Charles laughed at his brother’s theatrics before casting a rueful grin at Marianne.
"Did Patience not tell you why the ladies were so insistent you must see it? Or why Aldburn would agree to arrange such a thing?"
"Patience is coming?" said John, but everyone ignored him.
"They only said it was a local landmark, and quite historic," said Marianne thoughtfully. “There were a lot of giggles, though.”
Harry guffawed at that but did not look up from his toast.
"There's a local legend that if two people destined to be together drink from the well at the same time, then the fairies will bless them with a happy marriage and good fortune," said Lady Putney, even as her two youngest sons muttered darkly about ramshackle stories. "However, when I asked Phillips about it, he just said that it's just an invention of a local lady with an overly romantic mind. It's not in any of the old stories, and he knows all of them."
"I'll lay you a monkey that we'll all be made to drink from the daft thing," said Harry. "No doubt Theodosia will claim she saw butterflies and rainbows form our entwined initials in the sky."
"I doubt it, she's hanging out for Charlie," said John. When he realised his brothers were staring at him, he gave a small laugh followed by a shrug. "What? She as good as told me that! Marianne's presence here, it seems, has mobilised the local mamas, and they are determined to see at least one of us marry a local girl. Charles is naturally the first choice, what with being the heir."
Sir Joseph dropped his paper to study his sons, the delight evident on his face. "Have they now? About time, if you ask me! Marianne my love, you have been with us less than a fortnight, and you've achieved more in seeing my sons suitably wed than I've managed in the last decade."
"Perhaps we should fake an engagement, Charles," she said, looking at her coffee cup rather than anyone at the table. "It seems that you might be in need of protection more than I am."
He noticed that she was flushed about the ears as she spoke. It must be difficult for her to joke about such things, considering the pressure her cousin had put her under, and his heart went out to her.
"If we both find ourselves cornered at the well we can claim that it was us who saw butterflies form our initials," he said, hoping to make her laugh.
She smiled, which he supposed was something.
As Harry and John fell into a good-natured argument over which local girl was most likely to try and entrap them into marriage, Charles took the opportunity to survey Marianne. Two weeks under the gentle tyranny of Eustacia Melthwaite has seen her sickly pallor be replaced by a healthy glow, and the sunken look to her eyes had faded. If she did still look haunted in unguarded moments, then her general vivacity hid it from all but the residents of Putney Manor, and it was impossible not to see how much more settled she was dancing with John or Harry than with anyone else in the county.
Which was exactly why he was avoiding her.
Aunt Eustacia and his parents, for all their attempts to protect Marianne's reputation, had somehow missed that she was as uncomfortable with the idea of pretending to be his betrothed as she had been of marrying her cousin. Whether it was a result of her treatment at the hands of the Headleys, or because she saw him in much the same light as she viewed her brother, she had been adamant from the start that she had no wish to carry out this ruse, but had been lovingly bullied by his mother and aunt into capitulation.
No wonder she seemed uncomfortable around him. It was only when he was telling her stories - of his ancestors, of his schooltime escapades with her brother, or the local legends that he'd grown up on - that she seemed to enjoy his company. He'd danced with her twice at every party where they were called upon, but her eyes never met his, and she did not laugh the way she did with his siblings.
He glanced up the table, where John was in the middle of some anecdote and had the three ladies laughing so hard there were tears rolling down their cheeks.
He silently cursed Gordon for staying away so long and was torn between wishing his friend at Jericho and demanding he turn up at Putney Manor that very night.
"We should get ready," said Harry, glancing over at the mantle clock. "It's a considerable ride to the Well, and I have little to no hope of Aldburn keeping the party on time – and that’s only if the ladies are ready to leave promptly."
"I'll lay you a monkey that I shall be ready before you are," said Marianne, getting to her feet.
"I would not take that bet if I were you," said Sir Joseph to his youngest boy. "Remember that I am Marianne's banker, and I will collect on any debts owed to her. With interest."
"It's not my fault that I take pride in my appearance," huffed Harry. "Not all of us can carry off rugged effortlessness like John."
"Was that a compliment or an insult?" asked his middle brother as Harry sauntered out of the room.
"It's Harry. It was an insult," replied Charles, unable to keep from smiling. "Unless he hasn't delivered you your annual compliment; in which case it might have been praise."
"Marianne, wear the silk topper with your new riding habit," instructed Aunt Eustacia. "Not the one with the ostrich plumes, the one with the gold rosette!"
"Yes, Godmama," replied Marianne with a genuine smile. "Thank you so much for the beautiful coat - and thank you, Lady Putney, for lending me one of your mares to ride!"
"Gwynhwyfer is a dear little thing; a little tame, perhaps, but as you've only just started riding again after your... ordeal... I think she is the best mount for you," said Lady Putney, before turning a glare onto Charles. "Make sure the party does not cut across the fields and decide to jump the hedgerows! I will not have Marianne hurt while she is in my care!"
"My care," said Eustacia, "but otherwise, I agree with you perfectly. Are we still to drive into Newtown, Hester? I wish to buy myself a new turban for the Assembly tomorrow, and you, Sir Joseph, must accompany us. I wish to find a gift for my husband, but I am at a loss as what to buy a man with such good fortune as to be married to me."
To the surprise of no one in the house, John was the first to be ready for their trip, followed closely by Charles and then Marianne, who was looking particularly fine in a navy blue riding habit decorated with gold frogging and a matching blue topper sitting at a jaunty angle upon her cropped locks. The plain, masculine cut of the garment suited her, and Charles watched appreciatively as she descended the stairs in her jean half-boots.
"You're going to upset Harry if you keep wearing such fashionable clothes," he joked as she joined them. "He's very protective of his position as the handsome one."
She blushed adorably, and he found himself smiling in response. It was oddly satisfying to make her happy, even if it was only in the brief moments when she wasn't uncomfortable in his presence.
"All credit must go to Godmama and Lady Putney," she replied, and he noted how easily they'd all fallen into treating Aunt Eustacia as Marianne's guardian. "At first I thought Miss Fletchley was keeping my dresses plain because there was so little time to make them, but then the tailor was forbidden from adding epaulettes to my habit or even creating puffed sleeves, and I realised they had been serious about keeping my wardrobe to simple, clean lines."
"Well it's working, for it is letting your natural charm shine through," he replied, and offered her his arm. "Come, let me escort you to the stables and introduce you to Gwynhwyfer. I know you had hoped I would let you ride Ceridwyn instead, but at least my father is not insisting you ride a pony until your strength has returned."
By the time Harry finally joined them, Marianne and her mount were fast friends. The four of them started the short ride to the nearby church to meet the rest of their party, Harry and Marianne squabbling in front, with John and Charles riding behind them.
"You don't need to worry about her so much," said John quietly a few moments later. "She's at no risk of abduction on the lane."
"What? Why would you think I am worried?" asked Charles before forcing himself to take his eyes of Marianne.
"Because you watch her like a mother hen guarding her only chick whenever she is outside the Manor," replied his brother. "Don't deny it! You've always taken your duty seriously, old chap, but she's perfectly safe here. I mean, since the days of Old Man Waldo literally nothing of interest has happened in this corner of the world. It's the most endearing thing about the place."
"Harry would disagree," smiled Charles.
"Harry struggles to believe that the world exists outside of London," replied John, "but he never complains about returning home for the summer. He knows it's safe here. Safer than anywhere else Marianne could be, even after Gordon returns."
"Damned idiot," murmured Charles, thinking of his closest friend in the world. "What was he thinking, leaving her alone like this?"
"It's not his fault that he misjudged the Headleys," replied John. "Cuthbert is a bit of a weasel, yes, but none of us would have thought him capable of practically abducting his own cousin."
"He still has control of her fortune," said Charles with as grimace. "Father's lawyers tried to see if there was a way of revoking his access and returning it to Marianne, but no such luck."
"Father does not mind franking her."
"Marianne minds it very much. She's as proud as her brother when it comes down to it."
"And yet she's as frightened as a mouse," said John, "and the way you keep watching her isn't helping. She even thought there was a man lurking in the rosebushes the other day. Just a shadow, of course, but she practically clung to my arm until we left the gardens and went back into the house."
A surge of jealousy ran through him at the thought of his brother acting as Knight to Marianne.
"I trust you checked," he said, far more coldly than he intended.
John rolled his eyes. "I could see perfectly well, Charles. There was no one there. It's not surprising she's so nervous after all the things her relatives said to her, but that's my entire point. You practically snarl at any young man who dares to go near her, and before you try to tell me it's part of your fake courtship, allow me to inform you that you're doing it rather too brown!"
"You're boring me, dear brother," said Charles with a theatrical yawn.
John, however, had never been a fool. "If you wish to court her in earnest, then you should tell her."
The world did not go sideways at the shock of his brother's words, nor did Charles splutter or fall from his mount in shock. John had simply voiced out loud a suspicion that Charles had harboured since Marianne had walked into the parlour with freshly cropped hair and his mother’s sari robe over a plain dress.
He was growing devilishly fond of the girl; so much so that he wondered if he could go back to life without her at Putney Manor.
"What kind of monster would I have to be, to force such knowledge onto her?' he replied as the memory of Cuthbert and Mrs Headley's greedy little faces filled his mind. “It’s not my heart that matters, John, but that of Marianne, and after having the last eighteen months stolen from her, I would deserve to be shot if I tried to steal this freedom from her again.
John sighed. “Ever the knight, I see. Even when it could break your heart.”
John watched Marianne laugh at something Harry said, her whole body lifting with a carefree joy that had only just returned to her.
“A small price to pay for her happiness,” he said and then refused to be drawn further on the topic.
They reached the small stone church, where a crowd of seven or eight other riders waited to greet them. Alburn was looking harassed as he tried to keep track on who had arrived, who was yet to appear, and who was there purely to pass the time of day with them before they set off to the Well.
The next few minutes became increasingly chaotic as Aldburn tried, and failed, to establish who exactly was to be part of the excursion, for it seemed that Theodosia had invited a great many more people than her brother was expecting. When it finally became obvious that the poor young man could not keep control of the situation, John, in true military style, took control of the group with authoritative ease, marred only by the giggles of young Theodosia as she loudly told her brother that he should strive to be more like a Putney if he wanted to win Marianne.
By the time they were ready to set off their group had swelled to twenty in number, and Charles noted with a depressed eye that he was the eldest person present. He dropped towards the back of the group, narrowly avoiding being trapped with the youngest ladies of the party by forcing his conversation onto Thomas Trow, a worthy but shy young man just back from his first year at Oxford. Afterwards, he could not have told anyone what the two of them had discussed for so long, for while Thomas enjoyed the prestige of being singled out by none other than Charles Putney (much to the envy of his friends of both sexes,) Charles' attention was elsewhere. Heeding John's advice he did manage to stop himself from focusing all his notice on Marianne, but his eyes often strayed to the hedgerows and woodlands, as though he were expecting someone to jump out at any moment.
He was uneasy but told himself that it was nothing to do with his conversation about Marianne, or John’s disclosure about the shadow she’d seen in the rose bushes.
He almost believed himself, too.
But then they reached the Well.
*
A group of servants were already waiting for them at the edge of the scrubland where the Well was located, ready to help the riders down from their mounts and to secure the horses at a nearby fence. It was clear that Aldburn had not expected so many people in the party, for there were not enough hands to complete the task quickly, and several of his staff were looking at the refreshment table with concern. Gwenhwyfar stood calmly while Marianne waited to be attended to, but some of the younger people in the group were finding their horses were fretful in the chaos. John once again took charge as poor Aldburn clearly deferred to him, and soon the gentlemen were engaged in helping the ladies down from their horses. Harry, ever the gentleman, was the one to come to Marianne's aid, not out of any sense of romance, but in his words, "to keep the salivating puppies away from you, my dear."
Marianne, however, could barely contain her enthusiasm than anyone else in the group. Even if it did seem as though there would not be enough in terms of cake and lemonade to go around them all, the staff had worked hard to make the little patch of ground pretty by laying out rugs, and decorated the table with a thick cloth, vases of flowers, and satin ribbons that matched the ones on Theodosia's bonnet.
"It was very kind of you, Mr Aldburn, to go to so much trouble for us," she told their unhappy-looking host. "How clever of you to think to bring the rugs for us to sit on!"
He went a little pink beneath his thin whiskers, looking for all the world like a schoolboy playing at gentleman.
"Thank you, Miss Hillis! I confess that our party has been joined by more people than I accounted for, but one must make do I suppose! I am far from a reluctant host, of course, but I would not wish for anyone to suffer under the illusion that I am an ungenerous one! I did not expect the Moorings or the Trows to join us, you see, or indeed for Mr Putney to do so!"
"Oh, did you not want my hosts here?" she asked, gritting her teeth.
Aldburn looked over at where Charles and his brothers were helping to organise the horses. His attempt at a smile came out more like a sneer. "Oh I suppose that I knew Harry would come along, as would John the moment he discovered Miss Swancott had been released from her duties for the day, but Mr Putney rarely deems to spend time with the younger set."
"You don't seem to like them very much," she observed, trying not to ball her hands into fists.
Aldburn looked at her, raising one eyebrow as he chuckled. "My dear Miss Hillis, of course I like the Putneys; everyone does! They are universally acknowledged to be a jovial group of fellows."
She cocked her head to one side and smiled sweetly. "I don't understand, Mr Aldburn. Perhaps you could be so good as to explain it to me."
He took her hand into his without permission and p
atted her fingers before giving them a light squeeze. Marianne had never been so glad that fashion insisted she wore gloves, even in the warmth of the summer.
"I understand that you feel a duty towards your hosts, Miss Hillis, but you must ask yourself why your brother never promoted a match between your families. The Putney's are charming, of course, but they are not of good Ton."
Marianne blinked as she realised that Aldburn had not the least bit of knowledge about her own family background, or indeed, that of her supposed godmother, Mrs Melthwaite.
"And the Aldburns, of course, must be a very noble family," she said, struggling to keep the contempt from her voice.
"We do not like to brag about it, of course, but the Godwins are our third cousins," he replied, raising his nose ever so slightly as he did so.
"But Sir Joseph is the grandson of Waldo Banks," she replied, raising her nose as well.
Aldburn tittered and patted her hand again.
"That is not something to be proud of in our district, my dear. The Banks family were rather ramshackle, you know. They kept all their investments firmly in Wales, which is why they lost everything. The Aldburns, on the other hand, were smart enough to invest their wealth in Jamaica!"
"Jamaica," she repeated. "You must have very strong thoughts about Wilberforce, then."
Alburn shook his head in disgust just at the politician's name. "He has no comprehension!"
Marianne freed her hand. "Then you simply must take the time to discuss the issue with my Godmama; I think you will find her a very informed woman."
He gave her an oblivious smile. "I would very much enjoy the opportunity to converse with Mrs Melthwaite, and your brother as well, one day soon."
"Do you know I'm suddenly feeling very tired and thirsty," she declared, before sitting down firmly on the rug. "Would you be a dear and fetch me some lemonade?"
Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1) Page 12