Chapter 10

Arabella walked into the morning room to find Grace looking out of the window, clearly agitated by something.

"Grace, what is amiss?" Crossing immediately to the older woman, Arabella saw her gripping a letter tightly in her hand, not caring what impact it had on the paper. "Have you had bad news? Is someone ill?"

"No," Grace said with a sigh. "All is well." She folded the now creased letter and slipped it into her pocket. "I am sorry to have worried you. I was thinking, that is all, and became distracted. Nothing to worry about."

"Something has upset you, and there is no need to hide it for my benefit. Do you need to return to London?"

"I am better here."

"Why? I have never known you to shy away from the hustle and bustle of London life."

Grace took hold of Arabella's hands and looked at her seriously. "Be careful who you give your heart to, Arabella. If you make a mistake, the repercussions can last a lifetime, and it never gets any easier."

Surprised at the feeling behind the words, Arabella smiled. "Are you thinking that I would risk my heart with Philip for a second time?"

"It is easy to forgive when they have already taken hold of your heart once before. Do not think yourself immune. You know as well as I that he is here to renew his attentions to you."

"Why do I get the feeling that your words are more about your heart than mine? This is not about Philip and I, is it? Who is it, Grace? Who has hurt you? Let me help you in any way that I can."

"No one has done anything to upset me recently," Grace said with a sad smile. "It is an old love I am talking about."

"But they have got in touch?"

"He has never really been out of my life, and just when I think all is well, I hear about him through a letter, and it turns my head and my heart upside down once more. I am an old and foolish woman, Arabella. Please ignore my ramblings."

"You are not at all old. But if you need to see this man, you must leave me here. I will be fine with Michael and Sullivan looking after me. You can return to London and concentrate on yourself for once. You are always looking after us Bluestockings, and it is time to look after yourself."

"I do not think so, young lady," Grace responded quickly. "You need a chaperone, and I am not going anywhere."

"But—"

"I see things you do not or are ignoring. It is important that I stay here for a number of reasons, one of which is respectability."

Arabella flushed, a strange feeling of hope in her breast. She had an idea about what Grace was hinting at and, not for the first time, hoped that what had been building within her were not unrequited feelings on her part. That her head was filled with the thoughts of two men was not the happy situation others would consider it. They were both ineligible in their own ways but pulled at her emotions and longings in different ways. Philip had confused her and stirred up old feelings, but Michael… Well, he had encouraged, supported and been steadfast, and the fact he was handsome, quietly charming and intelligent was also not lost on her. A pity her uncle had forced him on her.

Sullivan entered the room, stopping the conversation between the two women for now at least. He caught their attention mainly because an unusual scowl was firmly in place. "Mr Wilson has returned."

"Oh, yes, show him in," Arabella said.

Philip almost bounced into the room, a large posy of flowers in his hands. "For you, my sweet Bella." His bow was extravagant and deep, and Arabella felt the gurgling of a laugh escaping at the ridiculous action but managed to remain composed.

"Thank you. Sullivan, if you would not mind?" Arabella handed the flowers to the butler, who looked at them with disdain. "Shall we go to the dining room? I am afraid we cannot have a leisurely luncheon today. I am due for a ride out with my steward this afternoon."

"Your steward needs your assistance?" Philip asked.

"No, he is assisting me. He is only to be with me for a few months, and then I will be taking over responsibility for the estate." Arabella felt a moment of pride at the surprise on Philip's face.

"Why would you wish to do that? A lady of the house needs to look after herself, not be working as if she is some hired help."

As they sat at the dining table, Arabella smiled. "A lot has changed in these last few years. I have been brought to realise that a life of dissipation and idleness is not for me. I can help those who rely on me but still not get my hands dirty."

"Then I am to be forced to follow you around as you toil, for you are my muse and always have been."

Stiffening but trying not to betray what she felt at his words, she could feel Grace's glare without looking in her direction. "If I was intent on spoiling the mood of today, there are many comments that I could say to your remark, but I will hold my tongue as long as you do too."

Philip seemed taken aback at her tone. "You are unhappy to see me?" He was tucking into the dishes of food as if he had not eaten for a week, piling his plate up with everything within his reach.

"I am surprised to see you but not completely unhappy." Arabella could not lie to him. She had thought she would scream and shout at him if she ever saw him again, but his reaction to her had taken her by surprise and reminded her of what she had liked about him. In not holding back from her, he had dispelled the anger from within her, at least some of it.

"That is good to know," he said around a mouthful of cheese. "I want to spend as much time together as we can. I need to make up for the wasted years. I know how much I suffered and can only imagine what you must have gone through without me by your side, my sweet Bella."

"I do not think you can ever make up for what has gone," Grace said, looking down at her plate.

Arabella was distracted, wondering who or what had happened to have upset Grace so much. She was usually so calm and pleasant, so something was amiss, and Arabella was determined to find out what. Grace gave so much of herself to the Bluestockings, and if Arabella could help in any way, she would.

"Well, I can try." There was a mulish tone to Philip's words, bringing Arabella back to the conversation.

"Are you staying in the area for long?"

"As long as it takes to receive your forgiveness," Philip answered, back to his flummery self.

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Bull and Duck in the village. It is not the best of establishments, but it is all the village has to offer as I wanted to be close to you. I knew staying here would not have been possible."

"No, it would not." Arabella shot him a look of disbelief. "After all, I could have married."

"I would have known," Philip said smugly. "I read every paper to hear of any scraps of news about you, and to my relief, there was no marriage announcement. I knew your uncle would not have given you any letter that I wrote, so that option of communicating with you was not open to me."

"You wrote to me?"

"Well no, I did not see the point if you were not to receive it."

"My uncle was not with me for most of the time."

"Then I am sorry I did not try, for we would have never lost contact with each other. You were and always will be precious to me."

Arabella suddenly felt suffocated. Had he always been so flowery with his speeches? It might only have been a few years, but a lot had changed for her, and she was getting a headache. She still felt the sting of his public rejection – funny that there had been no mention of that – but in the main, she was experiencing surprising feelings of relief when thinking she could have been married to him. He was exhausting.

After waiting for a few moments, she stood. "Please excuse me, I need to seek out my steward."

"Could I accompany you? I would be interested in seeing the estate," Philip said, shoving the last of the food in his mouth.

"Whatever for? It will not be interesting, there will be a lot of talk around repairs and farming practicalities," Arabella said.

"I must take inspiration when I can, and seeing you in action, there can be no other motivation to return me to what has always been my happy place, able to picture my sweet Bella, sitting at my side while I paint, or modelling for me, helping me to create the most beautiful of paintings."

"Have you no commissions booked?" Grace asked, tone sweet.

"Not at the moment," Philip responded. "I lost the urge to paint when my dear wife died."

"Hmmm," Grace responded but said nothing else, not even when he took a roll of bread from the table and put it in his pocket.

Arabella sighed. "I suppose there is no harm in you accompanying us. You could always leave if it became too tedious."

"Excellent! I have hired a hack from the inn, but it will not be to your high standard of horse flesh. I remember how you loved to choose your own horses, but I hope you will forgive the slowness of the beast."

"We will not be galloping anywhere, so there is no problem."

She walked into the hallway, Philip following her, where she saw Michael and raised her eyebrows at him. "Mr Wilson is accompanying us on our trip out."

"Oh? Handy with a hammer, is he?"

Arabella laughed. "I doubt that very much. Have you ever even held a hammer, Philip?"

Scowling at Michael, Philip turned away from him. "Of course not. Why lower oneself when there are servants to perform the mind-numbing menial tasks? You have changed if you go around getting involved with work, Bella. It surprises me as I know we were once of the same mind."

"Were we? I honestly cannot remember being so high in the instep. Perhaps I was. I suppose I would not know if I was surrounded by similar-minded people. It takes a brave person to call you out when a person is acting like an idiot."

"Of course you were not," Sullivan said in a low voice, earning a glare from Philip but a wide smile from Michael.

"I shall meet you in the stables, gentlemen." Arabella took herself upstairs to change into her riding habit, becoming utterly confused as to why she had ever been attracted to Philip.