Chapter 2

Michael was ushered into the study on the morning after his arrival. He had been warned by Julian that his patience and fortitude would be tested to the extreme, but he was being paid well for it. The butler, Sullivan, had been surprised to have him introduced as the steward, so there had clearly been no advance warning of his arrival. He was not sure whether that was a good thing or not.

He had been cautioned by Sullivan and the cook, a Mrs Johnson, not to show any reaction when he finally met the mistress. Having been told what had happened, he could only feel sorry for the woman who had suffered so much and had hidden from the world as a result.

Not being called for until mid-morning of the following day was a little unnerving, for he had expected to be spoken to the moment her uncle had left, but there had been nothing. He was keen to get started, for he had been told there would be a lot to do, so it was with relief that he was eventually summoned, and on entering the study, it was with a smile on his face, determined to make this as easy for both of them as he could.

Arabella was standing near the window, her face partially turned towards the glass. She was silhouetted in the morning light, which put her features into shadow. Even so, he could see that she was stunningly beautiful. Her deep chestnut hair was tied in a simple style; her skin was alabaster white and completely unblemished on the side he could see. When she turned towards him ever so slightly so that she could look at him, her green eyes assessed him coolly.

Intelligent and beautiful, he thought to himself, but she had a coldness about her that made him wary.

"Miss Betez." Michael bowed but did not move into the room any further than he already was.

"And you are?"

"Michael Follett. I believe your uncle explained why he asked me to work here?"

"Yes. Apparently, I cannot manage the estate," came the cold reply. She had turned back to the window so she was no longer looking at him and seemed completely uninterested.

"I am sure that is not the case. I am only here to help ease the burden of running such a large estate."

There was a flash of a smile, but it soon disappeared. "There is no need for flattery, Mr Follett, I am guilty as charged. I refuse to go out and about for reasons I am not prepared to go into. But know this, I do not wish to be bothered about anything. You are here without my consent, but for the next few months, I can do nothing about it. Do what you have been instructed, but you are of no interest to me."

Feeling slightly stunned at the ice in her tone, he tried not to let his voice betray his inner thoughts. "As you wish, but it would be usual for us to meet on a daily basis."

"There is nothing normal about this situation, as I am sure you are aware. A daily meeting will not be necessary."

"Then you trust me to do as I see fit?"

"Trust does not come into it, Mr Follett. You are here to do a job. Do it."

"There may be times when it is necessary for me to speak to you."

"Then speak to Sullivan, and he will pass the message on."

"As you wish."

"I do." A silence descended until once more she glanced at him. "That will be all."

"Miss Betez." Michael bowed as he left the room, blowing out a breath as he closed the door.

Sullivan had been waiting outside, clearly expecting a need for him to be called, but he smiled when he saw Michael's reaction. "You got over the first hurdle. I take it you still have a position?"

Michael chuckled. "Only because her uncle appointed me. She has made it quite clear that she wants nothing to do with me or my work."

"She might come around to you."

"I doubt that very much, but I am here to do a job, and that is what I am going to do, whether Miss Ice Queen likes it or not."

"You should not speak so of the mistress," Sullivan chided.

"When she is civil, I will reciprocate. Until then, she is fair game." Michael was not usually so cruel, but he was reeling that someone could be so rude and uninterested when other people's livelihoods were involved. He was a mild-mannered man, but that did not mean he was a pushover, especially when dealing with a young woman who was so unreasonable and uncaring.

"She has been through a lot," the ever-loyal servant said as they walked into the kitchen.

"So have lots of others." Michael shrugged. "She has not got it so bad; rich beyond most people's dreams, an estate which cannot be seen end to end and family and friends. Sorry if my sympathy is somewhat lacking towards her." That she was beautiful, he did not mention; it was irrelevant.

Sullivan sighed. "I understand your feeling, but she was not used to being let down, for everyone spoiled her, and then she was taken in by the lies of the person who had professed to care for her. When the accident happened, it changed everything even further. She used to be nothing like she is now, far happier and carefree."

Choosing not to answer or argue further, Michael's sympathy for his mistress did not increase at Sullivan's words. They sounded like a defence by overindulgent servants who were making excuses for inexcusable behaviour.

He would do his job as he had been instructed, but Miss Betez would get no special dispensations from him. He was not that gullible or indulgent.

***

Two weeks later, and Michael was exhausted. He had worked since he was nine years old, but never as hard as he had done since he started at Castle House. News of who he was and his arrival had spread like wildfire, and he was inundated with requests for help. Julian had been perfectly correct when he said that the estate was in need of work. A lot of work.

Flopping into a seat at the servants' table, he groaned.

"Another day of hearing people moan?" Mrs Johnson asked, handing him a steaming cup of coffee.

"It would not be so bad, but their complaints are justified. How can the estate have deteriorated so quickly in three years?"

Sullivan sat opposite him. "The mistress did not spend much time here in the few years before that. She was mostly in London."

"She could have appointed a steward to keep abreast of what was going on here."

"The old steward died, and I think she did not realise the consequences of not appointing another," Sullivan explained. "It has been her lack of experience which has impacted negatively, rather than anything malicious."

"But her uncle would have done."

"Yes, but he did not realise that old Smithson was no longer alive. It is only since the accident that he has come to realise what a state everything is in."

Michael shook his head. "It will take an age to bring it all back up to an acceptable standard. Talking of which, I do not know how you put up with there being so few servants."

"She does not use a lot of the house," Sullivan said. "We are not overworked and have taken on tasks which would not usually be within our remit."

"In other words, you are trying to compensate for the lack of staff, but have you looked at the wider house recently?"

"I do a check on the closed rooms occasionally," Sullivan answered.

"Then you have noticed that two of the bedrooms have leaks?"

Sullivan put his head in his hands. "No, I did not know that. That causes a real problem, for the mistress will never allow workmen in the house."

"Then she is an even bigger fool than I took her for because if she doesn't attend to the repairs, the house will rapidly deteriorate." Michael was getting sick and tired of this habit of everyone ignoring what was needed for fear of upsetting the mistress.

"She does not like strangers on the property."

"Well, she is going to have to learn to like it," Michael responded grimly. "I need to speak to her."

"I will pass on your concerns," Sullivan said.

"No, you will not. I am here to do a job, and if her actions prevent me from doing it, then I will send for her uncle. I refuse to have my own abilities criticised because of her unreasonable restrictions."

Sullivan looked torn, but Mrs Johnson chuckled. "You know full well that he needs to speak to Miss Arabella. You would not take it kindly if I were to pass on messages to her from you."

"It is slightly different. She has given me specific instructions."

"Then ask her which she would prefer, to speak to me or her uncle," Michael said firmly.

The moment he entered the study, Arabella turned towards him, her anger making her forget to shield her right side. "You think threatening me is the way to work on my estate?"

"Not at all, but if you refuse to see me when there are things to discuss, I will use whatever I have at my disposal to achieve my aim. I refuse to pass messages through a servant like some child playing games."

"You think I am a child?"

Michael was amused at the fury aimed in his direction, but it was like water off a duck. Her attitude did not matter; she had given him an audience. "Did I say that? No. I was describing the situation. I am here to give you an update on my work, and I am advising you on what will need to happen next. I have been warned that you are not going to like it."

"That is guaranteed. Sit."

Michael thought the command was a major breakthrough, and he sat without smiling. She also sat, but the chair was turned slightly away from him. With what he had seen in the heat of her anger, he did feel a pang of sympathy towards her. The scars criss-crossed part of her right cheek. It was like a silvery spider's web, and he knew that for someone who had been considered a real beauty, it would be a struggle to be so disfigured. Though it did not give her the excuse to behave rudely. He had sympathy, but he was not about to pander to her.

"You have very limited time. I suggest you use it wisely," Arabella said, bringing him back to the present.

On telling her what he had done from morning until night for the past two weeks, she had looked indifferent, but the moment he started to speak of what repairs were needed on the house, she held up her left hand.

"I am sure you are more than capable of doing the repairs. Sullivan will help you."

"I am honoured that you think my talents are so versatile, but I am afraid you are wrong in this respect. The roof needs some attention, and I would not trust my capabilities, nor would I trust Sullivan on the roof."

"He would be delighted to know that you think so highly of him."

"I think he is a very capable butler who looks to be close to retirement, but that is none of my business. I will not risk his life and possibly my own when taking him onto a roof where he could easily trip and fall."

"Of course he is not near retirement! He would be horrified at the thought!" she snapped.

"Maybe so, but have you actually watched him walk? Have you noticed how drawn he looks by the end of the day through exhaustion?" Michael knew his words had struck home as she flushed. "I presume from your silence that you have not."

"You are taking a lot of liberties, Mr Follett. Do not think you can come here and say whatever you wish, no matter that you have my uncle's support."

"I would never openly speak my mind. I am talking about facts, Miss Betez," Michael responded, his tone as cold as hers. "I am here to do a job, and I will be honest with regards to that. There is no need for you to point out that you are not interested in my opinions about anything else. I am fully aware of it. In lieu of a housekeeper, it is my responsibility to point out that your servants are under a lot of strain, though there is only you in the house."

Arabella looked fit to burst, which amused Michael. The hint of mortification gave him a little flicker of hope but not enough to soften his approach. She had been overindulged, and it was time for her to start thinking of others.

"You suggest that I employ a house full of servants? That would certainly set the local tongues wagging, saying that I was a demanding mistress who needed dozens of people to look after me." She was speaking through gritted teeth.

"When have you been bothered about what other people say?" He could not hide the surprise in his tone.

"Since I became the circus attraction in the area."

Michael snorted. "Now that is definitely giving yourself more importance than you deserve. People are too busy trying to make ends meet to worry about what you are doing."

"I thought you were not going to speak your mind."

"I promised not to give my personal opinions. I am still stating fact."

Arabella seemed to slump in on herself, and Michael felt guilty that he had been rough with her. She was a young woman who had suffered a great deal and was struggling with having him around. He had let his annoyance at her lack of welcome make him more antagonistic than he usually was.

"What do you wish me to agree to?"

"Let me increase the number of servants you have and allow me to repair the house. This is your home. Let me make it safe for you."

Seeming surprised at his change of tone, she thought for a few moments before nodding. "Do as you see fit."

"Thank you. You will not regret it."

"Are you sure about that?"

Michael could not help his grin. "Not in the slightest."