A Prudent Match (8 page)

His horse was already saddled when he arrived at the stables. They knew his ways there, and understood that every day after he breakfasted, he would appear for a gallop on Thor, unless some emergency held him back. Apparently the stable lads did not consider his marriage anything out of the ordinary, as Thor stomped impatiently when Ledbetter came into the stable yard.

The horse was magnificent. He had cost Ledbetter a great deal more than he should have paid, but once having set eyes on the black stallion, Ledbetter would not be satisfied until he owned him. It was his one regret when he was in London, that the stallion remained at Salston.

But Thor was a high-strung beast and the one time Ledbetter had brought him to the metropolis, Thor had proved impossibly skittish in the hustle and bustle of the city. He had taken objection to every loud noise, had attempted to challenge half a dozen other stallions, and had proved nigh impossible to control in the park.

Thor was built to run and holding him in seemed almost a cruelty. As Ledbetter mounted now, he could feel the muscles tense in the powerful beast. With only a modest urging, Thor surged forward, his stride lengthening with almost impossible speed. Ledbetter gloried in the unfettered freedom of that gallop—across fields, over fences, around the lake. After two days in a carriage, and a night spent cursing himself for a fool, the baron fully appreciated the release of galloping madly across half of his estate before at length guiding Thor toward the village.

The stone church lay at the end of the main street of the village of Forstairs. There were only four streets, and three of them were better described as paths. But the main street was cobbled and well maintained, with shops lining both sides. From boy to man, Ledbetter had come to Forstairs with a certain anticipation, for despite its country aspect, there was one shop which invariably claimed his attention.

The bakery stood next door to the modest inn, and supplied the inn with all manner of baked goods. But the Rules family who had owned the bakery for generations were a truly remarkable group. Not even in London had Ledbetter found their match for scones and pastries and whimsical delicacies. He remembered being allowed as a boy to choose something from the wooden shelves, and how it had been almost an agony to have to pick one from the many wonderful treats.

As he passed on Thor, he waved to Mrs. Rule, who was standing in the doorway having a chat with the dry goods clerk from down the way. She looked surprised at his passing by, but Ledbetter was determined to attend to business first. And business, in this instance, was the village church.

He dismounted close to the wooden doors with their heavy iron handles. The vicar might be in the building, or he might be in the vicarage, but Ledbetter preferred to investigate the church first. For one thing, he wished to see if his mother's instructions had been properly carried out.

Though the day was reasonably bright outdoors, Ledbetter found the interior of the church as gloomy as it had always been. There were too few windows, and those there were contained murky glass which served only to smudge out any light attempting to reach the interior.

Still, there was sufficient light to see the organ. Ledbetter shook his head at the folly of it. It was a magnificent organ, with series upon series of pipes, a gleaming keyboard, an upholstered stool for the organist. But its size was totally disproportionate to the small church. No finer instrument could have been found in the entire county, despite the fact that there were churches ten times the size of that in Forstairs. Lord, Ledbetter thought, the sound must batter the eardrums of every congregant, to say nothing of the rest of the village.

And to what purpose? In a cathedral the organ might have given pleasure to its listeners. The hymns played on it might have uplifted the hearts and souls of worshippers. But here? In Forstairs? What could his mother have been thinking of?

“So, what do you think of our organ, Lord Ledbetter?” a voice behind him asked with a rather heavy Yorkshire accent.

Ledbetter composed his features before turning to face the vicar. “I think it is entirely too large for the church, Mr. Hidgely.”

The vicar regarded him with surprise. “But it is what your dear mama wished, sir. She was quite explicit in her will.”

“Yes, she was,” the baron agreed after a thoughtful pause. “Surprisingly explicit, I have always thought.”

“Dear Lady Ledbetter was a very active member of the church, but the rest of her family has not always followed her lead. For many years she had wished to see the old organ replaced. She made quite a study of organs during her last year.”

All very true, unfortunately. Ledbetter had found information about organs in half the drawers in his mother's desk. She had, it appeared, become quite obsessed with them during her last months. There were replies from manufacturers and London organists answering questions she had obviously posed to them. And he knew for a fact that she enjoyed organ music. But this—this huge organ was a travesty. Surely she had known that the small village church needed a much smaller instrument.

 “A great pity that her study had such an unfortunate result.” Ledbetter reached into the inside pocket of his coat and extracted an envelope. “You will find the balance of the funds covered by this draft, Mr. Hidgely. Though I don't myself believe it was necessary to interpret my mother's legacy as encompassing the rebuilding of that portion of your church which had formerly housed the old organ, I won't quibble with your having done so.”

“We could not very well have got such a large instrument inside without rebuilding, my lord,” the vicar protested. He surreptitiously inspected the figure on the draft and smiled. “We have done precisely what your sainted mother wished, and accomplished it in the year since her death, as she requested. I trust you will be attending the dedication on Sunday.”

Ledbetter was tempted to offer an excuse, but knew better than to do so. “Yes, I'll be here—with my wife.”

Mr. Hidgely frowned. “Your wife? I had no idea you had married. My felicitations, of course.”

“Thank you.” Ledbetter took one last look at the organ before turning to leave. “Sunday, then, Hidgely. I trust you have found someone to play it.”

“Indeed, my lord. A most exceptional young man. We are truly lucky to have found someone so talented.”

“Excellent.”

Ledbetter nodded to the vicar and made his way from the gloomy church into the light of day. Thor waited impatiently where the baron had left him, but instead of springing onto his mount, Ledbetter took hold of his reins and led him up the street. “I need to get
some
pleasure from this visit,” he muttered, tying his horse in front of the Rules’ bakery.

* * * *

Ledbetter's second errand had proved no more satisfactory than his first, and by the time he arrived back at Salston he was in an irritable frame of mind. His marriage was so new to him, and so preoccupied was he with the frustrations of the morning, that he was literally startled to discover Prudence arranging flowers in a vase in the Great Hall.

He had come through a side door where he had left his muddy boots, and proceeded in stocking feet through the small parlor and into the hall. Because he made no sound whatsoever, his wife didn't hear him enter, and he was able to observe her unaware for several minutes.

As promised, she had left her hair unbound and it made a glorious cloud around her head. The dress he had buttoned that morning fit her figure well, and not for the first time he remarked on what a fine figure it was. She hummed to herself, her deft fingers working the blossoms into a clever arrangement. She looked for all the world as though she'd been at Salston for years, and was quite happy to be there.

“My dear,” he said softly, so as not to startle her, “Mrs. Collins has already put you to work, has she?”

“Hardly. If I had nothing to do, I should be bored to death. Have you lost your boots, Led . . . William?”

“Just obeying an old rule of my mother's never to track mud into the house. I suppose, being master of the place, I could track mud where I like, but old habits die hard.”

“Thank heaven. If you've been in the stable yard, it's not just mud your boots would be tracking in.”

He moved close to her, and captured one of her hands, which he lifted to his mouth to kiss. “You look the picture of domesticity, Prudence. Have you spent the morning familiarizing yourself with Salston?”

She watched a little nervously as he raised the other hand to his lips. “Yes. Mrs. Collins gave me a thorough tour this morning. There are a number of matters I wish to discuss with you, but there is no urgency about any of them. Did you have a good ride?”

“The ride was fine.” He pulled her toward himself and would have kissed her, but a footman appeared in the doorway to announce that the light collation my lady had ordered was available in the breakfast parlor. Prudence took the opportunity to loosen her hands from his grip as she turned to the footman. “Thank you, Gibbons. I'll be along in a moment.”

When she turned back to him, she looked a little hesitant. “Will you wish to change before you eat, William?”

“I had something in Market Stotton. You go ahead. I'll change into something to wear to the Mannings’.”

“You've been to Market Stotton? But that's a good fifteen miles away, is it not?”

“Twelve. I had business there.” And being reminded of it served to rouse his temper again. He turned away from her. “I'll be ready to leave by two.”

“Very well.”

* * * *

Prudence chose her emerald velvet bonnet, because it served to tame her hair as well as matching the trim of her gown. She was ready and waiting in the front parlor when Ledbetter appeared at precisely two o'clock. When he saw her, he smiled appreciatively.

“Fetching, my dear. Green suits you very well.”

Prudence dropped a shy curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”

He tucked her arm inside his and led her toward the hall. “The Mannings live about half a mile away, so I thought we'd take the phaeton. I was tempted to surprise them with my news, but thought better of it.”

“You sent a message ahead, then?”

“Yes, informing them that I would be bringing my bride to visit.”

Prudence glanced up at his face but she couldn't read anything of significance there. “They must have been astonished to hear that you had married.”

“Probably, but all Geoffrey wrote back was: ‘We'll be here’.”

“A man of few words.”

Ledbetter looked thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose he is. With a very sweet wife, his childhood sweetheart. I think we have both known Catherine all our lives. They've been married forever, and have a number of children. I don't remember how many precisely. Catherine’s forever increasing.”

Prudence felt color rush to her face. He hadn't said it to distress her, she knew, so she fought to overcome her discomfort. “I imagine you are godfather to at least one of them,” she suggested.

“Why, no, they've never done me that honor.” Apparently this struck him as somewhat unusual, now the thought had been put in his mind. “I daresay it is because I am so much in London.”

“No doubt.” To change the subject, she said, “And how long has your sister been married?”

“Oh, Harriet met Markham at her come-out. That must be four years ago. She married him that very summer.” Ledbetter halted abruptly in the hallway just as a footman was opening the front door for them. “But she's godmother to one of the Mannings' children, and she doesn't even live in the county anymore. What do you make of that?”

“I imagine she is a very close friend of Lady Manning.”

“Well, she is, but I am a very close friend of both of them.” Ledbetter started walking again, but a decided frown had gathered on his brow.

“It may be only that you were a single man,” Prudence offered by way of explanation. “Perhaps they thought you would not wish for the responsibility.”

“Ha! More like they did not wish for my bad influence,” he muttered.

They had reached the phaeton and Ledbetter assisted Prudence onto the high seat. All things considered, she would have preferred a closed carriage, but Ledbetter had really not offered her a choice. She imagined he preferred to drive himself when he could, and when the weather looked promising.

Ledbetter sprang up beside her and gathered the reins from the stable lad who had been holding them. But he hesitated then, cocking his head toward her. “Are you going to be warm enough, Prudence? That redingote looks a little thin for a drive. Ah, you thought we would be taking the chaise, didn't you?”

“I'll be fine.”

Ledbetter regarded her ruefully. “I hope there is not a streak of the martyr in you, my dear, for I'm so accustomed to doing precisely as I please that I probably won't even notice your sacrifices.”

Prudence laughed. “I can well believe it. But what are my options, sir? If I make you wait for me to go in and search out a heavier garment, you will be impatient. If I suggest that we change carriages, you will be exasperated with me, and the delay will be even longer. I fear my first answer was the correct one. I shall be fine.”

 “I suppose I
would
be impatient, but you will learn to pay no heed to that. My sister does not. In fact, I cannot think when she's been ready on time, even for church. I admit I was inordinately pleased to find you waiting for me just now. Here,” he said, handing her the reins, “I'll run in and get one of Harriet's heavy shawls from the side room. She leaves one there for taking walks when she visits.”

Prudence accepted the reins without fear, as the groom still stood at the horses' heads. Her husband sprang down from the carriage and bounded up the stairs and into the house. His was such a fine, athletic figure that she could not help but admire it—from a distance. He was gone no more than three minutes, and returned carrying a blue woolen shawl which had perhaps seen better days. He grimaced as he placed it around her shoulders.

“I'm afraid it's a bit disreputable, to say nothing of not matching your charming outfit. But it will surely keep you warm, and if you are so inclined, you may remove it before we drive up to Sir Geoffrey's door.”