Gamble With Hearts

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 Mrs 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.