Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1) Page 17

  They paused again, and then smiled at each other.

  "I hate that I'm making you unhappy, dearest," he said to her. "I wish I could keep my promise to you, and take you about in the community until your brother comes home."

  "I know," she said, looking down into her glass of wine. "I wish it too, but not for the reasons you think."

  "No?" he said, trying for a teasing smile. "It's not because my neighbours are falling over themselves to impress you?"

  "It's because I get to see how highly esteemed you and your brother are," she said, raising her eyes to meet his. "And because I have learned how much you love this place from your stories and legends. I always thought that there could be no better place than London, and while I was with my Aunt I could not imagine being happy anywhere but the city. But I've loved every minute I've spent here, Charlie. I love driving out with you, or meeting your friends and neighbours, or having your parents tease me and Godmama spoil me. I love how your brothers treat me the way Gordon would, and how very beautiful everything in this county is. That’s why I was so upset, Charlie. Not because of you, or your family trying to keep me safe, but because Cousin Cuthbert has once again taken something away from me just as I started to enjoy it. It was only walking with Patience that made me realise it."

  He blinked a few times as his heart began to pound so hard he could hear the blood pumping through his brain. She had used the word love several times; not about him, it was true, but about his home and family enough times that he started to believe that maybe he would be able to make her happy should she decide that marriage was her best option.

  "I'm happy that you are here too, Marianne, even if the circumstances are not what either of us would have wished. Having you here... well, I think my parents and Aunt Eustacia are in love with you, as are my brothers."

  She blushed, but looked a little uncertain. "It's kind of you to say so."

  "Perhaps it would not be so bad, then?" he said, suddenly finding the cuffs of his evening jacket very interesting indeed.

  "What would be?" she asked, sounding confused.

  "If you had to stay here, to be safe," he tried to explain. "I know that you did not like my plan for an engagement, but it does not have to be a hum. We could marry when you are of age, and you would not have to leave. I have fortune enough to help you work with the abolitionists, and we can lived here with my parents at the Manor, or in one of the farms I own on the neighbouring estate. It might not be your ideal, Marianne, but I would do my best to make you happy."

  "Are you proposing?" she asked, but she sounded half afraid, half upset.

  This time, it felt like the blood drained from his head rather than rushing to it.

  "No, definitely not," he said with a strained chuckle. "We already established that neither of us wished to marry, did we not?"

  "Yes, when you first rescued me," she said carefully.

  "Exactly! All I am suggesting is that if the worst scenario occurs and marriage is your only remaining option, then I'll do everything I can to be a good husband," he said as cheerfully as he could manage.

  And because I love you, his foolish heart whispered silently.

  "So... you only want to marry me if I have no other choice," said Marianne, her brow furrowed as she said each word slowly and deliberately.

  "That's right," he lied. "Just like you would prefer not to marry me."

  "I see," she said. "Yes, that makes sense. Neither of us want to marry, after all. Not to each other, at any rate."

  "I don't know about that," said Charles, trying not to take offence. "We'll rub along well together, I dare say, and if I must marry, then I'd as lief marry you as anyone else."

  "How kind," Marianne replied with just enough bitterness for Charles to know he'd taken the wrong path.

  "I didn't mean any offence," he began, but that false smile was back on her lips, and her eyes shining brighter than ever.

  "I do not take any, Charlie! And rest assured that if my only choice is between social ruin and marrying you to save my reputation, then I suppose a wedding can be organized on short notice."

  "I say, Marianne, that's not a nice thing to say," he replied, shocked at the casual cruelty of her words.

  "Was it not? I can't say that I noticed," she replied before taking another sip of her wine. "Now please excuse me, I need to speak with Godmama about an urgent matter."

  She was gone before he could say another word, while good manners prevented him from pulling her back to him and demanding they finish their conversation.

  "It seems that you messed that up, old boy," said Harry as he sauntered over to Charles' side.

  "Were you eavesdropping?" Charles snapped, not in the least upset with his youngest brother but happy to take out his anger nonetheless.

  Harry, however, was unmoved by the display of temper.

  "Naturally, dear brother, naturally. And may I say that you made a shocking mull of things? I had high hopes for a moment there, but then I remembered it was you courting Marianne, and that you lack my natural charm."

  "Do you think you could have done better?"

  "Indubitably."

  "Then tell me where I went wrong," he said, half angry, half pleading.

  Harry gave a theatrical yawn. "If you don't know, Charlie, then I shan't tell you. She deserves better than that."

  He wandered away, leaving Charlie standing alone to stare at the occupants of the room.

  He suddenly did not care that his behaviour would seem quite rude if he left, and made his way out the room without a goodbye to anyone. He intended to head to the billiard room, but at the last moment changed course until he found himself in his father's study. He poured himself a large glass of brandy and then retired to his favourite armchair placed before the unlit fire and remained in place until long after the last guest had left, his thoughts of no real comfort at all.

  *

  “Did you have a nice evening, Miss?” asked Lizzie when Marianne eventually retired to her room. "Here, let me help you get out of that dress and into your night things."

  "Lizzie you didn't have to wait up for me, in fact I told you not to!" she said, nonetheless grateful to the sweet girl.

  "Nonsense, I'm supposed to be your personal maid, and I'm determined to do as good a job at it as I can. Now hold still while I undo these buttons."

  Marianne cast her a wan smile as another pang of guilt stole into her heart. She knew Lizzie was trying to prove herself so she could obtain a permanent position, but she also knew that the young girl was sweet on one of the gardeners, and had never really considered what life as a lady's maid would mean - especially to one who would not be remaining in Montgomeryshire much longer.

  "I think you're the best maid I've ever had, Lizzie. Wilson taught you your duties very well."

  "Thank you, Miss," said Lizzie, her apple cheeks glowing as she passed Marianne her night robe. "I dare say I chatter on much more than I should, but I do try not to!"

  "I like your chatter," said Marianne with absolute sincerity. "It makes me feel as though the world is a very lively and interesting place."

  "Well I don't know much about the world," laughed the maid, "having never been outside of Wales, you know."

  "Would you like to?" asked Marianne as she moved to sit at the dressing table.

  Lizzie looked thoughtful as she took the simple pins from Marianne's hair and began to brush it.

  "I suppose I will if I become a proper lady's maid, because my mistress will likely go to London each Season, and visiting with her fancy friends. It would be nice I think, to see a bit of the world and be able to see some of the sights, but I don't think there's anywhere as special to the heart, now is there, Miss?"

  Her own heart felt like a knife was sliding into it.

  "You put it wonderfully, Lizzie."

  The maid put down the brush and began to fix a pretty cap over Marianne's hair.

  "And there's nowhere like Montgomeryshire to my mind," she continued. "I
asked Phillips about it once, and he says that everything anyone could need for a happy life is right here in Wales, and he would know, wouldn't he? He's been all about the world, after all."

  "He has?" she asked with interest, but Lizzie seemed to have already dismissed the groom from her mind.

  "And my aunt says that while London is the best place to shop she doesn't hold with the way so many people look down on the Master and Mistress, thinking that they're better just because their title is a fancier one. She likes it better here, too, where we understand the value of good folk."

  "You really make it sound delightful," said Marianne, allowing her maid to shepherd her back to her bed. "I have spent most of my life in London, and it took me the longest time when living with my Aunt to get used to how quiet the world is in the country."

  "But you seem perfectly at home here now, Miss," said Lizzie, moving the warming pan to the end of the bed so Marianne did not burn her toes. "Everyone says so, even the housekeeper, and she never thought anyone would be good enough to marry one of the masters!"

  "Marry?" squeaked Marianne, sitting up in the bed. "Who said anything about me marrying anyone?"

  Lizzie put a hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to lie back down.

  "You don't need to pretend to me, Miss, and I promise you that Miss Wilson put an end to that gossip immediately, but you can hardly blame the staff for being happy. Mister Charles is the heir, after all, and very well-liked by us all. Now you can't tell anyone that I told you this, but the senior staff have been living in fear of Miss Theodosia Aldburn, or Miss Ursula Swancoat, becoming the mistress of this house one day. It's no surprise they were relieved when Mister Charles took a shine to you, and Sir Joseph as well."

  "I don't want to disappoint you, Lizzie, but Charlie - I mean, Mr Putney - has no more feeling for me than he does a sister, and I... well, I've decided that I shall not marry, and instead I hope to go live with my Godmama in Liverpool, to work with the Abolitionists."

  "Oh," said Lizzie, and was then silent for at least thirty seconds. "My Aunt is never normally wrong about such things, and she seemed so certain that you and Mister Charles would make a match of it, and now Cook will dread Miss Theodosia coming to live here again, although perhaps if it's because she married Mister Harry it might not be so terrible. Oh dear, please don't cry, Miss! I never meant to upset you with my chattering on; see? My Aunt was right about that, too."

  "I'm not crying, Lizzie," said Marianne, only half lying to her maid. "I am laughing, I promise! It's just that I don't think I've ever had such a meaningful compliment paid to me before. Please do let the staff know how flattered I am to learn that I am a preferable mistress to Theodosia Aldburn. I shall not marry any man unless he can pay me a better compliment than that!"

  Lizzie sighed with relief. "You're just teasing me now, aren't you, Miss? Well, time to get yourself some rest, and I promise not to wake you too late in the morning."

  "You don't have to sleep in here, you know," Marianne said quietly as her maid prepared herself for bed. "That truckle cannot be as comfortable as your own room."

  "Nonsense, Miss. I've never slept so well in all my life."

  She blew out the candles, and Marianne stared into the darkness, listening as Lizzie got herself comfortable on the truckle bed. It was odd, for although part of her still longed for just a few minutes of genuine solitude, she was oddly grateful that she was not alone.

  "Miss?"

  "Yes, Lizzie?"

  There was a short pause before the maid spoke again.

  "If you did decide you wanted to live with Mrs Melthwaite, well, there's a lot of Welsh living in Liverpool these days, and I've got an Uncle and some cousins in the city. I'd like being your maid very much, if you'd have me, and I don't mind where that would be."

  Marianne swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, and was very glad that the night hid her tears.

  "I would like you to be my maid very much, Lizzie, if you'd have me as your employer."

  "Thank you, Miss Marianne," whispered the girl, sounding trapped somewhere between relief and sadness.

  Marianne understood exactly how the poor thing felt.

  After a short time Lizzie's breath became deep and regular as sleep claimed the girl. Marianne lay awake, staring up into the darkness as her thoughts drifted back to Charlie again and again.

  Was she just being ridiculous, insisting to herself that they must be in love if they married?

  In her parent's generation, love matches had been the exception, and considered rather vulgar by the higher members of society. A woman of sense would marry a man of sound principle, kind demeanour and - for her class at least - one with a good head for business. Her wealth meant she was not obliged to marry for fortune, but it was hardly uncommon for a husband, once in possession of his new wife's fortune, to fritter away the lot until they both ended up with nothing. Mutual esteem was always desirable, but love? It was considered a lucky addition, not the necessity that she, and many others, felt it to be.

  He would marry her, if she asked him to. He'd said as much the day he rescued her from her cousin. Unfortunately, his eyes had betrayed that is was a matter of duty to him, and their conversation tonight had her convinced that he still felt the same way.

  As for her own heart?

  The conversation with Patience had turned her world upside down. She knew she felt strongly about Charles, and that no man of her acquaintance had ever come close to measuring up to him. Since her rescue, she could no longer imagine turning to anyone else if she were in need of help, not even Gordon, and when he talked of Montgomeryshire with the same love and passion Lizzie had just shown, she'd been conscious of a desire to listen to him talk forever.

  As for his fortune, good sense and kind heart, well it was hardly a secret that he was considered a catch by any parent not looking to secure a coronet for their child.

  "I should marry him," she told the room. "I like him more than anyone else."

  She wished that he had kissed her at the Well. Perhaps if he had she would know one way or the other what to call the emotions that insisted on cutting up her peace. Fondness and affection were not strong enough, and yet there was still no sign of the lightning and passion that other women had promised her came with true love.

  She threw back the covers and got out of the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping Lizzie as she tiptoed towards the bedroom window and tugged the curtain back.

  The cold of the night beyond seeped through the glass, causing her to shiver as she looked out on the gardens, the woodland and the fields beyond. The half-moon gave enough light to cast a riot of shadows across the landscape, but not enough for her to make out anything beyond the approximate shapes of the land below. To her far right were the kitchen gardens and the magnificent hothouses, the wooded hill stretching behind them in a mass of black leaves. Before her the were the lawns, as still as a pond on a windless day, stretching out to her left and all the way to the front driveway. An avenue of trees marked the boundary of the garden, although Marianne knew from Charles that the Putneys were the owners of everything she could see from the window, including the large tenant farm standing at the foot of the next hill. The whole world was quiet and still, and were it not for Lizzie's gentle snores, she could have imagined herself the only soul on earth.

  The flare of a tiny light, no more than a dull ember, flared like a beacon against the night and drew her attention towards it. There, right by the avenue of alders and oaks supposedly planted by the oldest Banks patriarch in the time of Henry VIII, she could just make out a dull orange glow that seemed no bigger than a flea.

  It flared again, small but bright, and she stumbled backwards in shock. The curtains caught at her heels, and in her panic she knocked the candlestick off the dresser and to the floor with a loud thump.

  "Miss Marianne! Are you well?" cried Lizzie as she jumped out of her bed. "Whatever are you doing at the window? You'll catch your death of cold if you're not car
eful!"

  "I'm so sorry for waking you, it's just I saw..." she stopped.

  "Saw what, Miss?" asked Lizzie, suddenly full of concern as she came to Marianne's side. "I can't make out much but the gardens, I'm afraid."

  "I saw one of Sir Joseph's men," said Marianne. "Over there, by the avenue."

  "One of the master's men?" Lizzie asked with obvious puzzlement. "What would they be doing out lurking in the dark so late?"

  "They were charged with protecting the grounds, remember?" said Marianne, retreating from the window as though nothing was amiss. "I forgot that they would do so at night as well. It's all Harry's fault for telling me about the fairies in the woods. I saw the light of his pipe, and for a moment I was convinced I saw one of the fair folk."

  Lizzie tucked the blankets back around Marianne before climbing into her own bed.

  "It could have been one of the fair folk, Miss," said Lizzie, sounding more serious that Marianne had ever heard her be. "The pwca can be active in these parts, using their little fires to tempt people to follow them into the wood. You put the little devil out of your mind and get to sleep; the fairy folk won't come near big houses like this, so you've nothing to worry about."

  "Thank you, Lizzie," Marianne murmured, feeling only a little guilty for her lie.

  It had been the light from a pipe, that much she was sure of, but it come from beyond the avenue, outside of the area of grounds where she was allowed to walk. It could have been from one of Sir Joseph's men, but her instincts were screaming that it was Cuthbert, or at least that rogue in the greatcoat, watching the house.

  She couldn't tell the Putneys, or even Godmama, not unless she wanted to find herself confined to the Manor until Charlie was forced by his own sense of duty to marry her. The thought of being trapped indoors again made her heart beat faster than usual, while knowing that the Putneys would insist on the marriage for no other reason than her protection made her feel as though she were about to cast up her accounts.

  No, better to believe it was one of Sir Joseph's men, for that was just as likely as some nefarious kidnapper hiding in the woods.