Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  “Hello Charlie,” said the woman, smiling but unsurprised as he threw something tasty to each of the seated dogs from the basket at his feet. He replaced the cover and then handed the basket down to his friend.

  “Cook made you some pies, and there are some preserves from my mother,” he said. “Just to help out until your new housekeeper arrives!”

  She took the basket, but Marianne could see the torn pride in the woman’s eyes and knew that Charlie was only trying to save his old friend from the embarrassment of receiving charity.

  “So kind of Lady Putney – please do let her know that I appreciate her kindness,” she said, smiling but not quite looking at either Charlie or Marianne. She clutched the basket tightly to her, as though it were a shield for her pride.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. Marianne pressed lightly on Charlie’s arm. When she got his attention, she pointed silently at Miss Swancoat, and then at herself.

  “Good grief, where are my manners?” he said in a rallying tone, “Patience, this is Aunt Eustacia’s goddaughter, Marianne Hillis. She’s come to stay with us until her brother returns from China. Marianne, this is Patience Swancoat, the oldest daughter of the house.”

  “China! Part of Amherst's expedition?” asked Patience, looking impressed. She was tall for a woman and built like an Amazon. Her black hair was tucked up under a lace cap, although plenty of strands had escaped to give her a slightly harried appearance. Her day dress was of a decadent but faded design, although a white pinafore covered in lines of dust hid most the garish pattern. She was, however, exceedingly pretty and possessed of a very engaging smile.

  “Yes, my brother was determined to master the language, you see, and it was such an opportunity that he simply had to take it,” she replied.

  “How could he not! I would only be jealous he didn’t take me with him if he were my brother! I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hillis, but please forgive me not inviting you in. Things have been a little hectic this week, and-”

  There was a loud crash from inside the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of a man swearing. The three dogs took off barking, while Miss Swancoat just winced and clutched the basket even tighter to her chest.

  “Bad time, I see,” said Charlie, but it was obvious he knew much more than he was saying.

  “Yes, we are clearing out some of the old things, but Father won’t let go of anything Evan touched which makes it very difficult to find things to sell.”

  “No need to explain, Patience. We’re all here to help if you need us,” said Charles in the same, gentle voice he’d used on Marianne when he’d rescued her.

  It was odd to feel jealous and appreciative at the same time, but Marianne discovered it was perfectly possible to have two such conflicting emotions as Charles and Miss Swancoat shared a long look.

  “I know you are,” Patience said, and her weak smile faded.” How is John? I’d hoped to see more of him now you’ve all returned to the county.”

  “I’m sure he will stop by soon,” Charlie promised.

  There was another silence, but rather than feeling awkward this time, Marianne found her heart soaring at the realization that Patience was far more interested in the middle Putney brother than she was in the eldest. Naturally, she could see that they suited each other perfectly, and silently she wondered what was causing the tension that John’s name had raised in the conversation.

  Sometimes, she really hated having manners. It stopped one from doing interesting things, like asking questions or stabbing cousin Cuthbert with a darning needle.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Miss Hillis, but I’m afraid I must get back to Father,” said Miss Swancoat, bobbing a quick curtsey to them both. “Thank your mother for me again, Charlie, it was very thoughtful of her.”

  “Wait! Before you go, I have to deliver a message as well. My mother wanted to tell you that she would like you to attend the Newtown Assemblies with us as her guest and that she hopes that having Marianne for company will make it much more enjoyable for you.”

  “How kind,” said Patience, and the longing in her eyes spoke to something in Marianne’s heart, “but I don’t know if I can.”

  “Please say you will,” Marianne said, knowing too well how it felt to wish to attend a ball but be prevented from doing so. “I don’t have any acquaintances in Montgomeryshire other than the Putneys, and I am terrified beyond belief at being introduced to local society. Knowing I have another friendly face will make it much easier.”

  Miss Swancott smiled but shook her head. “I have to stay with Father, even though I do wish I could come. It would be nice to have another woman of my age to talk with.”

  “Give my parents more credit for their ability to meddle, Patience,” said Charlie with a wry smile. “Phillips has already agreed to sit with the Squire, and you know how much your father enjoys listening to my groom’s stories. We would have you home at a reasonable hour as well, so you do not need to worry that he’d fret over you. In fact, Phillips has volunteered his services whenever you might wish to come about with us, but only if Ursula is under the care of the vicar and his wife!”

  Patience looked down at the basket in her arms and bit her lip as she considered the offer.

  “I… oh, very well! Thank Lady Putney for her kindness! Miss Hillis, it seems we shall have the opportunity to be friends after all.”

  “I look forward to it,” Marianne replied with perfect sincerity now she knew that Miss Swancoat’s heart looked towards John Putney.

  There was another crash from inside the house, and this time a young female voice was the one that swore.

  Miss Swancoat closed her eyes and visibly counted to five before speaking.

  “It seems that Ursula has arrived home early from her walk. Please excuse me!” she said, and with that, she turned and walked quickly back to the house.

  Marianne waited until they reached the end of the driveway before speaking.

  “Mr Swancoat is ill, then?” she asked, still keeping her voice low.

  “In a way,” said Charlie, his mouth grim. “Her mother’s no longer here, and she has younger siblings to take care of as well. Patience does more in that house than anyone has the right to expect of her, but she’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. Why hasn’t John visited her, though? Evan was her twin brother, after all.”

  Without knowing either his brother or Miss Swancoat very well, Marianne could easily think of half a dozen plausible reasons for John’s avoidance of the Hall but did not feel that it was her place to mention them.

  Charlie quickly put any brooding behind him and resumed his jovial recital of local facts and legends. She occasionally asked questions or made observations, all of which were met with enthusiasm and encouragement so genuine that before long she was sharing the silly myths and stories of her own family holdings. Every time Charlie spotted a neighbour or acquaintance, whether on foot, horseback or in a carriage, he pulled the phaeton to a stop in order to greet them, pass the time of day, and introduce them to Marianne.

  Whereas Miss Swancoat had been all that was well mannered, Marianne found herself shrinking into herself as she was assessed by each of the Putney’s neighbours with frank, open gazes, and could not help but worry that she was being found wanting by all of them. Charles, oblivious to the scrutiny, offhandedly mentioned the unorthodox way that she’d come to stay with the Putneys, providing each person with a slightly different version of the tale before driving on.

  “What was that all about?” Marianne demanded after they left a party of middle-aged ladies gossiping on the road between the village and Gwern Estate. “You made it sound like I’d been rescued from an ugly old ogre.”

  “I never mentioned ogres, my dear girl, and I take leave to inform you that no matter how repulsive Cuthbert Headley is, calling him old is a little too much.”

  “I thought you meant my Aunt,” she replied. “Cuthbert is a snivelling toad.”

 
“Yes, he does have a rather froggish air about him, now you mention it,” said Charlie thoughtfully. “It’s for the best if he doesn’t wear green, but should we tell him, I wonder, or rejoice in his misfortune when he wears that colour?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” she told him, forcing herself not to giggle. “Did Mrs Melthwaite ask you to drive out with me and paint me as a tragic heroine to the neighbours?”

  “More like instructed me,” he admitted. “Are you surprised?”

  “Not in the least,” she replied, trying to squash the sense of disappointment. “I am quickly learning that my new Godmama is a force to be reckoned with. Poor Miss Fletchley not only had two dresses ready for me within hours of taking my measurements, but she also had this spencer delivered yesterday, alongside two evening gowns! She must have been terrified.”

  “It was probably the prospect of losing my mother’s business that did it,” he replied. “If there’s one thing the Putney’s pride themselves on, it is being vulgar enough to pay all our tradesfolk on time.”

  “And she won’t let me pay down a penny for any of my things!” continued Marianne as though he hadn’t spoken. “I tried to speak to your father about it, but he said that he’d only agreed to provide accounts for anything he bought on my behalf and that Mrs Melthwaite and Lady Putney can control their own affairs! He wouldn’t even speak to them about it.”

  “I would have liked to have seen him try it,” said Charlie, looking almost dreamy about the prospect.

  “It’s just that everyone is doing so much for me,” she said, her foot bouncing lightly on the floor of the phaeton, “Everyone is being put out, and I’m supposed to just sit here and enjoy myself.”

  “You’re not enjoying your time with us?” he said, looking a little worried. “It will be much more lively once we start taking you into society this week, but we all thought it was important to get your wardrobe in order first.”

  “Charlie, I’m happier than I have been since my Season,” she replied, feeling exasperated. “It’s you that I worry about!”

  “Me? Why on earth would you worry about me?”

  “Because I don’t think you’re happy with this whole situation,” she said, deciding to rush her fence. “I’ve hardly had time to talk to you since Godmama decided that everyone had to be told we were courting, and I never meant to cause you so much discomfort when I wrote to you for help. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself, you see, or else I would have come up with another plan.”

  “You did nothing wrong, Marianne, and besides; a courtship is not the same as an engagement,” he said with such nonchalance that she immediately became suspicious.

  “But you don’t want to court me, either,” she said pointedly. “No more than John or Harry do. Charlie, you have no interest in me at all.”

  “I say, that makes me sound as much of a toad as Cuthbert,” he said, looking offended. “I have a great interest in you, my dear, for you’re my best friend’s little sister and I’ve committed to taking care of you. Besides, didn’t you just say that you’ve enjoyed yourself the last few days?”

  “Of course I have,” she replied, thinking of the dancing, the parlour games and the silly conversations she’d enjoyed with her convivial hosts. “It’s you that seems to be unhappy! You’ve disappeared to the library or the billiard room every night before the tea tray is brought in, which your mother commented was most unlike you.”

  He was momentarily stunned into silence by this observation.

  “I’ve just been busy, I’m afraid. My lands, the horses, and making sure my affairs are in order.”

  “All of which you need to take care of in the billiard room,” she said dryly.

  He winced.

  “I never intended to make it seem like I was avoiding you,” he said quietly.

  “You don’t need to change your life for me,” she said, her tone as equally soft as his. “I’m safe now, and Gordon will be home soon.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he will,” replied Charles, but it was impossible to read his tone.

  Even though the countryside was unfamiliar, Marianne noticed that the next turn taken by Charles brought them back towards Putney Manor, although from the opposite direction. The silence between them stretched out, but she could not think of a way to break it. It was only because she was staring out at the land around them that she noticed the man on horseback at the edge of the woodland with his attention focused on Putney Manor.

  “Is that one of your neighbours?” she asked, but Charles looked in the direction she pointed with confusion.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “There, by the woods,” she said but paused as she looked back. “How odd, I could have sworn there was a rider there, on a brown horse.”

  “There’s no one there now,” said Charles with a frown. “I’ll let Father know, in case it was a poacher.”

  “He didn’t look like a poacher,” murmured Marianne. Not that she knew much about the said profession, but she was fairly certain that a blue greatcoat with multiple capes was not the usual attire.

  “Perhaps it was the ghost of Old Man Waldo,” said Charles, the smile on his face looking forced. “He is upset now that the wayward branch of the family lives at the Manor, and had the nerve to rename it after ourselves.”

  “Perhaps it was,” she said, accepting his olive branch, “but most likely he’s upset at you for suggesting Fool’s Errand be torn down at the earliest opportunity.”

  “I’ll have to take you up there to see it one day,” he replied, “then we’ll see what you think about the place.”

  The tension between them eased, and they sunk into discussing trivialities until they made their way back to the Manor.

  Marianne, however, kept looking over her shoulder. The man in the blue greatcoat did not reappear, but the sense of unease did not leave her.

  Chapter SEVEN

  The first outside entertainment that the Putneys attended with Marianne, was an informal party at the Hughes’ house, much to the delight of their hostess, as every gossip in the county decided to turn out to what was usually an insipid gathering.

  Charles was proud of how she held up under the pressure of constant scrutiny. The local mamas with girls of or near marriageable age were politely hostile, while the mothers of young bachelors showered her with attention. Thanks to the theatrical performance of Aunt Eustacia everyone was aware that Marianne was an heiress soon to be in possession of her fortune, one so sizeable that her own cousin had tried to keep her isolated from any potential suitors. This, naturally, endeared her to the more romantically-minded youth in the area, with the result that she did not want for a dance partner all evening, despite there being twice as many ladies present as gentlemen.

  A similar pattern repeated itself throughout the week, and the number of invitations for everything from card parties to a daring Venetian breakfast arriving at Putney Manor increased dramatically. Harry began to complain – loudly – that every young sprig barely old enough to shave had begun to haunt the house just so they could moon after Marianne, but worse, their sisters had started to use it as an excuse to visit.

  “I had to make small talk with Theodosia for half an hour. Theodosia," he said over breakfast.

  "Theodosia is a lovely young thing, very pretty," said their father without looking up from his plate.

  Harry didn't hide his disgust. "If Theodosia is more than fourteen, I will eat my socks with relish. She's too young to be Out and has no conversation other than giggles. Someone, probably her mother, has told her that being arch makes her more interesting to gentlemen when in truth it just makes her remarkably annoying."

  "Could be worse," said John with a shrug. "I had to stomach young Aldburn attempting to surreptitiously quiz me as to Charlie's intentions towards Marianne."

  "What did you say in response?" asked Aunt Eustacia, looking interested.

  John laughed. "One does not say anything to Aldburn, dearest Aunt. He is perfectly c
apable of carrying out all sides of a conversation on his own. He believes that I believe that Charlie is attempting to downplay Marianne's fortune in order to enrich himself, but on the off chance she does not fall for his charms, then Harry is waiting in the wings."

  "I proposed to Marianne already, she said no," replied Harry as he added a third slice of toast to his plate.

  "We wouldn't suit," replied Marianne. "You would have to become a poet, and then breakfast would be reduced to dry crackers."

  "And vinegar," said Harry with a shudder. "It was awfully good of you to refuse my hand, dear heart."

  "Anything for you," she replied with a grin.

  "It pains me that you were not upset on my behalf," said John, looking morose. "Aldburn does not think I am a threat to his chances with you."

  Marianne smiled blandly. "Perhaps he thinks you are secretly in love with someone else."

  Charles watched his brother's eyes narrow in suspicion, but as Marianne continued to consume her eggs with an innocent air, he didn't push it further.

  "I hope you are not spreading around this nonsense in front of the neighbours," said Aunt Eustacia in an exasperated voice. "Thank goodness that Charles has a head upon his shoulders, or else Marianne would be swamped by every fortune hunter in Wales!"

  "I am being swamped by fortune hunters," Marianne replied. "I've made more of a splash here in Montgomeryshire than I ever did in London!"

  "It's the hair," said Harry, his mouth half full. "Devilishly taking on you, dear heart. You look like one of the fairy folk."

  "The local fairy folk have a habit of stealing babies and eating people in giant cauldrons," said Sir Joseph from behind his paper. "Cultivate the reputation, Marianne. It might well scare off the undeserving."

  "We're all riding out to Braddoc's Well for an excursion today, so we can test her abilities there," said Charles.

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “What does the excursion have to do with fairies?”

  “Everything,” replied Harry with a dark look. “Why else would Theodosia have demanded her brother arrange such a scheme? If any of you think to leave me alone in that dank hollow with the silly chit, I’ll drown myself in the waters before haunting you for the rest of your lives.”