This is My Kingdom Come – Poldark AU

"Ross Vennor Poldark, you are under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark."

Ross sighed and sat up in bed, running his hands through his hair until it was all swept back.

"We need you to come with us, please, Sir."

He swung out of bed and yawned, shoving his feet into his slippers before getting up and looking at them.

"Give me time to get dressed at least, for God's sake."

This wasn't protocol, but the police were willing to let a few things slip for Ross Poldark. The representative for the prosecution sighed as he glared over at the man. Ross pulled on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, laced up black boots and picked up a black leather jacket for good measure. He moved towards the door, causing the police officers to part in front of him, following him down the stairs.

"Good morning, Jim. Juice?"

Jim bowed a little as he held out a tray with a crystal glass on it. Ross picked it up and took a few sips, swilling them around his mouth as he pulled on his jacket and shoved a pair of large black sunglasses on his face.

"That's enough now, please, Mr Poldark. The car is waiting for you outside."

"Alright, let me have my breakfast. Who's gonna give me breakfast when I'm in prison? Your mother?"

The officer was taken aback for a moment as Ross picked up a croissant from the same tray, biting half of it and throwing the other half back on the tray. Flakes tumbled down his shirt, which he brushed off before placing his hands behind his back.

"Come on. Are you gonna cuff me or what?"

The officer stepped forward and Ross heard the click of the cuffs closing around his wrists. They led him towards the door and as soon as it opened, they were met by a barrage of photographers. Some were paparazzi Ross recognised, some of them were holding mics with cubes around them from the BBC, Sky News and some other names he couldn't read. They were babbling the same thing, clustering around Ross as he lowered his head and made his way to the police car down the driveway.

"Mr Poldark? Ross! Ross Poldark! Ross, do you have anything you'd like to say about the rumour that you killed your father?"

"Was it for money? Why did you do it? Were you angry?"

"Ross! Ross, over here, Ross! Who are you wearing?"

The officers ducked his head as he got into the car and drove off, with the reporters running behind to try and catch up. Ross turned to see them losing on the car as it picked up speed.

"Thank God," he sighed, sitting back uncomfortably on his hands, kicking his legs up on the seat, "I must have worn this jacket a thousand times, they should know by now it's Tom Ford."

The paparazzi had somehow managed to follow the police car to the station and were there before it even arrived. As it pulled up to the station, Ross saw the familiar flashes through the window and the police officer opened the door, dragging him out.

"Alright, no need to manhandle me, mate."

His words were lost over the yelling from the journalists and photographers. The car door slammed and the police officers gathered around Ross, trying to obstruct the view and move him inside as quickly as possible.

"Ross, is there anything you have to say to people who accuse you of murder?"

Ross stuck his head out past the shoulders of the officers to stare at the melee of reporters.

"Yeah. Suck my dick!"

He laughed as he ducked his head and went inside, standing at the counter and waiting to be processed.

That had been half an hour ago. They'd taken his pictures and made him sign some sort of disclaimer form. He'd been sitting in an interrogation room for the last thirty minutes. He wasn't chained to the table, which made a difference, but he'd seen the familiar face of Detective Sanson before he'd entered the room. Ross sighed and swung on his chair, resting his feet on the edge of the table as he swung at a dangerous angle. Sanson was an old friend of Ross', he'd caught him on minor charges like DUI and possession before, but nothing stuck. Which made him even more eager to fuck him up the ass every time he managed to drag him into the police station.

"You have a visitor."

Ross barely noticed a police officer enter the room, until someone else barged past in a blur of tweed and fur.

"Verity! God, I'm so fucking glad to see you!"

"Me too, darling, me too."

His cousin sat down opposite him and grabbed his hands keenly. She turned to stare at the officer who'd brought her in.

"Yes? What is it?"

She shooed him away until he closed the door and then she turned back to Ross, taking her sunglasses off.

"It's a fuckfest out there. I almost broke my heel trying to get away from that lot."

"I know, they were at the house too," said Ross, setting his chair down on four legs as he leaned over the table.

"I cannot believe they've got you in here again," muttered Verity, lighting a cigarette between her lips, "you are allowed to smoke here, right? Fuck it, whatever."

She lit another cigarette and passed it to Ross who took a drag gratefully.

"Do you know how long you'll be here?"

Ross shrugged and played with the cigarette, resting his elbows on the table.

"I don't know. I guess they'll question me and then decide what to do with me. They can't keep me for longer than a day or something."

"It's such a shame, everyone was looking forward to seeing you at the London Collections. I'd booked in the Burberry party and everything, it'll be such a disappointment. I've called your lawyer just in case, he should be on his way. I also sorted the house, just in case they magically get a search warrant."

"I've been done for possession before, it'll hardly change their minds about me, but thanks anyway."

Verity picked up her quilted Chanel bag and took out some small boxes, pushing them across the table to him. He looked down with raised eyebrows.

"Cigarettes, Rizla, lighter. Shove it down your pants so they don't find out. You never know how long you could be here."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he grabbed all three, sticking them in his pockets.

"You're a star, you know that?"

"I know. Take care, okay? If you need anything, tell me."

Ross nodded as she got up and put her sunglasses back on, leaning over to brush her cheek against his.

"Mwah. Bye, darling."

He raised a hand to wave her off and she fixed her coat, straightening out her hair.

"Those bastards outside won't even let me get into my car, I'm telling you."

"They were asking me the most inane questions earli—"

Ross faded out as Detective Sanson appeared at the door, and he dutifully put out his cigarette. A smile was plastered across Sanson's face as he addressed Verity.

"Thank you, Miss Poldark, but your time is up, I'm afraid."

Verity ignored him and turned around to look at Ross.

"Take care, sweetie."

She waved as she pushed past Sanson and walked down the hallway, the click clack of her heels audible until she left the building. Sanson sat down in front of Ross where Verity had been a moment ago and set a recorder on the table, pressing a button.

"This is Detective Matthew Sanson here, conducting an interview with…."

"Ross Vennor Poldark," recited Ross tiredly.

"At 9:15 AM on Saturday 12th June 2016. Mr Poldark is under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark, his father. Mr Poldark, where were you on the evening of January 2nd 2016?"

"At home."

"Is there anyone who can act as a witness for this?"

"My cat."

Sanson ignored him.

"Where was your father at this time?"

"Away on a business trip in Cornwall."

"And you were not in Cornwall?"

"No. I was at home."

"We have reason to believe that you arrived in Cornwall sometime between 6-7 PM on the evening of January 2nd and entered the residence in which your father was spending the night, namely your ancestral home. Do you have anything to say about this?"

"No. Because I wasn't there."

"Your DNA was found on Mr Joshua Poldark's jacket. Do you have anything to say about that?"

"Yeah. It was my jacket he borrowed, of course it had my fucking DNA on it."

"If you could refrain from swearing, it would be appreciated. Joshua Poldark's cause of death was determined as an artificially induced heart attack caused by a high level of drugs in his system. You have previously been arrested on possession of Class A controlled substances, which match those found in Joshua Poldark's toxicology report. What do you have to say about this?"

"Perhaps Dad was a fan of the good stuff."

Sanson's face soured as he watched Ross stare at a grilled window, leaning over the table and tapping his feet on the floor in a bizarre rhythm.

"The interview is adjourned at 9:25 AM."

He clicked the recorder again and Ross turned to him in surprise.

"So soon? I was so hoping we'd talk more."

Sanson didn't respond, but got up and left the room. A short while later, Ross' lawyer appeared at the door.

"Dwight? What took you so long?"

"Sorry, I got caught up with the paps outside. How's it going?"

"Hilarious, as usual. Our friend Sanson just came in and asked me whether I'd killed Dad. Which I haven't, so that's what I said and he evidently didn't believe me."

Dwight sighed and sat down opposite Ross.

"Good news is that you're being released on bail. They just don't have enough evidence to charge you for anything, your DNA wasn't found on the syringe and there are no concrete witnesses placing you at the scene of the crime. Bad news is that you're under police guard wherever you go. They were considering house arrest but I managed to wrangle it."

Ross grinned and high fived his friend, squeezing his hand.

"That's awesome. So I'm free to go, right? Right?"

Dwight nodded and grinned too, getting up and walking out of the room with his client.

"Hey, light me a cigarette too, will you? You're harder work than law school."

Ross had spent most of the rest of the day at home, where a police officer had come to fit a tag around his ankle. There'd be police with him at all times, but if he was ever out of view and went somewhere he wasn't meant to, the tag would start beeping and call the police to his location. He wasn't that bothered, it was covered by the cuff of his jeans and it wasn't bulky or annoying.

The constant police presence, on the other hand, was. Dwight had left after chatting Ross through his options and Ross had spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch flicking channels while Jim cleaned up some of the mess from his party the night before. His head ached and he tried massaging his temples while watching Game of Thrones, but it hadn't helped. Flecks of white powder adorned the coffee table in front of him, which Jim wiped clean in one sweep.

After he was finished, Jim threw himself down on the couch next to Ross.

"Anything happened so far? Weren't you watching Blindspot earlier?"

He shoved his hand in a packet of sharing crisps sandwiched between Ross and himself. Ross yawned and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

"I got bored after Oscar shot Mayfair. This episode of Game of Thrones is good, though. Emilia Clarke gets naked at some point, apparently."

Jim watched Ross deliver his usual humour while scrunching up his face and rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"I know a good cure for a hangover."

He picked up Ross' rolled but unsmoked joint up from the table, lighting it and handing it to him. Ross chuckled.

"So the cure for cocaine is weed?"

"Something like that."

Ross took a drag and let it fill up his lungs as he tipped his head back. He could almost hear the police officer's internal screaming and after a few minutes, the air around them both smelled strongly of marijuana, causing the officer to excuse himself and take up post down the hallway.

Ross yawned again and stared at his now clean living room. The TV was on quietly in the background, but he wasn't really watching it. It was 1 AM and he didn't really know where the time had gone. He wasn't one for early nights, but he was about to hitch himself up off the couch until his phone began to ring. The number was unknown, so he curiously answered the call.

"Hi, is this Ross Poldark?"

"Yeah, it's me. Who's calling?"

"Ummm…..hi, it's Alyssa. I came to your party last night. I was just wondering if I could….have my underwear back?"

Ross took another drag on his joint, exhaling the smoke before answering.

"Sure. Come over and pick it up."

"When are you at home?"

"Right now. I'm also free."

Alyssa replied and Ross ended the call, shoving his phone in his back pocket as he got up.

"I'm going upstairs," he called to the police officer as he left the room, "and Jim, if a girl called Alyssa shows up, show her to my bedroom. I'm sure she remembers where it is anyway."

"Excuse me, Mr Poldark, are you expecting a visitor this late at night?" asked the officer, looking up at him from the hallway.

Ross stopped in the middle of the stairs and looked down.

"So what if I am? Who are you, my Dad? Oh, no, sorry, he's dead. You might have me under house arrest or some shit, so I'm not allowed to leave my house but that doesn't mean that people can't come to visit me."

The officer opened his mouth to reply, but Ross took a drag on his joint and purposefully blew the smoke out towards him. The officer glared. Ross didn't care.

"Roll yourself some, Jim," he called as he trudged up the stairs.

Jim picked up Ross' unfinished mug of tea as he disappeared and left the room to take it to the kitchen. The officer watched him and Jim turned.

"One thing you'll learn, officer, is that Ross does whatever he likes, and no one can tell him otherwise. Don't try, I don't recommend it."

"Just who does he think he is? Treating a police officer like that! He's not above the law! I don't care if he's a Poldark or not, he'll learn how to treat people with respect!"

"Yes, Sir. I'll have a word with him, Sir."

"While you're doing that, my officer has resigned from his post! I have no one with Poldark right now and no one I can despatch until later in the day! And I promise you, if he so much as sets foot outside his house, I'll drag him to court by his absurdly expensive collar!"

"Yes, S…."

Dwight trailed off as Sanson slammed the phone down. He sighed and sat down at his desk, sipping his morning coffee and rubbing his eyes. His two assistant lawyers stared at him in worry.

"Are you okay, Sir?" asked Jinny carefully, sliding a plate of biscuits across the desk at him, "Do you need anything?"

"No, you two go work on the case in Room A."

Jinny and Demelza did as he asked, sitting down at the table and taking out their files. They sipped their coffee in silence, tapping away on their laptops.

"What did you do last night?"

"Game of Thrones," replied Demelza robotically, narrowing her eyes to stare at the screen.

"Hell, yeah. I'd do that too. Specifically one Khal Drogo."

Demelza snorted and leaned back in her chair, sipping her mug of tea as she looked over at her friend.

"How's it going?"

"Not great," replied Jinny, handing Demelza a file, "I can't find anything that we can use as evidence."

Demelza sighed and opened up the file, comparing it with hers and flicking through it.

"To be perfectly honest with you," she murmured, flicking pages, "I think he is guilty. I don't think anything's that black and white, but the prosecution has a lot of evidence against him. His DNA was found on Joshua's jacket and they've got witnesses placing him not just in Cornwall, but entering Nampara just before Joshua was found dead by his maid. Mr Enys only got him bail on the fact that those witnesses weren't prepared to testify at the trial and also that there's no record of how Ross could have found his way to Cornwall in the first place. No train tickets and his car wasn't spotted at the house either."

"To be fair, he's got loads of cars. He could have used any of them and no one would have known."

"Good point," murmured Demelza, resting forward on her arms, "there's no use taking registration numbers, we don't have anything to match them to. The only thing that works in his favour is the fact that his fingerprints weren't found on the murder weapon, but the drugs inside it match those he's known to use on a regular basis. Things are looking bad for him right now."

Jinny got up and started checking her phone, sipping her coffee in the process.

"He's also a massive bastard, let's not forget that. He's the it boy of London, everyone loves him. And it's twisted, but I think they love him even more now that he's been accused of murdering his own father. Just look at his Instagram."

Jinny thrust the phone in Demelza's direction and she cast her eye over it.

"You don't have to show me. I may or may not follow him," she grinned, causing Jinny to gasp.

"You can't follow our client on Instagram!"

"I couldn't help it! And in my defence, I'd been following him since before he became our client. Come on, he's a multi-billionaire playboy! Have you seen the pictures his posts? Yachts in Cannes, fast cars, jet planes! Even his socks cost more than my entire wardrobe!"

Jinny laughed and scrolled through pictures of Ross with various friends in various parties, polo tournaments, fashion weeks. Whatever was hot in London, he was there. Casual, suited and booted, whatever he wore, he seemed to look great.

"He just….parties, doesn't he? I mean, I've known about him for a long time and I know he's the pinnacle of the society circle, but does he actually have a job?" asked Jinny, staring at a shirtless photo of him.

"He says he does something to do with fashion in his interviews, but otherwise, he does just party, yes. A party isn't a party unless Ross Poldark is there. London's number one spoilt rich kid," stated Demelza, getting up and brushing her trousers off.

"Now, are you going to do some work or shall I go and tell Mr Enys you've been ogling our client's Instagram?"

Jinny laughed and set her phone down, pulling her laptop closer to her. Demelza raised her eyebrows as she picked up the phone with the shirtless Ross still on it.

"I'll have that, thank you."

They both broke out laughing until the conference phone in the middle of the table began to ring. Demelza recognised Detective Sanson's number and groaned, pressing the speakerphone button.

"Good morning, Detective Sanson, this is Demelza Carne speaking. How can I help you?"

"Oh, Miss Carne! Hello there! How are you? I haven't spoken to you in a long time!"

"Yes, not since last week, Detective. I'm well, thank you. Did you want words with Mr Enys?"

He replied in the affirmative and Demelza knocked on the glass walls of the room she was in, attracting Dwight's attention and calling him over. She mimicked being a big, burly man with a moustache and Dwight buried his face in his hands, getting up and walking over into the room.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Your client's tag is going off. I suggest you find out why this instant. I've sent police officers to the scene, but I think you're needed."

"Yes, Sir."

Dwight growled as he stabbed the off button, slamming his hands on the desk in irritation.

"Can't Ross just sit on his arse for one day?!"

"Will you be going over?" asked Demelza in concern.

Dwight looked up at her, bursting with insane laughter.

"Go over there? I've just been fielding crazy calls from George Warleggan who wants to bring the trial date up! And we hardly have anything in Ross' defence and he is not helping his own case!"

Dwight looked over as his desk phone began to ring again. He marched out, calling to Demelza.

"You're going over there. Grab a car."

Demelza stared at Dwight, then at Jinny. Jinny stared back.

"Yes, yes, yes! Gooooo! Go!" she pushed Demelza out of the room, "Go!"

Demelza picked up her bag and file, blanching at Dwight's urgent stare. She jogged out of the office in her heels, picking up a car outside. Out of all the clients she'd encountered in her career, she didn't think she was quite ready for this one.

Ross sighed as two officers grabbed his arm, leading him forcefully down the pathway. Alyssa stared, hiding her underwear behind her back.

"Bye!" called Ross, walking down the road. Alyssa waved off and shut the door.

The officers marched Ross all the way down the road and down another one to his house, where another car was waiting. A girl got out and followed them into the house.

"Excuse me," muttered Ross, shaking their hands off his arm. He dusted himself off and turned around to see a small girl dressed in a black trouser suit. Her curly red hair was piled on her head in a tight, sleek bun and she was carrying a black handbag and a file. He looked her up and down oddly.

"And you are?"

"Demelza Carne," she extended a hand, "I work for your defence counsel, Dwight Enys. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Ross sighed and ran his hands over his face. He was willing to give her time if Dwight had sent her. He turned to look at the officers.

"What are you still doing here? I'm home, aren't I?"

They looked at each other and started to leave. Ross was slightly surprised. It was lunch time and there were no officers around to check if he was at home. This was a good start.

"Is there a place we could sit and talk quietly?"

He turned to face Demelza and walked through into the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the island. Demelza opted to sit on a chair, taking out her notebook and files, spreading them over the table carefully. She snuck a look at him. He was surprisingly normal, wearing black jeans and a white t shirt. Stubble peppered his face, his hair was the same mess she'd seen in his Instagram photos and she had a sudden urge to reach out and bury her hands in it, but she refrained. He was undeniably good looking in a couldn't give a shit sort of way.

She'd been impressed by the size of the house when she'd pulled up, but the inside was another story altogether. It was cleaner than she would have expected and the kitchen was large and bright with steel fittings and ceramics everywhere, very white, very clean. A dining table graced one side which opened out onto a patio. Her eyes were drawn back to Ross, who was sitting on the island, swinging his legs and puffing on a cigarette. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl behind him and began chomping noisily.

"We should start with some formalities. My name is Demelza Carne, I'm a lawyer and I work on behalf of Dwight Enys, who is your appointed legal counsel. I've been assigned to your case and I'll be working on it until it goes to trial. As you know, you're being tried on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Poldark, your father. I know Mr Enys has gone through your options with you yesterday, so I won't repeat that. I will confirm that the prosecution and the judge have decided that there is enough evidence to warrant a trial with you as the primary suspect. Do you understand this?"

Ross was busy drumming his feet on the island. He set his apple core down and nodded. Demelza carried on.

"You've been placed under police guard since yesterday and I understand you're wearing an ankle tag. The police officer which constituted your guard resigned his post yesterday and I will be filling in from now on, to make sure you don't violate the terms of your custody."

Ross cranked his head up to stare at her.

"You're filling in? Is that even allowed? You're a lawyer from my legal team."

"Your ankle tag is functioning properly and Mr Enys has managed to convince Detective Sanson that this would be sufficient. He believes you'd react better to being under constant guard by someone who's advocating for you. The police officers didn't just leave because you told them to, they were doing their jobs. Anyway, the Met police seem to make allowances for Ross Poldark."

Demelza's stare was hard as ice and Ross raised his eyebrow at her. She didn't seem to like him very much.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, offering a mock salute and a wink.

Demelza couldn't resist a small smile, but turned back to her papers.

"I'm far too young to be a ma'am. I'm not the Queen. Continuing on, you're not officially under house arrest, meaning that you may leave the house for certain necessities, such as groceries, doctor's appointments and other such things, as long as I accompany you. I'll now move on to questions about the case. Would you like to take a break?"

Ross declined and Demelza was about to proceed when she heard footsteps and a man casually dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt appeared, carrying plastic bags into the kitchen.

"Jim, what's good?"

Ross raised his hand to high five his friend and Jim set the bags on the island behind Ross, unpacking the groceries one by one. Demelza stared at Ross. Ross looked back.

"Oh, yeah, by the way. This is Jim, friend, cook, mess….cleaner. Jim, this is….Dahlia or something, she's a lawyer, Dwight sent her."

Jim leaned back sunnily with a pack of eggs in his hand.

"Hi, Dahlia! Nice to meet you, I'm Jim."

"Hello, Jim. My name isn't Dahlia, it's Demelza. It's nice to meet you too. Should we take this somewhere else, Mr Poldark?" asked Demelza curtly.

Ross looked at her in surprise, puffing away on his cigarette before grabbing another bag of Thai Sweet Chilli crisps, opening it noisily.

"Why? Jim's making lunch. And since you'll be here all day, you should eat some too. What are you making, Jim?"

"At first I was like, let's make egg fried rice, then I thought that's so boring. I'm gonna make a stir fry type thing, I bought tons of shiitake mushrooms. But there'll be egg in it too, I know you like egg. Do you like egg, Dahlia?"

Demelza's jaw hardened uncomfortably and Ross paid her no attention.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jim. Now, Mr Poldark, if you could tell me why you violated the terms of your house arrest?"

"I needed to put my bins out."

Ross and Jim both snorted and high fived each other. Jim cracked up and set a pan of water on the stove to boil.

"Like you've ever put bins out! Do you even know what they look like?!"

"Gentlemen."

Ross made a mock hushing noise and turned back to Demelza seriously.

"Why did you violate the terms of your house arrest?"

"Reasons."

"I need to know those reasons, please. Everything that we're discussing can be used to help you during your trial. The prosecution will use this violation as evidence of your recklessness and disregard for authority."

"Do you want the truth? A girl stayed over last night and left her underwear here. Again. So I had to go over to her house a few streets away and give it back to her because it's kind of awkward having two one night stands and she'd already asked for it back the first time and….you know, I guess she forgot it again, so I had to go—"

"So she went home without any underwear on?"

Ross looked up at Demelza in surprise, a smirk finding its way across his face. Even Jim turned his head from the stove.

"I mean, who was this girl and why wasn't she able to come and collect it herself?" corrected Demelza quickly, turning back to her papers.

"First, her name was….Amanda or….something beginning with A, second, it's kind of awkward to come over again to collect your underwear and thirdly, yes, she went home without underwear. I think it's kinda hot when a girl doesn't wear underwear, but whatever floats your boat. If you're into…like…I dunno, bondage underwear or some shit, go for it."

"What the fuck does bondage underwear even look like?" asked Jim with a laugh, beginning to chop vegetables.

"I dunno. Leathery? Shiny? Strappy?" offered Ross, making Jim laugh even more. Demelza glared at the pair.

"Mr Poldark, if you're not going to take this seriously, should we do it at a time where you feel more sober?"

"I'm not high or drunk, I'm just hung….well….you know, maybe I am a little high, but I'm used to that. Let's finish this some other time. Besides, we've got a party to go to in the evening so I'll be napping upstairs after lunch."

He hopped off the island and walked over to the stove, picking up some cucumber slices to shove unceremoniously in his mouth.

"A party?" she said incredulously, getting up, "I'm afraid you're not allowed to go to any party, Mr Poldark. I clearly stated to you the terms of your arrest. You're only allowed to leave the house for necessities."

Ross walked over to her and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Two things," he said, standing in front of her, "First, I'm Ross, not Mr Poldark. Secondly," he said, walking backwards and grinning, a cigarette dangling from one hand as he opened up his arms like he was offering her a hug.

"Parties are always necessities. Welcome to my world, Demelza Carne."

And it was some world. Maybe Demelza had been too straight laced all her life. Smoking pot wasn't going to get her through law school. But Ross Poldark's world was something else. She sat on the chair in the kitchen as Jim cooked up a stir fry in the background, thinking about what she'd just witnessed. When she saw his Instagram pictures, she sometimes wondered whether his life really was like that. Was he really filthy rich and spending his whole time getting high, drinking and having sex?

Apparently, he was. It was like literally entering another world when she'd stepped into the house. The house itself had high ceilings and all the modern fixtures you could ever wish for. She took herself on a small tour, peeking into each ground floor room. There were wooden floors and large mantlepieces, minimalist furniture in every room but the living room which seemed to be the most used. There, there were comfy sofas, coffee tables, a blazing wood fire and rug, and a huge TV. The curtains were drawn and two large lamps dimly lit the room, with smaller little lamps providing hardly any light on the wall.

"Is this where Mr Poldark spends most of his time?" she asked Jim, motioning through the kitchen door into the living room. Jim answered while stirring the sauce carefully.

"Yeah, we mostly chill in the living room. He spends a lot of time upstairs in his bedroom, though. We also eat in the living room, Ross only uses this table and the dining room when he has friends or guests over."

"And how often is that?"

"Often," grinned Jim, "and thank goodness that I don't cook for that, he always gets catering."

Jim decanted the stir fry into three bowls, pouring sauce over the top before walking in, setting them down on a tray on the coffee table. Demelza followed him. She was hungry, she hadn't brought anything with her. It wouldn't be too much of bad manners to eat, especially since Jim had made some for her.

"Ross! Food's ready!"

Ross came down the stairs a few moments later, picking up a bowl and throwing himself down on the couch, turning the TV on. Demelza watched him eat as she took her seat.

"You can't be comfortable in that suit. Do you want to get changed?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm just going to eat and get on with my work.