A Prudent Match Page 4

  He had already turned away when he felt a strong compulsion to kiss her. She was, after all, his bride. This was, for better or worse, his wedding day. He turned back and was considerably startled to see a single tear sliding down her cheek. “My dear, you are in some pain,” he protested, crouching down beside the bed. “Please tell me what I can do.”

  “No, no, it is just the upset,” she whispered, not meeting his gaze. “Really, it is nothing, Ledbetter. You needn't concern yourself.”

  “My dear girl, who should be more concerned than your husband? If there is nothing I can get for you, perhaps I should stay until you sleep.”

  “Please don't,” she pleaded. “Truly, I will be perfectly fine if only I am left alone to recover myself.”

  Slightly offended, Ledbetter rose once more to his feet. “As you wish, of course. But please don't hesitate to call me should you need me during the night. I will leave the connecting door open so that I may hear you.”

  Her sigh looked almost like a shudder, but she nodded and thanked him. Ledbetter decided he would not, after all, kiss her. What was the point? Better not to tease those expectant loins of his any further than they had already been tempted by the knowledge of this being his wedding night. Tomorrow was soon enough to satisfy the craving that roiled in him. If he were a patient man, it would hardly have bothered him at all.

  In his own room he disposed of his dressing gown and climbed between the icy sheets. He left his candle to burn itself down in a misguided effort to provide his new wife with a reassuring beacon in the dark. Sometime during the night he must have heard the faint click as the door between the two rooms was closed, but it did not disturb his sleep.

  * * * *

  Prudence slept little, mainly because she was distressed with herself for her foolishness. Had she not agreed to marry the baron? Did she not know full well what that meant? Of course she did, and she was being the greatest beast in nature to pretend to an illness that she did not feel. At least, what she felt was not a physical illness.

  Her distress, and fear, and grief had all seemed to tangle together when she looked up to see Ledbetter standing there. Not until she said it did she have any realization that she was going to send him away. And then to have him see her shed a tear! Really, she was beyond hope.

  In the middle of the night she had risen to close that offending door, and subsequently wander about her room feeling wretched. The night outside was dark, with not even a quarter moon to light the stable yard over which her room looked. She could hear the occasional sounds of an owl or some creature of the wild, but within the inn there was total silence. The taproom must have closed long since, and even the Grangers gone to their beds.

  Ledbetter's room had been dark when she gently pushed the door closed. Doubtless he was sleeping soundly, after wondering briefly at his bride's odd behavior. Tonight she would do better, Prudence promised herself as the first stray glimmers of dawn lit the sky. Tonight they would be at Salston, where she would have to prove herself a good and proper wife. Prudence groaned and climbed back into bed, where sleep finally overtook her.

  When she awakened again, she felt disoriented. The bed was not familiar to her, nor the room. And the daylight seemed to indicate that the day was much advanced beyond the early hour at which she normally arose. Frowning, she sat up in bed, only to be overwhelmed by the realization of where she was—and who she was. The newest Lady Ledbetter.

  Her gaze flew to the connecting door between his room and hers. It remained tightly closed, and she could not hear sounds issuing from the next room. Surely Ledbetter would be up by now. And if he were up, would he not have checked on her? Prudence could picture him tapping softly and entering her room when she was sound asleep. She could see him cross the rugged carpet to look down on her and find that she looked perfectly healthy, as she had the previous day. Oh, he would not be fooled. He would know she was faking her illness, and he would be furious with her.

  A knock on her door startled her, and she grabbed at the bedclothes, pulling them up around her. But then she realized it was the door to the corridor from which the sound had issued, and she forced herself to call, “Enter.”

  Mrs. Granger peeked around the door, her face full of concern. But when she saw Prudence sitting up, she smiled broadly. “Just as I told his lordship. A night's sleep has done you a world of good, my lady. I trust you are feeling better.”

  “Much better,” Prudence acknowledged. “Is . . . is Ledbetter next door?”

  “Oh, no. He's made a hearty breakfast and gone out to see to the horses. Seems one of them threw a shoe yesterday, which no one noticed until this morning. Shall I send for him?”

  “Oh, no! I shall be up directly. He must be fretting to be on the road.”

  “Well, the blacksmith is here and seeing to the shoeing, so there's no need to rush, my lady. Shall I bring you a cup of tea and some breakfast in your room?”

  “Thank you. And if there is a girl who could help me to dress before my meal arrives, I would be grateful.”

  Mrs. Granger assured her that she would send Tessie right along, and almost before Prudence had her feet on the floor there was a scraping at the door. Half afraid that it would be Ledbetter, Prudence called for her visitor to enter. The girl who slipped into the room appeared no more than six and ten, but her resemblance to Mrs. Granger seemed to mark her as one of the family. She was quick and competent. Well before her mother arrived with Prudence's breakfast she had their guest disposed into the gown she had packed for the second day of her journey. While Prudence ate, Tessie packed away everything that had been laid out for her the night before.

  “Shall I have the trunk taken down, my lady?” she asked as Prudence took the last sip of her tea.

  “Thank you, yes. Has Lord Ledbetter's trunk gone down?”

  “Oh, yes, but they've been seeing to the shoeing, so there was no way you could have left sooner.” The girl grinned at her, adding, “Not that his lordship would be hinting otherwise, of course. But Lord Ledbetter has stayed here before, and he's always that imp . . . ready to be away, you see.”

  “Yes, I do see.” Prudence studied the young woman thoughtfully. “Are you the Grangers' daughter, Tessie?”

  “I am that. There are four of us, ma'am, all girls.”

  “Just like my own family. And are you the oldest, too?”

  Tessie shook her head. “The third. Only Jessie is younger, and she's seven and ten.”

  Prudence considered. “So you're older than you look.”

  “Almost twenty, my lady.” Tessie wrinkled her nose. “We're all small, so folks think we're children. Jane and Margaret are married with little ones of their own. But folks still take them for schoolgirls.”

  “Very annoying,” Prudence said. Her mind was strongly seized with the idea of making this young woman her dresser. Something about her . . . Well, her lack of awe at Ledbetter, for one thing. Prudence did not want an abigail who fawned over her or her husband. And Tessie would have experience of waiting on ladies from having worked at the inn.

  “Will there be anything else, my lady?” Tessie asked.

  Prudence frowned. “No, yes. Tessie, would you be at all interested in coming to Salston? I'm in need of an abigail or a dresser. Perhaps I should see what awaits me there, but I think you would serve admirably as my personal servant.”

  She noted the girl's surprise, and hedged, “Well, I daresay your parents would be hard pressed to lose you. And there may be a young man in the neighborhood here whom you should not like to leave. Or . . .”

  “Oh, I would like nothing better than to work at Salston!” the young woman declared. “May I? His lordship wouldn't object?”

  It had not occurred to Prudence that her husband might object. Why should he? The choice of a personal servant was surely entirely hers to make. But she hesitated, just long enough to make Tessie take a step backward and say, “It's of no consequence, truly. I see that you were just considering the possibility and .
. .”

  “Tessie, is there some reason you feel Lord Ledbetter would object to your working at Salston?” Such as, that you or one of your sisters has been in his keeping, or something on that order? Prudence hated this direction of her mind, but the question had occurred to her and she did not wish to commit a truly egregious faux pas.

  “Why, no, ma'am. But Salston is such a large, elegant establishment, and most of the servants come from the immediate neighborhood. Perhaps his lordship wouldn't like the daughter of an innkeeper to serve there.”

  Prudence was torn. She did not wish to displease her husband, and she had no knowledge of his hiring policies. But it seemed to her that she would do best—as his sister had suggested—to start out as she meant to go on, at least in this matter of whom she would surround herself with. Prudence did not mean to consult her husband on these domestic decisions, unless it was clear that Salston heritage was somehow involved. And she very much doubted that such a thing could apply to her choice of a dresser.

  “Why don't you send your mother to me, Tessie?” Prudence suggested. “The two of us can talk the matter over and come to a decision, if that will be satisfactory to you.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” Tessie dropped her a curtsy and hurried from the room.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  "I don't understand," Ledbetter said. He had found his wife in the private parlor, looking a little peeked but not otherwise unwell. His brows drew together in a frown as he drew his gloves impatiently through his hands. "You've hired the serving girl from the Crown and Sceptre for your abigail?"

  His bride regarded him with a steady gaze. "Yes, that's correct. She's the Grangers' daughter, she's almost twenty and her mother has agreed that she may come."

  "She can't possibly have any experience as an abigail. Mrs. Collins can help you find a local girl who will serve you better."

  "But I have already hired Tessie," Prudence said with exaggerated patience. "Are you telling me that I may not hire whomever I wish?"

  "Of course not." Ledbetter felt he was being put in an untenable position. He tried reasoning with his impulsive bride. "But you know, my dear, that in coming to a new household you would make a very favorable impression on Mrs. Collins if you were to trust her judgment on who would best serve you at Salston. She is a very knowledgeable woman, who has guided the household for more years than I can remember. I had thought you intended to rely on her when you decided not to bring your abigail from home."

  "Perhaps I did, but I was very taken with Tessie Granger. It will be a step up in the world for her, and I feel she will appreciate it and make the most of it." Her brows rose questioningly. "Is there some particular reason you don't wish me to have Tessie Granger at Salston?"

  He found her question irritating. Surely he didn't have to have a reason for not wanting the girl to be his wife's abigail. Hell, the child looked like she should still be in short skirts—if it was the one he thought it was. Ledbetter felt certain the Grangers had more than one daughter. He drummed his gloves against his thigh in an excess of frustration. "How would she get to Salston? You don't intend for her to share the carriage with us, do you?"

  Astonished, his wife exclaimed, "Of course not! Her father will drive her over at the end of the week." She rose and stood facing him, a slightly more conciliating expression on her pale face. "May I consider it finished then, Ledbetter? Are you agreeable to her coming?"

  "If you are determined upon it," he said grudgingly.

  "Thank you."

  So this was what marriage was like, he thought. Already his bride had kept him from her bed and hired an inn serving girl to wait on her at Salston, home of the Barons Ledbetter for three generations. What would she do next?

  "If you are quite finished here," he said, his manner a little stiff, "perhaps we could be on our way."

  * * * *

  Prudence spent most of the day trying to placate her bridegroom. In the carriage she disposed herself carefully so as not to fall asleep and end up in his lap again. With great attention she listened to his answers to her many questions about Salston: when was it built, in which generations had it been added to, what was the closest village, did Ledbetter have the gift of the parish living, was there a large staff, and did most of them come from the area, etc., etc.

  At first Ledbetter answered rather formally, but he was obviously proud of his heritage and soon Prudence had him talking with enthusiasm about the estate and its farms and the locale. There were questions she asked he did not know the answers to, which a little shocked her, but she did not dwell on them. Perhaps, after all, her father would not know whether there was a school for the farm children, or the ages of the gatekeeper's children.

  Her mental picture of Salston grew with each hour they progressed toward it. Late in the afternoon Ledbetter smiled and said, "And here, at last, we've arrived. Down the avenue of oaks you can see the towers. And when we come around this bend . . . There. That is your new home, my dear Prudence. I hope you will be happy here."

  "I'm sure I shall."

  Prudence had grown up in a fine old manor house, but Salston appeared more on the order of a castle. She could see the whole facade now, from the corner tower on the east to that on the west. The central, stepped back portion was topped with an immense clocktower above a heavily decorated porch. There were pierced balconies and lovely strap work. The stone looked a warm gold and the myriad windows flashed in the waning sunlight.

  "It's beautiful," Prudence whispered, somewhat overcome by its magnificence. "And so graceful. Every room must be filled with light from all those windows."

  The carriage drew to a halt in front of the beautiful stone porch. The steps were let down, and the door thrown open on the instant. Ledbetter jumped down and turned to hand her out. Already a footman was hurrying down the shallow stairs to come to their assistance. The enormous doors into the main hall were thrown open and Prudence could see that the entry was lined with servants to welcome Ledbetter and his bride to Salston.

  This time Prudence had arranged her hat and pelisse before arrival. She accepted Ledbetter's hand and stepped eagerly down to the ground. She knew that a great deal was expected of her in the next few minutes, and she felt perfectly capable of sustaining her role. Ledbetter put her hand on his arm and regarded her with approval. "Let me introduce you to the staff," he said as he led her up the shallow steps and into the Great Hall.

  Prudence was first made known to the butler, Jenkins, and then to the housekeeper, Mrs. Collins, who in turn named each of the others—footmen and maids—lined up for her inspection. Prudence repeated each name and offered a warm smile. There were not as many employees as she had feared, but that was probably because Ledbetter had not been much in residence. Prudence then thanked them all for their welcome and said how much she looked forward to living at Salston.

  Ledbetter indicated his appreciation of her gracious words with a satisfied nod. "I think, Mrs. Collins, that we should show my bride her suite of rooms before we undertake any tour of Salston. There is plenty of time for her to get acquainted with the state rooms. Right now she must wish to refresh herself before we dine."

  A grand staircase rose from the opposite side of the hall, and Prudence followed Mrs. Collins and her husband up to the first floor. They made a turn to the right, heading for the East Wing. Ledbetter explained that she would have his mother's suite, as he had taken over his father's some years before.

  "You'll want to redecorate it, no doubt," he said, "for it's rather old-fashioned. But I'm much inclined to keep the intregrity of the rooms themselves as they are an original part of the building. The furnishings and hangings, carpets and draperies—all those can be replaced."

  "Perhaps in time," she said. "First I need to learn my way around and gain a sense of Salston."

  Mrs. Collins paused before a heavy oak door on the left of the hall. "This will be your suite, my lady. Lord Ledbetter's suite is directly across the hall."

  Prudenc
e experienced a small spasm of nerves at this announcement, but she smiled bravely as the housekeeper pushed open the door. "Oh, how delightful."

  The room was enormous, and on three surfaces there were unseasonable flowers which must have come from the estate succession houses. Candles were already lit in the sconces and the canopied bed was draped with wine velvet hangings. The furniture was of a heavy dark wood, and the carpet a pattern of wine and rose shades.

  Prudence walked the length of the room to the windows and drew aside the cream-colored curtains. She could just see a vast rolling lawn in the last of the daylight.

  "If I might show your ladyship the rest of the suite," Mrs. Collins suggested.

  "Of course." Prudence followed her through two smaller, though no less elegant, chambers, one serving as a dressing room and the other as a private sitting room. Prudence made appropriate remarks on how lovely they were, aware that Ledbetter was watching her reactions with interest. And indeed they were sumptuous rooms, far and away more elegant than anything she had experienced at home.

  Ledbetter stepped forward then and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Collins. I'll show my wife the rest of the East Wing if you will arrange for us to dine in an hour."

  "Certainly, my lord." Mrs. Collins looked a little surprised at this dismissal, but she turned to leave, adding only that hot water would be brought to my lady's room directly. Prudence watched her go with some alarm. She was not best pleased to be left alone with Ledbetter.

  He tucked her hand in his arm and led her back into the corridor. "Mrs. Collins won't breech the inner sanctum of my suite, so I thought I'd best show it to you myself," he said. He reached down to open the door with his free hand, maintaining his link with her arm. There were candles lit in the sconces in his room as well, and the man who had been introduced as his valet, a small Frenchman called Balliot, was already unpacking Ledbetter's trunk.

  "If you will excuse us, Balliot," he drawled, "I'll ring for you when I need you."

  "Very good, my lord," the man said without glancing in Prudence's direction. He bowed slightly before disappearing through the far door.