Chapter 7

"How could he?" Arabella cried over and over as Grace tried to comfort her. The letter lay unopened, screwed up on the bed. The portrait had been enough to upset her; she did not wish to read what he had to say.

"Does he know about the accident?" Grace asked, rubbing Arabella's back to try and soothe her, knowing that her actions could never ease the distress her young friend was feeling.

"Yes, he sent me a letter to wish me a speedy recovery, saying that he had heard how bad the accident had been," Arabella sobbed. "How could he think for one minute that I would want to hear from him at any time after what he did, or that I would want to see myself as I was before the accident."

"I am sure his wife would not be happy to know he is still creating portraits of you."

"He probably has her fooled, the way he twists everyone to dance to his tune. Why would he think it is acceptable to get in touch? Why now? Today, I felt almost normal for the first time, and then I was forced to be reminded of what I have lost."

"Now you listen to me, Arabella Betez," Grace said, forcing Arabella to leave her embrace and look at her. "You are perfectly normal. Yes, you have had an injury, and you have struggled with the changes you had to overcome, but never say that you are anything but the woman you were beforehand."

"But I am not, am I?"

"I never thought that I would consider you self-pitying, but I think we have left you alone for too long," Grace said, tone firm.

"I wanted to wallow," Arabella said with a sniff.

"And you have. Now I know you would not want that man to have any more of a hold over you than he already has, would you?"

"No."

"Then wipe those tears and cling onto whatever happened today to help you feel more yourself. You need to concentrate on the good, not the bad."

Arabella immediately thought of Michael but did not utter a word to Grace. He confused her. She hated that he was there, forced on her against her will, but she was coming to the conclusion that he was making a real difference in the few weeks he had been around. She was also starting to look forward to spending time with him, perhaps more than she should.

That he was beginning to fill her mind did not alter the fact that she was who she was. To be fair to Michael, he had never acted as if she was the monster she considered herself to be, which was both confusing and causing her to experience hope for the first time since the accident. Perhaps she could be accepted by others.

But then Philip. Why had he contacted her? She looked at the letter and then at Grace. "If I do not open and read it, it will haunt me day and night."

"I would just burn it. He had his chance."

"I know, but a part of me still wants him to want me, if that makes sense? The foolish, stupid side that fell in love with him in the first place and set me on the road to disaster in every sense of the word."

"Still having feelings is understandable. He was the one who disappointed you, not the other way around. You were steadfast, if a little hot-headed." Grace smiled. "I miss that version of Arabella." It was well known that Grace had suffered a disappointment in love, and although none of the Bluestockings knew the details, she was clearly speaking from experience.

"I do not think my uncle does."

"He does, I am sure of it. Would you like me to stay with you while you read the letter, or leave you be? I will do whatever you wish."

"I think I had better be alone," Arabella said. "But thank you."

"I will wait in the drawing room if you need me." Grace stood to leave and kissed Arabella's cheek before she moved away. "Always remember that it is his loss."

"Not so much as it turned out," Arabella said wryly.

"Anyone who knows you is quite aware that if he had not behaved so cruelly, you would not have been on that stage," Grace said. "He might not have been driving the carriage, but he was certainly responsible for you being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Arabella could not say anything in Philip's defence. She had cursed him for exactly the same reason far too many times to remember. Waiting until Grace had gone downstairs, it was with mixed emotions that she broke the seal of the letter and spread out the single sheet of paper.

My dear Arabella,

I had to send this portrait to you, for you have been haunting my dreams these last months. I have no right to seek you out, I do not deserve even the slightest condescension from you, but I hope you will read this letter as a token of what we shared in the past.

Sweet Arabella, I know that you would have understood my choice when I had to make it. Your uncle was very clear, he would do everything to separate us and prevent our story having a happy ending. I was a struggling artist and could offer nothing, so my options were dictated to me, though I have mourned the loss of your sweet love every day since.

My wife was a kind woman, she understood that I could never truly love her when my heart belonged to another, but she still supported my work and ambition. I am now an established artist with a respectable income, which is a good thing as my wife passed away six months ago. Her family had tricked me into signing a document which kept her fortune under their control, and although we could spend freely when she was alive, once she had passed, the money returned to the family.

I have been devastated about the loss of my dear Elsie, but also my home and support for my gallery. I can imagine your face as you are reading this and your feelings of anger and upset on my behalf. It is because I know you so well that I decided I could not continue living a lie. The portrait only took me a week to complete, your beauty is burned into my memory. I thought that once I had your likeness to gaze upon every day, it would cool my ardour, but it has not.

The risk I am taking is huge, but I have decided to send the portrait ahead of my journey. I will follow it two days later and throw myself on your goodwill. I need a friend, I dare not ask for more at this point, but I hope that in time, my sweet girl, that I will be able to consider you as much mine as I once did and enjoy your kisses like the ones we shared.

Adieu, until I arrive, my dear Arabella.

Yours always,

P.

Arabella jumped off the bed and almost ran downstairs, bursting into the drawing room, and causing Grace to rise from her chair in surprise.

"What is it?"

"He is coming here!"

"Who, Mr Wilson? No! Surely not!"

Arabella laughed at the usually calm and controlled Grace losing her poise. She flopped onto the nearest sofa, letter still in hand. "I cannot believe the gall of the man! He has lost his wife, and as a result of her family being wise to him, he has lost his supply of funds, so he has suddenly remembered his affection for me."

Grace had accepted the letter when Arabella held it out to her, reading it quickly. "You are going to turn him away when he arrives?"

"Of course, he has purposely made it so that I cannot write to him to dissuade him, but if he expects a warm welcome, he is coming to the wrong house. Although he is going to get a real shock when he sees me."

"You can stop your thoughts from going in that direction," Grace scolded. "I thought he was brazen, but this is something else."

Before Arabella could say any more, the door was flung open and a panicked Michael, followed closely by Sullivan, stood at the entrance. "What is amiss?" Michael demanded.

Arabella sat upright and quickly retrieved the letter from Grace. "Nothing is wrong. I have just received a surprising letter." Her tone was back to being cool and distant.

"The one which came with the portrait?" Michael asked.

"That is of no concern to you," Arabella answered.

Grace looked at Arabella with a frown before turning to Michael. "There is nothing to worry about, a chancer thinking he can wheedle his way back into favour."

"Grace!" Arabella hissed, failing to notice how Michael's jaw had set at Grace's words and the tick in his cheek.

"I see."

"That will be all." Arabella was mortified to hear Michael's cold tone, though she was fully aware that she was distant towards him. As the door closed, without either of the men uttering a word, Grace chuckled.

"At least you know he will rush to your rescue if needed," she said.

"And why would that be of importance?" Arabella demanded, hoping that her cheeks would not burn.

"With the dastardly Mr Wilson about, it is good to have a decent man on your side, and from the little I have seen, Mr Follett is definitely on your side. Very much so if the way his eyes follow you is anything to go by."

"Now you are getting carried away if you think that my uncle would accept me marrying a steward when he would not allow my marriage to Philip," Arabella scoffed.

"You are only beholden to him for another few months."

"True, but I will not be marrying anyone, especially not a steward my uncle has sent to spy on me."

"I had returned to see if you would like the portrait destroyed, but I now need to correct you on one point, Miss Betez." Michael's cold voice came from the doorway.

Arabella stiffened, but it was out of mortification that she had been overheard by Michael. "Go ahead if you must."

"Oh, I must," Michael snapped. "I have never, nor would I ever act as the spy to anyone. Your uncle asked me to come here and make a difference as the estate was being neglected by a selfish young woman who was putting her needs, or what she considered were her needs, above those of her staff and tenants. He made me promise to look after those who depend on this estate, nothing more, nothing less. I suspect he has absolutely no interest in trying to find out how you fill your days stuck in this house. Now, if you ladies would excuse me." Turning on his heel, he slammed the door, leaving the room in silence.

Arabella thought she had felt the worst she possibly could when Philip had rejected her. It had felt as if her heart had broken in two to be publicly rejected by him, and then see him fawning over the woman who became his wife.

When the carriage accident happened, she had been angry that she had survived. She had nothing to live for, so why had she been spared when not everyone had lived? Then she had seen her injuries and fallen into a deep depression.

Foolishly, a tiny part of her had hoped that Philip would follow her, beg her forgiveness and still love her though she was maimed. She came to realise that events like that happen in stories, not in real life.

Now she had upset Michael, and he had not deserved it. Yes, he had responded with anger, but who could blame him? Not her, though his words stung. She was considered a selfish woman, putting her needs above those who had not the power to change whatever they were struggling with, made harder because they did not have her support.

Of everything that her uncle, friends, Sullivan and Mrs Johnson had tried to convince her over the years since she had been hurt, nothing had sunk in like Michael's words.

Looking at Grace in mortification, she ignored the tears wetting her cheeks. She would not feel sorry for herself, not any longer at least. "I must find him and apologise."

"I would leave him be. Men need a little time to cool their heels when they have been hurt."

"His expression!" Arabella moaned, more to herself than Grace.

"He will rally."

"He should not have to," Arabella said. "My uncle, you all, have been right. I have wallowed in my own self-pity, and all that has happened is that I have forgotten what is important."

"What are you going to do?" Grace looked hopeful but wary.

"I am going to become the head of the house, as I should have been these last years. I just hope that everyone can forgive my neglect of them."

"They will if they see that you mean what you say."

"I do." What was almost as important as her taking on her role was Michael's forgiveness. He had to forgive her, for she would be lost without him and his smile brightening her days.