Highest Stakes (6 page)

C
harlotte Wallace was thirteen when her uncle's carriage came to collect her three weeks after her parents' accidental deaths. Sir Garfield Wallace's instructions to his London man of business were brief and concise: close up the house, auction off the contents, and dismiss all the servants, save one to care for the child. His directives left Charlotte in an empty house, awaiting the arrival of a man she hardly knew, to take her to a home she had never seen.

  Upon the appointed day at precisely the appointed time, the grand coach-and-four arrived at the modest house on Mount Pleasant near to Grey's Inn Road.

  Perched upon the window seat of the second-floor salon, Charlotte peered apprehensively through the window, hoping her first glimpse of her uncle would provide a glimmer of hope for her future. The vision meeting her eyes did little to diminish her qualms. The footman opened the carriage door, and the portly gentleman wedged himself through the narrow opening and descended. Brushing off the footman's assistance with a frown, he straightened his waistcoat, righted his crooked periwig, and lumbered to the front door with the chastised footman following behind.

  Catching her charge spying out the window, Letty pulled the girl briskly away. "Come, Charlotte. Ye don't want yer uncle to catch ye. 'Twould not be good manners, and ye daren't make a bad impression, seein' he's the only kin come to claim ye."

  Charlotte valiantly battled the incipient tears, but her quivering lip gave her away.

  "Oh, my poor lamb! It breaks me heart, it does, after what ye been through, but ye needs t'pick yer chin up. 'Twill be a'right in the end. Ye go to a grand house in the country wi' two cousins to keep ye comp'ny, and rest assured, Letty'll never leave ye."

  "But I don't even remember them, Letty, not any of them!"

  "I can't doubt it, lambkin. Ye were very young, mayhap three or four the last time that ye visited the Yorkshire kin, but 'tis no matter, luv. Yer cousins'll come to be like brother and sister to ye in no time."

  "I pray you're right, Letty."

  "Rest assured, my duck. 'Twill be all right in the end." She offered an encouraging wink, which Charlotte returned with a forced smile. A rap sounded briskly at the door, and with no other servants to answer it, Letty left her charge.

  Wasting no time on formalities, Sir Garfield entered the foyer, nodding curtly to the maid, asking gruffly, "Where is the girl?"

  "Above stairs, sir. Me name's Letty, sir," she offered with a deferential curtsy. "I've been with the household since Charlotte were a babe."

  "I don't require your complete history," he answered irritably. "Take me to her."

  A heated flush brightened Letty's cheeks. "Indeed, sir. I'll take ye directly."

  "And the bags? Are her belongings packed? I have little time to waste."

  "Yes, sir. We was told to expect ye and have been ready this past hour or more."

  "Simmons, see to the baggage!" Sir Garfield commanded the footman.

  Nervously fidgeting in the salon, Charlotte rose hastily at the

sound of the heavy footsteps signaling her uncle's approach. Letty's curt nod from the doorway reminded Charlotte to curtsey, lest she forget decorum.

  "Uncle," Charlotte said in tentative greeting.

  He inspected her with a long, critical sweep. "How old are ye, gel?" he demanded.

  "Just thirteen, Uncle."

  "Small for your age. You don't look near so robust as your cousins. Not sickly, are ye?"

  "N-n-o, Uncle."

  Letty interjected hastily, "Nay, sir. The child's in the best of health."

  "Good. Ye have quite the look of your mother about ye but not half the looks of my Trixie," he proudly asserted. "A rare beauty, that girl."

  For want of a reply, Charlotte nodded.

  "A timid thing, aren't you?" he remarked.

  Always described as a spirited child, Charlotte drew breath to differ, but Letty directed a quelling look. Mindful to make a good impression, Charlotte maintained her silence.

  The cursory introductions completed, Sir Garfield was wont to be on his way. "You know why I've come?" he asked rhetorically.

  "Indeed, sir. I am most grateful for your exceeding kindness and generosity."

  He nodded with a satisfied grunt, and the party set out for Yorkshire.

  For Charlotte, the journey was scarce more than a blur, hours on end bouncing and jostling in the closed carriage, her uncle snoring and sputtering and otherwise ignoring her. At least he had allowed Letty to travel within the coach rather than outside on the driver's seat. The maid's presence fortified Charlotte.

  After three interminable days, the coach halted at the gate of Heathstead Hall. Pulling back the curtain, Charlotte gained her first view of the long gravel drive that meandered up a lush green landscaped hill to an imposing brick, Georgian manor house. The carriage struggled up the steep drive until the door opened and the steps lowered for their descent.

  "Heathstead Hall. Your new home," her uncle stated proudly.

  Wide-eyed and speechless, Charlotte was thankful for Letty's reassuring hand squeeze before she alighted the carriage. Mechanically going through the motions, she would later have only vague first impressions of her new family.

  Her Aunt Felicia, a plump and powdered woman, near smothered Charlotte with a cloyingly effusive welcome. "Why, Sir Garfield, what a little darling our Charlotte is! Welcome, my dearest, into the bosom of your new family. I am Lady Felicia, but we shan't stand on ceremony. You must call me Aunt. Now come and meet your cousins. They've been overcome with rapture in anticipation of your arrival, my dear." She looked to her children and propelled a fresh-faced lad, akin to Charlotte in age and stature, toward her. "Here is Charles, but where is Beatrix?"

  She frowned that her welcome party was incomplete. Beatrix was nowhere in sight.

  "She was here only a moment ago, Mama," Charles answered.

  "'Tis no matter, my dear," Sir Garfield replied. "Charlotte will meet Beatrix in due time. For now, let us just see the gel properly settled."

  "Indeed, Sir Garfield. The rooms are all prepared."

  "I leave all in your capable hands," he replied absently. "I am off to inspect the broodmares." Having fulfilled his obligation to safely deliver his niece, he departed without another thought.

  "Always those confounded horses!" Lady Felicia cursed under her breath. "I just don't understand what's become of Beatrix."

  With her sudden arrival in her uncle's household, Charlotte's world turned upside-down. She was regarded with disingenuous sympathy from her aunt, indifference from her uncle, jealousy and resentment from Beatrix, and seemingly no more than tolerance by Charles.

  Charlotte had been adored by her parents, and by her father in particular, who treated her more as a son than a daughter. For this reason, she perceived Charles as her most likely ally and determined to cultivate a friend in her male cousin.

  Her first opportunity presented early one morning, shortly after her arrival, when she espied Charles departing the house. Stealing surreptitiously through the back courtyard and gardens, she followed him down the narrow path to Sir Garfield's prized stables. Trailing in stealthy pursuit, she bypassed the carriage house and pressed on toward the broodmare paddocks, where arrested by a warm nicker and the approach of a sleek and glossy little chestnut mare, Charlotte completely forgot about Charles.

  With her head held high, the little horse trotted merrily to the fence and nuzzled the girl. Her warm breath tickled Charlotte's cheek. Completely and unreservedly captivated, Charlotte reached out to stroke the velvety nose.

  A voice spoke from behind. "That mare is Amoret. She's Darley blood, you know."

  Startled, Charlotte flushed.

  "I saw you following me," Charles said, his grin accusing.

  "I wanted to explore the grounds but didn't know my way around."

  "No matter to me. You don't seem half the trouble of my sister."

  "I promise not to be any trouble at all. Though we lived in the city, I have a great fondness for the out-of-doors. My papa used to take me to the park to play every day when I was a child."

  Charles considered her for a moment. "I've never been to a great city, leastwise not outside of Leeds. Can't rightly say if I should be keen on it or not."

  "There is so much to do in London! There are people everywhere, strolling in their finery at St James or riding their horses in Hyde Park."

  "I should hate to confine my riding to a mere park."

"But Hyde Park must be a hundred acres or more!" she protested.

  "A hundred acres is nothing," he scoffed. "Heathstead Hall covers nearly a square mile."

  "But Hyde Park has the Serpentine," she challenged.

  "The what? Sounds like a bleedin' snake museum."

  "Don't be such an addlepate, Charles! The Serpentine is a great man-made lake within the park. Papa once took me punting there. We had a lovely day." She blinked rapidly. Her mouth quivered.

  Charles looked away visibly discomfited.

   "You mentioned riding in that serpent park," he said. "Do you ride, Cousin?"

  "No, but Papa always promised me…" Still fighting the incipient tears, her voice dropped to a whisper.

  His question had failed to serve its purpose. Flustered by his second botched attempt to distract her, Charles tried again. "Well, would you like to? Ride, that is?"

  The mare immediately nudged Charlotte's hand, as if encouraging her. Charlotte's eyes suddenly grew wide with delight. "Do you mean to teach me?"

  "I could start you in the basics I suppose, though t'would be best to put you in Jeffries's hands. He's the stable master. Though he mostly works with the running bloods, he's also charged with our instruction, mine and Beatrix's, that is. 'Tis a waste of time on
that
girl," he added contemptuously. "Beatrix is afraid of anything with four legs."

  "I should not be afraid at all," Charlotte answered intrepidly, determination replacing her tears.

  "A bit of fear is a healthy thing," he advised. "Horses are powerful beasts, even the most docile ones, but if you truly wish to learn…"

  "Oh, I should! Indeed I should!"

  "Suit yourself, then," Charles replied gruffly, secretly pleased that his flash of brilliance had drawn his cousin out of her melancholia. "You go to the Hall and change into your riding habit. I'll instruct the groom to saddle Beatrix's old gelding for your first lesson."

  "But, Charles," she began timidly, "I should like to ride Amoret."

  "You don't understand, Charlotte. This one is of pure racing blood. Even if you attempted to ride her, you'd
surely
risk your neck. Nay, you'll ride the swayback gelding, leastwise until you develop a seat."

  Charlotte regarded him forlornly. "But I haven't a riding habit."

  "Bother," Charles replied, and then surveyed her from head to toe. "Well, we're of a size, I daresay. Have your maid fetch some of my riding breeches. You'll be riding astride anyways, as I know naught of a lady's side saddle. Now run along, Charlotte!"

  Beatrix, who had earlier spied on her brother and Charlotte, arrived unexpectedly in the stables garbed in her velvet habit and haughtily demanded her horse.

  "Ye be riding then this morning, miss?" Jeffries inquired with surprise, knowing her distaste of horses.

  "Indeed I shall. 'Tis a glorious day for it. Don't you agree little brother?"

   "But Charlotte was to accompany me, Trixie," Charles protested, "and there is no other suitable horse for her, aside from Lancelot."

  "He is
my
horse. Charlotte will just have to petition Papa for her own, as she shall not be riding
mine
."

  Obediently, Jeffries led out Lancelot and lifted Beatrix up. Charles sent his young cousin an apologetic look but mounted his own horse to accompany his sister for what he knew would be an exceedingly dull ride.

  Forlornly, Charlotte watched her cousins disappear from sight. Why did Beatrix hate her so much? Dejected and fighting tears of frustration, she wandered to the broodmare paddocks, alighted the top fence rail, and settled there, watching the horses peacefully graze. Noting her presence, Amoret left off cropping her patch of clover to float across the paddock in a daisy-cutter stride. Her enthusiastic greeting, although nearly knocking Charlotte from her perch with a playful toss of the head, served as some consolation to the girl's despair.

  "'Twas naught but jealousy prompted that." Jeffries nodded in the direction Beatrix and Charles had ridden. He spoke absently, casting a lazy gaze over Charlotte. "I've no doubt wi' a few lessons ye'd soon be ridin' circles around that pair. 'Tis too bad there be no other suitable mount for ye."

  Charlotte stroked and scratched the mare, who happily nuzzled her in kind. "Is there nary a one, Jeffries?"

  "Nay, miss. The lady Felicia don't ride, and Sir Garfield, bless him, is grown so in bulk that he be nigh too big for the saddle. The rest be but carriage horses, broodmares, and yearlings."

  "But what of Amoret, here? She is quite biddable, is she not?"

  "That she is, but she's bred to the hilt for running, miss, and no mount for a young lass just finding her seat."

  "But, Jeffries," she protested, "did you not just say I might soon be running circles around my cousins?"