Chapter 5

"If you do not keep that young man on as your steward, I think you have missed a trick. He is an excellent addition to the household," Grace said as they shared tea. Michael had excused himself when the meal ended, saying that he had some things to check on before he turned in for the night, but had thanked them both for their hospitality and wished them a good night.

"I could see you were smitten by him." Arabella smiled, but the day had been confusing for her for many reasons, and she needed time to think things through. It was typical of Grace to guess what she was already coming to realise. Michael would be an excellent addition to the estate.

"And who wouldn't be?" Grace said. "He is handsome and charming and considerate too. Look how he arranged for the food to be presented in a way that would cause you no difficulty or discomfort."

"That was kind." Arabella seemed reluctant to agree out loud, but it had touched her deeply that he had organised such a considerate detail. "But it also means that I have been discussed by those below stairs. And more has been said than I would wish to be revealed to him. What else might have been disclosed?"

"If you think that servants do not discuss your needs, then you must have windmills in your head," Grace scolded. "You know fine well that your servants are loyal and only look out for your best interests. Shame on you for thinking otherwise. Sullivan would have had apoplexy if he overheard what you have just said."

Arabella coloured. "Mr Follett is employing many more servants, says the house needs them. They will not be as loyal as the ones who are already here. You know full well that I treasure the ones who have stuck by me."

"Arabella, my dear girl, when will you come to realise that you are not the monster you think yourself. Let us take a walk into the village tomorrow, and let me prove it to you."

Acting as if she had been struck, Arabella stood quickly, putting distance between herself and Grace, almost as if she feared Grace would drag her to the village at any moment. "No, thank you. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot do that. It is too much to ask."

"Fine, but I wish I could persuade you to face what you fear," Grace said sadly. "Our nightmares are usually worse than the reality. You could find your worries are not as bad as you envisaged."

"I assure you that my nightmares are based on my reality. There is no difference between the two."

"I am sorry, Arabella. I am only trying to help. I promise I am not purposely trying to upset you."

"Your intentions are good, I realise that, but everyone is of the same opinion; I need to be fixed. That I am not good enough as I am, it is very frustrating to have my fears confirmed that I am good for nothing anymore."

"Then I am truly sorry for you, for things are even worse than I suspected." Grace rose and approached Arabella, taking her into her arms and holding her. "All I want to do is to ease your troubles and bring light into your life once more. I want the old Arabella back."

"I am afraid she was left at the roadside three years ago."

***

Riding across the parkland the following morning, Arabella mulled over what Grace had said. She had been content to hide since the accident, though she had started to become dissatisfied and lonely, but since Michael had arrived, she was more unsettled than ever. It was as if his arrival had caused her to look at the way she lived, which could hardly be helped when he gave his opinion without holding anything back, blast the man.

To be fair to him, the house was already looking better. He had engaged as many women as he could from the village and farms, and they had entered en masse, tackling each room, getting rid of the Holland covers on the furniture she never used and making right the rooms. They were all deep cleaned, and furniture which was past its best or damaged was taken away to be repaired or placed in storage in the attics.

She had been mortified that everyone would know how much she had been neglecting her own house as well as being an absent landlord, but all she had heard was cheery conversations and quite a bit of singing as they worked. Taking sanctuary in her bedchamber, she had also heard Michael whistling as he walked, speaking jovially and being very friendly to anyone he was checking on.

His easy way was something to envy, but she also felt a little jealous when she could hear the tone of his voice but not the words, and then a female laugh would ring out. He was clearly flirting with whomever he was talking to, and for some reason, Arabella did not like that others were getting to enjoy his company.

Cursing herself that she was jealous of the women in the village, she groaned as she saw the bane of her life himself on horseback and riding in her direction. "Are you following me, Mr Follett?"

"Not at all. Unless you are going to the Corless's farm?"

He had a lovely smile, but she scowled at it when he spoke. "You know I will not be going there."

"People can change their minds, especially if there are lambs about. I heard that he has had a bumper birth rate this season. Imagine, a field full of lambs, all curious to see you."

"You need to work on your methods of subtlety if that is the best you can do. It is not one of your strong points."

"There is absolutely no point in my trying to be anything but obvious." Michael continued to smile. "You are far too aware of what others are trying to force you into for me to get away with anything."

"Yet you tried."

"God loves a trier, my mother always said."

"Was that before or after she had you?"

Michael laughed, making Arabella smile at him, cursing herself for loving the fact that she had caused such a response from him.

"I dare not ask for fear of the response from her."

"She is still alive? You mentioned your father last night but not your mother."

"Yes, I am lucky to have both my parents living, but Father is retiring soon, and they are to live in a small cottage on the estate that he worked on."

"That must be nice, to know they are settled."

"It is, but as often is the case, I do not see them enough."

"You should perhaps invite them while you are here." Arabella wanted to take the words back the moment she had uttered them, and she could tell by Michael's expression that her own features had revealed her inner thoughts.

"I would not introduce anyone onto the estate who did not have a purpose here, but it is a very kind offer, thank you."

"They would have a purpose," Arabella said, feeling mortified that she had appeared so disingenuous. "They would be here to see you, and it would be a perfect opportunity for you to show them what you have achieved. I am happy to accommodate them."

"There would be no need for that. There is the inn in the village."

"No, I insist. Is there a cottage that would be suitable? I know! The dower house. Is that habitable?" There was that smile again, which she wanted to see more and more, which was utterly annoying, for she was not one to fawn over anyone. Before the accident, it had been quite the opposite; men had gone out of their way to please her. Then a bitter thought entered her mind: until she had met Philip. Of course, then she had lost her mind and embarrassed herself spectacularly.

"The dower house would be beyond anything they would have stayed in before. It is too much."

"No, I insist. Please add it to your tasks to have it cleaned. I am sure the ladies from the village would be delighted to have the opportunity to work with you again. They seemed to thoroughly enjoy your company last time."

Michael grinned. "Thank you, but Miss Betez?"

"Yes?"

"I did not know my harmless flirting caused you such discomfort. I will stop it immediately."

Arabella flushed deep red and turned her horse away. Only after the manoeuvre did she realise that she had moved in the direction which would have shown Michael the full side of her face. How stupid she was.

Then she paused; he had never reacted either time he had seen her before. Why was she so perturbed by the thought of him seeing her? Because she was vain, that was why. She still had the need to appear to perfection. Her mouth twisted with derision. If she wanted perfection, she would never be happy because that was an impossibility if it ever had been. She might have been perfect to look at, but she had three years to reflect on how she had behaved towards those around her. Some of her actions caused her skin to burn with mortification.

These last weeks had stirred another type of longing within her; she wanted company, and she wanted to be happy. She had not realised how lonely and unhappy she had been until the women had come into the house, and she had been reminded of a time when she had been that carefree, chatting to friends, laughing. When seeing a handsome man, all that would have troubled her was if he would ask her to dance. How could such simple things be remembered with such longing?

Could she rejoin society? Would it not be as bad as she feared? Probably, because Michael had already pointed out how particular the ton was. There was no chance that she could put herself through something as torturous as that. That final thought depressed her, and her shoulders slumped, desolation washing over her.

Moving towards the house, she pulled the reins to slow her horse. She could not go out in London, but everyone in the village knew her, and in the wider area. Why could she not go and see how the lambs were doing? She was the landowner, and no one would dare show disrespect, even if they were horrified by her appearance.

Turning her horse around, she dug her heels in, and the horse spurred forward in a gallop, trying to catch up with Michael. This would show him that she was braver than he thought. She could only hope that she could be as brave when faced with someone she had not been in contact with for over three years. For once, her fear did not make her change her mind; gritting her teeth, she was determined to prove to Michael that she was not the remote woman he and everyone else thought. If she was being honest with herself, she was not as concerned about what the villagers thought as she was about Michael's opinion. For some reason she wanted Michael's good opinion far more than she would like to admit.