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gerrycoco · 3 years

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My entry for Shipwrecked Comedy's Headless Series Fic contest. I've always loved the Socially Awkward Poe video where Edgar and Lenore try to write out the invitation to announce the series. So I figure I'd give it a bit of a twist for Shipwrecked's latest project. I'm posting it here below but I've also uploaded it to my ao3 page.

Summary: Ichabod Crane is new in town (cue John Mulaney voice) and decides he wants to throw some sort of social gathering so he can get to know people that aren't his roommate, the infamous Headless Horseman.

Note: I have no clue how the Shipwrecked gang is actually going to be doing this aspect but it's my Headless headcanon (badum tss) that the Headless Horseman can't actually talk unless he has a head and therefore makes use of AAC (alternative/augmentative communication) in order to communicate with others. The speech language pathology student in me couldn't pass up this opportunity especially since we don't really get to see that kind of thing much in media.

Ichabod Crane’s game night VIP barbecue picnic for neighbors luncheon

Ichabod Crane had arrived in the quaint town of Sleepy Hollow only a few days ago. He was to begin as a science teacher at the highschool in a few weeks. Until then, he hoped to make some connections and possibly friendships with the townsfolk. As of yet this had not proved very successful, his only real connection beyond the most basic of acquaintances was his new roommate.

For lack of a better idea Ichabod decided that he could throw some sort of social gathering for the whole town in hopes of getting to better know the residents of Sleepy Hollow. Well okay, maybe one resident in particular more than others.

Ichabod settled himself at the kitchen table and opened up his laptop. He opened up a blank word document to start writing an invite.

"Greetings fellow Sleepy Hollow citizens...wait no… Sleepy Hollow folk...Sleepy Hollowans?" Ichabod muttered to himself as he typed away, erasing and composing increasingly worse attempts at a greeting.

"Oh my God you've been writing the first sentence for the past 15 minutes please for the love of everything unholy just move on."

Ichabod jumped at the sound of his roommate's voice coming from the living room. Well, not exactly his actual voice. Being the Headless Horseman, his roommate didn't exactly have a mouth to speak with. Instead he used the text to speech function on his phone or a specialized app to communicate verbally when he needed to. Ichabod still didn't understand how his roommate could hear him since he obviously also didn't have ears but he'd learned to stop asking questions. Despite being a man of science he had decided to let it go lest he go insane at the anatomical implications involved in his roommate's literal lack of a head.

"Sorry, I hadn't even realized you were here," Ichabod said, feeling rather flustered.

"Well I was trying to have a nap but who could with you yammering away forever," the Headless Horseman, or HH as Ichabod had started calling him, replied, audibly annoyed. "What are you even going on about anyway?"

"Oh, I'm trying to write up an invite for a party," Ichabod answered.

"You? Throw a party?" HH responded, followed by some sort of odd wheezing sound that might have possibly been a laugh.

“Well maybe not a party,” Ichabod conceded, though he didn’t appreciate his roommate’s tone. “I was thinking maybe more along the lines of a picnic. I hear the weather is supposed to be nice this weekend.”

“The weather is never nice in Sleepy Hollow,” HH stated. “And I hate to break it to you but the only place nice enough for that in this town is the cemetery.”

“A barbecue then?” Ichabod asked, scrambling for different ideas.

“You and what barbecue?” HH retorted. “Besides I wouldn’t trust you near an open flame.”

“Excuse you but I’m a science teacher!” Ichabod exclaimed, as if this explained everything. “I’ve used a Bunsen burner countless times. I can’t imagine it would be very different.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t own a barbecue,” HH reminded him.

The exchange went on for some time, Ichabod throwing out every possible type of social gathering he could think of, only for his roommate to shoot down every single one categorically.

“Well what about a game night? Or maybe even a murder mystery dinner party?” Ichabod said, seriously starting to run out of ideas.

“Dude no that’s totally lame. And before you say it, no Gatsby themed party either this isn’t a film noir or whatever,” HH added, finally coming into the kitchen and sitting down at the table across from Ichabod.

“Ugh you are absolutely impossible!” Ichabod cried out, thoroughly frustrated.

“Why are you even bothering making such a big deal over organizing something?” HH asked. “There’s already the annual bowling tournament that’s happening on Saturday.”

“Are you… are you kidding me right now,” Ichabod squeaked out, suddenly feeling his frustration reach a boiling point.

“Yeah the whole town is gonna be there,” HH explained, completely oblivious to Ichabod’s indignation. “Come to think of it, it's the perfect opportunity for you to properly meet everyone.”

“If you had a neck I swear I’d be strangling you right now,” Ichabod grumbled, slamming his laptop shut and storming off to his room.

Great, another new crazy person, just what this town needs, the Headless Horseman thought to himself before going back to the living room to continue his nap.

#headless series #headless series fic #headlessseriesfic #headless: a sleepy hollow story #shipwrecked comedy #fanfic #poe party #ichabod crane #headless horseman

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letterfromtrenwith · 6 years

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Grand Jete - Ch 9 & 10

When George Warleggan quits a high powered job in the City to take care of the finances of the South West Ballet, run by his friend, Francis Poldark, it changes his life - even more so than he expected.

Elizabeth Chynoweth came to the South West to come back home, take on new challenges, and leave behind a less than perfect time in her life. She intends to focus on her art, but everyone knows what they say about best laid plans…

Ch 1 & 2 Ch 3 & 4 Ch 5 & 6 Ch 7 & 8

Chapter 9

George stretched, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed. Reaching over to the other side, he frowned at finding it empty. He sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes, and looked around.

“Elizabeth?” He couldn’t hear the shower running, or any other movement. Where was she? Had she had some sort of emergency? No, she would have woken him, surely? His eye caught on something white on the bedside table. Rolling over, he found it was a piece of paper which had slipped half under the base of the lamp. In Elizabeth’s softly swirling handwriting, and signed with a kiss, it was a note:

Gone for coffee! Back soon x

George smiled. They’d gone for a late Sunday lunch – or early dinner – after yesterday’s de Valois matinee, and then come back to his flat for ‘dessert’. The thought brought another smile to his face, as well as reminding him of one or two very pleasant aches. A trip to the bathroom seemed to be in order, although it was with some reluctance that he dragged himself out from under the warm Elizabeth-scented duvet.

“I’m back! Are you awake yet?” He’d actually managed a quick shower while she was out, and was sitting on the bed reading the papers on his phone. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long, the place was heaving! I should have thought, really – Monday morning rush – oh.”

“What?” He looked up. She’d made a somewhat disappointed noise when she entered the bedroom, two cups of coffee in a little tray in her hand. She’d slipped one of his sweatshirts on with her jeans and it hung slightly over to one side, exposing the curve of her shoulder in a very distracting way.

“Well…” Elizabeth put the coffees down on the sideboard and kicked off her shoes, before getting onto the bed on her hands and knees. “I was sort of hoping you would be exactly where I left you.”

“Oh, yes?” he asked, leaning forward to meet her, barely inches between them. “Why’s that?”

“So that I could have…woken you up.” She licked her lips, a sight which made George temporarily forget how to speak.

“Hh – “ was all he managed.

“But nevermind.” Elizabeth took both of his hands in hers and slid them up under the sweatshirt, confirming that wore nothing underneath. George took a shaky breath. “There’s still plenty of time for that.”

It was disgracefully close to lunchtime when they eventually emerged from the bedroom, George feeling incredibly thankful that he’d chosen to work yesterday and have today off. Their coffees had ended up going completely to waste, stone cold by the time they weren’t otherwise occupied.

“It was a very nice thought,” George said soothingly when Elizabeth pouted a little as she poured them away.

“Your fault for distracting me,” she teased, and he couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked, when their lips parted. “Or have you had enough of me?”

“Never,” she smiled. “I’d love to, only I think I should change.”

George waited in the car outside Elizabeth’s flat while she got changed, citing a desire to avoid temptation, which earned him a cheeky grin and a torturously lingering kiss before she hurried away into the building. She returned impressively quickly, giving him another quick peck.

They drove out to a lovely country pub, the friendly waitress seating them at a snug table next to gently crackling fire, which was very welcome in the crisp November weather. He helped Elizabeth out of her coat, revealing a fitted jumper dress in a soft petrol-blue colour. It looked incredibly good on her; she noticed his look and glanced down, blushing slightly, which was especially endearing considering what they had been doing not long ago. He’d thought she was incredibly beautiful from the first moment they met, but sometimes she took his breath away.

Their legs tangled under the small table when he returned with their drinks, and Elizabeth smiled at him over the top of her menu.

“Actually, I think it was a mistake coming here – the food is so delicious, but I shouldn’t eat too much since I’m back in rehearsals first thing tomorrow!”

“Surely you need your energy?”

“What? Since I’m so worn out after last night? And this morning?”

“No, I didn’t – “ But she laughed, shaking her head.

“I’m only teasing! Although I must say I have worked up an appetite…Perhaps I should build up my strength, especially if you’re going to come back to mine this afternoon?” That question went straight to a very primal part of George’s mind. No matter now nice the food was, he was going to have a lot of trouble concentrating on it.

A couple of audience members ooh’d and ah’d as Elizabeth’s and Hugh’s swords clashed, the sounds of the props impressively realistic. In their roles as the Black Queen and the Red Knight respectively, their climactic pas de deux took the form of a duel. This was George’s fourth time seeing it, and it was captivating every time – not entirely due to Elizabeth, either. The staging of the chess-themed piece was stunning, and George was certainly not alone in thinking so.

He could anticipate the reaction to each moment – breaths held as the Knight presented the Queen with a rose, the symbol of his love despite their battle. The pause as he turned away and then – a collective gasp of shock when Elizabeth thrust her sword into Hugh’s back; the Queen’s betrayal. The triumph of death over love, culminating in Malcolm’s Red King cowering at Elizabeth’s feet. In her pure black costume, she was magnificent the lights casting her into shadow for a moment as she raised her sword to deliver the coup de grace. With impeccable timing, the stage was plunged into darkness at the exact moment she began to stab downwards.

By the time the lights came back up, the cast were lined up at the front of the stage, Elizabeth holding the hands of her ‘victims’. The audience clapped and cheered enthusiastically and she smiled her beautiful smile as she took her bow. He watched her look out over the crowd towards the back of the auditorium – she knew he was there, although the lights would obscure him from her view.

He slipped out before the curtain fell for the interval – the audience would return for the second of the two de Valois ballets: Bar aux Folies-Bergere. However, George wasn’t here for that – he’d seen it twice already and, as artistically impressive as it was, it lacked one very important element: Elizabeth.

“Hello, you.” Margaret greeted him with grin when he entered the backstage area. She was lounging on a chair in the corridor, already in her can-can dancer’s costume. “Hey, Elizabeth! Your No. 1 fan is here!”

A door further along opened and Elizabeth stuck her head out, making a rude gesture at Margaret, who laughed delightedly in response, before turning to smile at George, opening the door wider in invitation. He glanced back at Margaret as he entered, frowning at her suggestive eyebrow raise. As soon as Elizabeth closed the door, she pulled him in for a kiss, and then giggled as she wiped off the stage make-up she’d smeared on his face.

“Sorry! Let me get this all off and then I’ll get changed.” As Elizabeth wasn’t appearing in Folies-Bergere she didn’t need to stay for the rest of the night, although she often did – either to watch from the side of the stage, or to socialise with the other dancers afterwards. Tonight, however, they were going somewhere special.

George had debated with himself for about a week about asking Elizabeth if she would like to go away together for a couple of nights. He’d got the idea when he’d found out from Francis that the dancers were going to have a few days free between runs of the de Valois, to give them a break since they were also in rehearsals for the Christmas show. But was it too soon? They’d only been seeing each other for a little over two months. He already knew he had strong feelings for her, but he didn’t know if she felt the same, although he could certainly tell she liked him.

In the end, he’d decided to bite the bullet and ask her. If she thought it was rushing into things, she would say so. However, she’d reacted with excitement, actually clapping her hands in delight when he’d told her their destination was a surprise.

“So, are you going to even give me a hint?” Elizabeth glanced at him in the reflection of her mirror as she wiped off her greasepaint. She pouted when he shook his head, making him smile. “Not fair.”

“You’ll see when we get there! It’s not far; you might have even been there already, for all I know. I’m the newcomer around here, remember?”

“Fine. I suppose I’ll just have to be patient….Here, help me with this will you?” She stood and came to stand with her back to him. The fastenings of her costume were half-undone, exposing most of her bare back. George undid the rest, knowing that she must be able to manage perfectly well herself. When he was finished she wriggled out of the whole thing, leaving her standing in only her knickers; wrapping her arms around herself she peeked at him over her shoulder and he groaned.

“I’m still not telling you anything.”

“Damn.” She laughed.

“Still,” he murmured, trailing fingertips up her spine in a way he knew made her shiver, “very cruel to you to have me undress you when we’re not going to be alone together for who knows how long….”

She gave him a wry smile, amused by having the tables turned on her, before hurrying to get dressed. He had made one concession to a hint by telling her to dress smart-casually for their arrival.

“Enjoy your dirty weekend!” Morwenna called down the corridor as they were on their way out, earning her the same gesture as Margaret, which she likewise found highly amusing.

“She’s always been a pain in the arse,” Elizabeth muttered, and George chuckled, knowing she didn’t mean a word of it. He’d seen how close the cousins were.

It was a beautiful night, cold but crisp and Elizabeth even wound down the window slightly when they were out on the road, the breeze catching her hair a little.

“So,” she began. “I’ve got to dress fairly smartly, and you told me to bring something to wear for dinner and my swimwear…”

“Just wait, will you!” She laughed delightedly, only teasing. It didn’t take them long to get there, as it happened, since the hotel was at Fistral Beach, just over 10 miles away. Just under half an hour after leaving the theatre, they were pulling up outside.

“Oh George, it’s lovely! I’ve seen this place in Cornish Life and I thought it looked so lovely.”

“Well, I hope it lives up to expectations.”

Judging by her reaction to their room, it certainly did. Since it was the off-season – and not actually the weekend, despite what Morwenna had said – he’d managed to get an ocean view suite, and for a surprisingly good price. It had a balcony which looked straight out to sea over the beach, a very large, very plush-looking bed…and its own private hot tub.

“Hmm, I see what the swimwear’s for. Although, since we’re going to be only ones here, I’m not sure that my bikini’s actually necessary…” She bit her lip, raising her eyebrows, and George busied himself with putting their suitcases away. It wasn’t long before they were booked in for dinner. With a laugh, Elizabeth flung open the doors to the balcony, letting in a blast of cold, salt-smelling air. After a moment, he followed her outside, shrugging his jacket tighter around himself. “Oh, George, it really is so beautiful. Thank you so much for bringing here.”

She leant forward and kissed him softly, smiling affectionately at him when she pulled back, before turning away to take in the view again. He looked at her in profile, the soft light from room glowing on her skin, the wind pulling at the strands of hair which had escaped her scarf, and suddenly came to a very big realisation – he didn’t just have strong feelings for Elizabeth, he had fallen in love with her.

Chapter 10

Elizabeth returned from their little stay away feeling incredibly relaxed and contented. The hotel was beautiful, quite possibly one of the most romantic places she had ever been in her life – and not merely because of its location. After a truly wonderful dinner on their first evening, their table leant a lovely privacy by the soft draping decorating the restaurant, they’d discovered just how comfortable the suite was, but it was the second day which had been the most special. A leisurely breakfast in bed, followed by an enjoyably windswept walk on the beach. Thanks to the season, they’d had the sands almost entirely to themselves; George had looked especially handsome with his hair tousled by the wind. She’d been completely unable to resist kissing him, until they’d been splattered by a rogue ocean spray, causing them to run away laughing like children.

During their light lunch at the bar, George had surprised her with an appointment for a hot stone massage in the afternoon. When she’d returned to the room, she’d been amused to find him checking work emails on his phone, and teasingly chastised him.

“Didn’t you want a massage?”

“Oh, I don’t know if it’s the sort of thing I would like.” Elizabeth had frowned as this.

“You mean, you’ve never had one?”

“No,” he’d looked adorably embarrassed by this admission.

“Well, I think I should fix that.”

Later – rather a lot later – they’d had dinner in the room, accompanied by the beautiful moonlit view of crashing waves. Elizabeth did wear her bikini when they finally tested out the hot tub, although much to George’s obvious appreciation, she eventually discarded the top. Afterwards, he’d lain her down on the bed, pressing her into the mattress, and when he’d kissed her, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy.

Returning home was almost a shock to the system. She’d felt oddly lonely lying in her own bed, George having gone back to his flat after he’d dropped her off.

“So, someone had a good time….” Demelza grinned at her from the changing room bench the following morning when Elizabeth arrived for rehearsals.

“Yes, I did.” Elizabeth was aware she was putting her things away with rather exaggerated casualness, something which had not gone unnoticed by her colleagues.

“I’ll say. You’re practically floating.”

“Oh, shut up.” Demelza laughed before suddenly adopting a slightly more pensive expression. “Listen, there’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you….”

“Whatever Caroline’s put you up to – “

“No! It’s not to do with you and George, as much as I’d love to press you for details.” Demelza glanced around as if making sure no one was listening. “It’s actually about Morwenna.”

“Morwenna? What about her?” Elizabeth frowned.

“Is she seeing anyone that you know of?” Elizabeth hadn’t known what to expect from this line of conversation, but that certainly hadn’t been it.

“Er, she hasn’t said so if she is. Why?”

“Well, it’s actually my brother, Drake. He broke up with this girl a while back – I didn’t like her, to be honest, but that’s not the point – and he’s been on his own since. He’s just a couple of years older than Morwenna and I think they’d really get on. Do you think she’d be offended if I suggested introducing them?”

“You’d have to ask her, but I don’t think so.” Just then, Caroline appeared, and Elizabeth was about to make a joke about her rubbing off on Demelza when she noticed that her friend did not look her usual self. Caroline was rather wan, her usually smiling mouth angled downwards. “Caroline? Are you all right?”

“She’s not well,” Demelza answered for her. “I said so at Pilates yesterday, but she won’t admit it.”

“Just – “ Caroline coughed. “Just a bit of a sore throat. I’m probably getting a cold, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Elizabeth wasn’t convinced, but Caroline was stubborn enough that pressing her wouldn’t do any good.

“Look, never mind my silly tickle. Tell me all about your romantic getaway, Elizabeth.” Caroline tried to smile, but it was unconvincing. Before Elizabeth could answer, Keren stuck her head around the door to say they were getting started, and Caroline hurried into her practice gear.

It became increasingly obvious throughout the day that Caroline was not just getting a cold – she was off her game, as much as she was trying to put a brave face on it. Elizabeth noticed Francis and Anne exchanging concerned glances, as were a few of the other dancers. She also saw Caroline massaging her throat when she thought no one was looking.

Eventually, Elizabeth decided she’d had enough. During a break, Caroline took a drink of water and almost choked on it, coughing horribly and struggling to clear her throat.

“Right, that’s it. You’re going to see Dwight. Come on.” Not giving her any choice, Elizabeth hauled Caroline up by the arm.

“But – “

“But nothing. If you’ve just got a cold, he’ll say so, but I really don’t think you have.” She looked a Caroline beseechingly. “To put my mind at rest, at least. Please?”

“Okay.” That Caroline acquiesced without a sarcastic remark or a sardonic quirk of an eyebrow only convinced Elizabeth even more that something was properly wrong.

Dwigh was in his office when they arrived, and greeted them with a friendly smile, looking especially pleased to see Caroline, Elizabeth noted. With a bit of prompting, Caroline explained her symptoms – chiefly a terrible pain in her throat and the sensation that she couldn’t clear it properly.

“Are you struggling to breathe?”

“No, but deep breaths make the pain worse sometimes.”

“Any other pain in the mouth?”

“No.”

“And you don’t smoke?”

“No!”

“Sorry, I have to ask.” Elizabeth wasn’t surprised. Quite a lot of dancers smoked, in her experience. Some did it to lose weight, some as stress relief. There were a few at the South West, although the disapproving looks Francis gave them every time she saw them on a cigarette break had convinced a few to cut down.

“Well, I don’t.”

“All right, let’s take a look. Open your mouth, please.” Looking unusually awkward, Caroline did as she was asked, studiously avoiding looking at either Dwight or Elizabeth as the doctor shone his penlight at her throat. “Caroline…When did you last east fish?”

“Fish?” Caroline frowned, still massaging her neck. “A couple of days ago. But I’m not allergic.”

“No, but you should maybe think twice about going back to that restaurant. Open up again, please.” He rummaged about in a drawer for a moment before producing a pair of tweezers. Elizabeth watched in confused fascination as he gently extended them into Caroline’s mouth and, with a small tug, extracted…a fish bone. Caroline stared at it in disbelief before suddenly starting to laugh. Soon, all three of them were chuckling.

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” Dwight and Caroline smiled at each other for a moment, and Elizabeth felt a slow smile creep across her face. Well, that was interesting. The doctor coughed and shuffled some papers on his desk. “I’ll, er, I’ll go and make up some salt water. You can gargle with some now, and then every morning and night for the next couple of days, just to make sure there’s no infection, although that’s unlikely.”

Elizabeth sat down next to Caroline after he left, and Caroline laughed again.

“A fishbone! Oh my God.”

“Aren’t you glad I dragged you down here now? And not just because Dwight fixed your throat?” Caroline gave her a sideways glance. From that alone, Elizabeth could tell she felt better.

“Actually, I believe we have some unfinished business. You never told me about your little romantic break. So, come on, details.”

“It was very nice.”

“Very nice? Is that it?! Certainly not, judging by that blush.” Elizabeth tutted and Caroline smiled. “Seriously, though, I’m really happy you enjoyed it. Things are getting serious between you and George, aren’t they?”

“Yeah….” Elizabeth felt odd suddenly, frowning to herself as Dwight returned. “Yeah, it is….”

Caroline’s observation continued to bother her for a few days afterwards, niggling at doubts Elizabeth thought that she’d put aside. She’d had her concerns about getting involved with someone again – especially someone she worked with – when George first asked her out, but had found her attraction to him overwhelmed them. However, they now seemed to have come back in full force.

They were getting serious, and after just over a couple of months. Even before their little trip away, they’d been spending more and more time together and Elizabeth had been feeling herself falling…No, she couldn’t think like that.

It was nothing to do with George – he was kind, and interesting, hiding a gentle, surprisingly funny side of himself behind his quite serious demeanour at first meeting. He was also handsome, as well as a very good kisser…among other things.

That was the trouble, she liked him a lot. More than a lot. But she was concerned that maybe they were rushing into things, getting in too deep, too quickly. She’d been burned that way before, and she didn’t want that again; she didn’t want it for George, either.

Conflicted about her feelings, she began to avoid him a little, the combination of the final set of de Valois performances and preparations for Lion offering the perfect excuse. He’d accepted her claiming to be tired after a day of rehearsals or that she was going to have late supper with Morwenna after a performance – not a lie, but Elizabeth had set it up so as to have a reason not to see him. She’d pushed her food around her plate and refused to admit to her clearly suspicious cousin that anything was wrong.

She’d endeavoured to focus on her work, and her performances had been as good as ever, but Morwenna wasn’t the only one who noticed she was off personally. Hugh had asked her more than once if she was okay after a performance, but accepted her excuse that she was just tired.

After a few days she was feeling increasingly guilty about the way she was treating George. He didn’t deserve to be given the cold shoulder like this. Although he hadn’t said anything, she’d heard confusion and disappointment in his voice earlier that day when he’d called to ask her if she wanted to meet for lunch and she’d made yet another excuse.

Sitting at home that night, she reached for her phone and video called Verity, hoping that her friend wasn’t busy. She knew the Scottish Ballet were on a short break before their Christmas show: Cinderella. Verity was playing the Fairy Godmother. After a few rings, Verity’s face appeared on the screen, smiling.

“Hello! This is a nice surprise. How are you?”

“Fine.” Now that Verity asked, Elizabeth found she wasn’t sure how to put it into words, even though Verity would certainly understand.

“How’s George? I’ve been meaning to call him. Francis says he’s been doing a great job! Oh, is he with you?” Verity glanced around as if she could see out of the side of the screen.

“No, we’ve both been busy.” Elizabeth had told Verity that she and George had been seeing each other, but not all of the details. She hadn’t been expecting Verity to mention him first, and it threw her. Before she could say anymore, there was a male voice in the background, and Verity looked away for a moment, saying something indistinct.

“Sorry about that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise you had company.” Now that she looked properly, she could see Verity was a bit more dressed up than might be expected for a Thursday night at home.

“No, it’s – er – it’s just Ross. He’s visiting for a couple of days since we’ll both be working at Christmas. We were going to go out for supper.” Oh. That was the last thing Elizabeth had expected Verity to say. Ross Poldark was Verity and Francis’ cousin. He’d also been a pupil at the Royal Ballet School with them – and, for several years, Elizabeth’s boyfriend. The reason why she was now feeling so hesitant about her relationship with George.

“Oh, sorry, Verity, I’ll let you go. We can talk another time.”

“No – “

“No, really, it’s fine. Enjoy your supper!” With her false note of cheerfulness, she ended the call. Hearing Verity mention Ross, knowing he was there in the room with her, had brought back everything she’d been pushing away these last couple of years, and increased all of her doubts tenfold. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone, pulling up George’s number.

I think we need to talk.

#poldark #george warleggan #elizabeth chynoweth #elizabeth warleggan #margaret vosper #morwenna chynoweth #caroline penvenen #demelza poldark #dwight enys #verity poldark #george x elizabeth #dwight x caroline #carolight #grand jete #au #f: au #f: ge #fic #m: fic

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