#lucretiassister
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“Well then,” Prudie said and set a steaming cup of tea down next to Demelza. She’d come to do this most afternoons (with only a little prompting) while Demelza worked on a new piece for The Post or chipped away at Dr. Enys’s manuscript. This attention was mostly given because the woman wanted company and not because she anticipated her mistress’s needs.
“Hmm?” Demelza asked absently while she banged away on the typewriter keys, then paused to check her spelling of Streptococcus.
“Easter’s so late this year, Mister Ross’ll miss the daffs,” Prudie lamented.
Demelza had collected a cheering yellow bunch and put them on the dining room table so she could see them while she worked. The crocus bulbs from weeks earlier had since been returned to the earth, just as she’d promised she’d do.
“Oh they might linger on, they’re hearty blooms for sure,” Demelza laughed. “All the spring flowers are really, they are required to be. And even if Ross misses the daffodils, there’s always bluebells. Come Prudie,” she said and rose to her feet. She tidied her papers and put the cover on The Companion. “Let’s go out to the garden while the sun shines. We have much to do to get this place in order before Ross arrives.”
“I'd say it's someone else’s arrival we should be worryin’ ‘bout,” Prudie huffed.
“Yes, well…in good time,” Demelza said.
“You keep sayin’ that but time do have a way of creepin’ up on a body!”
Prudie was right but since Demelza had more urgent pulls on her purse like fixing the leaking roof, it was best to put nursery furnishings out of her mind at present. Afterall, what did poor folk do, those who had more babies than bank notes?
Needs must…
When Demelza was a girl, the neighbours across the stairs kept their baby in a bureau drawer set on the floor. It served perfectly well as a cot until the little fellow grew big enough to climb out. Then it seemed he never slept again but ran amok forevermore chasing the birds--and rats-- that dwelled in their dingy courtyard.
His name was Tommy, wasn't it? And he’d be seventeen by now, she thought to herself. I wonder if he’s joined up and now chases Wehrmacht soldiers.
Odd that she remembered the neighbours but had no recollection whatsoever of where her own brothers had been stashed as babes--she only remembered them older, all sharing one messy, stinking bed, wrestling and laughing well into the night.
“We’ll think of something,” Demelza shrugged. She’d talk it over with Ross, though she hated to ask him for anything.
“Come, let’s finish our garden work before it rains.”
#lucretiassister#poldark#poldark fanfic#demelza carne#ross poldark#poldark modern au#wip wednesday#duty
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A Frost Moon - Lucretiassister - Poldark (TV 2015) [Archive of Our Own]
S1
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“Ha, ha! Well then!” Demelza sang, folding the telegram and slipping it into her pocket only to immediately take it out to read again. A smile threatened to rip her face apart but it was beyond her control. She was over the moon.
Using the back of her grubby hand, she wiped her eyes and remembered the last time she’d experienced tears of joy.
“Well then?” Prudie huffed, annoyed that her mistress had delayed for even a second in broadcasting the news, whatever it was.
Demelza laughed. She knew she should remind Prudie that as housekeeper, she was not in fact privy to all communications sent their way. But then again, the woman had shared in the agony and anxiety while awaiting news of Ross, so perhaps she’d earned this impatience. Demelza handed over the telegram, her feet shuffling back and forth in a dance of their own making.
“Aye, t’is written with some clip, mind!” Prudie scoffed as she read the brief message.
Easter weekend business on North Coast. Will lodge at Nampara if current tenant can accommodate. R. Poldark.
“Current tenant? An’ just who does Mister Poldark think he’s referrin’ to?” Prudie asked.
“To me, to us!” Demelza said. “Oh Prudie, never you mind. Ross has to take that tone. In case… well, in case it is read by others–and no doubt it has been.”
“At least t’is no cabboble ‘bout when,” Prudie conceded.
“No, no there isn’t,” Demelza smiled. She could read between the cold and dispassionate words and she didn't care a dash how it was phrased–it was the message that counted.
Her very own Ross would be there in less than a fortnight. And yes, oh yes, she would accommodate.
#lucretiassister#poldark fanfic#poldark#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#duty#wip wednesday
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Here's a little solstice present for my tumblr friends.
Finally completed, all 33 chapters of A Rose in December have been posted to AO3!
After the painful end of their relationship, Ross Poldark and Demelza Carne had a lot to think about. And when, by chance, they meet again eight years later, they find they have a lot to talk about.
You can read the whole thing here.
Massive thanks to folks here who kept prodding me all these years to keep going. If you go comb through my WIP Wednesday posts since 2019, you’ll see a lot of this story came out in frustrating dribs and drabs! Thanks so much for reading this and all my other stories–and Happy New Year to all!
#lucretiassister#poldark#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#A Rose in December#Like Someone Sequels
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Two new chapters of Duty!
Oh dear readers, the laptop is dying and won't take a charge. New one is on route but I have minutes before my battery fails (I can't seem to write on my phone, forgive me that) so lets get this update posted straightaway.
Let's just say in these chapters, Demelza learns things.
Read Chapter 52 ("Spit Spot") here.
Read Chapter 53 ("A Job to Be Done") here.
More super soon!
#lucretiassister#poldark#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#duty#reunion soon I swear
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Duty (update!)
A long overdue spring visit to Nampara!
Demelza has some private musings, finds herself with an unusual problem (a surfeit of brisket), and hosts a tea party that doesn't quite go off as planned.
Read Chapter 48 ("Research") here.
Read Chapter 49 ("Every Uneventful Day") here.
Read Chapter 50 ("Bout") here.
Sorry for the delay between postings. Two more chapters should be up soon! Thanks for following this little tale!
#lucretiassister#poldark fanfic#poldark#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#duty#caroline penvenen#dwight enys
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"For All the Tea in China" (or "Demelza Makes a Sandwich")
(slightly longer version from the fic title game prompt sent to me by @jomiddlemarch Thanks for indulging me!)
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“Fuck it. We’re having the rapini for dinner!” Demelza said aloud to nobody and slammed the slightly wilted bunch down on the work surface.
Dinner was hours away–she was in fact still preparing lunch–but this decision felt like an act of defiance, and that was precisely what she was in need of at the moment.
Ross, or Mister Poldark as he was to her today, disliked rapini. He hadn’t said it in so many words but the absence of praise the last time she served it allowed her to solve for x.
Recently she’d gotten better at preparing the stuff so there was less bitterness. It turned out blanching, salting, and finishing with red pepper flakes proved key. But that mattered little to her. She loved all greens. Maybe there was a reason for that beyond her tendency to champion the underdog. She’d read somewhere that the bitter ones were higher in iron.
Maybe some bodies just need more iron, she’d wondered at the time. Ross clearly needed little. He was likely made of the fucking stuff, as stubborn and immovable as he was.
Demelza switched on the kettle and stared at the empty mug in her hand. Pride or self preservation, perhaps both, flooded her gut and drove her thoughts.
I will not let him see me upset.
She’d come to accept that Ross’s manner often swung between that of a companion and one of an employer. She knew Ross had moods and wasn’t always up for a laugh. And on those darker days, she gave him a wide berth but still saw that he was looked after. Well fed, clothes laundered, house tidied–all the things a good housekeeper should be doing. But when he was feeling more playful, she’d sit across from him at the table as more of a mate or even next to him while they watched telly. And when his beloved Everton lost yet another match, she wouldn’t hesitate to tease him for his loyalty. It seemed she wasn’t the only one in the house who favoured the underdog.
On his part, he’d laugh at her jokes, chide her for working too hard, slip her a bonus whenever he found himself even a little flush. Sometimes he’d smile when she just walked into the room.
Still, Demelza knew her place and had a firm enough sense of belonging, at least most of the time. With him anyway.
What she couldn't abide was the presence of Other People, when the rules were suddenly switched on her.
That had happened earlier when Ross’s prim-assed cousin in law, Elizabeth, came to call unannounced. Suddenly Demelza was meant to skivvy and scrape and be neither seen nor heard in the process.
Her Worshipfulness didn’t care for anything substantial as far as food or drink was concerned but Demelza still brought out bottled water in a clean glass (that wasn’t chipped) as a good housekeeper would do. And in exchange for her service, she received an icy thank you with delicate nostrils oh so subtlety flared.
Was she born with that sneer or has she been under the surgeon’s knife to perfect it?
But all that Demelza could bear, and she'd even managed to lock down all her own facial muscles so no brows raised or lips smirked in return.
It was Ross’s response–averting his gaze and looking at the floor as if she herself was a nuisance to be waited out–that was so intolerable. Then once she’d left the room, she heard him laugh.
To be fair, it wasn’t his heartiest chuckle, not the one he often shared when they joked and talked together, but a laugh was a laugh. And Elizabeth was his mate. All the time, not just when he felt lonely enough to slum it with the help, which is what Demelza always would be in the end.
It was nearly two hours later and Elizabeth long since gone, but Demelza hadn’t yet shaken the uneasiness. She pulled a knife from the drawer and set back to work.
She hated that Ross alone controlled what was true.
Recently, quite accidentally, she’d come across the term epistemic injustice in her reading. Now she rolled the words around in her mouth and felt their sharp edges and their weight. Perhaps this particular situation wasn’t injustice exactly but it was fucked up.
But maybe, just maybe, two could play the game. Ross too might come to learn the sting of being cast aside.
No more sportive banter, no matter his mood. If she wouldn't let him know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, then he wouldn’t know what to expect. What was true.
And he mustn’t know how important this job is to me. She might be able to live without his friendship–or so she tried to convince herself–but not so his paycheque.
The sliced chicken bore a chill from the fridge but the bacon was sizzling hot. Demelza trimmed the edges from the thankfully-still-crisp lettuce before she spread the sourdough slices with pesto mayonnaise. She’d prepared it only minutes before, conveniently forgetting it was Ross’s favourite.
Then she switched off the kettle and pulled down a second mug from the dish rack.
I will never laugh with him again, she resolved. Not even if he asks it of me. Not for all the tea in China.
#lucretiassister#poldark#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#ask nervousladytraveler#writing prompt#fic title game
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”Stay” Ross and Demelza. Thank you
Thanks @veryflowerobservation for the prompt. Sorry I'm behind in my responses but really these are fun. Here's one, from no particular universe.
---
“What in god’s name…Demelza?!”
“It’s not nearly as bad as it looks, really, Ross,” she lied.
“What did you do?” His voice was dark but Demelza recognised what was really going on: Ross was scared.
“It was just a spill,” she said simply. But she’d never been good at subterfuge and they both knew it. The fact that she couldn't really move without grimacing wasn’t convincing anyone.
Mouth open, brows knit, nostrils flared–Ross looked at her, waiting impatiently for more.
“I spilled soup on my lap,” she added, then reluctantly pulled her dressing gown back to reveal the angry pink skin and the ominous blister forming in the middle of her upper thigh. A large blotch, it looked about the size of his outstretched palm, and currently had taken on the shape of Belgium. Well, maybe Belgium and its Luxembourg neighbour.
“Come, we have to get you to A & E, now!”
Of course he’d want to manage the situation. She tried not to roll her eyes.
“No, Ross. We are not going anywhere.” She stared him down, even though her dull eyes gave up how much pain she was in. “It’s my body that’s injured, my problem to solve. And don't you dare say it happened in your house or it was your stove that heated the soup!"
Ross swallowed and nodded his head a few times–it was his tell.
I admit I said something wrong and I won't argue with you. But I still don’t agree with you. The closest he ever came to fully giving in.
“Did you…?” he began.
“Yes, I ran it under cold water and cleaned it and we had some salve in the medicine cabinet. But I can’t decide if I should bandage it or...”
“Let it breathe,” he said. “Maybe.”
He took her hand in his and silently helped her back to the sofa. She sat against the cushions and with only a quick jolt of distress, stretched her injured leg out.
“Ughn…” she winced, then scrambled to find a smile. “I’ll be okay. Really. I just need to catch my breath.”
"Ice?" he asked.
"No. Just let it be."
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” Before he turned away, his lips were pulled thin and his face had taken on a shade of grey that rivalled the flagstone floor. “Why don’t I go out and get you some new cream?" he asked. "I can’t say how old that tube you found was…”
“Yes,” she said and closed her eyes. Earlier everything seemed agitating but now the thought of being alone only exacerbated the burning, the stinging, the pain. Everything reminded her of how much it hurt. Everything…except Ross’s voice. Except the touch of his hand on hers.
“Ross?”
“Yes?” He turned back and instantly crouched next to her.
“Stay?” she asked with a meek smile.
“Of course,” he whispered and leaned his face against her so when he spoke she felt it move through her chest. “Of course, I’ll stay.”
#lucretiassister#poldark#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#poldark modern au#ask nervousladytraveler#writing prompt
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Two new chapters of Duty!
It's been a rough week (at least for me) but here's a little fic to distract us from the grimness of January.
While making plans for their survival at Nampara, Demelza is unexpectedly summoned to Truro.
Read Chapter 45 "Circles" here
Read Chapter 46 "All Over the Place" here
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Tagged by the lovely @jomiddlemarch to do a WIP share. This one is f rom a WIP that should be ready to go in February?
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“How’s your headache?” Ross set the steaming mug down on the bedside table before attempting to fluff the pillow behind Demelza’s head. He stole a quick glance hoping her face might reveal her true state but Muesli, the cat planted on her pillow, glared at him, seemingly annoyed at the interruption.
“Don’t fret, Ross,” Demelza laughed lightly then grabbed his hand to reassure him. “It's not a migraine, if that’s what is worryin’ you. Those seem to come just before my period. Today’s is… just tension or maybe eye strain. I wasn’t wearin’ my glasses yesterday.”
“Okay,” he feigned acceptance of her string of explanations. “But maybe take something?” He held out the blister pack of paracetamol but she shook her head in protest.
“I already did. I’ll be okay. I promise. Thank you for the tea but do you think you could pull the curtain?”
“Of course.” He moved quickly, eager to please her or at least to offer comfort. He didn’t believe what she said but he was hesitant to press her. She’d been known to downplay her ailments around him and she hated being fussed over by anyone.
But would she actually lie to him? Now?
It was already dark outside and with the curtains pulled, the room was nearly blacked out, save for the little lamp on the table beside her.
“Just a few more weeks and we should be seeing some spring.” Ross sat down at the foot of the bed and rubbed her knee through the covers.
“Mmm, thank you.” She stretched out so Ross would have access to even more leg, then she settled against the pillows with a sigh. “I don’t know, call me a hypocrite but I miss December,” she said.
“December?”
“Yes, there is somethin’ about that time of year. Even the smallest light feels so cosy in that much darkness.”
“I won't call you hypocritical but maybe forgetful,” he laughed. “All there was in December was ice and darkness. The sun set at 4 o’clock.”
“No, 4:30--you exaggerate,” she corrected him.
“No, 4:19. Precisely so. I remember.”
“I don’t doubt you do, Ross,” she laughed. “It’s a farmer’s nature to pay attention to things like that. But no matter how early it got dark, everyone made the most of it, didn’t they? Everythin’ was festive and warm…”
“Okay, I stand corrected. You are not forgetful, just pagan.”
“What?”
“Maybe nostalgic?”
“And why shouldn't I be nostalgic for December? It was that special. We were in our first days of love then…”
“Are we not still? It’s only been six weeks.”
“Seven weeks. And of course we are, Ross.” She leaned forward to kiss his hand and pulled him closer to her.
---
Okay, tumblr friends, what are you working on?
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A long overdue update to this little tale, perfect for a snowy day (it's really snowy here).
Demelza receives some news and growing weary of so many secrets, makes an impulsive move of her own.
Read Duty Chapter 43 "Two Letters" here.
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"Bruises"
While travelling home to Cornwall, Demelza Carne, muses on her relationship status–and prepares for what lies ahead.
You can read "Bruises" here.
I've posted a good deal of this work already (here on tumblr) so for those who have been following along, it won't be entirely new. I had originally meant it to be the prologue to a much larger project (that one is coming, I promise!) but the tone didn’t quite match the other chapters. So I decided to let this one stand on its own.
Consider it an amuse-bouche, a bite size fic to tide you over until the main course is served.
(Aberdeen sunset photo credit to Steven Pirie)
#lucretiassister#poldark#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#like someone sequels#bruises
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From a little story that is very near completion…
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“I have something else for you,” Ross said. “Wait here.”
He returned several minutes later and handed her an even smaller box.
“Is this a very tiny cake?” she laughed.
“Sorry I didn't wrap it.” He immediately regretted he hadn’t taken the time to do so. The box was a bit tatty, stamped in gold with Roberts, the name of a department store that had probably closed before Demelza had even been born.
“Oh,” she said solemnly when she removed the lid and saw the ring resting on the foam insert.
“Do you not like it?” he asked. Now he wished he had found a better box. While this one was the right size for jewellery–earrings or a bracelet maybe–it wasn't designed to hold a ring. It was someone else's afterthought, a careless way to store a discarded treasure.
She had a curious expression on her face. But whatever her issue was with this gift, it didn't seem to be his shoddy presentation.
“Ross…” she said, then swallowed hard.
He tried to read her face then saw it wasn't disappointment but shock that had frozen her features.
“It's beautiful,” she finally said and he exhaled a sigh of relief. “Is it an antique?” she asked.
It sure as hell wasn’t new. And now that Ross looked again, he noticed one of the prongs in the setting was bent. He should have had a care have it repaired, maybe even get the whole thing cleaned.
“It was my mother’s,” he said.
He’d actually fact-checked that with Prudie.
Ross had found the ring, and the box, at the very back of the bottom desk drawer in the library. He had a vague memory of his mother wearing it but that it had been among his father’s possessions gave him pause. It wouldn't do to give Demelza a ring Joshua had won in a card game or taken as repayment for a loan–or bought for one of his many lovers.
“T’was one of Grace’s favourites,” Prudie had confirmed. “Only took it off when she was bakin’ or workin’ in her garden--or before wipin’ your mucky bum when you was a baby! Oh how she did laugh at that.”
Leave It to Prudie to introduce shit into an otherwise lovely memory.
“Ross, you’re really givin’ it to me?” Demelza asked him now, still breathless and wide eyed.
“You seriously ask me that?” he laughed. “Of course I am. Here, try it on.”
She took it gingerly from its nest and slipped it on her left ring finger. It was undeniably loose.
“We can get it sized,” he said quickly but she put it on her right hand and found a better fit.
“No, this is perfect,” she said. “It's truly perfect.”
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Duty update!
A new chapter of this wee tale just posted!
Demelza hears voices. No, she's not going barmy, just using her imagination--and her instincts--to get through the day.
Read Chapter 51 ("A Smidge of Instinct") here.
Thanks to everyone who has been following along. Once again, I apologize for delays between installments. Things have been very busy at work, sadly eating my energy and time.
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“Ah! Wait! I do have something for you after all,” Ross said and pulled away from Demelza's lips.
“You do? But I have nothin’ for you,” she said then curiosity got the better of her. “What is it?” she asked.
“A surprise…I think.” He jumped to his feet.
“I dunno, Ross, you’ve already gone out of your way to make everythin’ so special tonight. The wine, the fire, the rum, the 8 kilos of fresh meat…”
“I'm more than 8 kilos, “ he quipped.
“I did say fresh meat,” she teased.
“Behave or you wouldn't get your surprise,” he said in a stern voice. He could tease too.
“Okay, I’ll be good,” she said and sat up straight, covering her eyes with her hands.
#poldark#lucretiassister#poldark fanfic#ross poldark#demelza carne#poldark modern au#wip#christmas presents
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