Chapter Text
Clementine entered the Warrlaggen Estate at last as the rain grew heavy outside, and the thunder rolled in the distance. She had been lucky enough to keep dry through it all, and was at last in the safety of her home. Yet even though it was only moments ago, she already felt the longing in her heart to be near to Claude. She let out a steady breath as it seemed her prescence was not yet missed. She then composed herself as the lady she was and entered further into the home heading for her room to freshen up.
George sat in the study going over the books when he heard the door open and shut outside the study door. "Is that you Clementine?" He called from his chair.
Clementine put on a simple smile as she came to the entrance of the study. "Yes" she answered simply. "Luckily I just missed the rain" she mentioned gesturing towards the window where the rain could be seen falling rather vigorously.
George looked up and gave a nod. "How was the dress makers?" He asked, knowing that his men informed him that she disappeared.
"A bit disappointing, I was unable to get the dress in the fabric I wanted, so I canceled the order." She stated sensing a sort of suspicion in his tone. She hoped that it was not of her whereabouts, and even more so why.
"Sorry to hear it." He said dryly resuming to look over documents. "Did you go anywhere else?" He asked as she turned to leave.
She stopped midstep. Obviously he knew something, at least that is what she went off of. Her chest tightened as she hoped he knew nothing of her meeting with Claude. It would be disastrous for him to find out in such a way. "I took a stroll through the forest." She answered turning back to him. "And I know you don't like me to go alone, but I couldn't bare to be followed. I just wanted a bit of silence to myself. Please don't be angry with me, brother."
"Clementine," George said rising from his chair and walking over to her. "You are a young lady of high station. One day you will be expected to marry accordingly. Running off to the woods on a stroll in search of solitude is a dangerous business for a fine lady such as yourself.”
A wave of relief passed over Clementine as she heard this. Her affair had not been found out. "I understand." She stated simply. Though while she understood, she did not agree with such. "And I promise that I'll avoid such in the future, if it will appease your worrying." She said softly. "I hate to see you so worried for my sake." She added.
George gave a nod before reaching for his sisters hand and kissing it. "Anything for you dear sister." He said. "Now you must prepare for dinner," he went on. "We have guests attending tonight." He added.
"Guests?" She question lightheartedly. "May I ask who we are entertaining?" She asked curiously. It wasn't uncommon for George to have a variety of different guests on most nights, so it did not seem strange or unexpected.
George walked back to his desk and sat down. "You shall see, Clementine," he said picking a pen and beginning to scratch some words on parchment.
Well it wasn't often that he kept the guest's name from her, in fact more often then not he told her how to compose herself before the said guest. But she did not wish to question him further, and did not think he would be likely to answer. So with a nod of her head in response she left and was heading up the stairs to her room.
~~~~~
Claude returned home to Nampara, drenched in rain, just as the seven hour tapers were being lit. He proceeding to enter the library and poured himself a glass of the port which was sitting out, and seated himself by the fire in order to warm himself. Down the hall, he could the marry making of Ross and the rest of the family. Claude could have easily joined them, but he preferred to remain seated where he was. Truth is, he wasn't in the mood for their festivities right at the moment. His heart was too heavy with the mere thought of losing Clementine. What was worse was that he knew Osborne. He knew him a little too well. While he portrayed all outward appearances of a pious vicar. Behind closed doors and amongst friends, he was scoundrel, whose respect for the opposite sex was sorely lacking. To Osborne, women were tool for pleasure and children. And Claude knew exactly in what way he would Clementine. He didn't want that for her, nor did he want that for any woman. Claude gazed intensively at fire, so wrapped up in his own far wandering thoughts, that he didn't notice when Demelza entered.
"Sittin' in here all alone, almost like a ghost being as quiet as you are." Demelza said with a smile as she riffled through somethings looking for a particular item. "Why don't you come out and join the rest of us?" She asked looking to him.
Claude was pulled from his trance by her entrance. "No, Demelza," he said looking up to her. "I am not in the mood for merry making at this time." He turned his gaze back to the fire. Demelza could see something was troubling him.
"What be troubling you, Claude? You seemed in good spirits before you left. Did something happen when you were out?" She asked moving towards him. It did not seem in his charater to avoid everyone as he was now, which only increased her concern.
He longed to tell her, and he knew she could be trusted. But with a secret such as this? He couldn't be sure. She moved to sit next to him, his eyes still locked in the flames. "Yes," Claude answered truthfully, "something happened." He let out a sharp breath.
A look of concern swept over her features. What could possibly be wrong? He was only gone for a few hours and he seemed so happy before he left. "What's gone wrong, Claude?" She asked.
"I'm not certain you would want to hear." He said, still looking at the fire. Part of him really wanted to tell her, he just didn't know where to start.
"Some deep dark secret it is then? Maybe I just want to know now for the sake of knowing" she said with half a smile and sarcasm on her tone. "So come on no, either tell or don't tell. Either way sitting in here all alone won't help."
Claude again looked up to his sister-in-law. He smiled at her caring persistence over what was ailing him. "'Tis a matter of love," he answered truthfully.
"And matters of the heart are not so easily dealt with" she said with a nod. The road of love was a bumpy one. There were highs and there were lows, and some lows hurt more than others. "But whatever may be going on, my only bit of advice it to keep faith even when the odds make the outcome seem bleek." She stated with wisdom from her own trails of love in the past.
"It's not as simple as that, Demelza." He said in a downhearted voice. "I fear that we shall never be able to be together. If we were, it would cast both of our family adrift."
" Tis not the first time this family has endured a scandal." Demelza pointed out. "But I see that there is no simple answer to this." She said with a sigh.
He didn't look up to her, his gaze still locked on the orange and red embers. It was true the family had endured scandal on more then one account. But it had always pasted with time. "I know, Demelza." He said dryly. "But a scandal of this magnitude would cause permanent damage to our family. I fear I must let her go sooner or later."
"And what girl could cause such a scandal as to break this family?" She asked now curious as to who he was in love with. After all with as much scandal and trouble this family had been through who ever this was had to be someone considered to be untouchable.
He looked at her and smiled. He couldn't withhold a name from Demelza. She was trying to help. Claude decided that she of all people should know. They had been very close since she came Nampara as a kitchen maid all those years ago. He was the first one to befriend her, and she him. "Her name is-"
He was suddenly cut off by the entrance of Ross into the room. Ross smiled as he leaned in to kiss Demelza upon the cheek. "What have you two been conversing about?" He asked her lightheartedly.
"Oh, just matters of the heart." She stated smiling back at Ross. "Nothing you would be interested in." She stated with a tone of sarcasm. For whatever reason she had a feeling that who ever this was, was someone Claude was weary to tell Ross of. Otherwise they would've known all along who this mystery woman of his was.
Ross let out a shot laugh and smiled in a sideways manner to his wife. "On that subject, my love," he said taking a sip of his wine, "you are indeed the expert." He added in a tone of sarcasm. Demelza looked to the fire thoughtfully.
"Will be blasting though to the Trovogie works again tomorrow, Ross?" Asked Claude trying to desperately change the subject.
Ross finished his wine and set the glass on the tray. "I am to meet with a shareholders tomorrow and see if they will continue to invest in our venture. Since George began to buyout our nervous investors, revenues for gun power and fuses have been hard to come by. Luckily, Wheal Grace is still paying out with the tin load we discovered in June." He said beginning to look over his papers again.
"And any news of my brothers' smealting company?" Demelza asked looking up and away from the fire at her husband.
"Nothing to my knowledge. While you were away in here, we began talking of the possibility of doing business together. In the morning I shall ride over to Trenwith to discuss it over with Francis." Ross stopped. It had been months, but the wound was still fresh for his cousin. Ever since the death of his wife, Elizabeth, Francis had hardly left the house at all, only going to the mine and shareholders meetings and church on Sundays with his son and daughter brought him into public. It had been hard on him. Elizabeth had died giving birth to their daughter. Francis named the child, Elizabeth Mary Poldark.
Elizabeth's death... it was only months ago. Demelza felt for Francis, and for the two children. Demelza knew better than many that loosing a mother was harder than anything. "I'll go as well, the children will be missing thier mother. The least I could do is read them a story while you and Francis talk." She offered wanting to do something than nothing at all.
Ross smiled at Demelza's kindness. Years of marriage and three children had only increased these natural virtues in her. "That's settled then," he said to her sweetly. "You to, Claude," Ross went on, "will accompany us. After all, you own a portion of the mine as well, and you should be more involved in it's affairs."
Claude looked to his brother. There was no point arguing. "Yes, Ross." He said turning his head back the fire.
"I shall look in on the children." Ross told Demelza. "Julia should be practicing her letters, she will need help." He smiled again and left the room, leaving Demelza and Claude alone again with their thoughts.
~~~~
Time before dinner was running thin. Clementine sat before her vanity preparing for the evening. She couldn't help but be worried. She knew not who would be attending the dinner with them, and for some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that it was Whitworth. Maybe it was the simple fact that Claude had warned that it was he who George intended her to court. But either way at the moment she felt as if she were holding her breath. Clementine stared at her reflection for only a few moments longer before she got up and went to her door. She hesitated again before finally opening the door to head down to the library until dinner was announced. If anything she wanted to convince George that all was well and nothing was amiss.
George looked vainly in the full standing mirror admiring himself in his new suit made of fine silk and velvet. He wanted to make a good impression on the guests who were attending dinner. The future of his family depended upon it. Two potential suitors where also coming tonight. One for his sisters, and the other was for himself. His uncle has been trying to convince him that he needed to settle down and provide an heir. And George had decided that it was time. He was thirty two years, a time in a mans life where he must seriously think about his future. And for the first time, it hit Mr. Warleggan that life was short. Too short to waste without making the proper preparations for the time that would come after him. Therefore, George was determined that he and his sister should marry before the year was out. He smiled smugly to himself. with a jet out his chin with an air of pride, and turned to leave the room and join the others in the library.
It didn't take long for her to reach the end of the stairs, and the library was just adjacent to the the stair case. She wasn't sure what to think now, and her heart was racing with a fearful anticipation. But she took those last few steps and entered into the library putting on a face of polite contentness. She even managed to muster up a smile, even if it was faint. "Good evening" she stated softly announcing her presence to those in the room with a polite little curtsy.
"Good evening, sister." George said from his reading chair by the fire. I guests had yet to arrive, so he sat quietly reading a novel which he had just selected for his pleasure. "Our dinner guests should be arriving shortly. One among them being a certain Sir Francis Bassist." George looked up from his book to his sister, now sitting across from him, looking sad. "Why so downhearted Clementine," He asked, his voice showing little concern.
"I was merely thinking of Elizabeth" she lied. Though Elizabeth's death effected even her. After all they were friends in a sense. "I miss her dearly" she added more in truth now. In the end she was a bit relieved to hear at least one of the names of the guests. While Bassist was not her favorite of people, she could tolerate his prescence.
George winched at the sound of Elizabeth's name. There could be no denying that he loved her. He had admired her since first he set eyes on her when he was in school so many years ago. She was but fifteen then and he eighteen, but her radiant beauty had captured the eyes of not only the Poldark boys, but every school boy in Cornwall. Since then, George had wanted her more then anything. "As do I." Said he, sincerity ringing in his voice. When speaking of her, it was the only time one could see the man beneath the beast.
Unlike many Clementine knew the humanity of her brother. She did not see him as the beast most others knew him to be. She saw him as her brother, and while he had his faults she did still love him. She also knew his cruelty, and how harsh he could be. She didn't deny that this aspect of George worried her, but she knew deep down he still retained enough humanity to be consoled with. And that was what she was counting on. She was counting on his humanity to be able to convince him to let her marry who she loves.
From without the library, the pounding and rattling on the door had announced the arrival of the guests. "They have begun to arrive!" He said turning to former self. "Come, Clementine," He said rising and extending his hand to her. "We must greet our guests."
Clementine forced another fake smile as she took her brothers hand. Her heart seemed to race again. Clementine now only prayed that this evening would not be as so as she feared it would be.
Brother and sister stood arm in arm as the butler opened the door, finally revealing the faces of the dinner party. The first to enter was Sir Francis Bassist, he controlled the MPs of Cornwall, and therefore half of parliament in London. Conservative politically, Sir Bassist wished to see many wrongs made right in England. But he himself wouldn't run for office. It therefore became George's sole ambition to become Bassists next candidate. "Ahh! Sir Bassist!" George exclaimed as he greeted the gentlemen. "It is a pleasure for you to join us."
"The pleasure is all mine Mr. Warleggan." He responded politely shaking his hand. He proceeded to the library with his wife on his arm.
Next came Lady Emma Addington, a shy maid of eighteen. And George's bride in question. After came the man that Clementine dredged most. Reverend Osborne Whitworth.
Sir Bassist and his wife were expected and it was easy enough for Clementine to greet them in. Even the shy Miss Addington was someone that Clementine had no reason to deny. But when he came her heart dropped and fear petrified her. She couldn't even bear to offer him the smallest of smiles. All at once everything she had seen and heard of the man flooded her mind mixing in with her fears. She felt almost as if she would faint right then and there.
"Mr. Whitworth," Mr. Warleggan greeted coldly. "A pleasure." George extended his hand to that of the fat reverends. "This is my sister, Clementine." He looked so his sister as Osborne's gaze followed to her delicate face.
"A pleasure, my dear." Said he kissing her hand. It took everything with her not shriek away in disgust. "Your brother, has told me so much about you." The fat reverend smiled to George. "I thought he was describing a saint. I thought it almost too good to be true. But now I see that his portrayal has done you no justice. For indeed, you are an angel." Clementine looked away to hide her distain.
Clementine could not even bear to look him in the eye. By this point her hands were shaking in what she could only describe as fear. She did not want to believe that this sad excuse of a man is the person her brother intended her to marry. She remained silent for as long as she could, but social rule pushed her to speak. "Thank you, Reverend." She managed to say, though the expression on her face subtly seemed to tell otherwise. She simply hoped that neither him or her brother would suspect.
George looked to his sister and gave a cold smile. "Shall we proceed into dinner?" He said extending his arm to her.
"By all means." Whitworth said smiling with a lustful look to Clementine.
Clementine averted her gaze from either of the men and looked at the floor rather than thier faces. At least then she could look at something more worth her while. More than anything she began to resent her brother for subjecting her to this. Though she took his arm as it was offered.
The dinning room was splendidly lit with eight hour tapers. The table was laid out in the most extravagant fashion. And George Warleggan raised his chin with arrogant pride as the dinner party entered the great hall. Clementine hung shyly on his arm as they made their way to their seats. George sat next to Lady Emma Addington. And Clementine, much to her great dismay, sat by reverend Whitworth. The rest took up their seats as directed by proper etiquette.
Proper etiquette...Clementine would easily throw it out the window and run back for Claude, but she knew George would ship her off for such behavior. She would never see the light of day again. So she held her tongue and did as instructed, just as she was trained. After all of there was anything she knew, it was how to be good and prim and proper in the eyes of her overbearing brother.
George watched with satisfaction at the guests from the far end of the table. Success was in the air, he could feel it. And once Clementine was married, he would become a member of one of the most prominent families in all of cornwall. George reveled in the thought of finally having the upper hand against Ross and Francis. The ability to finally finish them off. He could do it, once he could lend his name to the Goddolifns. He looked at Clementine, sitting uncomfortably by her suitor at the other end of the table. Already he could see that she distanced him. George himself, thought him to be impudent bore. While outwardly, he possessed all the manners and teachings of a proper gentlemen. His reputation in his personal sheltered life was beginning to mirror on his outward appearance. Still George felt little pity over the matter. His sister would become his wife, there was no doubt about that. And George at last would be the most powerful man in Cornwall.
The meal carried on with its mundane flow as the eighth and last course was brought out into the dinning hall. As the guests were just finishing, George rose from his seat, raised his glass and proposed a toast. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "to the future of cornwall. The success of business. And upcoming nuptials."
Nuptials? Clementine couldn't believe her ears. She could only pray that he meant nuptials concering his own ambitions. Though she wasn't so naive to assume that. She could easily guess Georges intentions at this point. But she wouldn't comply so easily. Clementine's gaze turned to her brother. "Nuptials, brother?" She questioned as sweetly and innocently as she could fake. After all she was trying her best to conceal her true feelings upon all this. Though, that task proved harder than one would realize.
George turned so his sister could discern his features by the candle light. A smile began to tug slightly at the corner of his mouth. This made Clementine uneasy. "Yes, dear sister," he said in a sinister way. "Our upcoming nuptials. Mine to Lady Emma Addington. And yours to Rev. Osborne Whitworth." He turned away again and averted his attention back to the dinner party.
Hearing the words aloud made Clementine go ghostly pale and physically sick. Could George be so cruel? He had mentioned suitors a few times since she had come of age, but she didn't think he would marry her off so soon. Not to mention, she always thought he would at least ask for her consent. She barely even noticed how much time had past when she spoke up again, only this time she wasn't so polite. "Excuse me" she interupted suddenly, not caring that she had put aside her manners. "I have suddenly become ill. I fear the fish didn't take quite well with me" she said all in a lie, but managed to think of some reason to leave. "I must retire to my room." She stated not bothering to even ask, for she knew if she had George would deny her request. She then stood up, somewhat forcefully. "My apologies" she said last before leaving the table all together before anyone had a chance of stopping her. She did lie on the reasons for her illness, but the illness of it's self was quite certainly real.