Chapter 21

A week. It took a week before Mr Follett finally started to respond to the treatment he was being given. He had been fed garlic in all manner of ways, Arabella stating the healing qualities of the plant would help. Ginger and clove tea, sweetened with honey, was fed to him so many times during the day that he claimed they were trying to turn him into liquid.

"If it means you come back to me, then you can drink double the amount." Mrs Follett had smiled at her husband's grumbles.

Arabella had never hoped and prayed so hard in her life that she could make a difference. She was genuinely concerned about Michael's father and had wanted to support him, but when Michael walked into the parlour on the first day, she had almost cried out in surprise, he had looked so haggard and defeated. The need to comfort him had been so overwhelming that she had moved towards him before recollecting herself.

Determined to put everything she knew into helping care for Mr Follett, she had brushed off Michael and Mrs Follett's concerns that neither she nor Grace should help with the nursing.

"You both look fit to drop," Arabella had said. "We can stay at the nearest inn and help with taking it in turns to care for Mr Follett."

"You can stay with us if you do not mind that our house is nothing in comparison to yours," Mrs Follett had offered, clearly embarrassed that a fine lady should be offered a room in such a humble cottage.

"Your house is far more a home than mine has ever been," Arabella said. "If we did stay here, as long as it is not too much trouble, we can help with nursing and household tasks."

"There is a lady from the village who comes in daily to help with the upkeep. She can cook too."

"Good, for my skills do not stretch to working in the kitchen. I was thinking of sending for Mrs Johnson," Arabella said. "Her baking would be perfect to build Mr Follett back up."

"You are very kind, but there really is no need," Michael said quickly.

Arabella was always afraid of overstepping the mark, and at Michael's cool response, she was convinced that was what he must be thinking. "I am sorry that I take over. It is not my intention to browbeat you into anything you do not wish to do."

"We do not think that at all, Miss Betez!" Mrs Follett said quickly while shooting her son a look of warning.

"How many times do I have to tell you that formalities are not needed here? It is Arabella." She smiled at Mrs Follett.

"It isn't right, you are a grand lady."

"Pfft, I am nothing of the sort. Now, I think it is time for Mr Follett's next tea infusion."

***

Mr Follett had been too weak to comment or even notice that two more helpers were nursing him, but after a tense week, the fever was finally receding, and although still very tired and feeble, he had noticed the newcomers.

When Michael was with him, helping him to wash, which was always a strain on both of them and left Mr Follett exhausted, he nodded to Michael. "And when were you going to tell us about your young lady?"

"When I get one."

"You are doing it too brown, my lad. I have seen how your eyes follow each other when you think the other is not looking. I certainly have been looking." Mr Follett lay back on his pillows after his nightshirt had been changed, pale and exhausted.

"You have it wrong, Pa. She came here to offer help and will be gone the moment you are well."

"Might have to have a relapse then."

"Do not even joke about that!"

"Who is joking?" Mr Follett had his eyes closed. "I have never felt so drained in all of my life."

"You will get better; you just need to build yourself up, and if you cannot work again, then I will move in with you and support you both."

"I will not burden you with that."

"It would be nothing of the sort. You have brought me up to treasure family, and that is what I intend to do."

"You are a good lad, but you are destined for better things. You should not be concerned about me."

"I do not know where this maudlin mood has come from, but it can go away as quickly as it came. I am proud to be a steward, and I intend to be one for the rest of my days." There was no response as Mr Follett had succumbed to sleep as he usually did having undergone any exertion.

Michael stood, watching his father for a few moments before his mother entered the room.

"Time for you to go and have some luncheon. It is set out in the parlour," Mrs Follett said.

"He gets tired so soon," Michael said.

"He has been through a lot, but he is getting better. You must see that."

"I do. Sometimes, I think I am just hoping that he is improving, and then I realise that he is. It is just such a slow process. Hard to watch when he has always been so strong and healthy."

"I know, but he has taken a turn for the better. You need to go and have a break and eat."

Michael left the room, glancing back as he closed the door to see his mother brush his father's hair from his forehead whilst she felt his temperature. Nodding to herself, she sat on the chair and watched him sleep. Michael shut the door quietly, knowing without doubt that they were both doing their best not to worry the other about his father's state.

***

Arabella asked Grace if she would mind giving her the chance to speak to Michael alone.

"Do you think that is wise? He is not himself at the moment, and you might not get the response from him that you wish for," Grace warned.

"There is no need to worry. I am just trying to find out what he needs to ease his burden," Arabella said. "I know now is not the time to beg his forgiveness for being a brute and a fool. I can wait for that conversation."

Grace smiled at her. "In that case, I will take a walk. I have been longing to explore the area."

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

Arabella was alone when Michael came into the parlour. She smiled at him and stood up.

"Mother almost forced me to come and have some food," he said, clearly trying for a light tone, but Arabella could see how drained he was.

"Come and sit down, and let me pour you some tea. It is a fresh pot."

"You do not need to wait on me. It should be the other way around."

"Do not be silly. Now sit."

"Yes, miss."

"And we will have none of that cheek, or there will be consequences," Arabella said archly, pouring him a cup and putting two sugars into it. Michael had raised his eyes at her liberal action with the sugar. "Do not worry; I brought a large lump with me."

"You brought enough supplies to feed an army."

She was glad to see that he started to eat, and she placed the cup at his elbow. "I suspected that it might not be a simple fix, so it was best to bring all my supplies with me."

"How did you learn about the plants that might help, for they certainly seem to have done the trick. I am under no illusion that he is still very ill, but better than he was when you arrived."

"You mean you have not put it down to my charming personality that has brought him around?" Arabella immediately regretted the flippant words when she saw him frown. "I am sorry, I did not mean to be silly."

"There is no need to apologise."

"Of course there is. I am really not dismissive of how ill your father has been." Arabella watched warily as Michael pushed back his chair and stood quickly, then sank into the wing-backed chair in front of the fireplace, putting his head in his hands. "What is it? Are you feeling ill? Do you need to lie down?" she eventually asked, worried for him but afraid of what his answers might be.

"What are you trying to do to me?" Michael asked on a groan.

"I do not understand."

"You rejected me in every possible way on your estate, only tolerating me because you had to, and you threw me off your land the moment you could. The next thing I know, you are here like a benevolent benefactor, saving my father and comforting my mother, having travelled for three days when you have hidden away for the last three years. I ask again, what are you doing?"

Arabella sat opposite him on a footstool, her dress billowing out around her. She was lower than him but wanted to try to see his face. She hated that her actions had upset him when all she wanted to do was comfort him. "I was awful with you."

"Yes, you were," he responded.

"It is not polite to agree when bad behaviour is involved, and I am trying my best to apologise."

"Sorry."

"Now you are being too nice."

Michael groaned. "What is it about you that I can never do the right thing in your eyes?"

"Oh Michael," Arabella started, liking that she had shocked him by using his given name, for his head snapped up to look at her. "Can you not see that you have done everything that is right? It was I who was beastly in every way I could be."

"Why did you act that way?"

"Because you terrified me."

"You were afraid of me? No one has ever feared me!"

She smiled at the look of incredulity he shot at her. "Of course not. Oh, blast it. I assured Grace that I was not going to go down this route, that I was just going to explain that I needed to apologise to you, but now look at me."

"I am looking."

"Yes, you never shied away from looking, did you?"

"No. Why would I?"

"I hated you for it at first, you know. That you would look me fully in the face. I was braced for the sideways looks the servants had given me in the early days before I sent them all away. I could not stand that no one had the courage to look me in the eye. Not even my friends could, but you did from the start, and it unnerved me even more than the sideways looks did. I realise that makes me sound utterly contrary, and I have to admit that there has been a lot of that from me recently."

"I was treating you in the same way I would treat anyone else. You might have a few scars, but that does not make you any different to the rest of us."

Arabella could have fallen on her knees and begged him to marry her at that point, but she held herself back, barely. "But I continued to be beastly, and you carried on pushing me in ways that gave me the confidence to return to being myself. Ignoring how I looked and how I was behaving, although you did take me to task when needed, which no one else had ever done. Even poor Uncle Julian had never understood that ordering me around was not the way to get me to co-operate."

"I always thought your behaviour was because you did not wish to lose face in any situation, so you kept a tight control on everything around you, in your home at least."

"Of course it was that!" Arabella smiled. "But from the moment you entered my life, you challenged me and made me realise that I was not living; I was merely existing. I came here because I had approached my uncle asking him to beg you to come back to me, but when he explained about your father, I needed to come to you, to help you in the way that you have helped me. I could not have stayed away even if it meant I had to visit a dozen inns."

Michael reached out his hands, and Arabella eagerly took hold of them. "You should be immensely proud of yourself travelling in a carriage and spending two nights away from home."

"I am." She smiled at him before becoming serious. "Can you forgive me for what I said and did? It is not me, truly it is not. Well, it was for a while, but it is not anymore. It was as if I had started down a path, and I could not get off it even though I was becoming lonelier by the day and more distant from everyone who meant something to me." They still held hands, but Arabella was not pulling away, and it seemed that Michael was in no hurry to do so either.

"I forgave you before I had even left the house. I stung from what you said, but I could not have ridden away thinking ill of you."

"Thank you. I cannot express how much that means. Your good opinion is most important to me, it always has been."

"I also appreciate you coming here. Whatever concoctions you made, and they did not smell the best, they have worked. I am grateful that you spent the time studying, for I genuinely believed that is what has saved him."

"It was as Grace said. After my accident, I wanted to speed the healing process up. I have always studied the sciences and had many discussions over the years with Frances, who knows all there is to know about plants. I tried everything, every concoction that I could, but I came to realise that scars heal in their own time. Thankfully, they are not as red and raw as they were at the start."

"They are almost silvery white."

"Yes, perhaps I should say that I have been kissed by the moon the next time someone stares at me."

"You should. It is an apt description." He squeezed her hands. "How did you think to transfer what you had learned to my father? The two cases seem to be so different."

"They are, but Mrs Johnson came down with a fever about a year ago. She was quite ill, and we did not know what was causing it. It turned out she had caught her leg while out getting eggs and had not noticed because it was on the back of her leg. It was badly infected by the time we realised, and I started with the same treatment. I found that she rested better and was in less pain when I fed her the ginger and clove tea and used the honey on the wound. I gave it to her in a drink to build up some strength while she could not eat."

"It clearly worked, for she is the picture of health."

"Yes, but she cannot stand the smell of ginger, cloves or honey any more. She says it is the stuff of nightmares and refuses to use it in her cooking. I would not be surprised if your father will be of the same mind."

"Is there a chance he could relapse?" There was desperation and fear in his voice, which made her heart ache for him.

"There is a chance," she replied honestly. "I cannot guarantee that what we are doing will be enough, but I will work day and night to try and help."

"What do I do if he does not survive? How did you manage losing both of your parents at an early age? I feel like a weakling, but I could cry when I think that he will die."

Arabella did not think; she stood and wrapped Michael against her in a comforting embrace. He rested his head against her stomach, his arms moving around her and pulling her closer. She stroked his hair, trying not to dwell on its softness when he was suffering. She needed to make him feel better; she had to.

"If you want to cry, then you go ahead. It is not a sign of weakness to love your parents. I miss mine every day, but I take comfort in knowing that they were good people and loved me dearly. I have memories of them, and I cling to them. Your father looks like he will come through; he looks frail, but he is clearly of a strong constitution. I hope you will have him for far longer, but if the time comes when his body can no longer fight, then I will be with you every step of the way."

Michael squeezed her but said nothing. Arabella did not move, not sure if he had given in to silent tears, or was just taking comfort from being held. Eventually he pulled away from her, and although his eyes were wet, the tears had not fallen. Arabella smiled at him and stroked his face. She was being disgracefully forward, but as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, she knew that nothing could stop her from continuing.

When he opened his eyes, she sensed that something had changed and braced herself for what he was going to say. "What is it?" she whispered when he faltered.

"When you leave, we will never see each other again."

"Will we not?" She had tried not to stiffen but was not sure she had achieved it when she sensed the tension in him.

"No. I have told Mother that I will move in so that I can work and support them both."

"I expect she did not like that idea, and I have to say that neither do I." There was a little of the Arabella he had first met in her tone and posture.

"And I suppose you expect me to come and work for you and forget about them?"

Michael had pulled away from her, which made her laugh, and she could not resist rubbing her hand in his hair. "Of course I do not! We will be having a conversation about how quickly you think the worst of me at every opportunity when you are strong enough to deal with the full wrath of my temper." She smiled at his befuddled expression; it was time to put him out of his confusion. "Before I left, I had already arranged for workers to start repairing and updating the dower house. By the time we return with your father, all the work will be completed, and your mother and father can enjoy their retirement in comfort."