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Today has not gone at all as Ross had planned.

His intention had been to do as he's been doing: eat breakfast with his family, head out for his shift at the stables, work on the house into the evening, then come back to kiss his family goodnight. While that particular pattern hasn't earned Demelza's general approval, Ross has gotten by up until now.

Now, he won't be able to do any of that. Demelza's new job had called her in for an emergency, short-staffed as they apparently are today, and Abby isn't available because she'd already agreed to babysit another family's child for the afternoon. Finding someone to watch a six-month-old and two-year-old at the last minute being as despicably difficult as it is, the duty had been left to Ross, and he'd had no choice but to call to his job to request the day away. His employers had been understanding, of course, particularly seeing as he'd never missed a day before; but Ross is more concerned about the house. It may be just an evening's work but any delay causes him more frustration than he needs.

Even more frustrating is Demelza handing him a list of things they need around the apartment: bread, milk, various fruits and vegetables, diapers, all manners of items Abby usually goes out to buy for them while they're out at work. It's not an immensely difficult task, granted, but Ross still sighs his dismay as he dresses Jeremy and Julia in suitably warm children, settles them in their stroller, then heads for market just a couple blocks away.

The farther they walk, the more Ross relaxes as Jeremy smiles up at him and Julia points out various sights and names them as they go along. This may not be his ideal day, but he's glad for the extra time with the children. No matter the circumstances, they will never come close to being a burden to him.

Just one drink, he tells himself. Well, perhaps two.

Two drinks, Ross tells himself, then it's straight home to help put Julia down for bed and eat whatever it is Demelza will have reheated for him upon his return. Things have been somewhat tenser as of late, for reasons Ross isn't entirely clear on, though he attributes it solely to the secrecy surrounding what has kept him away from home. He's been in the habit of going out to resume construction of the house after his work at the stable for months now but within the last few weeks, there's been a subtle shift in the air between him and Demelza.

She's frustrated with him, he knows, but she hasn't said anything. Ross has to commend her for that, really. If anything, he's somewhat surprised she hasn't resorted to simply following him yet.

At least tonight, he can honestly tell her he'd stopped for a brandy because she'll smell it on his breath either way. Somehow, that bit of truth seems better than offering another excuse, even if he does know his intentions are good.

Ross orders a brandy once the bartender comes around, eyes locked on the television screen behind the bar that's airing a game of that bizarre Drembleydrop sport that he doesn't quite understand. As much as he loves his family dearly, he has to admit: it is nice to have a drink alone every now and again. At least in a couple months, when the house is built, he'll be able to offer Demelza the same sort of respite, too.

While there's still a long way to go before construction on the new house is complete, Ross is pleased with how the progress has been coming along. With the help he has, he's managed to remain on schedule without having to stay out too from home. It's becoming a growing source of tension, Ross can feel it in the way Demelza looks at him when he walks into the apartment after supper time, but he's almost always back to see the children to bed. She wants to ask him about it, sometimes Ross even expects her to, but he's not necessarily surprised that she doesn't. His wife is a stubborn woman, though he's fond of that for the most part, and she's just as likely to wait for him to admit he's hiding something as she is to shout at him about it.

Instead, she's remained patient, and Ross is grateful for that. Even if she's cross at him now, whether she'll say it aloud or not, it'll all be worth it in the end to show her their new home.

Of course, with the extra work after a shift at the stables, Ross has grown increasingly fatigued over the last couple months. He's quick to snap as it is when he's irritable, and he's found he has to be more careful than not as of late to hold his tongue. His limp hasn't returned, but he can feel the strain in his leg, more present now than it ever has been since he'd recovered from the injury in the first place. It's for that reason, in particular, that he's stopped to sit at a bench in the park. He thinks he might slip into one of the nearby bars for just one glass of brandy before heading home but for the moment, he's allowing himself to rest and watch as other pass him by.

Being a father to a toddler is tiresome.

Being a father to a toddler and a newborn sometimes makes Ross thinks he's damn near to falling asleep in the evening and simply not waking up the next day. He keeps this to himself, of course, as Demelza spends far more time with their children, considering he'd returned to work some weeks ago; but the exhaustion is present all the same. Even so, he wouldn't trade it for the world. He'd almost lost Julia once and now, he has two healthy children. There's very little else he could ask for in this strange city.

Since bringing Jeremy home, though, there has been one thing sitting heavily on his mind. Their apartment had been sufficient enough when their family had consisted of three (and the dog) but now with another, the place already seems smaller. They'll need more room for when Jeremy grows older, and Ross had entertained the notion of looking into purchasing a new house rather than simply searching for another apartment but Demelza thinks it would be best to wait.

But he doesn't want to wait, which is ever the Poldark way. Ross has already gone browsing at the available homes and there'd been nothing to his liking so he wonders now if perhaps he should simply take matters into his own hands. Perhaps he ought to build something himself, a home he can proudly pass down to his children when the time does come, a home designed to give his wife everything she desires. It would be costly, to be sure, but in the end, it'd be theirs. That alone seems worth the price.

As it turns out, thinking particularly hard on the matter isn't a good idea while pushing a double stroller through Petros Park, and Ross realizes too late that he's on his way to nearly running over someone's feet. He manages to stop short just in time, jerking the stroller to a stop, and he hears Julia's surprised cry of, "Papa!" before he looks up at who he'd come so close to accidentally assaulting. "Forgive me," he says, unable to hold back a short laugh, "my mind was elsewhere. You're alright, aren't you?"

The baby's scheduled arrival is fast approaching.

He doesn't remember feeling this nervous when Demelza had been carrying Julia, even though that had marked his first time as a father. Perhaps he'd been to preoccupied with other things at the time: Carnmore, Wheal Leisure, all the trouble with Francis and George Warleggan. Things hadn't been at their worst, not at that point, but he'd still had so much else on his mind that by the time Demelza had given birth, the period of anticipation of fatherhood had long since passed.

Now, with his job at the stables so much less demanding but providing them a decent and steady income, along with Demelza's job at Tintern, Ross finds that he doesn't have quite so much to worry about. It still brings him a great deal of stress, of course, poring over finances to determine whether they're equipped enough to welcome a second child into their household and for long. They don't have a choice in the matter, it'll have to be enough when the baby is born, but Ross's hope is that his family will one day not have to want for anything. While he isn't particularly keen on the idea of spoiling his children, he wants to provide them with the best care, the sort of care they deserve. The same goes for his wife.

It's quite unlike him, then, to have stopped outside a shop and stare into the window but today finds him doing just that. It's a baby boutique, one he's been in with Demelza before, and Ross can't help but smile softly at the row of tiny shoes on display behind the glass. His next son or daughter will be that small, as small as Julia had once been, and Ross feels his chest swell with affection for a child he hasn't yet met. He's so engrossed in these thoughts that he doesn't even notice someone has come up beside him until he catches a flicker of a reflection in the window.

"Oh," he says with a laugh, looking over at his company. "You startled me, I'm afraid I was in a bit of a daze for a moment."

If Ross is honest (which he won't be, if anyone were to actually ask), he's a bit nervous about having Matthew over to the apartment.

It isn't because he isn't happy to host the lad; no, it's more that Ross isn't sure he's altogether a proper host at all. Demelza had teased him throughout the evening, up until she'd left for work at Tintern, about how he'd looked like he was fretting over whether pizza would be the right choice for a meal, considering he can hardly cook on his own. It's Demelza who is skilled in the kitchen, not Ross, and his wife hardly ceases to remind him of that when the subject comes up.

He realizes how ridiculous he's being, if only because he's most certainly had friends before. It's just that those friends had been in Cornwall, Ross had known them practically all his life, and to be faced with an overwhelming selection of unfamiliar faces in this city, he sometimes isn't sure how to go about being more than relatively civil with most people. He's lucky, he thinks, to have discovered that Matthew is willing enough to lead their conversations when Ross seems to be at a loss for what to say. Andrea, too, is quite like that, and Demelza herself rarely runs out of things to say. So perhaps that is what Ross needs, someone who can poke and prod and pry him out of the sort of shell he retreats into at times. As it turns out, he's cultivating quite a few friends who posses that talent.

When the doorbell rings, Ross freezes, staring at the door before shifting his gaze to Julia, who looks up at him from the bassinet that's been set up in their living room with wide, curious eyes. "Best behavior," Ross murmurs, and he isn't sure whether he's reminding himself or the baby but it's neither here nor there because then he's crossing the room and opening the door.

He breaks into a smile, which he hopes is welcoming enough. "Matthew," he greets, stepping aside to let the young man inside. "Come in, please, the living room is right through here. Take a seat wherever you'd like."

The afternoon had been long, not due to any particular difficulty but because there hadn't been a great number of tasks to busy himself with at the stables today. By the time he'd been prepared to leave, Ross had already found himself yawning, in spite of the fact that the sun had not yet gone down, but he forces himself to be more lively because he's one stop to make yet before he's welcomed by the ever familiar mattress at home.

Tintern Abbey provides a much-appreciated warmth that won't be found outside for quite a few more months, though Ross does suspect that has much to do with how many patrons have been packed inside of the tavern. It's a busy evening, many folk having rushed here after work, he suspects, but he's quick to spot Demelza gaily engaging with a couple as she drops their drinks at their table. She's grown just the slightest bit more now, though from the way she speaks of it, one would imagine she's actually doubled in size; but in spite of Demelza's occasional misgivings about her shape, Ross can't hep but to gaze at her with evident affection, taking in her beauty and internally preening at the knowledge that once she's finished this evening, he is the one who gets to escort her home.

She catches his eyes as she leaves the table, brightening at the sight of him, and Ross gives her a slight wave before gesturing toward the lone stool at the bartop, where he makes himself comfortable. He understands she must be busy, that she won't be able to talk much until her shift is complete, but Ross always enjoys having a word with whoever happens to be tending the bar when he does come in to wait for her. Still, she dutifully greets him from where she stands behind the bar, and Ross has to resist the urge to reach over and tuck one of her wild, loose curls behind her ear.

"You're having quite the night, it seems," Ross says, an understatement, to be sure, "but I'm glad to see you appear to be in such good spirits. Your customers must rightfully be treating you well."

It's taken time, getting used to Darrow. A little over a fortnight has passed since he's arrived, and Ross is only now remembering each time he goes to bathe that he needn't pump the water himself, though he hasn't let it slip his memory how to wash Demelza's hair as he'd done so when he'd first brought he to Nampara. In fact, he'd done it for her just the other night with a gentler touch as they stood together under the warm and soothing spray in the tub after a particularly rousing hour of lovemaking that had ended with having to care for their wakened child.

Now, he's faced with a new challenge. The refrigerator that keeps their food from spoiling, the machine that cleans their dishes for them, even the washer and dryer that allows for constantly fresh-smelling clothes, Ross has been able to accept and appreciate the practicality of all these things. He'd been part of a new wave of gentlemen in Cornwall, one that had valued hard work over luxury and efficiency over aged methods.

What he's failed to see the value in, however, is what is laid out before him on the mattress at this very moment: a pair of blue jeans that a shopgirl had insisted he purchase while he and Demelza had been out shopping for a new wardrobe earlier in the week, and even then, Ross had grimaced at the look of the trousers. He thinks he'd much rather wear his typical garb but the challenge he faces is that he'd come here with only the clothes on his back, those clothes being what he'd worn to his own daughter's funeral.

He'd burn them if he didn't think it'd make Demelza wonder, and as has happened nearly every few moments since he'd reunited with his family, Ross' heart yearns to see Julia. She's just in the other room with her mother, both of them waiting for Ross to finish getting dressed so they can attend whatever it is that Demelza has seen fit for them to do this evening. The sooner he finishes getting ready, the sooner they can rightfully be back at his side, so it's with a heavy sigh that Ross reaches for the jeans.

"If I look half as foolish as I feel, I'm going to have to insist we return these to the shop," he announces as he leaves the bedroom, though not without a faintly amused smile. He stops in the middle of the living room and holds his arms out to let his wife see, glancing up at her with a quizzical expression. "Well? And don't you dare laugh, or I'll have half a mind not to leave here tonight at all."