Poldark: The Legacy Continues

Strife and Contention

"I believe apologies are in order," Clowance swept into the kitchen as suddenly as she had left. 

"Ye be right on that count," Prudie huffed, "Always disregarding the advice of the woman what raised ye from the time ye were a tiny bit." 

"Oh, but I meant to apologize to Bella." 

"Truly?" Bella was simultaneously shocked and gleeful. 

"In truth," Clowance nodded, snatching a piece of bread and then exchanging it for an apple, "For you were not," she took a bite out of the apple as she continued, "mistook."

"In what regard? And have a care for manners, maid, or you'll never be married," Prudie warned. 

Clowance snorted derisively, "I certainly shan't be married to either of you, so why should I bother with manners here?" 

"But you said I was not mistook!" Bella cut in, attempting to refocus the conversation as she took Clowance's discarded piece of bread. 

"And so you were not," Clowance nodded, "For it seems Trenwith House has been reopened." 

"Reopened?" Prudie gasped, "As in, ye mean to say there be somewhat or another living there?"

"If the gentleman who told me I was trespassing on his land can indeed be trusted then, yes, I believe there are." 

"You met a gentleman there?" Bella asked.

As Clowance nodded Prudie moaned, "And looking as that." 

"Forgive me for saying so," Clowance said, "But I thought him rather odd." 

"Was he an older man? Near yer father's age?" Prudie asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice. 

"Why, no. He must've been closer to mine or Jeremy's age." 

"Good," Prudie murmured distractedly, "Good. Perhaps the old place be finally sold."

"At any rate, it's reopened," Clowance concluded. 

"Let us pray for no more trouble twixt the two houses," Prudie whispered to herself. 

                                                                         * * * 

"I met Jeremy on the road from Truro. He says he's engaged to be married."

Caroline and Dwight both looked up at their son in surprise, then at each other. 

"Perhaps, Christopher Micheal, that was something he wished to announce himself?" Caroline asked as she ran a hand down the back of the graying pug, Horace, who lounged in her lap.

Shrugging, Christopher Micheal removed his riding gloves and bent over the the winged chair in which his mother sat to give Horace a scratch on the head. 

"I suppose if he had wanted to tell you himself he would not have asked me to relay the message." 

"I suppose," Caroline frowned. 

"Well, this is joyous, although unexpected, news," Dwight said, standing from his desk and walking over. "Do we know the lady?"

"Indeed. He's to wed Miss Killigrew," Christopher Micheal almost grimaced. 

A moment of awkward silence passed as they each tried to understand how such an agreement could have occurred. 

"Oh," Caroline eventually said.

"My thoughts precisely, dear," Dwight agreed, then ventured,  "I... didn't realize his attachment." 

"I do not believe he has any," Christopher Micheal's words were clipped, stiff.