Ex Libris - Part V

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He grumbled and reached for his mobile on the bedside table to silence the shrill ringing, it was making his headache worse. The second pint was definitely a mistake. It had been a rough week already, and it was only Tuesday. Demelza had declined his offer to drop her off before he met up with Dwight at the Red Lion, and then she hadn't responded to any of his texts all evening. It'd gone straight to voicemail when he'd rang.

"Demelza?" He was wide awake by the time he answered. It was nearly half past eleven. She would never ring at this hour without good cause. "Demelza?" he said her name again when she didn't respond right away.

There was a rustling sound before he could hear her trembling voice, sounding distant and tinny. "Ross?"

He was already sitting up on the side of the bed searching for his discarded clothing with a trembling hand. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his bones. It was bad, very bad. He knew it. "Are you alright?"

"No," she answered with a gasping sob. "No, I'm not."

"Demelza, tell me what is wrong," he demanded, fear coiling in the pit of his stomach. He'd never heard her in such a state before and it scared him.

"I need you to come, please," she responded, her voice going very soft. "Can you?"

"Tell me what's happened?"

"Please, Ross, just come. Please."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." There was no question he would go to her. She should've known that, and it pained him that she was practically begging him.

"Please hurry," she whispered.

"I will," he promised.

The drive into Truro was one of the longest half hour of his life. The night was pitch black, the moon hidden behind dark clouds that had rolled in earlier off the sea. It would be raining by morning, if not sooner. He was equal parts afraid and worried, wild thoughts ran through his mind, each one more horrific than the last. Ross had to keep reminding himself that he had spoken to her, and while she sounded shaken, she was alright.

All was quiet when he turned onto the narrow street where Demelza let a small flat from an old lady who owned several of the crumbling brick houses on the block. She deserved to live some better, but he understood her situation and sagely kept silent about it. That was a conversation for another time.

His heart nearly leaped into his throat when he spotted the police patrol car as he parked. He grabbed his cane and quickly made his way to Demelza's flat. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance, which only made the dread that much worse. Why in the bloody hell were the police here?

"Mr Ross Poldark?" questioned a constable, stepping out from Demelza's doorway. The woman blocked his entrance, standing her ground despite his looming presence.

"Yes," he groused, in no mood to be trifled with. He needed to see Demelza.

"May I see some identification, please?" She sounded polite on the surface, but her stance said otherwise.

"For fuck's sake." He fumbled for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans so he could prove he was who he said he was. "Can you tell me if she's alright at least?"

The woman just ignored his question as she checked his credentials. "Are you the boyfriend then?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. There was no need to go into the particulars at the moment.

The woman stepped aside only after scrutinizing him a few moments longer, her eyes lingering on his cane. He already knew what she was thinking: Demelza could do much better than him. "She's in the kitchen."

"Thank you," he said, voice dripping with venom as he brushed past. Fuck her.

The place was a mess.

Of all the things he had been expecting to see, this was not it. Demelza always kept a very neat flat. She had to with it being so small. Everything had its place and everything in its place was her motto. The bookshelf had been knocked over, spilling all of her precious books across the floor. His favorite chair had been upended, one arm appeared broken. Her prized peace lily lay face down on the floor, the dark soil staining the colorful throw rug in the walkway and Drake's brain cactus now laid in three pieces amongst the shattered pot. An old earthenware pitcher she'd used as a vase lay smashed and the daisies he'd given her last Saturday lay crushed and wilting on the floor. There were definite signs of a serious altercation of some sort.

Demelza was in his arms the second he'd made his way to her kitchen, her voice muffled against his chest. "Ross!"

"Shhhhh, love, I'm here now." He kissed the top of her head and ran his hands up and down her back trying to soothe her as she tried to squeeze the life out of him. Her red hair was a tangled mess.

"I didn't know who else to ring," she managed to say. "I'm sorry!"

"Are you alright?" he asked and Demelza shook her head and promptly, quietly, and very thoroughly, fell to pieces as he did his best to comfort her. It frightened him to see her like this and he did all that he could to comfort her. He was out of his depth. Caring for a distraught woman was not something he'd been taught in basic training.

Demelza drew in a deep shuddering breath as she started to gather herself after a few minutes. "I don't know." She pulled away to dab her eyes dry with the tea towel he'd grabbed off the counter.

That was when he saw the state of her. She looked like she'd been to war and had barely survived to tell the tale.

"Who did this?" Ross asked, barely able to contain his raging emotions. He was ready to commit murder. All she had to do was say the word.

She dropped back down in the chair she'd been sitting in when he had arrived, absently touching her fingers along a nasty looking gash above her left eye. "My father," she murmured, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Your father?" he echoed, fists clenching with her solemn nod. There was so much more he wanted to know, but he could tell now was not the time. Demelza was barely holding on by a thread. He scrubbed his face with his hand before he sought the police constable to find out just what the devil had gone on.

The sergeant on scene filled him in on the details: her father was released from prison about a month prior and had started ringing to demand money almost immediately. She stopped answering and eventually blocked the number. Tom Carne had then hung about the area in an attempt to find his daughter and had begun harassing her at the shops. He turned up this evening just as she was readying for bed and forced his way into the flat when she refused him entrance. The upstairs neighbor rang the police after hearing unusual loud noises when he arrived home from work. Her father had disappeared by the time they had arrived. The door was bashed in and the flat ransacked. Ms Carne has refused medical attention for her cuts and abrasions obtained during the altercation.

Now was not the time for his anger at Demelza for not mentioning a word about her father for weeks on end. Ross knew her well enough by now that he could understand her reasoning for not telling him. She should've known she could trust him. He would have never judged her on her upbringing. It wasn't like he came from a stellar family himself. She was a very important part of his life and he was selfish enough to want to do anything to keep it that way. He'd be ringing Pearce, the family lawyer, first thing to see what could be done on that front.

Ross bundled her into the Range Rover once she'd gathered herself together enough to function, wrapped up in the throw blanket from the sofa, while he dealt with the police report. He'd given her Garrick the dog to hold. The tattered old stuffed animal seemed to bring her some measure of comfort as she toyed with the dog's flappy ears.. Her bedroom was a mess, but he managed to find a small case and grabbed up a few items of clothing that he could find in the chaos. He also took the opportunity to make the requisite phone calls out of her earshot. The front door was a lost cause so he did what he could to secure it until Jud could be sent in the morning to see to the repairs.

It was taking all of his willpower to remain calm, especially after seeing the blood and bruises starting to blossom on her face. Ross didn't know the extent of her injuries and Demelza was too embarrassed to go to A&E so Dwight would be waiting for them at home. It was nice to have a doctor for a friend at his beck and call.

"We're not far now," he said to break the silence on the long drive, he clasped her hand gently, unsure if she was still awake or just abnormally silent. "Nampara isn't much, but it's home."

"Your father won't mind, will he?" she asked in an almost whisper.

It hurt his soul to see her this way. She was normally so vibrant and confident. Bringing her home should have been a happy occasion, and one she had been looking forward to since he'd first told her about the rambling old house. This was not how he had wanted to introduce to her to all of the people that mattered the most to him. There was nothing now to be done except get on with it.

"No, he won't," he assured her. Jud or Prudie had surely apprised him of the evening's events by now since Ross had roused them with his phone call. There were a few things that required doing before he returned with Demelza.

She sighed. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

"You could never cause trouble, Demelza," he stated firmly. Ross wanted no misunderstandings.

"I'm putting you out," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "You've had to come out in the middle of the night, in the rain, for me."

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"I know you would, but you shouldn't have to for me."

"Enough," he growled more firmly than he intended, and immediately regretted it when he felt a tremble go through her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I just don't want you thinking you're a burden to me, or to anyone."

She sniffled a bit as she nodded. "Yes, Ross."

"We're here."

It had just started to piss rain when he crossed the low wooden bridge over the creek situated about half a mile from the house, light suddenly flooded the yard and Jud stepped out with an umbrella in hand. Ross didn't need to hear him to know the old man was whinging bitterly about being dragged out of his warm bed in the dead of night. Dwight's sensible black Vauxhall Mokka was parked over by the barn. That meant it was likely his wife wasn't with him. It was just as well.

Caroline Penvenen-Enys was about as subtle as a brick through a plate glass window. Not that Ross didn't like his best mate's wife, in fact he was half in love with her if truth be told. She was tall and elegant, champagne blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes, with permanently pouty lips. Caroline resembled a china doll, only she was anything but fragile. She was quite used to getting her way, forcibly if need be. He was not in the proper frame of mind to deal with her, but he was having no such luck. She came out of the side door right behind Dwight to take charge of the situation at hand, something at which she was exceedingly good.

Their arrival caused quite the stir in the normally quiet household. He was immediately assigned marching orders to park his arse in the chair by the fire and warm himself while Dwight saw to Demelza's medical needs in the brightly lit kitchen. Prudie hovered in the shadows with Jud just in case they were needed.

"Here," Caroline said, thrusting a mug of tea at him and startling him out of disturbing thoughts of mayhem and murder if he ever crossed paths with Tom Carne.

Ross gave her a skeptical look, but gratefully taking the proffered drink. "Tea? At this hour?"

"It's mostly whiskey," she said with an elegant shrug of one shoulder, "with a tot of tea for propriety's sake. I figured you could use a drink."

"Thanks." He downed most of the contents in three healthy swallows as she took the seat across from him. He was going to need all the strength a drink could give him to survive the coming interrogation. MI-6 had nothing on Caroline when she wanted to get to the bottom of something.

She sat in this father's chair across from him, leaning back and crossing her legs. "She seems sweet."

That was not the opening salvo he had been expecting, and it threw him for a loop. "Demelza's her name. Demelza Carne."

"Unusual."

"She thinks it's Celtic, but she's not sure. It was her mother's name as well."

Caroline drank in him with cool blue eyes. "I see," she said once she'd made up her mind about whatever she was thinking.

"Do you?" Ross asked flatly. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until that moment and he was not emotionally prepared to do battle.

She fiddled with the hem of her navy blue cashmere jumper. "I'm afraid Prudie is rather put out. I made her tidy up your room and clean the upstairs bath."

"Not to worry. She's always put out about something." Ross rubbed the spot between his eyes where the throbbing in his head seemed to be focused. He didn't bother to question the decisions Caroline had made in his absence. She knew the state of his home as well as he did. There was no place else fit for Demelza to sleep.

"I honestly do not understand why you put up with that woman," Caroline said, letting her haughtiness get the best of her. It must be late because she was usually better at hiding it, but sometimes it was difficult to keep her wealthy socialite married to a small practice private country doctor attitude under control.

"Father doesn't like change," he said with a sigh because he often thought the very same thing. If it were up to him, the husband and wife caretakers would've been long gone. They were adequate at their work, it was all of the churlish behavior he could do without.

Caroline continued on undaunted, "I also had her make up the bed in the spare room at the far end just in case. I moved a few of your things in there. It's still a bit dusty though."

It was his childhood bedroom and had long given over to storage. "It'll do."

"Not that serious yet then," Caroline commented, and he could almost see her mind working through the various potential possibilities. "Well, serious enough to run to Truro in the middle of the night, but not serious enough to introduce her to the family. I do wonder."

"She has no one else," Ross said, hoping to cut her off.

"Where did you meet her? At the pub?" She sat up as she started to pepper him with questions. "She doesn't seem the type."

"Leave it alone."

"Work? Verity said there was a pretty new librarian at school and you do like your women with a bit of brains." Caroline's eyes widened as she realized she'd stumbled upon the truth. "You've been spending most of your weekends with Demelza, haven't you? I told Dwight you had a secret girlfriend. He didn't believe me."

"I said leave alone, Caroline." He didn't have the energy to try to deny it, and honestly, at this point, the cat was out of the bag. Let her think whatever she wanted.

"She's going to be alright." She scooted to the edge of her seat so she could reach for his hands. "Dwight will see to it."

"I know." He looked up to find her watching him closely. It did him good to know he had friends who truly did care about him.

"I can see she means a lot to you," Caroline observed.

That was an understatement if there ever was one, but just how much was the question he'd been struggling with as of late. It seemed that recent events were going to force him to actually face the issue head on, like it or not. He pulled away and straightened up in the chair, his hand automatically going to rub at the thick scar that ran the length of his left thigh. It tended to ache when he'd overexerted himself; the cold and damp didn't help. "Demelza's just a friend, Caroline. Don't read anymore into it than that."

"Then you're more of a fool than I thought," she huffed. "You need to get your head out of your arse and get on with your life before it passes you by."

It was the same old argument. Ever since Caroline had married Dwight just over two years ago, she thought she could run his life by proxy. It was of self-interest she'd told him - she was in sore need of decent female companionship, and Cornwall was sorely lacking in options. Oh, and she didn't want him to be lonely for the rest of his life either. Ross felt otherwise about the situation, and had stated that on numerous occasions, but she was not one to be easily deterred once her mind was made up. She had become increasingly more vocal about it in recent months.

"Not tonight, Caroline," he ground out. "Please. It's late."

She was about to open her mouth to respond when Dwight's entry into the room stopped her short. Ross was on his feet in an instant, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg the sudden movement had caused. His discomfort was the last of his worries at the moment. Caroline was up a second after him, a hand on his elbow to steady him in case his knee decided to act up.

His friend nodded to him. "Caroline, why don't you go see Demelza safely to bed. I gave her something for pain and to settle her nerves."

"Of course, darling," she said dutifully, stopping to give her husband a peck on the cheek before turning to give Ross a very pointed look. "This discussion isn't over."

Dwight was rolling down the sleeves of his green plaid shirt when he hazard to inquire, "Dare I ask?"

"Your wife will fill you in on the gory details later," Ross answered dryly.

"Ah."

Ross waited until the kitchen door to stop swinging before rounding on his friend. "Demelza?"

"She's very lucky," Dwight stated, falling easily into his calm, reassuring doctor tone.

"How bad?" He couldn't keep the concern out of his voice even if he had wanted to. It was just Dwight. He didn't have to pretend.

"She'll be rather sore for a few days after her nasty tumble."

"Her face?"

"The bruising is just now coming to full color. I put a few stitches in the cut above her eye just to be safe."

"Nothing broken?"

"Thankfully no."

"Are you sure?" Ross asked despite trusting Dwight implicitly, after all, the man did save his life a long time ago in a far, far away place.

His friend bit back a smile. "Of course, or else we'd be bundled off to hospital right now."

"It's just…," Ross suddenly couldn't find the words to explain what it was like seeing her ransacked flat then seeing Demelza battered and bruised. "The copper said she'd been knocked around quite a bit."

"She was, but thankfully it was mostly superficial this go."

"This go?" he nearly choked on the words. Demelza had said very few words about her upbring, but from what he could gather it was not idyllic. The family had been broken up after her mother had passed and her father was unable to care for seven children on his own. She and her youngest brother were fostered together while the remaining five brothers were scattered to the winds.

"I can't say, patient confidentiality and all that rot," Dwight answered, dropping his voice so it wouldn't carry. "What I will say is I hope this was the last meeting she ever has with her father."

"What did she tell you?" Ross urged. He needed to know so he could use it for justification when he hunted down Tom Carne and beat him within an inch of his life. The fucking bastard.

Dwight lifted his hands up to wave him off. "I really cannot say."

"Ross?" his father called from the semi-darkness of the bedroom just off the small corridor that led to the library. Rustling could be heard. "Ross, did she make it in alright? Prudie told me what had happened after you'd rang. Bad business."

"Yes, Papa," Ross acknowledged. It pained him to see his once vibrant, handsome father reduced to a fragile shell. "Dwight saw to her injuries and Caroline is putting her to bed now."

The older man made his way into the sitting room, edging carefully along with his walker. He was wrapped up in his favorite thick robe, scuffed slippers on his feet. "It wasn't too bad was it?"

"More frightened than hurt," Dwight assured Joshua. "Nethertheless, I will be putting her off work for several weeks at least."

"Good to hear, good to hear." Joshua sat down in his chair near the hearth, his cat immediately joining him in his lap, and he stroked her brindled back lovingly. Those two were inseparable. "Will she be staying with us for long?"

Ross took to his seat again to get off his leg. "She'll be staying with us for a few days until I can see about getting her door fixed."

"I'll send Jud around in the morning to see to the door and sorting out the rest of the place," his father assured him before turning his attention to other matters. "It'll be nice to have a female company for a while."

"She's not like Caroline, Papa." Ross wanted to quickly nip any expectations he had in the bud. "I don't know how social she'll want to be."

Dwight attempted to take the opportunity of being there to give his older patient a quick look-see and was immediately met with gruff resistance. "Damn me, boy! I've a weak side from the stroke, I'm not dying yet," Joshua blustered, waving the young doctor off impatiently.

Ross gave his friend a sympathetic shrug. If Dwight wasn't accustomed to the old man's foul temper by now then there was no hope for it. Joshua continued to grumble, but submitted to the examination.

"Where'd you put her?" his father asked.

"Her name's Demelza."

"You had Prudie make up a bed for Demelza?"

"Caroline did. Demelza's in my room. I'll take my old bedroom while she's here," he answered. The big bedroom at the top of the stairs had been his father's room until a stroke three years made the stairs too dangerous for him to navigate. His mother's sitting room on the first floor just off the library had been converted into a bedroom for him. Ross moved into the vacated room when he'd come home from the army to stay. It was the largest bedroom in the old house.

"Good, good," Joshua said, nodding. "She'll be comfortable in there. I really ought to see about fixing up the other rooms."

"We'll manage for right now."

"What'd you say her last name was?" his father asked as Dwight checked his blood pressure.

Ross drew in a deep breath. He really wasn't in the mood for a second interrogation, but there would be no putting off his father. The older Poldark was like a dog with a bone when he set his mind on something. "I didn't, but it's Carne."

"Carne you say?" Joshua mused. "No Carnes around here. Where's she from?"

"Originally Illugan, but she lives in Truro now." Ross steeled himself for what his father's reaction might be. Despite being the black sheep of the Poldark family, doing as he pleased, when he pleased, he was always concerning himself with familial connections. Thought that was just how things were amongst the old Cornwall families.

"A village girl," he said with a growing smile. "Is she sweet, this Demelza?"

Ross answered without hesitation: "Yes, very."

His father nodded approvingly, dark hazel eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Your mother was the most beautiful girl in the village, and sweet as well. The sweet ones, they make for good wives." Grace Vennor had ruined his father for any other woman that much Ross knew. She was young, half his father's age when he married her, 18 to his 36. He'd said damn to anyone who had tried to stand in his way. They were wildly in love and happy. Her death twelve years later was a blow from which his father had never completely recovered. His younger brother's death not quite a year later only caused his father to spiral further out of control.

"Father!"

"He's right, you know," Dwight added to the conversation as he put away his medical instruments in his worn brown leather doctor's bag. "They do."

Ross snorted. As if. "How would you know? Your wife doesn't have a sweet bone in her body."

"This is about you, old man, not me," Dwight said with a laugh, as he took a seat on the old wooden settle that had been there for as long as the house had stood. It was a long running joke between them about Caroline's sometimes sharp tongue hiding just how soft she was underneath.

Ross griped, "Who are you calling old?"

"You," Dwight teased. "You iare/i older than I am."

Ross could see what his mate was doing, trying to distract him with an inane argument, and damn him if it wasn't working, at least a little. "By just a year."

"Dwight's got you there, boy," his father chimed in before his attention was diverted to the front stairs. "Caroline, my sweet!"

Her sudden appearance precluded Ross from telling his father and so-called friend to go to the devil . "Demelza?"

"She's settled and wants to see you, Ross," Caroline said, brushing past to take Joshua's outstretched hand and bussed a kiss to his cheek. His father was in awe of her, and made no bones about flirting. "She's very sleepy though so she might not be awake by the time you get up there."

He needed no further invitation and made for the stairs, saying a quick prayer of thanks before he quietly slipped into the bedroom. Caroline had left the lamp on the vanity table on so it wasn't completely dark. Demelza looked so small in his bed, barely making a hump beneath the gray coverlet. Garrick the stuffed dog was perched on what would've been his pillow, watching over her. He could see her eyes were closed and her breathing was even. Whatever Dwight had given her had done its job effectively.

"You're safe now," Ross whispered after pulling the rocking chair over beside the bed. "I promise." The wind was starting to get up outside with the incoming storm, rattling the glass in the window. He'd put Jud on it as soon as he was back from Truro. There was a lot more about the estate he'd have to see to now with Demelza there.

"Ross?" She sounded dreamy and far away as she struggled to open her eyes.

"Shhhh, love, I'm right here," he answered back, scooting closer and gritting his teeth when the chair let out a loud creak. "Rest now. We can talk in the morning."

She tried to speak, but the words only came out in a mumble before she drew in a deep breath and reached out for him. He took her hand in his, marveling at how soft her skin was. Her neatly trimmed nails were painted a rosy gold color. He always looked forward to seeing what color her fingers and toes were painted.

The bruises were starting to show their true colors now, deep, angry red tinged blue and purples had blossomed across her right cheek. She was going to have one hell of a black eye. Ross was sure it would surely be swollen shut by morning. The stitches were not helping matters by drawing unwanted attention to the damage. Dwight had been right. There was no way she could've gone to work without causing a stir. Polly Choake would have a field day wagging her tongue to any and all that would listen to wild tales. Demezla would be mortified. He would apprise the headmaster of the situation first thing.

He was startled from a light doze sometime later when Dwight had come up to check on his patient a final time before taking his leave for the evening. Caroline had joined him and was in the process of covering him with the blanket from the foot of the bed. Someone had dimmed the light.

"I'll be back in the morning," she said softly, leaning in to kiss the top of his head. "Demelza will need a few things and I will bring them. You did a poor job of packing for a lady. I had to resort to raiding your drawers."

"I was in a hurry." Ross attempted to rally to defend himself, but trailed off when he saw Caroline's cheeky smile. She was ribbing him. Her acceptance of Demelza was comforting.

"She's resting comfortably for now," Dwight added for good measure after leaning down to take one last look at Demelza. "She'll need something for discomfort by the time she's awake. I left some meds on the kitchen table with instructions and a couple of scripts that can be filled tomorrow."

"Papa?" Ross asked, sitting up a little. His father was unsteady when he was overly tired, and his rest had been disturbed by all of the hubbub.

Caroline put a gentle hand on him. "Prudie's seeing him to bed as we speak."

"Get some rest," Dwight commanded. "You've had quite the evening yourself."

"Yes, Doctor," Ross said, unable to stifle a mighty yawn.

He thanked his best friends and bid them a good night. They had insisted he not get up to see them out. It was not like this was the first time they had been over at an odd hour and they could see themselves out just fine. Jud was waiting for them to finish locking up. The old house settled back into its nighttime rhythm once the outer side door had clicked shut and they'd driven away. The only sound was the wind driven rain splattering against the windows.

"This wasn't how I imagined bringing you home," he told Demezla as he changed into more comfortable and dry clothes, stealing glances at her to make sure he wasn't waking her with the noise. He'd given thought for a second about going to bed in the other room, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her. He'd pay for that decision in the morning with a cranky knee. Ross resumed his vigil at her bedside once more, taking her hand in his when he leaned over to lay his head on his folded arms perched on the edge of the mattress. He couldn't resist pressing a few kisses to her soft skin. "But you're here now and that is all that matters."

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