We arrived back and Nampara and I hurried inside to prepare the house as well as food and drink, well Demelza and Prudie would have that part.
"I could crown your father sometimes." I commented
"He could hardly refuse. Sir Francis seemed most eager." Caroline replied
"Out of all days he picks today, and we're going to be running around like headless chickens." I vent running inside. I put Isaac down
"Prudie! Demelza make haste. Sir Francis Basset is coming to tea." I tell them "What do we have, cake's tarts, jellies?" Prudie scuttles off as Demelza helps me clear up then helps Prudie with the food. That's when that something came for me. I recognise the handwriting.
"Quickly. Henry, Rebekah Grace a little help pick up you toys and put them away. I'll be right back." I hurry off upstairs and removed my coat and hat. then sit down opening the letter.
My dearest Abigail,
This poem must suffice to reside next to your heart, where I must long to be.
Lips to my lips unfold. The tale of our love is told.
Hallowed by sea and sand. Beauty was in my hand.
I felt my head go all funny and the world spin as I tried to bring myself back to normal.
"Abigail! Our guests have arrived!" Ross calls up. I hide away the note and fix my hair heading down stairs
"Apologies, something needed my attention." I glance over to Demelza who nodded "Shall we?" The table was set up and ready in the parlour. I poured out the tea. I handed it to Ross then one to Francis.
"Sir Francis, do you find life altered that much since peerage?" I wonder pouring myself a cup.
"Oh, not in the least. My dogs are as lazy and my daughter as wilful." we laugh "I can see you share the same wilful aspect in your own children."
"Ross and I tend to blame each other for who they inherit it off of." I joke.
"Today was all you, Abigail s the one who would say the same." I didn't say anything knowing it to be true.
"Will you be less embroiled in more mundane matters of state?" Dwight inquires as I take a sip of my tea.
"Alas, no. I fear I'll be called upon all the more to pronounce judgement and enforce order." he answers with almost a downcast spirit. See there was a man who didn't enjoy watching what went on with those that would be below his station. "Particularly in these unruly times."
"Merchants flout the law and send the grain abroad while people at home starve, who will enforce that order?" Ross wondered
"Those in governance who feel strongly about it. Sir Francis answered
""I believe there are men of honour and condition. If one knew where to look" I added joining in the conversation
"When one does, you'll often find such men reluctant to step up." he replied
"And now, regrettably the moment has passed . While other candidates serve not so much the borough but their own end." I think everyone in the room knew Ross was referring to George "And Falmouth has a new man to challenge George. his nephew." Ross declared. I glanced away thinking of him.
"He's accepted the nomination?" Dwight inquired
"He's a good man. And Westminster has need of a good men." Sir Francis replies as I begin to feel unsteady on my feet once more. I hold on to the table.
"If he wins against the combined forces of Basset and Warleggan, that seems unlikely." Ross counters. We have our tea and cakes before the brandy, rum and port comes out. Sir Francis takes me to the side.
"This feud between the Poldarks and the Warleggans, it should be buried. Especially in a time of war when we have a common enemy to fight. You tell Captain Poldark will you?" he requests
"Only if you tell Mr Warleggan."
"Ah."
"Sir Francis, the feud between families runs deep on both sides. It is years of resentment, insecurities and paranoia. It has it's decent days and it's all out war days. I respect your request for it to be end but in truth. The chances of that while both still walk the earth are slim. It has been tried many occasion to call a truce only for it to be broken. Usually by George, but that's my opinion." I explain and though he doesn't like it he seems to understand
"What of your own feud?" I inquire
"Of mine?" he questioned
"With Lord Falmouth. It is a pity that you cannot agree on a candidate instead of fighting each other for the seat." I state
"So we might both throw our weight behind a handsome ad poetic war hero? You think him a fitting substitute for the man I first favoured?" he gestured over to a talking Ross. I chuckled nervously.
"In all but one my lord. Ross is not one for writing poetry." He chuckles
YOU ARE READING
Love Thy Self
FanfictionI was the bastard child, lady, barmaid, kitchen maid, lover, wife, mother, lady of cornwall. Now i am a matriarch who fights for my family even when the current is against me. I thought things would get any more complicated but how wrong was I.
