Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  Although at this point, a pwca might well have been the best option of them all.

  Chapter TEN

  Charles was surprised to see Marianne at the breakfast table, and twice as surprised to see that she had eschewed a morning dress in favour of a sturdy muslin ideal for walking in. She greeted them all with a sunny smile so radiant that one could almost believe that she was not in the least upset about her confinement to the Manor and its gardens for the foreseeable future.

  "What are you up to, girl?" said Aunt Eustacia as Marianne took the seat beside her.

  “I’m making the best of things, Godmama,” she replied. “Have you decided on a date for the party?”

  “Friday,” replied Lady Putney. “I had verbal acceptances from everyone at the card party, and I expect to receive letters from the rest of the invitations we sent out by the end of today. By the by, The Hughes family are coming over to eat dinner with us tonight, my dear. Mr Hughes is an antiquarian, and I thought you might enjoy talking with him about some of the ancient mounds and stones in the county.”

  “That sounds delightful,” said Marianne as she spooned some jam onto the two crumpets on her plate. She sounded so genuine that Charles grew increasingly suspicious.

  “Have you been out for a walk this morning?” he asked her, unable to keep the accusatory edge from his voice. “You know you are not to leave the house without one of us to accompany you.”

  “Marianne, say you haven’t,” said his Aunt Eustacia, holding her fork halfway to her mouth, the slice of bacon dripping fat onto the table cloth.

  “I can’t without lying, Godmama, for I got up early and enjoyed a lovely stroll for the last hour and a half.”

  "You did what?" spluttered Charlie, angrier with her than he had thought he would be. "Good grief, girl! The rest of us are going out of our way to keep you safe, and you just wander about without chaperone? What if someone had taken you?"

  "Charles," said his mother in her warning voice. It might have worked when he was a child, but right now he was too mad to care.

  "I don't think you realise the danger," he continued.

  Marianne carefully smeared the strawberry preserve until it covered every last crumb of her crumpet.

  "An unwanted marriage to a fellow who likes to keep me cooped up against my will," she said before taking a bite.

  Harry sniggered, at least until John thumped him hard on the back, pretending he thought the youngest of them had been choking.

  "Cuthbert Headley could mean you real harm," said Charles through gritted teeth. He clutched his knife and fork so tightly in his fists that the silver was beginning to feel hot beneath his fingers.

  Marianne gave a snort of contempt. "Cuthbert has already hurt me, but he's little more than a coward and a bully when he's away from my Aunt and the safety of his estates. I fear the pwca more than I fear him!"

  "Who told you about the pwca?" asked Harry, looking over at Marianne with interest.

  Charles felt unreasonably angry at his brother for ignoring the importance of the situation.

  "You are the one who asked me to rescue you, Marianne," he said, trying to sound dignified. From the look on his Aunt's face, he just looked petulant.

  ""And I have thanked you profusely for that several times already," she responded, her eyes flashing with an unexpected anger. "However it is not your responsibility to continue to keep me safe, Charlie. Your parents and Godmama have taken up that task, and I will be eternally grateful to them for their kindness."

  He stared at her, his mouth hanging open but no words coming out.

  "She has a point, old boy," murmured John in a completely unhelpful manner.

  "Well I am not happy about you going out walking by yourself, my dear, and especially without telling anyone where you were," said his Aunt Eustacia sternly. She ruined it by giving Marianne a squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll ask you not to do so again, if you know what's good for you, my dear."

  Marianne cast a radiant smile at Eustacia Melthwaite, and Charles could have sworn he saw everyone else at the table fall a little bit in love with her.

  "I'm sorry if I caused you alarm, Godmama, but I was not alone on my walk, nor did I leave the house without making sure my whereabouts were known."

  "Who?" demanded Charles.

  "Watch your tone if you wish to remain at my table," said his mother, and he bit down on his tongue despite himself.

  "Who accompanied you?" asked Eustacia, making it sound like she was genuinely intrigued rather than annoyed.

  Marianne chewed her crumpet slowly. Charles stabbed at the black pudding on his plate with far more force than necessary.

  The girl swallowed, and then dabbed delicately at her mouth with the napkin.

  "Phillips," she eventually said, before glancing at Harry. "It was he that told me about the pwca. I let my maid, Lizzie, know that I wanted to go for a walk along the avenue, and she told me to watch out for the fairy fire. Phillips was so good as to tell me all about them, and also the gwyllion and the ellylldan. He seemed to think it was very important that he and the rest of the labourers drink lots of ale, on account of the bwabchod, although he was so amused by the story that I struggled to understand why consuming beer was so important to the fairies."

  Charles stared at her while his brothers didn't even bother to hide their mirth.

  "Well, perhaps you should lead with the name of your companion in future, Marianne, to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings," said Aunt Eustacia, although she looked just as amused as Harry and John.

  Marianne cast down her eyes, managing to look the picture of innocence. "Of course, Godmama. I'm so sorry if I distressed you, for it was not my intention."

  No, her intention had been to aggravate him, thought Charlie, and part of him could not blame her. He'd made such a hash of it the evening before, suggesting that they get married and then immediately stating it was not something he desired, that he was not surprised if she was angry with him. Even if she'd been head over heels in love with him, no girl wanted to marry a man who only proposed out of obligation.

  And she'd made it clear on multiple occasions that while she held him in great regard, marriage to Charles Putney was not something she desired.

  "I'm sorry," he said, although his eyes were on his plate.

  His mother coughed politely.

  Charles gritted his teeth, counted to ten, and then raised his eyes to meet those of Marianne.

  "Please accept my apologies, Marianne. I know that my father will not be back for another two days, but the lack of news regarding your brother and your cousin has me on edge. While you might not have asked me to keep you safe until Gordon's return, it is my role to carry out my father's duties while he is away from the estates, and that includes protecting you. I don't mean to be an ogre, and if you find a way to set the wrath of the gwyllion upon me, it is only what I deserve."

  "Very well done," he heard John murmur from beside him, so quietly that he doubted if anyone else had heard.

  The cold mask Marianne was wearing softened just enough for him to know he was forgiven.

  "And I'm sorry, to all of you, of I'm being a poor houseguest under the circumstances. I do understand your concerns, and I am worried about Cuthbert attempting to carry me off, but I also have faith in all of you, and all of your wonderful staff. Did you know one of the gardeners had prepared some flowers for me, and another said his grandmother had sent me a little charm to carry in my pocket?"

  "What type of charm?" asked Harry, and the smile that spread across Marianne's face was like the sun rising after a long winter night. She pulled a small broach from her pocket, shaped like a tiny horseshoe.

  "I must get her something in return," said Marianne, "for I did not want to cause offence by refusing such a pretty gift."

  "Granny Bellan," said Harry, and everyone else nodded in agreement.

  "She's one of the oldest residents on our estates," explained Charles, looking down on the tiny broach still sh
eltered in Marianne's hand.

  "She's a dragon," said Harry.

  "Terrifying," added John.

  "She's a nice old lady with a kind soul," said Lady Putney, before cocking her head to one side. "But also a terrifying old dragon. I don't think she's actually paid her rent in a quarter of a century, but she's certainly made sure everyone else pays their dues on time.""I appreciate the gift all the same," said Marianne, glancing down at the broach and smiling. "I just need to think of something to give to her in return."

  Charles was struck with an idea, and felt rather pleased with himself.

  "Your embroidery," he said. "A handkerchief, or even a shawl if you have the time to work on it. Granny Bellan likes her pretty trinkets, especially if they are not in the common style."

  "If she appreciates a motif of snakes, flames, and very sharp knives, then I expect she will appreciate my work," said Marianne, somehow keeping a straight face.

  "Trust me," said Harry, "Granny Bellan will like anything that involves pointy objects."

  "Knives it is," said Marianne. "May I beg a bolt of cotton from you, Lady Putney? Godmama was so kind as to provide me with more than enough thread to complete a thousand designs, so I am confident that I can complete something suitable."

  "I'll have Wilson bring it down within the hour," his mother promised, "on the condition that you embroider a piece for me as well. I rather like the idea of a shawl covered in snakes."

  "Like Medusa," said Aunt Eustacia.

  "Only she wins this time," added Marianne, and all the ladies laughed.

  Charles glanced at his brothers. John gave a helpless shrug, while Harry just looked confused.

  Marianne consumed her last bite of crumpet before draining the small cup of coffee before her.

  "I should get started, then, if I want to complete the shawls in a reasonable time. May I occupy the back room again, Lady Putney? Charles need not worry about me leaving the house, for while I've a tolerable hand for sewing, I am not particularly quick at my craft."

  "It is at your disposal, my darling," said his mother, and the look of affection she threw at Marianne made him feel worse than ever that he had failed to convince the girl that marriage to him was in her best interest.

  "Don't forget that we are engaged to practice the waltz this afternoon," called Harry as she began to leave the room. "I adore you, dear heart, but my toes can only take so much."

  "It depends on whether you can keep your mind from the assets of Lady Cordelia long enough to remember the steps," Marianne said tartly. "John is a much better partner, you know. Especially if a lady wishes to show to advantage."

  "It's only the memory of his regimentals that makes you say that," called Harry, but Marianne had already left the room.

  "I think the point goes to our fair guest," said John with a grin.

  "You're biased," replied Harry, and flung a piece of toast at his brother's nose.

  Charles stood, leaving the remainder of his breakfast untouched on his plate. The urge to follow Marianne was overwhelming, but what he intended to say to her, he had no idea at all.

  "I will see you later today,” he said to no one in particular. "I need to ask Miss Hillis... something. Yes. Something important."

  "Evidently," said Aunt Eustacia, the forkful of egg an insufficient disguise for her smirk. "Go then, you foolish boy!"

  It did not seem worth his while to challenge Mrs Melthwaite on his meaning, so he exited the breakfast parlour as fast as was reasonable. He knew he needed to apologise to Marianne, even as his heart and head struggled to agree as to why, exactly, he was in the wrong. It was enough to know that she was upset and that he was the cause of her discomfort. She might not be in love with him, but Charles had not given up hope that, with time, he could make her the happiest woman in the Empire, if only he was given the opportunity to try.

  "Charlie!"

  Charles came to a halt halfway across the hall as he recognised the voice of his brother.

  "What is it, John?" he asked, unable to hide his irritation. "If you have followed me to state how badly I handled things over breakfast, then rest assured that I know I was as refined as a hog!"

  "I'm glad to hear you admit to it, but that's not why I wanted to talk," replied his younger brother.

  Charles turned to regard his brother, who still held himself like a soldier, despite having sold his commission immediately after Waterloo. It was still a surprise, however, when John produced a slim volume from his jacket pocket, and held it out towards Charles.

  "Here," he said. "I don't know whether you paid attention to Marianne's compliments, but she seemed to enjoy the folk tales you recited to her."

  Charles took the leather-bound book, and glanced at the spine to read the title.

  "Tales of Taliesin, Volume One," he read out loud.

  John nodded his head.

  "Phillips might know more of the fairy folk than anyone in the county, but I suspect Marianne would prefer to hear the tales from your lips rather than anyone else’s. You should read to her while she sews. Women appreciate that sort of thing."

  Charles stared at the volume in his hand, Backed in the same green leather as every other book in his father's library, unlike many other works on their shelves, this one had been well read over the years.

  "Why would you help me woo her?" he asked, his eyes still on the gilt lettering that proudly declared the title of the works on the leather spine.

  John's expression oscillated between surprise and pride.

  "Because you love her, old chap, and she loves you, even if you are both too stubborn to admit it. Besides, if you don't wed the girl then I'll have to just save her from Harry, and that is too cruel a fate for you to deliver to your kin."

  Charles smiles despite himself. "You really believe that's the truth? That Marianne Hillis loves me?"

  John put a brotherly arm about his shoulders, and Charles was forcibly reminded that out of the three Putney siblings, he was the shortest by at least two inches.

  It was a surprisingly reassuring discovery.

  "Charles, I know that the world considers you to be the downy one when it comes to the Putney name," said John as he led Charles towards the sewing room, "but there are times when you can be monumentally stupid. Go and read to Marianne. Woo her, for there is no woman on this earth that I would rather have for a sister than Marianne Hillis, and Harry feels much the same."

  "I don't know whether to kick you or kiss you, brat," said Charles, wondering how anyone could cope without such exceptional brothers.

  "Lend me a monkey instead," replied John. "I need to bribe Lady Cordelia into marriage, so Harry has to eat my socks.”

  “Agreed,” said Charles without any hesitation. It felt like he won on all fronts and, clutching the works of the Bard Taliesin to his chest, he felt like he could finally convince Marianne that they loved each other, no matter what tried to keep them apart.

  Chapter Eleven

  If Godmama, Lady Putney, and her three sons were intent on convincing Marianne that she was in no danger, their efforts were producing the opposite effect.

  It had been two restless nights since she'd seen the glow of a pipe against the darkness of the Avenue, and even though she had managed to thwart any difficult questions about the odd experience, her own mind was far from happy about the situation. She'd managed to engage Phillips on a conversation about the pwca, and in the process confirmed that no man in Sir Joseph's employ had been lurking in the darkness that night.

  Far from reassuring her that she'd witnessed the presence of fairies, Marianne had started to worry that Cuthbert Headley was a greater threat to her than she'd first imagined.

  "Not that you can tell him that, you fool," she'd muttered while putting the final touches onto the shawl for Granny Bellan. The embroidery was fairly simple, but the details of snakes and flames, having taken her the best part of eighteen hours, were unmistakable.

  Not that she knew of any way to tell Charles, or a
ny other member of the Putney family, that she suspected she'd seen one of her cousin's hired thugs lurking at the edge of their property. At best, she'd be locked in her bedroom until Gordon returned from China. At worst, Charles would marry her out of a sense of obligation, and they would hate each other for the rest of their lives as a result.

  It did not help that every last one of Lady Putney's dinner guest wanted to indulge in speculation over the identity of Marianne's failed abductor. It seemed that Harry was right when he'd stated that the neighbourhood would discuss the event for months to come. In a parish where, as Harry himself pointed out more than once, nothing of interest had happened since the days of Old Man Waldo himself, Marianne's situation had provided the locals with a topic of great interest, and if she had not been the focus of their musings and unsubtle remarks about romantic endings, she might have been amused by the whole thing.

  Her Godmama had counselled her to consider the positives of the situation, such as they were.

  "Mr Headley can hardly introduce himself by name in this county without Sir Joseph being informed of it," she'd said in a rallying tone. "Besides, you are thought of as quite the tragic heroine in these parts, and if that doesn't induce certain young men to offer for your hand, then I wash my hands of their sex all together!"

  Marianne had not had the courage to ask if there was a specific gentleman that Godmama was thinking of, for she was not yet confident in the movements of her own heart.

  Charles had taken to sitting with her while she embroidered, reading aloud from the Tales of Taliesin for some of the time, and filling the rest with the myths and legends he had been told during his own childhood. Their conversation was easy during these private moments, full of laughter, shared intellect, and long conversation that made her long for his company. There was never any mention of her situation, and it quickly became apparent to her that they both enjoyed their time together so long as that contentious subject was avoided.

  It was quite odious of Charles when she thought about it, and she was torn between demanding he leave her to embroider in peace, or to ask him to read the next chapter out loud while she worked.