Hilary Gilman
Gamble with Hearts
Pleasant Street Publications
By the same author
Historical Romance
Dangerous Masquerade
Moonlight Masquerade
The Cautious Heart
Fantasy
Tides of Fire (as Hilary Lester)
Copyright © 1980 Hilary Gilman
Reissued in 2011 by Pleasant Street Publications
All rights reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First published in the United Kingdom by Robert Hale Ltd. 1980
This edition re-issued for Kindle by Hilary Gilman
https://sites.google.com/site/mermaidsandmasquerades/home
ONE
Mrs Wrexham sat weeping silently into her handkerchief, not daring to lift her eyes to the exquisite countenance before her.
‘You wish me to marry Mr Wimple?’ her daughter repeated incredulously. ‘Dearest Mama, you cannot be serious!’
There was no reply from the afflicted lady who wept all the harder into her dainty handkerchief. She felt quite sure that she was the worst and most miserable mother alive, but what was she to do? Things had been left so awkwardly. The house to which she had been brought as a bride was entailed away to some horrid cousin no one knew or cared anything about, while she and her lovely daughter had only a pittance upon which to support the elegances of life. Then, quite unexpectedly, had come Mr Wimple's most obliging offer. True, he was rather old but there could be no doubt that he was in a position to care for Charlotte and her unfortunate mama. Mrs Wrexham sniffed and raised tearful blue eyes to her daughter's stricken face.
‘I do not wish it exactly, if you do not care for it, my dear—’ she began timidly.
‘Care for it!’ interrupted Charlotte ruthlessly. ‘Oh Mama, how could you have even considered it? Why, he must be fifty if he is a day!’
‘My love, I do not think you quite understand our position. I know how you have grieved for Papa, indeed I miss him quite dreadfully myself, and for that reason I have not wished to add to your burden. But now I think you must know. Oh my love, we are left almost penniless! You know how kind, how generous Papa always was. I need not tell you how beloved he was, but he never could understand that we simply did not have enough money for general philanthropy. In helping the whole of humanity he has left his own family destitute!’ she finished upon a sob.
Impulsively Charlotte threw her arms around her afflicted mama, petting and soothing her into a calmer frame of mind. Mrs Wrexham accepted these ministrations passively and in a little while was able to dry her reddened eyes and even achieve a wan smile. Relieved to see her mama restored to her usual tranquil state, Charlotte released the hand she held and began to pace swiftly up and down in frowning abstraction.
‘Mama,’ she said, stopping abruptly after several minutes. ‘Just how poor are we? Surely there must be something left. Was there not an annuity, and I have some of Grandmother's money yet to come, have I not?’
‘I am afraid Papa borrowed upon the annuity, my love. There is barely one hundred pounds a year and from your grandmother you have about five hundred pounds, that is all. I had a letter from your cousin this very morning and although he is very polite and begs us to stay here as long as is convenient, I am sure that he is anxious to take possession of the house. So you see, although I would never ask you to do anything distasteful to you, Mr Wimple’s offer has come most opportunely.’
She cast a swift glance at her daughter under her lashes. ‘You know, my love, it is not as though you were a romantic miss; indeed I have sometimes thought—’ her voice trailed off and she regarded her daughter apprehensively.
‘Well Mama, what have you thought?’ demanded Charlotte.
‘I have thought that perhaps you are a little heartless, my dear. Oh, not to me, I could never say that, and I know how sincerely you loved Papa, but—tell me, has there ever been any young man for whom you have felt the smallest tendre?’
‘No, you are quite right. There has been no one. Perhaps I am not so constituted as to be able to love in that fashion. However, there is a vast difference between marrying with respect and liking, and marrying for money alone. Besides, Mr Wimple does not have so very much money after all. Now listen, dearest, for I have a plan!’
‘Good gracious, what have you got into your head now, child?’ asked Mrs Wrexham faintly.
‘Nothing dreadful I promise. Let us examine our situation. We have barely enough money to support us genteelly. We have no friends to whom we can turn for support. We are in effect without resources. Therefore I must marry. No, dearest, let me finish! You say I am unromantic; very well, let us by all means be practical. If I must marry money, then let me marry as much money as I can, and let us see if I cannot get a title while I am about it!’
Mrs Wrexham stared at her extraordinary daughter in some bewilderment. ‘I am not sure I understand you, Charlotte,’ she said.
‘It is very simple, dearest. I have said we are without resources, but that is not quite true. We have myself! I am eighteen years old and I have never been to any but country balls. I have never been to any town bigger than Buxton where we went to drink the waters. Yet since I was sixteen I have had four offers of marriage. Think then what might happen in London!’
‘London!’ gasped Mrs Wrexham.
‘Why not? Look at me, Mama. You know that I am not vain. I have never cared about my looks, nor have I tried to dress to show myself to advantage, but I am not blind. I know that I am beautiful and I see no reason why I should not use that fact to the advantage of us both!’
In saying that she was beautiful Charlotte Wrexham was stating a simple truth. She was also quite truthful in asserting that she was not at all vain. Growing up the close companion of a charming and intellectual scholar, she was happiest helping her father with his charities, studying with him in the evenings and accompanying him on his brisk walks across the Derbyshire moors he loved. She had inherited from him a good deal of his wit and charm but also the trace of aloofness that kept everyone at a distance with the exception of her mama, for whom she felt very much the same indulgent, protective affection as had her father.
If, however, she had her papa's character, she had inherited her mother's looks and there was no denying that these had been spectacular. They possessed the same rich golden-brown hair, only a little faded in the older woman, the same violet blue eyes fringed with thick inky lashes, the same lovely line of cheekbone and jaw. Charlotte's lips were perhaps a shade more generous and wilful than Mrs Wrexham’s rosebud mouth, and there was a fine intelligence in her blue eyes which her gentle mama quite lacked. Her figure was tall and elegant, although she habitually clothed it in a severely cut riding habit, bundling up the lovely hair under an outmoded hat. Nevertheless, she never looked less than a lady and was particular about her gloves.
The blue eyes were sparkling with excitement now as she eagerly watched her mother who was looking very thoughtful.
‘My love, it has long been my sorrow that our situation made it impossible to give you a London season, for you are quite wasted here; but how may it be contrived when we are even worse off now than before Papa's death?’
‘Mama, do you truly believe that if we went to London, I could contrive to make a good match?’
‘Yes my love, I do,’ answered Mrs Wrexham resolutely. ‘I think that you could accomplish anything you set your mind to.’
‘Then let us sell the annuity!’
‘Sell the annuity!’ repeated Mr
s Wrexham, startled. ‘My love, how could we?’
‘It is often done, dearest, I assure you. We could get perhaps as much as a thousand pounds which with my five hundred would furnish us with enough for just one season. We may depend upon my dear Aunt Letitia for an introduction to the Ton, may we not? Indeed, we might perhaps stay with her, which would reduce our expenses greatly. It must be lonely for her in that great house now that my cousins have all set up establishments of their own.’
‘My dear, your Aunt was never lonely in her life. I'll be bound she is enjoying herself vastly. Nevertheless she is a kind, good-natured creature and would no doubt welcome us.'
‘Well then, Mama. What do you say to my proposition?’ demanded Charlotte eagerly.
Mrs Wrexham had the sensation of being swept along by the force of a will stronger than her own; yet when she looked at the glowing young creature before her, standing so gracefully, her burnished head shining in the morning light, she could not believe that they would fail. Surely it was worth the risk?
‘Very well, Charlotte,’ she answered firmly. ‘How must we set about it?’
Having obtained her mama's consent to her plan, Charlotte wasted no time. She wrote to her Aunt upon whose co-operation so much depended, and awaited her reply with some impatience. With what relief did she eventually receive her Aunt's kind invitation! Without saying anything precisely vulgar she had managed to convey to her Aunt Letitia the true reason for their sudden descent upon her, and in her answering letter Lady Northwood was able to indicate with the utmost delicacy her understanding and willingness to assist her sister and niece with all that lay in her power.
With this assurance Charlotte was more than content. That very morning she donned her most modish pelisse and drove herself into the bustling little town of Buxton. She descended upon her man of business with a swiftness that left that worthy gentleman somewhat bemused. She had some difficulty in persuading him to do as she requested, however. To sell the annuity, their only protection against poverty, seemed to him to be madness. Charlotte, however, had had the foresight to provide herself with a letter of authority from Mrs Wrexham, and so the poor gentleman was helpless and engaged himself to endeavour to attain the best price he could for them. Charlotte, unperturbed by his evident disapproval, shook hands briskly and took herself off to her next port of call. This was the one fashionable modiste that the little town boasted.
Madame Blanche, originally Agnes Jenkins, was much patronised by the Wrexham ladies as she was inexpensive and had very good taste. She had never been called upon however to produce the kind of wardrobe the ladies needed now, and had not Lady Northwood been kind enough to send her niece several copies of La Belle Assemblée, she would have been rather overpowered by the task. One glance through the pages of this invaluable periodical was enough to fire her enthusiasm and the two women spent a very pleasant afternoon discussing the finer points of ruching, frilling, quilting and other such fascinating topics. Mrs Wrexham had already given Charlotte full instructions concerning her own gowns. Although only six months had passed since the death of her husband, she was determined, for the success of their scheme, to lighten her mourning and had commissioned Charlotte to procure some soft lilacs and pearl-grey satins for her. It had been agreed between them that as they were quite unknown in London there was no need at all for Charlotte to wear mourning. Clearly she must appear to the best advantage if the scheme were to answer. This was not so distasteful to Miss Wrexham as might have been expected, as her Papa had often expressed his opinion that mourning was a barbaric custom and had charged his daughter never to turn herself into a scarecrow on his account.
This essential business having been transacted, Charlotte returned to her mama in triumph and prophesied that the whole plan would work out splendidly.
The financial arrangements having been made, the next and most pressing problem was how they were ever to get to London at all. Both ladies understandably shrank from travelling upon the common stage, yet post charges were prohibitive and the money could ill be spared. Charlotte devoted a good deal of thought to this difficulty and one evening as they sat before a cosy fire occupied with their embroidery, she decided to lay before her mama the plan that had resulted from her cogitations.
‘Mama, dearest, I have been thinking,’ she began, rather to the alarm of Mrs Wrexham, who had had experience recently of where her daughter's thinking could lead her.
‘Have you, my love?’
‘Of course I have, and I think I see a way out of our difficulty.’
‘Which difficulty is that, Charlotte?’ asked her mama, to whom life appeared suddenly to be rather overcrowded with them.
‘Why, how we are to get to London, of course. Now tell me, our cousin is most anxious to take possession of this house, is he not?’
‘I fear so, my love, for he has a large family, you know, and I believe his wife is increasing again. From the tone of his last letter I could tell that he is becoming impatient.’
‘Very well, dearest, let us present this churlish cousin with a proposition. He wishes us to go. We wish for nothing better than to leave. Let him provide the means for our departure!’
‘I do not quite understand what is in your mind, my dear,’ replied Mrs Wrexham, puzzled.
‘We shall write to our cousin and inform him of our plan to go to London as soon as may be. We shall tell him that only the necessity of finding the funds for the journey is keeping us here. If he does not instantly offer to frank us I will eat my best bonnet!’
Mrs Wrexham was aghast. ‘Charlotte, how can you contemplate begging from a man we do not even know in that way? It would be the height of vulgarity to mention any such thing to him. In fact I forbid it!’
Charlotte laughed, quite unabashed. ‘Oh, I shall not be so obvious as that. The merest hint will be all that is required, I am sure. If you wish, you may read the letter that I propose to send and if it offends you in any way I shall forget the whole idea and procure us seats upon the stage.’
In the end the letter was sent with Mrs Wrexham's reluctant assent and the outcome proved even better than Charlotte had anticipated. The coach which was to convey their cousin from London to Derbyshire could, with no difficulty, be put at the disposal of the two ladies for its return journey; thus, as their cousin felicitously expressed it, killing two birds with one stone. The prospect of spending the four or five days of the journey in a gentleman's private carriage rather than the notoriously uncomfortable stagecoach was so gratifying to Mrs Wrexham that she informed her daughter that she would never doubt her wisdom again.
Charlotte, who was engaged in trying on a gown which had that very morning been sent from Madame Blanche, received this tribute rather absently. She was surveying herself critically more in the manner of an actress trying on a costume than a young girl with a new gown.
‘Well, dearest? What do you think?’ she asked, craning round her neck in a fruitless attempt to see the back. ‘Will it do?’
Mrs Wrexham studied her daughter in silence for a moment and then gave a little nod. ‘Charlotte, it is charming. I have never seen you look so well!’
Indeed the delicious confection of apple-green crepe became Miss Wrexham very well. It brought out the golden lights in her hair and made her delicate skin appear even whiter. There was a stylish little ruffle of lace around the high collar providing an attractive frame for her face, and around her pretty ankles there frothed a superfluity of flounces.
Charlotte smiled at her reflection in the glass. ‘Yes, Mama, I think you are right. How fortunate for our schemes that I make such an excellent clothes horse!’
Mrs Wrexham was startled by the unexpected bitterness in her young daughter's voice, but a moment later Charlotte was laughing and her mother was able to dismiss the incident from her mind.
Indeed she had little time to spare to ponder upon her daughter's state of mind. Their cousin was to arrive in only three weeks’ time and everything must be ready for their departure
. Most of their possessions were put into storage within the following sennight and the house seemed horridly bare and echoing without their familiar presence.
By working herself and her unfortunate seamstresses at an unprecedented rate and ignoring the claims of less rewarding clients, Madame Blanche was able to deliver all the gowns, pelisses, bonnets and fripperies the ladies required, in very good time. A constant stream of bandboxes was to be seen arriving, the contents of which were as exquisite as any girl could desire. Charlotte was particularly pleased with a ball gown that she hoped to wear when she made her first appearance, for a good deal rested on the effect of this gown. Rightly feeling that tiny puffed sleeves and demure ribbons would not suit her rather queenly style, Charlotte had chosen a gown of classical simplicity. It was white as befitted a debutante, but there was sophistication about the gown that argued a taste and refinement unusual in a girl of her age. There was elegance in every flowing line of the delicate silk, which clung around her statuesque form, emphasising the lovely curves and then fell to the floor in a shining cascade. With it she wore a spangled scarf of some cobweb-like material, caught negligently at her elbows, and most daring of all, tiny golden slippers encased her slender feet. Charlotte, wise beyond her years, knew the value of originality.
All their finery having been packed away, the two ladies retired to their respective bedchambers in the most optimistic of moods, a pleasant state of mind which lasted only until the following morning. A business-like letter lay upon the breakfast table which, when opened with eager fingers, was found to contain disappointing news. Indeed, Mrs Wrexham looked so distressed upon digesting the contents of this missive that Charlotte became seriously alarmed.
‘Mama! What is wrong? Can I help you?’ she cried. Mrs Wrexham merely handed her daughter the letter in silence. ‘Dear Madam,’ she read. ‘In accordance with your instructions I have been able to find a purchaser for the annuity left by the late Mr Wrexham. Unfortunately, due to the financial position in the country as a whole and to the continuing conflict in Europe, there is very little market and I regret to inform you that an offer of only eight hundred pounds has been made. If you wish me to ratify this agreement, would you, Madam, contact your obedient servant at your earliest convenience? I remain, etc., etc.’
Gamble With Hearts Page 1
