Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

“If they are taking me away from here, then I consider them all the best of my friends,” she said, hurrying towards him.

  “You’ll regret this!” Cuthbert Headley shouted after her, his mother’s wails growing louder.

  Marianne paused at the doorway for a moment, but then thought better of whatever she had intended to say, and strode out with her head held high.

  *

  Marianne concentrated on stroking the horses while the groom, Phillips, calmly recited their bloodlines to her, and talked about their various character traits. The two bays were indeed perfectly matched, and she had been pleased to see that Charles Putney gave them free rein to move their heads about, rather than forcing them to maintain their necks at an unnaturally high angle in the name of fashion. Cuthbert insisted that his jet-black carriage horses be bridled with their heads forced up no matter their discomfort, maintaining that it showed them to greater advantage as he drove his tilbury about.

  “Ceridwyn here acts as though she’s the queen of all she surveys, but she seems to have taken a liking to you, Miss Hillis. I’ve never seen her lean into someone for a neck rub like that! Be careful, though, or Boadicea will be jealous!”

  She smiled, appreciating the groom’s efforts to keep her distracted. “Such fine animals, and with such fine names!”

  Phillips smirked. “Aye, you can blame Lady Putney for that! It’s become a tradition with the family that all the mares must have strong names. She’s rather partial to the Tales of Taliesin as well, which is why so many of the horses in our stables have old Welsh names.”

  She glanced at him, momentarily distracted. “The Tales of Taliesin?”

  He nodded. “Old Welsh poetry much-admired back in Montgomeryshire.”

  “I shall have to see if I can borrow a copy next time I am in London,” she said, continuing to stroke Ceridwyn’s neck.

  “I’m sure Mr Putney will be able to loan you a copy from the family library,” said Phillips.

  Marianne paused, her head hovering an inch above Ceridwyn’s neck. The bay snorted her disgust at this turn of events until she once again felt like she was adequately fussed. Boadicea stared resolutely ahead, as though determined to let everyone, horse and human alike, that she was not in the least bit jealous.

  “Is this really happening?” said Marianne, aware that she was trembling. “Good grief, what have I done?”

  The groom gave her a sympathetic look, and although logically she knew that there had been no opportunity for Mr Putney to tell Phillips anything of her situation, she nonetheless felt as though he knew everything there was to know about her.

  She blushed deeply and turned her attention back to the horses.

  “Now then, Miss, don’t you go worrying yourself over things. Mr Putney has already decided that we can rest the bays at The Sun Inn and hire a pair of hacks there for the journey home. You’ll be safe at the Manor with Lady Putney before supper.”

  She did the maths in her head. “Three hours,” she said. “Lord, I will have kept you and Mr Putney on the road for the entire day!”

  “It only took us a little over two to get here with Ceridwyn and Boadicea, and we’ve done far longer drives than this, let me tell you,” he said kindly. “Now, let me hand you up into the carriage, Miss Hillis. Mr Putney will want to set off the moment he returns to us.”

  Marianne did as she was bid, and allowed herself a moment of indulgence to admire the set up that was to take her to safety. Mr Putney’s high perch phaeton was a work of art; a Hooper High Flyer in the black and yellow of a bumblebee, all polished to a gleaming finish. The carriage was more than a showy bit of wood, however. She could feel the benefit of the springs the moment Phillips handed her up into the seat, and then passed her a yellow checked blanket to tuck about her body. He had already raised the hood up over the front passenger seats so that she could be moderately comfortable despite her lack of bonnet or jacket.

  “Oh dear, it just occurred to me that you will have to sit with Mr Putney’s luggage on the rear seat,” she said, leaning forward to look at Phillips directly. “I am so sorry – please, allow me to switch places.”

  This made the groom laugh out loud.

  “What, and cause a scene from here to Newtown? Not likely, Miss! Besides, it’s you that is doing me a favour. Now I can have a nice snooze in the back, and not have to listen to Mr Putney nattering on for hours!”

  Mr Putney chose this moment to come striding out of the house, a face like thunder as he swung the small bandbox of her belongings onto the back seat of his carriage. In his free hand, he clutched a plain straw bonnet and a tattered old shawl that Marianne had never seen before.

  “Get in, Phillips. The sooner we get Miss Hillis out of this place, the better. Marianne my child, please tie on your bonnet and put the shawl about your shoulders. I’m afraid that your Aunt appears to have lost any garment resembling a pelisse, or even a spencer, that you may have once owned. Not so much as a single pair of gloves that could fit you, either!”

  “She said I didn’t need them,” said Marianne quietly.

  Mr Putney paused with one foot on the high step and his hands on the sides of the phaeton. For a moment, she wondered if he was about to stride back into the house and demand to know what had happened to her possessions, and half of her desperately wanted him to.

  He shook his head and pulled himself up into the phaeton.

  “Here, let me tuck this shawl about you properly,” he said, hooking the old piece of material tighter about her shoulders and wrapping it about her front. She choked up at the simple kindness in the gesture; no one, not even her brother, had fussed about her in such a way.

  But she would not let him see her weakness. She was already deeply ashamed at how she’d come to be treated by the Headleys, and could not bear the thought of others thinking that her aunt and cousin had succeeded in breaking her.

  “Thank you,” she said, somehow managing to sound grateful but not meek.

  He nodded at her once, evidently still struggling to contain his anger at the entire situation. She hoped that he was not angry at her for her foolishness, nor at her desperate plea for his help. It seemed unlikely given what she knew of his nature, but then she’d always believed that Aunt Headley held her in affection and that Cuthbert, while not her favourite person in the world, could be relied upon to at least have her interests at heart.

  Marianne now knew that she was not a good judge of character, and a flare of panic tried to escape her as she realized her fate was completely in the hands of a man she only really knew through her brother. For one mad moment, she considered running back to the house, convinced that she could put up with the Headleys for a few more months until Gordon returned, but the stupidity of such an action occurred to her almost immediately.

  Charles Putney was not a man of the same cloth as her cousin. She could trust him.

  She could.

  With effort and resolve, she could.

  Charles, completely unaware of her dithering thoughts, turned his head toward the back of the hood, loudly advised Phillips not to fall and break his neck, and then set the horses to.

  They didn’t speak for the first ten minutes of the drive, and by the time they passed the church, Marianne realized to her horror that she had begun to shake. She tried to hide it by pulling the blanket even more tightly about herself, but it was not long before Mr Putney noticed that she was violently shivering.

  “We’ll be at the Sun very soon, Miss Hillis,” he told her in a reassuring tone. “We’ll get some food and a little wine in you, and then set out as soon as the horses are changed. Rest assured that they won’t be coming after you.”

  “I’m so sorry, I don’t understand why I am shaking like this, for I’m not even cold,” she told him, forcing herself to remain calm.

  His smile was grim. “You’re not cold, my girl. It’s the shock of today catching up with you.”

  “You must think me very silly,” she said, embarrassed by her inability to
keep her body under control.

  He glanced at her, and the anger in his grey eyes practically smouldered.

  “I do not think you are silly, Marianne. I think that you’ve been used terribly by your relatives, and I dread to think how far their mistreatment of you has gone. When Gordon finds out – well, I am glad I am not your cousin, look at it that way.”

  “I mean you must think me silly for waiting so long to seek your help,” she explained, oddly relieved at his anger toward her relatives. “I didn’t realise what was happening at first, and by the time I did, I was no longer allowed to send letters without my Aunt reading them. It’s taken two months to find the opportunity to reach out to you.”

  “I presumed it was something like that the moment I saw what was going on,” he replied. “You will have to tell me how you managed to send me word, though, for it was quite clever of you.”

  She pinked at the compliment. “More like deceitful, but I feel that the events demanded an extreme action on my part. I suppose you are wondering why I wrote to you in particular!”

  “It had crossed my mind,” he admitted, “but I have a feeling that Gordon most likely nominated me as a surrogate defender to you and then forgot to tell me about it. Your brother might be the best of fellows in many ways, my dear, but he’s a complete scatterbrain when it comes to the day to day things!”

  Marianne gave an inward sigh of relief. “I am so grateful that you understand. Naturally, I explored every other option first, for it’s quite improper to rely on someone other than a relative for help.”

  “But there’s no one else who you could trust not to take the side of your aunt and cousin,” he replied. “There’s no need to explain it, Marianne. It’s over now.”

  Silence fell again, and although she was still shaking more than she’d like, the sight of Clun did much to soothe Marianne’s nerves. She did not truly believe that her cousin was such a fool as to attempt to drag her back to his home, but it was difficult to shake the practised fear of the last fifteen months. It did not matter that he had not struck her, for the threat had always been there. It did not matter that Aunt Headley had not shouted or screamed, for instead she’d stolen and lied to her so many times that Marianne had begun to doubt her own sanity.

  It was over now. That’s what Charles said. There was no need to be afraid any longer.

  If only her body could believe that.

  They reached The Sun quickly, with Mr Putney turning the phaeton through the gates and into the stable yard with a practised, easy hand.

  “We’ll take the private parlour and get you something decent to eat immediately,” he said the moment the ostlers rushed over to his horses. “It’ll take Phillips some time to argue with the men here and reassure himself that the bays are in good hands, so you’ve no need to worry that eating will cause an unnecessary delay.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Phillips helped her down out of the carriage and added his voice to the assertion that she must take in some sustenance.

  “Your face is as drawn as a newborn chick, my girl,” he told her solemnly. “You’ll need some feeding up if you’re to reach Putney Manor without a dizzy spell.”

  “Miss Hillis doesn’t need both of us clucking over her,” said Mr Putney, but there was a fond expression on his face. “Go and fuss over Boadicea instead! I swear that horse is upset about something; probably thinks you’ve been favouring Ceridwyn again.”

  “That might be my fault,” admitted Marianne as she allowed herself to be steered towards the Inn doors. “They are both so very beautiful, though!”

  “And utterly ruined,” smiled Mr Putney, “it’s a wonder those horses don’t think they are the rightful monarchs to the land! Now, let me speak to the landlord, and we’ll get you settled in. Don’t fret – we won’t stay long, but I must insist that you at least try to eat something!”

  It was easy to allow him to take care of everything. Marianne felt so unreasonably tired after everything that had happened, even if she had not actually done very much at all. The landlord’s wife settled her in the back room, where a small fire burned despite it being late July. It didn’t matter if it were a trifle warm, for the fire comforted her, and made her think back longingly to life before Gordon went away, when she had not been forced to shiver in a tiny room throughout each winter night.

  A sob caught in her throat. She forced it back down, the knot of pain travelling down her throat and deep into her chest. She would not cry. She would not. She would not be foolish in the face of events when everything could have easily been so much worse.

  “Wine and a cold slice of pie,” said Mr Putney as he strode into the room, followed closely by the landlord. “It’s not much, but I can happily vouch that it’s the best pie in all of Shropshire!”

  “You’ll turn cook’s head with such compliments,” said the landlord as he set the plate and glass out for Marianne, but he was smiling nonetheless. “Are you not having anything, Mr Putney?”

  “I’m afraid not, for we must get moving if we are to return to the Manor before dark.”

  The landlord looked Marianne up and down, taking in her shabby appearance with a gossiping eye. “Back to Montgomeryshire, sir?”

  “Yes, for I was sent to fetch Miss Hillis myself rather than making the poor thing take the Post,” said Mr Putney with the casual air his whole family was famed for. “Mother insists that she come and stay with us until her brother returns from his trip abroad. She’s framing it as a mission of mercy for her young friend here, but personally, I believe that my mother is heartily sick of living in a house full of men, and needs Miss Hillis to keep her sane.”

  “Your mother was very kind to invite me,” said Marianne with only the faintest note of reproach. She did not like lying, even though it was to save her reputation.

  He grinned at her, and her heart seemed to give an odd flutter inside her chest.

  “I’ll remind you of that when she’s talked at you constantly for five days. Now, eat your pie; my mother will never forgive me if I don’t get you home in time for some supper!”

  The landlord did not seem completely convinced by this performance, but his desire for Mr Putney’s money outweighed the need to gossip. He left a few moments later, leaving the two of them to contemplate their thoughts in silence as Marianne ate small bites of the truly delicious pie.

  Her shabby appearance was going to draw attention to them, no matter what they did. Her clothes, reworked from her aunt’s discarded garments, had grown too large as Marianne’s food had been increasingly restricted. The material was faded, the cut far from fashionable, and her slippers obviously not designed to be worn outside the house. The straw bonnet was damaged, and the shawl moth-eaten, not to mention the outfit was completely unsuited to travelling.

  Compared to the handsome Charles Putney in his exquisitely tailored clothes and sporting a coat with four capes, she must look more like a penniless serving girl whisked away by a gentleman rogue.

  The thought should have made her laugh, but instead, it just brought home the reality of her situation.

  She ate her pie with as much dignity as she could muster, and began to plan for her future.

  Chapter Three

  They did not stop for dinner, even though six o’clock passed them by somewhere between Kerry and Newtown. Marianne made no complaint, not even to question whether they would stop to rest the horses that he’d hired at The Sun. Charles was impressed with the way she sat straight and tall, staring out at the world around them as if daring each farmer and traveller they passed to judge her on her odd appearance. If it weren’t for her silence and the slight tremor in her hands that refused to leave, it would be easy to pretend that nothing untoward had happened to her at all.

  Charles was not overly impressed with the two hacks, but they were strong enough beasts, so he was confident of reaching the Manor long before the night began to fall. They would most likely arrive as the family retired to play cards, or perhaps just spend t
he evening listening to Mrs Melthwaite’s gossip about her life in Liverpool and the mutual friends and business acquaintances the families shared.

  Unfortunately, this meant that John and Harry would be present when he arrived home with Marianne on his arm. His parents and Mrs Melthwaite he trusted to be perfectly amiable once he explained the situation to them, but his brothers would undoubtedly try to make a great lark out of everything.

  Then, of course, there was the neighbourhood to think of. The arrival of Marianne Hillis to the home of the Putneys, while all three unmarried sons were at home, would be all over the county from the moment she was spotted by an eagle-eyed neighbour. Had she been travelling in style, dressed in the height of fashion and accompanied by a member of her family it would have been different, but the figure she cut at present would be a delicious source of speculation for every bored local in the area. The nearby towns might be small, and most of the countryside split between large tenant farms, but it never failed to astound him how quickly a rumour could spread among the population. At best, it would be extremely uncomfortable for his Marianne. At worst, the gossips would ruin her with their speculation.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Miss Hillis,” he began, and she startled.

  “I’m so sorry, I was off in a pleasant daydream,” she said, laughing at her own silliness. “I don’t think I’ve been to Wales before, and I was admiring the countryside.”

  Charles’ mouth quirked up into a smile. “Impressed?”

  “It’s very pretty,” she said, and then with a somewhat cheeky smile, added: “so very similar to England!”

  That drew a grin from him, and a faint hmph! of disgust from Phillips in the back seat.

  “This part of the country might be very like Shropshire, but don’t go saying that to the locals! If you head further west, you’ll reach the mountains, and pretty won’t be an adequate word for you then. Deep lush greens give way to grey rocky outcrops, while crystal clear waters and blue cwm lakes cut through the landscape. If you explore, you can find ruins of old abbeys, castles, standing stones and cairns. Father used to take us out to find them when we were younger, although my mother used to caution us to be back before dark, so the ghosts of the Druids didn’t come back to take us. My favourites are the table rocks, though. Huge slabs of stones that look like a giant supped at it.”