Captain Ross Poldark (
herhumbleservant) wrote2015-10-16 09:14 pm
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[october 17]
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."
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."