The Marriage Market

by Cathy Spencer

  “I thought that we could begin with a tour of the stable, Father, followed by a little shooting.”

  “Do you shoot, Miss House?” Victoria asked in surprise.

  Mr. House answered for her. “Yes, indeed, Mrs. Ladbrook. I have raised my daughter to be as good a shot as my sons. A woman living in the country should know how to handle firearms. You never know when you are going to have to deal with some vermin or other.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Ladbrook, we will not ask you to do any shooting. You can applaud our successes and commiserate over our failures instead,” Margaret said.

  Her step-mother hurried into the room with cap ribbons flying in her wake. “I do apologize for not being here to greet you on your arrival, Mr. and Mrs. Ladbrook. I was just seeing Nurse about the children. Poor little Henry has caught a cold.” She hurried over to James, who sprang to his feet. “You must be Mr. Wovington, Margaret’s new friend. How do you do, sir,” she said, bobbing him a curtsy. She turned to her step-daughter before James had straightened. “Have you been playing hostess to our guests, Margaret? Thank you, my dear. How is the seed cake this morning? Not too dry, I hope? Cook just does not seem to have the knack for seed cake.”

  Margaret responded in a soothing tone, “The cake is fine, Caroline. Don’t fuss. You caught us just as we were about to leave for a walk to the stable. You will join us and get a little air, won’t you?”

  Mr. House added, “Yes, do come with us, my dear. You are altogether too much in the house for your own good. You would benefit from a little exercise.”

  “I will if you think the path is dry, Mr. House. I would not wish the ladies to soil their slippers.”

  Her husband said, “It is decidedly dry, Mrs. House. Have no fear of damaging your finery. Come along, everyone, time for the stable. I have a fine new colt that I want to show you, Ladbrook. He should make a strong showing at the races in a couple of years.”

  They left the house and strolled down the path to the stable. Margaret and James walked together in front, Margaret pointing out various features of the house and grounds to her guest, and soon they had all arrived at the stable. It was an airy brick building with half a dozen horses housed comfortably within. A hilly pasture opened up behind it, where another seven horses grazed on lush grass.

  “Over there is my hunter, Dancer,” Miss House said, walking over to a tall bay gelding who thrust his head out the stall door at the sound of her voice. “How are you today, my beautiful boy?” she asked, stroking his satiny head. She offered him half an apple, and the animal removed it dexterously from the palm of her hand. “Mrs. Ladbrook, come over here and see Miss Suzy,” she added, pointing to the next stall. “This is the mare I recommended to you for learning how to jump.”

  The animal nickered and thrust her head out. Victoria approached the short chestnut mare and tentatively patted her head. David joined her and scratched between Miss Suzy’s ears. “You are a good old girl, aren’t you,” he said in an approving tone. Miss Suzy rubbed her muzzle against David’s shoulder.

  Mr. House gestured to a roomy stall across the corridor. “Here’s the new colt I was telling you about, Ladbrook – in here with his dam.”

  The group gathered around the door to peer at the strong young animal, who eyed them back curiously. His mother shoved him to the rear of the stall, however, and wedged herself between the colt and his visitors.

  Mr. House spoke to her gently, “Come, Star, we’re not going to hurt your foal.” She stepped forward and hung her head over the half open door. Mr. House rubbed the mare’s shoulder, and she snorted softly on top of his balding head.

  “What a fine little fellow,” David said. “Good clean legs and a deep chest.”

  “Yes, I am pleased with him. We sold a filly out of the dam, but I will not part with this one,” the proud owner said.

  The company was examining the remaining animals when they heard an angry squeal and the sound of pounding hooves outside in the pasture. “Fireball is feeling pretty frisky this morning,” Margaret remarked as she looked out the stable door. The rest of the group joined her and watched a muscular stallion chase a mare up the hill, causing the other horses to scatter.

  “He is a devil, that one. He’s Ralph’s horse,” Mrs. House said.

  “Good-looking animal,” James commented.

  Ralph said, “Do much riding, Wovington? If you like, you can ride Fireball while you’re here. He needs the exercise.”

  “I get out now and then. I would be happy to give him some exercise, especially if Miss House will accompany me.”

  The lady smiled at James. “I would enjoy that, sir, but let us have a little shooting first. The badger and rabbit populations are too abundant this year. I’ve asked Cook to prepare some sandwiches for the outing. We can make an afternoon of it.”

  Mrs. House interjected, “Now, Mrs. Ladbrook, just because Margaret likes to join the men is no reason to over exert yourself. Perhaps you would prefer visiting the nursery with me this afternoon?” She fell into step with Victoria as the group left the stable.

  “It is no trouble, Mrs. House,” Victoria replied. “Actually, I would welcome the exercise.”

  “But once they begin, they will tramp for miles across country, getting their clothes into a frightful state. I am sure that you will find it extremely tedious.”

  Mr. House said, “My dear, you should not measure Mrs. Ladbrook’s constitution by your own. You know that you tire easily, particularly in your present condition.”

  His wife turned to him with a worried expression. “What if Mrs. Ladbrook were to ride out with the footman when he brings the luncheon? She could meet you part-way. Otherwise, I will fret about her comfort all afternoon.”

  Victoria hastened to reply, “What an excellent idea, Mrs. House, and a very considerate one. I’m sure that there is time for both a nursery visit and the hunting party.”

  Mrs. House was mollified. The group returned to the manor to change their clothes while Mrs. House commandeered Victoria for a tour of the house. She was led through all of the first floor rooms, including a darkly-panelled dining room with an enormous stone mantle and a formal ballroom large enough to hold twenty couples comfortably. She and her hostess climbed a wide staircase to the second floor, Mrs. House pointing out the portraits of all the ancestors along the way, and giving a rambling history of each one. Then she invited Victoria to see her own room.

  “This is my own little refuge, Mrs. Ladbrook,” her hostess said, proudly leading the way into a very feminine room trimmed with an abundance of lace and pink ruffles. A fainting couch piled with pillows was drawn up before the hearth, while a large screen festooned with roses the size of cabbages protected the bed from drafts.

  “What a pretty room, and so comfortable,” Victoria remarked, her eyes drawn from one frippery to the next.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Ladbrook. The former Mrs. House had a smaller chamber facing the front lawn, but I much prefer my view of the garden. My step-daughter very kindly traded rooms with me when I moved into the manor. You see, she is gone visiting most of the year anyway, and she does not require much more than a bed and a wardrobe to make her happy.”

  “A very practical arrangement,” Victoria said, wondering if Margaret had felt supplanted in more ways than one when her father had taken a second wife.

  Climbing a plain wooden staircase to the third floor, Mrs. House showed Victoria into the nursery. It was a large, comfortable room, decorated with sturdy wooden furniture and cheery blue and green-striped wallpaper. Little Tom lay on a rug in the middle of the room, contentedly gumming a wooden block. His older brother, Henry, was seated at a child-sized table drawing on a slate with a piece of chalk. Nurse sat in a rocking chair repairing a tear in a pair of short trousers. She stood and curtsied as the women entered the room.

  “Here are my darlings. Look, I have brought a pretty lady to meet you. Come here and give Mother a kiss, Henry.”

  Henry ran over to his mother and hu
gged her around the legs. He was a sturdy little boy with his mother’s fair hair and blue eyes. She bent and kissed the top of his head. The child snuffled loudly and wiped his sleeve across his face. Mrs. House laid her palm upon his forehead.

  “He feels a little warm, Nurse. Do you think his cold is getting worse?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am, he is quite himself this morning. He was copying his letters for me earlier, and now he’s drawing a picture of the house.”

  “Look, Mamma, look, I am going to draw you beside the door. Come see what I have drawn,” he demanded. He towed his mother over to the table while Victoria sat down on the rug beside the baby.

  “Hello, Tom, do you remember me?” she asked. The child stared at her solemnly. Victoria untied a ribbon from her hair and held it out to him. “See what I have for you? It’s a pretty blue ribbon.” Tom gazed at it for a moment before creeping into Victoria’s lap to retrieve it. He took the ribbon from her fingers and sucked on the end of it. Victoria laughed and scooped the child up into her arms.

  “He is a darling, Mrs. House,” she said, stroking Tom’s chubby cheek.

  “Yes, he is a little angel. Such a placid child. He does not fret, even when he is cutting a tooth. Now Henry was a very different sort of baby, nervous and crying all the time. I had the apothecary here almost every day the first few weeks after his birth. But he finally grew out of it, and now he is as good as gold.”

  The child under discussion tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Look, Mama, I am drawing Mouser, the cat. See, here are his stripes. Look, Mama.”

  Mrs. House ignored him. “Henry is quite a bright little boy for his age. He is only four, but already he can trace an A, B, C, and D. But then, I was always good at my letters too, so I imagine that he takes after me.” The child continued to yank on his mother’s sleeve, volubly demanding her attention.

  “His father put him on our pony the other day and led him around the paddock. I worry about Henry learning to ride at such a young age, but his father assures me that riding is almost second nature to the boy, and that no harm can befall him when his Papa is holding the reins.”

  “Mama, look. Look at my picture!” Henry screamed, throwing his slate as hard as he could. It bounced on the floor, nearly striking Victoria and the baby. The little boy burst into tears and collapsed onto his desk.

  “Now, Henry, that was very naughty of you. You must not lose your temper and throw things,” his mother said, bending toward him. The child howled louder, his head resting on his arms. His mother tried to raise him up, but Henry yanked away from her and threw himself onto the floor.

  “Henry, get up. You will ruin your clothes. Stop being a bad boy,” his mother said, her voice growing stern. He ignored her and began drumming his feet upon the floor, his face becoming alarmingly red. “Nurse, do something. Look how red his face is getting. Crying so hard when he is already sick cannot be good for him.”

  Nurse crouched down beside the boy and stroked his back. “Now, Master Henry, what did I tell you about carrying on like this?” she asked quietly. “You know that you will only get hot and cross. Get up, now, and I will bathe your face with some cool water.”

  The child’s crying slowed, and he took her hand and got up off the floor. Nurse led him to a table holding a ewer of water, where she mopped Henry’s face and dried it. The child hiccupped a little, his eyes cast toward the floor. Nurse picked up his slate, chalk, and rag, walked him back to the rocking chair, and drew him onto her lap.

  “This is a very good picture you drew of the cat. You even drew the little white tip on his ear. Why don’t you draw a picture of your dog for me now?”

  The child wiped the slate with the rag and, biting his lower lip, began to concentrate on his next picture.

  Mrs. House said, “That’s a good boy, Henry. You see how much happier you are when you control your temper. It is his only fault, Mrs. Ladbrook, but you know how difficult it is for children to learn control. Sometimes I wonder if he is not a bit jealous of his younger brother. Children often vie for their mother’s attention, do they not? I am sure that he will get over these outbursts when he is older. But we must leave the children for the present. Nurse will be putting them down for their naps soon.”

  Victoria kissed the top of Tom’s curls and placed the baby back on the floor. She rose, smoothed her skirts, and joined her hostess at the nursery door.

  Mrs. House said, “Goodbye, my dears. I will look in on you again after your supper. Be good for Nurse.” Nurse nodded from her chair while Henry concentrated on his drawing. Tom went back to gnawing on the wooden block.

  The two women left the nursery and went downstairs, Mrs. House saying, “I think it time to send the footman with the sandwiches, Mrs. Ladbrook. I am certain that our hunters will be hungry by now. Do you still wish to join them, or would you prefer to rest this afternoon? I often rest in my room at this time of day. Otherwise, I would be no good in the evening.”

  “Thank you, but I am not at all tired, Mrs. House. I look forward to seeing more of the grounds, in fact. Only let me make some quick alterations to my dress, and I will be ready directly.”

  “Very well, Mrs. Ladbrook. Whatever you think best. I will have the footman wait for you.”

  The two ladies separated, and Victoria hurried to make her preparations. Ten minutes later, she had joined the footman on the wagon’s wide seat and they were putting the house behind them. The day was overcast, but mild. Victoria inhaled the earthy air deeply, glad to be outdoors again. The horse trotted down the laneway, pulling the wagon past the formal garden with its low stone wall and temple-styled folly. They turned onto a wide footpath leading into a meadow resplendent with spring wildflowers. Birds flitted in and out of the trees, and the sun occasionally peaked through the clouds, making the tender green leaves shimmer. They rode until the footman had to stop the wagon at the outer edge of a wood. He jumped down and assisted Victoria from the seat before retrieving a large hamper from the wagon bed.

  “It’s this way, ma’am. We follow the path through the woods until we come to a clearing. It’s not very far, if you will follow me.”

  Victoria and the footman were following the path when they heard the sound of raised male voices. Glancing at each other, they hurried forward and soon emerged into a clearing. The shooting party was emerging from the trees on the other side, Mr. House, leading the way with two guns slung over his shoulder. Behind him, David and Ralph supported a young man between them whom Victoria had never seen before. The stranger limped along slowly, his head bowed and his arms encircling their shoulders. Margaret and James trailed behind them, carrying the rest of the guns.

  “Something’s happened to Master Timothy!” the footman shouted, putting down the hamper and sprinting toward the group. Mr. House, Sr. handed his two guns to the footman and took David’s place beside his son. Victoria hurried to meet her husband after staring at the bloodied cloth tied round the injured man’s thigh.

  “What happened, David?” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry, Victoria, it’s not as bad as it looks. That’s Timothy House, the younger son. There was an accident and he got shot, but it’s only a flesh wound. The bullet has gone clear through. We applied a tourniquet immediately, so he hasn’t lost much blood. A surgeon will be summoned as soon as we return to the house.”

  “I’ll lead the horse and wagon in closer, sir,” the footman said to Mr. House before turning and running back across the clearing.

  “Let’s put Tim on that rock over there so he can rest until Nigel brings the wagon,” Mr. House said. Ralph and his father half-carried Timothy there, and he sank down wearily on the rock. Tipping his head up to say something to his father, Victoria saw his face for the first time. He was handsome with his sister’s inky black hair, prominent cheekbones, and long lashes fringing light blue eyes. He was as tall as his father and brother, but slimmer.

  Margaret and James caught up to him. “How are you feeling, Tim?” she asked.


  “I’ll live,” he grunted.

  She snorted and lowered the gun from her shoulder onto the ground. “Of course you will, you idiot. It’s your own fault you got shot in the first place. You do look pale, though. Ralph, give him some more brandy.”

  Ralph drew a flask from his pocket and handed it to his brother. “Hope it puts some colour back into your face. You look like a corpse.” Timothy shot him a nasty look before taking a deep draught.

  Victoria heard a rattling noise and turned to see the footman guiding the horse and wagon over the rutted ground at the edge of the clearing. “It was tight getting through the trees, sir,” the footman said as he came closer. “I’ll lead the horse on the way back until we are clear of the woods.”

  “Very good, Nigel,” Mr. House said, clapping the footman on the shoulder. Turning back to the others, he said, “Come, boys, let’s get him into the back of the wagon so he can lie down. Stow the guns in beside him, and I’ll ride up front with young Nigel.”

  David leapt onto the vehicle and helped Ralph to lift his brother inside. Stripping off his coat, David bundled it under Timothy’s head to serve as a pillow. James lifted up the guns and David slid them under the seat.

  James leaned against the wagon to address the injured man. “Please let me apologize again, Mr. House. I am extremely sorry about this. I hope that your leg will be better soon.”

  Margaret responded, “Do not baby him, Mr. Wovington. Timothy is indestructible. Besides, it’s not the first time you’ve been shot, is it Tim? Although it’s usually by a jealous husband or an angry father, eh, you young cad?” She laughed while Timothy scowled at her.

  Her father said from his seat, “Now, don’t kick a man when he’s down, daughter. Let’s go, young Nigel,” and the footman led them away until the horse and wagon disappeared from view among the trees.

  “I’m ravenous,” Ralph said. “Let’s see what Cook has sent for sandwiches.” He picked up the hamper from where the footman had deposited it on the grass, and set it upon the rock his brother had just vacated. Opening it, he pulled out an assortment of sandwiches, a wedge of cheese, and some jars of ale. Margaret and James crowded round him, Margaret choosing a ham sandwich and sinking onto the ground to eat. Victoria hung back a little with David.