The Captain's Christmas Family

By now Gideon had given up trying to walk away. He braced to hear the governess join in abusing him.

“Perhaps if you’d kept up with your duties during the past few months,” she reminded the young footmen instead, “you might not have to work quite so hard now to get the house back in decent order.”

“Why should we run ourselves ragged for a master who’s done the things he has? They say he did away with a young sailor. If he wasn’t the captain of the ship they’d have called it plain murder.”

As he waited for Miss Murray’s reply, Gideon wondered if he’d been wrong to assume her opinion of him had been tainted by the kind of gossip she was hearing now. Surely, she would not have wanted her young pupils to remain in the same house as a rumored killer. Perhaps this was the first time she’d heard the worst of the accusations being whispered against him.

Though he tried to tell himself one unfavorable judgment more or less did not matter, Gideon shrank from the prospect of Miss Murray thinking even less of him.

“I am sorely disappointed.” The gentle regret in her tone troubled Gideon worse than the harsher censure he’d expected. “I thought better of you both than to condemn your master on the basis of malicious rumors.”

Had he heard her correctly? Gideon shook his head.

The young footmen sputtered in protest, but Miss Murray refused to back down. “Has the captain mistreated either of you in any way since he arrived at Knightley Park?”

“No…but he is very haughty and ill-humored. You must grant that, miss.”

“And did you hear he threatened to give Mr. Dutton the sack?”

“I have heard such a rumor, though that does not guarantee it is true. Besides, Wilbert, I have often heard you complain what a poor job Mr. Dutton has been doing of late. If you were in the captain’s place, would you have kept him on?”

After an awkward pause, Wilbert muttered, “I reckon not, miss.”

“And you, Frederick, would you be jovial and talkative in a place where you were made to feel as unwelcome as I fear we have made Captain Radcliffe?”

Gideon did not catch the young footman’s muffled reply, but that scarcely mattered. What did matter was that someone had defended him against the whispered slurs he could not bring himself to acknowledge, let alone refute. What astonished him even more was to find a champion in Marian Murray, a woman he could have sworn detested him.

And not altogether without reason, he was forced to admit. None of their encounters since his arrival had been particularly cordial. And his reaction to the children’s presence might have given her cause to regard him as a very hard man indeed. Yet there she was, taking his part against the prevailing opinion of the other servants. He did not know what to make of it.

To be championed in such a way when he neither expected nor deserved it stirred a flicker of welcome warmth deep within his fallow heart.

The hangdog looks of the two young footmen reproached Marian. What was she doing?

For as long as she could recall, she had felt compelled need to stand up for anyone who was the victim of mistreatment. The stronger the forces against them, the more fiercely she felt called to intervene.

It had not occurred to her that a man of strength and authority like Captain Radcliffe might need anyone to defend him, let alone her. But when she’d heard Wilbert and Frederick exchanging backstairs gossip about the captain, she had suddenly seen the matter in a whole new light. A sense of shame for the unfair things she’d thought about the man and her manner toward him had made her leap to his defense all the more fiercely.

Now she realized that that was not fair either. “I beg your pardon. I have no right to reproach you when I have behaved just as uncharitably toward Captain Radcliffe.”

Her rueful admission seemed to have better effect on the young men than her rebuke.

“That’s all right, miss.” Wilbert hung his head. “I reckon we may have been too hard on the master.”

Frederick nodded. “It’s true enough what you said, miss. The captain hasn’t done us any harm. We’ll mind our tongues after this.”

“We should get back to work,” Wilbert added, “before Mr. Culpepper comes looking for us.”

After brief bows, the pair hurried off below stairs, leaving Marian to follow as far as the ground floor. Lost in thought about her encounter with the footmen and the sudden reversal of her opinion toward Captain Radcliffe, she rounded the corner and nearly collided with him.

“I beg your pardon, sir!” She started back, frantically wondering whether he’d heard what had just passed in the stairwell. “I didn’t expect to find you home at this hour.”

The captain seemed every bit as rattled by their sudden meeting as she. “I…er…just got in. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

Caught off guard, his whole appearance was far less severe than Marian had yet seen it. The austere contours of his face seemed somehow softened. The sweeping arch of his brow looked less forbidding. His steely gray eyes held a tentative glimmer of warmth. Had he changed so much or was it her perception that had altered?

“No, indeed,” she sputtered, painfully aware that she owed him an apology for offenses she dared not confess. “I should have minded the warning I gave Dolly about charging around corners.”

“Ah, yes.” A half smile crinkled one corner of the captain’s resolute mouth. “I hope the child has recovered from our collision.”

“Entirely.” Marian nodded, relieved at this turn in the conversation. Perhaps the captain had not overheard anything between her and the footmen after all. “I believe you took greater injury from it than she did.”

His unexpected query about Dolly’s well-being emboldened her to continue. “I believe she would be less apt to run in the house if she could use up some of that energy running and playing out of doors.”

“I agree.” The captain raised an eyebrow. “What prevents the children from going out? Are they ill? Do they not have warm enough clothes?”

A fresh qualm of remorse gripped Marian. Not only had she misjudged Captain Radcliffe, she had allowed her prejudice against him to make life less agreeable for her pupils. In doing so, she might have provoked Cissy’s aversion to the captain.

“The girls are quite well,” she replied, “and they do not lack for warm garments.”

“Then what is the difficulty?”

She might as well confess and hope the captain would be as forgiving with her as he had of the clumsy serving maid. Marian inhaled a deep breath and forged ahead. “I’m afraid I thought, sir…that is…I presumed… You did tell me I should keep the girls from disturbing you. I was afraid we might disrupt one of your walks, or their noise from outdoors might bother you while you were trying to rest or read.”

“I see.” He flinched slightly, as if she had injured an unhealed wound but he was determined not to let her see the pain it caused. “I suppose my reputation made you fear I would have them flogged for it.”

He must have overheard her talking to the footmen. Marian scrambled to recall exactly what she’d said. If the captain had heard only part of their exchange, might he think she was spreading malicious gossip about him?

“Nothing like that, sir!” she cried, though her stricken conscience forced her to confess, “Though I was worried you might send the girls away from Knightley Park.”

Captain Radcliffe gave a rueful nod that seemed to excuse her suspicions. “I fear you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, Miss Murray. For that I take full responsibility. In future, feel free to do with the children whatever you were accustomed to before I arrived. Proceed as if I am not here. All I ask is that you not seek me out. I have no experience with children and, as you have seen, no knack for getting on with them.”

Perhaps not, but in spite of that he had managed to catch Dolly’s fancy. In her forthright innocence, the child must have responded to something in him that had eluded Marian.

“Does that include the music room, sir?” she asked. “It can be irksome to hear a great many wrong notes struck on the pianoforte.”

After only a slight hesitation the captain nodded gamely. “It is difficult to learn anything of value without making mistakes.”

His assurance made Marian more conscious than ever what a grave error she had committed in her judgment of him.

“Thank you, Captain.” She dropped him a curtsy that she hoped would convey an apology as well as gratitude. “I’m sure the girls will be very pleased to enjoy greater liberty.”

He replied with a stiff bow. “I am only sorry they were ever deprived of it.”

The captain made it sound as if that were his fault, yet Marian knew which of them was more to blame. Perhaps it was the burden of her misjudgment that made her more self-conscious than ever in Captain Radcliffe’s presence. A blush seemed to hide in the flesh of her cheeks, ready to flame out at any second.

“I was just on my way to the music room to fetch a song book. If you will excuse me, I must finish my errand and get back to the nursery before the girls wonder what has become of me.”

“By all means,” he replied. “Do not let me detain you.”