A Prudent Match by Laura Matthews Read Free Book Online Page A

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