Poldark: The Legacy Continues

Chilled

Ursula hated Trenwith.

She could not remember the last time she had been here. Her father had closed the house over ten years ago, in the years following her mother's death. They had never been back. The closest she had ever been was their house in Truro. But even visits there had been brief and uncommon. Father preferred to reside in London. And so did Ursula.

She looked around her new bedroom. It was much smaller than the one she had in their London house. And not nearly as fashionable or comfortable.

Her white muslin nightgown was easily the most fashionable thing in sight. How depressing.

It was also cold. The early spring air outside was pleasant, but the halls and rooms of Trenwith seemed permanently chilled. She pulled her wooden scarf more tightly around her shivering body.

Ursula looked around the newly inhabited room. The white sheets that had covered every piece of furniture and painting had only been removed last night. When they had walked into the cold, dark house the night before, all the white drapings had looked like ghosts.

Ursula found a bell on the dresser and rang it several times, taking the opportunity to further inspect her dissatisfactory surroundings.

Her maid, a timid and exceedingly plain girl, crept cautiously into the room.

"Are you ready to dress, Miss Ursula?"

"Jane, why is there no fire in my hearth?" In London, there was always a fire when she awoke.

Jane turned her dull brown eyes to the cold fireplace, her head sinking lower.

"There were no wood chopped for fires, miss. The menservants meant to chop some today-"

"Chop it now, and build me a fire directly." Ursula's blue eyes were cold. Colder than the empty hearth and colder than any room in Trenwith.

Jane flinched, nodded, curtsied, and scurried out of the room.

Ursula heaved a great sigh as she got back into her bed, sitting up against the headboard and pulling the covers up to her chest. She hated this place. Why had Father sent them here? She knew no one here, and he wasn't even there to introduce her to anyone. She didn't even have a governess. Her old governess had refused to be sent to Cornwall, instead turning in her notice and staying in London. It wasn't as though Ursula had particularly liked the stern governess, but at least she was intelligent company. Now she would have no one for company other than dull, plain, boring Jane.

How was it even fair that her life should be so exceedingly difficult?

                                                                                          * * *

Valentine approached Trenwith House from the back. He had walked through most of the woods surrounding the house, and had even doubled back and found the path he guessed the mysterious girl in the red dress had taken to come in and then leave again. He had considered following her after their initial meeting, but decided it ungentlemanly to stalk an unaccompanied girl through the countryside. Thus the reason he had doubled back later to investigate the way she had come. He wanted to give her plenty of time to leave.

He already found himself wondering who she was and if he might see her again. He even found himself wondering how he might orchestrate such a meeting.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a shower of wood chips spewed him in the face, accompanied by the sharp thud of an ax.

His sister's maid (he felt her name might be Jane) was struggling to chop a fallen tree limb with a heavy, dull and rusted ax.