back tears at the part he had played in this whole mess. The worst part was knowing the truth. Would he have done anything differently if he had known Geoffrey Charles would have died? Could he really have chosen to risk Julia or William or Demelza? The sad reality was that no, he wouldn't. He would always pick his family over Francis's, but that only made him feel more guilty.

It was during this vulnerable moment that Demelza returned.

"I just heard about Geoffrey Charles." She said, her eyes welling up with tears. "That poor little boy."

"It's my fault." Ross was so out of his mind with guilt that he was barely aware of her presence, and of what he was saying.

"What?"

"Geoffrey Charles wasn't supposed to die. I only wanted to save Julia. I didn't realise it would cause his death."

"What are you talking about? You sound completely mad!" Demelza snapped, inadvertently waking Julia and causing her to cry. "There was no way you could have known."

"But I did!" And then a sudden realisation hit Ross. Something he had forgotten about that he should not have. "The shipwreck." He said to himself, and promptly ran from the room, leaving Demelza shouting questions from behind him.

He had completely forgotten, but now he remembered and the dates matched. He had heard the date repeated often enough in his trial, but with his worries over Demelza and the children it had slipped his mind. It was already evening, and chances were he had missed the big event.

Indeed, once he finally reached the shore the ship was already broken against the cliffs. Villagers had already arrived and started to pillage the ship. He caught one of them by the scruff of the neck.

"Have you found any survivors?" He snapped at the man. From the downward look, and guilty shuffle it was obvious that a rescue had not been at the top of the priorities.

"Well, get looking." Ross said darkly. Then more loudly, so he could catch the attention of more of the men and women gathered. "I would certainly hope that if any of you were in a similar situation, that the people who came would help their fellow man before helping themselves."

Sufficiently shamed, several turned their attentions to looking for survivors in the wreck. Ross joined them, using any available tools and his bare hands to try to free some of the drowning men. Most of their efforts were for naught, but they did save a few which was more than they accomplished the previous time.

Once they'd done all they could, and the wounded had been taken to see physicians, Ross finally decided to go home. If the villagers continued to plunder now, they were welcome to it. All he wanted was to save as many as he could, to make up for the one he could not help.

By the time Ross reached Nampara, he was still dripping wet and exhausted from his efforts. Demelza had been pacing in the sitting room when he arrived. She took one look at him and immediately went to retrieve a towel. Ross sat before the lit fire, letting its heat ease his shivering. She quickly returned and put the cloth around his shoulders, her hands moving down to rub his arms.

"What on earth happened to you?"

"One of George Warleggan's ships wrecked on the cliffs." He explained. "I went to help."

"You said there was a shipwreck before you left. But how could you have known?" She was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "You said a lot of things that didn't make sense."

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I was still in shock over Geoffrey Charles's death." He told her. He hoped she would accept this explanation and drop the matter, but a small part of him was tired of all the deceit. Tired of trying to shoulder this burden alone.

"You said that he wasn't supposed to die. That you were trying to save Julia."

"Yes."

"But that doesn't make sense!" She was visibly frustrated. "You couldn't have known what would happen."

"But I did." Ross finally said. "I did because I've done all this once before."

Demelza stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was trying to say. So Ross told her everything. He told her about dying and waking up on that fateful day, decades in the past. Of being given the chance to relive his life and rectify his mistakes. He told her about Elizabeth, and about Francis. He nearly broke down telling her about Julia's death. The crisis he had adverted by dooming a different child to that tragic fate. All the while during his explanation, Demelza only looked at him and listened. Her face was expressionless, and she said nothing. When he was finally done, she remained quiet.

"I know that you probably don't believe me. I wouldn't either if it hadn't happened to me."

"I do believe you." She finally said. "That's what is so difficult." She looked hurt, and Ross could guess at the reasons.

"I'm sorry that I kept this from you. But I was such a fool back then, all I wanted was to make things right and I didn't want to upset you by telling you the truth."

"What truth is that? That you only married me because of the children we share?" She looked on the verge of tears, and Ross was quick to reassure her.

"No you silly fool. The moment I realised I was back, all I wanted was to be with you." She didn't look convinced.

"And what about Elizabeth?"

"I was an idiot." He said. "I thought I was in love with her for the longest time. But it wasn't real. I realised within an instant that she meant nothing more to me than as a friend. I could relive my life a thousand times, and the only woman I would ever choose would be you. I love you more than anything."
He cupped her face, wiping away the tears she had cried.

"Truly?" She asked, voice wavering.

"Truly." He confirmed. He wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her softly.

Eventually they pulled away from one another, but Ross continued to hold her close. There were no more secrets between them, and despite everything he truly hoped that they could look forward to a better future together.

Author's Note: And the fate befell poor Geoffrey Charles, as many of you guessed. I always thought Geoffrey Charles survived because of Demelza's care, which unfortunately led to Julia's death. It seemed fitting that Julia's survival would come at the expense of Geoffrey Charles. I also wanted to note that I recently realised this fic surpassed 200 reviews, which is the first time I've had a fic do that. Thank you so much everyone who has supported this story. I'm just sorry it has taken so long to finish it. I did actually have everything ready to post yesterday, but I was getting error messages every time I tried to upload the document, so you guys are getting it a little later than Archive of Our Own.