Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1) Read online

  "This way," whispered Patience, tugging Marianne's hand again as they ducked around behind the substantial brick wall of the Pinery Vinery. They both paused to catch their breath, beside the piles of branches and rotting garden waste that was stacked up against the back of the hothouses, the smell of compost and ash filling their senses.

  "John showed me this when we were children," explained Patience, crossing over to the ivy-covered wall that marked the edge of Putney Manor's gardens. "Excellent - they still haven't fixed the gate!"

  Marianne was surprised as Patience pulled back some of the climbing plants that covered the wall to reveal a narrow metal gate housed in the wall.

  "I would never have known it was there!" she gasped in delight. "Now I really feel like I'm in the middle of a romantic novel!"

  "It's nothing so exciting as that," laughed Patience as they both stepped through, and then carefully pushed the tendrils of ivy back in place. "It's the old side entrance from the gardens out to the wider estates, but when Sir Joseph and Lady Putney got married, he built these magnificent hothouses for her, so this path fell into disuse. Come quickly, though, of Phillips will catch up before we know it!"

  Marianne struggled not to laugh as they began half running, half clambering up the remains of a disused path that wove through the trees beyond them. It was little more than a track of leaf mulch and tree roots used by the local wildlife, but after ten minutes they came across a small stone bench, now overgrown with moss and lichen, that reassured Patience they were truly on the old pathway.

  Her heart was pounding, not just from the exertion of both the running and the climb, but also from a sense of both fear and exhilaration. Fear, because now she was out in the woodland, the memories of the man in the greatcoat were taunting her, and exhilaration at the sheer freedom to do something without permission, even if it were considered a little dangerous.

  "Patience, I think you are the greatest friend in the world," said Marianne between breaths, "but where are we going? Is there a view at the top of this hill that I must see?"

  Patience laughed at her. "You have no sense of direction, do you? We're going to the Folly, you silly goose! Look!"

  Marianne looked up the path as her companion indicated, and then gasped in delight as she saw Fool's Errand before them.

  "I had no idea we were so close to it!" she replied, grinning as she did so.

  "John said the path was designed that way," admitted Patience. "You don't realise it when you're walking through the trees, but it actually turns you all about on yourself, and brings you up to the Folly. I think Old Man Waldo built it, but John thinks it was here long before that and led to a viewing point."

  "Probably in the days of the druids," smiled Marianne. "We should ask Phillips what he thinks. Patience, I don't know how to thank you for bringing me up here; it's marvellous!"

  Up close, the signs of disrepair and neglect on Fool's Errand became more apparent. It was indeed modelled after a lighthouse, perhaps two storeys high at the centre, and topped with an over-sized cupola whose glass, if it had ever had any, was long gone. The whitewash that had coated the stone walls was falling away in places and discoloured to a dirty grey in others. The wooden door, more suited to a castle than anything else, remained in place on rusty hinges, but all the lead-light windows had at least two or three panes of glass that were cracked or missing.

  "It must have been very beautiful when it was built," she said, walking towards it. "The white walls must have gleamed when the sun fell upon them."

  "Yes, although no one seems to know exactly why Old Man Waldo went to the trouble," said Patience. "The views here are nice, but better on the other side of the Estates, and as far as anyone knows he never used it for parties, or ever really ventured up here himself. Naturally, there are stories of unrequited love or ancient Welsh treasures hidden at this spot, but in all probability he only built it to thumb his nose at my Great-Grandfather, who had built the Swancoat Castle folly to show off his wealth at the time."

  "I think I prefer that story the most," giggled Marianne. "The idea of two old men building ridiculous structures just to show who had the biggest fortune strikes me as a very Tonnish thing to do!"

  Patience grinned in return. "Out of family loyalty I should, of course, claim that my family's folly was a far superior waste of money, or that my ancestor was a better man than Waldo Banks, but I'm afraid it would be a lie. They were a pair of ramshackle rogues if only a quarter of the stories are true, and although I'm rather pleased we live in more civilised times, I would have liked to have met them at least once."

  "I'm sure that the Prince Regent would love them both equally," said Marianne, pressing her hand to the cool of the white plasterwork. "Cuthbert took great delight in telling us that the Marine Pavilion in Brighton is being remodelled by Nash and that there are to be so many new domes and decorations that half the Ton have declared it an eyesore already."

  "I like it already," said Patience. "Sadly, our castle Folly was removed by my father before Evan and I were born, as he considered it an eyesore even by the standards of our estates. I saw a picture of it in our records, and it was a glorious monstrosity."

  "Standards of your estates?" Marianne queried. Patience shook her head but grinned at the same time.

  "It seems my ancestors did not believe in maintaining a simple, uniform appearance across our holdings, and some of the tenant farms are rather.... unique in their style. Our farmers seem to adore them, though, so I doubt they would let us rebuild them in a modern look even if we did have the money to do so."

  "It must be fun to be able to build things," said Marianne wistfully. "I don't know about a lighthouse, but I would build a Grecian temple, or perhaps a grand stone circle in the style of the druids."

  "The vicar would adore you," laughed Patience.

  "Only when I hosted summer picnics there and invited the Y Tylwyth Teg to sup with us," she replied. "Shall we go inside? I would love to see the view, and you can point out your home to me."

  "If we can get the door open," said Patience as she frowned at the rusty hinges. "But then we must head back to the gardens before you are missed."

  "They won't even know that we've been gone," she promised,

  It took both of them pulling on the oversized iron handle to get the door open and involved a lot of undignified grunting and giggling. A small cloud of dust swirled out of the opening, causing Patience to cough and Marianne to sneeze loudly.

  "It's darker than I thought it would be," whispered Marianne as they ventured inside. "With so many windows I thought it would be flooded with light!"

  "Not when they are so filthy," said Patience, her voice equally hushed, as though they had ventured into an ancient church. "I don't think we will be able to see through to my home with that moss covering the panes."

  "Oh well," said Marianne, trying to hide her disappointment. "You can at least get an idea of how it would have looked in Old Man Waldo's day. The tiles are very pretty, and look - you can just make out the murals underneath the grime."

  She walked gingerly to the far side of the large room until she reached the centre, where a large metal brazier was still suspended from the base of the cupola.

  "It looks as though a fire could still be lit if we wished," she said, reaching up so that her fingers brushed the edge. It was dusty, but there was no sign of ash, or that it had ever been used. "It would heat the room as well, so you could still visit it in the winter, even if no one has ever done so."

  "A landlocked lighthouse that serves no purpose to anyone," said Patience, smiling and shaking her head at the same time. "Can you imagine how it must feel to be so wealthy?"

  "No," replied Marianne, looking about her. "I adore the Folly, truly I do, but I am not so rich that I could build such a place without any real purpose. Even if I did possess such a fortune, I don't think I could do it when there are so many worthy causes in need of support. I could build a home for the poor Lascars who have been abandon
ed at our ports or build a meeting hall for the Abolitionists. Certainly not a lighthouse that I never intended to use!"

  "The Swancoats certainly don't have that kind of wealth any longer, although I admit I would try to rebuild the castle if we did, if only to give the locals somewhere to picnic and hold their festivals," sighed her friend, and there was a minute of awkward silence before they spoke again. "Come on, we should make our way back down to the Manor, or poor Phillips will be tearing out his hair with worry."

  This, however, was proven not to be the case. The moment they stepped back out into the sunshine they spied Phillips waiting for them outside, casually leaning against a nearby tree as he smoked his pipe. He touched his hat to them when their eyes locked but didn't say a word.

  Patience gasped in surprise, but Marianne felt her blood run cold. How long had he followed them for? How close had he been without them knowing? She might not fear any harm from the groom himself, but if he could sneak up on them without warning, how could she be sure that nobody else could do the same?

  Could the man in the greatcoat be lurking, unseen, in the trees behind them?

  "I'm so sorry!" said Marianne, her heart beginning to race. "I know I'm supposed to-"

  The Putney's most trusted servant help up his hand to stop her.

  "There's no need, Miss Hillis. Even the most docile of horses yearns for a solitary gallop every now and then. It's only natural that you would feel the same after everything that's happened."

  "You won't tell John, or the others, will you?" asked Patience, looking a little anxious. "I know it wasn't my place to show Marianne the Folly, but it was the only place close enough to the gardens for me to feel that she'd be safe."

  "It was a good choice, Miss Swancoat," said Phillips, pushing himself to a standing position. "Now, I've meant to ask you if your father still has that mare your late brother got from Tattersall's? The chestnut one with the exceptional speed."

  "Yes, he can't bear to part with her, even though we can't really justify the expense," replied Patience, looking confused.

  "Good, good, for I was only telling Sir Joseph last week that she would make a lovely broodmare for Llewellyn if we can agree to terms for your trouble."

  "I'm sure we can, if Sir Joseph truly is interested," replied Patience, her eyes lighting up. "Llewellyn is a wonderful creature!"

  "Where is his name from?" asked Marianne, striving for the same lightness that her friend displayed. "Is he another Welsh legend?"

  "He was the last true Prince of Wales," replied Phillips from around his pipe. "Not a legend, either, but our history. I'll tell you all about him on the walk back down, shall I?"

  It was obvious that he was just trying to make them both forget their embarrassment and fear, and Marianne appreciated his kindness, but as much as she enjoyed listening to the groom tell his stories as they headed along the overgrown path towards the estates, she couldn't help the growing sense of unease in her chest. She thought of the man who had smoked his pipe in the shadows of the avenue, and wondered if he was watching them, unseen, from the dense woodland that covered the hill. Racing up to Fool's Errand with Patience had been delightfully freeing, but the realisation that Phillips had managed to follow them there undetected was bringing back memories of the man who had tried to abduct her at Braddoc's Well, and from there, her mind turned to her captivity at the hands of her aunt and cousin.

  She was not as up to the snuff as she liked to think she was. Gordon, while not the most reliable of creatures, had kept her safe from the worst aspects of society, and while her wealth had certainly been the cause of her problems with the Headleys, she understood perfectly that it had also protected her.

  And then there was Charles. He already felt as though her life rested firmly in his hands. If he knew that she'd ventured beyond the walls of the garden with only Patience for company he'd likely be angry, afraid, and consider her very silly indeed.

  John would probably be angry at her for putting Patience at risk.

  She walked in silence all the way back to the garden, even if she did remember to smile and nod whenever her companions told her something interesting.

  As Patience ducked through the secret doorway, Marianne reached out to touch Phillips on the arm.

  "You won't tell Charles about this, will you? Or Sir Joseph?" she asked before biting her lip.

  The old groom smiled at her, and then gave a conspiratorial wink.

  "There's nothing wrong with a good canter now and then, Miss Hillis. Just make sure that I'm within sight of you next time, and I see no reason to tell anyone."

  "Thank you," she murmured, hesitating a moment longer while she studied the bemused expression on his weathered face. He was likely the same age as Sir Joseph, only much more similar to John in terms of build and stature.

  "You're not just a groom, are you?" she said, looking him up and down. "Sir Joseph has you keep an eye on his sons, and that's why you play the groom."

  "Oh I'm definitely a groom, Miss Hillis," he said, the pipe still tucked between his teeth, "but you're right that I'm more than that, too. How about you keep my secret from the three lads, and I'll keep yours in return?"

  A small amount of the weight that she'd been carrying lifted from her shoulders, and she suddenly understood why Sir Joseph had felt safe enough to leave her at Putney Manor with Phillips in charge of watching the estates.

  "A bargain," she said, and they shook hands before ducking back through the gateway and into the gardens beyond.

  "Let us go and look inside the hothouses," said Patience, interlacing their arms as they began to walk again. "Lady Putney's orchids are quite beautiful, you know, and are worthy of your time. It also provides an excellent excuse for us to idle in the garden a little longer."

  Marianne didn't have the opportunity to respond to the suggestion, for they had barely returned to the front of the Pinery Vinery before they were hailed by the Putney brothers as the three men strolled along the edge of the Kitchen garden towards them."

  "I told you Patience would be sneaking a look at the pineapples," said Harry with considerable cheer. "She said last year that she has hopes of restoring the crop at Swancoat Hall, and then we'll be back in competition!"

  "I was actually dragging poor Marianne to admire your mother's orchids," said Patience brightly, "but now you mention it, we should stop to look at the pineapples while we are here."

  "Your hothouses are still in disrepair?" said John, his brow furrowed. The expression on Patience's face made it clear she did not want to discuss the matter, so Harry started talking loudly about the success the gardeners had had with the latest strawberry crop, as though it were the most fascinating subject in the world.

  Marianne said nothing, for she was painfully aware that Charlie was staring at the dusty hem of her gown with an unreadable expression. He looked over at Phillips, and whatever gesture that good man-made, it seemed to reassure the eldest Putney that there was nothing to be concerned about.

  They made their way to the orchid house together, the ladies still with their arms interlocked, Harry the only one participating in his inane conversation, and Phillips tailing the party at a respectful distance.

  *

  Sir Joseph was troubled.

  The only positive news to come from his trip was the discovery that Amherst's ship had indeed docked, and that Amherst himself had been willing to meet with him. He was able to confirm that Gordon Hillis was both alive and in fine form, but as to his whereabouts, the ambassador was of no help.

  "Hillis and some of the others wanted to make sure the Orang Outang was being cared for appropriately before he goes on display," Amherst had explained over a glass of whisky at their club.

  "The what was well taken care of?" he'd asked, momentarily diverted.

  Amherst had smiled, but shaken his head at the same time. "A remarkable creature we picked up in Borneo. Walks, eats and drinks like a human, but is quite the gentlest creature I've ever come across. It's a
great favourite with all my men, and I think they are reluctant to entrust it's care to another. According to Hillis, the natives of Borneo claim the creatures can speak just like we can, but only do so when there are none of us fellows about. I could believe it, you know."

  "I'm sure his sister will be most comforted to learn that he wanted to make sure his new pet was comfortable before visiting her," said Sir Joseph, his irritation rising again.

  "There's nothing to be done about it now," replied Amherst. "Did I tell you we stopped at St Helena on the return voyage! We met with Napoleon, my dear fellow! I conversed with him several times! Let me tell you about it."

  Although the conversation had been interesting, Sir Joseph had only been able to lend half an ear to it, his thoughts firmly on his family.

  The following day had not gone much better, as he failed to secure an interview with Marianne's banker, Henry Fauntleroy, who was inexplicably unreachable until the following morning. He had, however, made the trip to some of the more notorious money lenders, including Mr King, and his discoveries had not been happy ones.

  It was lucky that so many of the less-than-savoury characters in London remembered how Sir Joseph had accumulated his own wealth, and that they were willing to accommodate his requests for information. A small financial gift and an unspoken threat helped.

  Cuthbert Headley owed money to everyone. Oh, he'd managed to pay all his outstanding loans almost a year before for an eye-bleeding sum, but had since racked up even more debt with every person willing to lend him capital at an extortionate rate of interest. Some of the lenders had done so on the strength of pawned jewels and women's clothing - all of which were cut for a far younger woman than his mother. A few, Mr King among them, had received written assurances of his upcoming marriage to a known heiress of considerable fortune, and lent him several thousand in the knowledge that his wife would be able to pay them back.