The Captain's Christmas Family

Marian made another curtsy, then hurried away, torn between eagerness to escape his presence and a strange inclination to linger.

“Miss Murray.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her turn back swiftly, as if some part of her had anticipated the summons. “Sir?”

He hesitated for an instant, making her wonder if he had not intended to call out. “Thank you for speaking up on my behalf to those young men. I only hope I will have as able an advocate to defend me when the Admiralty convenes its inquiry.”

The blush that had been lying in wait now flared in Marian’s cheeks. “I don’t deserve your gratitude. I wish I could claim I have kept an open mind about you and not let my opinion be influenced by reports I’ve heard…or read. But I’m afraid that would not be true.”

Captain Radcliffe gave a rueful nod, as if her confession grieved him a little but did not surprise him. “If your mind was not fully open, neither was it altogether closed. May I ask what altered your opinion of me?”

His question flustered Marian even more. She could not bring herself to admit eavesdropping on his exchange with Bessie over the broken china. “I…I’m not certain, Captain. Perhaps it was hearing Frederick and Wilbert talking that made me realize I hadn’t given you a fair chance. I reckon it’s easier to see our own faults in others.”

“Perhaps so, but it is not so easy to admit those faults and alter our conduct accordingly.” A note of approval warmed his words and went a long way toward absolving Marian’s shame over her earlier actions.

She was about to thank him for understanding and head away again when Captain Radcliffe continued, “I can assure you the nonsense being written about me in the newspapers is entirely without foundation. I never laid a hand on that poor lad, nor did I drive him to do away with himself on account of my harsh treatment.”

What made her believe him so immediately and completely? Marian could not be certain. Was it only guilt over her prior misjudgment of him or was it something more? Even at first, when she’d thought him a strict, uncaring tyrant, she had not been able to deny his air of integrity.

“I believe you, Captain.” She strove to infuse her words with sincere faith.

She recalled how it felt to be unfairly accused and disbelieved, and how much it had helped to have even one person take her side. The image of her loyal friend, Rebecca Beaton, rose in Marian’s mind, unleashing a flood of gratitude, affection and longing. Rebecca now lived in the Cotswolds, more than a hundred miles to the south. Though the two corresponded as often as they could afford, they had not seen one another since going their separate ways after they’d left school.

Captain Radcliffe’s voice broke in on her wistful thoughts. “I appreciate your loyalty, Miss Murray, considering how little I have done to earn it. I hope the board of inquiry will render a decision to justify your faith in me.”

“When will this board hear your case, sir?” Though duty urged her to cut their conversation short and return to the nursery at once, Marian could not quell her curiosity.

The captain replied with a shrug and a sigh of frustration. “Not soon enough to suit me, of that you can be sure. Probably not until after the New Year at this rate. In the meantime, I am forbidden to speak publicly about the matter. I must remain silent while the newspapers make me out to be some sort of heartless monster. All I want is the opportunity to prove my innocence so I can return to active duty.”

“I’ll pray for you, Captain.” Marian wished there was more she could do. “That the inquiry be called soon and that your name will be cleared once and for all.”

“Why…er…thank you, Miss Murray,” he replied with the air of someone reluctantly accepting an unwelcome gift. “Though I doubt your prayers will avail much.”

His reaction surprised and rather dismayed her. “Do you not believe in God then?”

How could that be? He had treated her more charitably than many people who’d claimed to be pious Christians.

Captain Radcliffe considered her question a moment, then replied with quiet solemnity. “One cannot spend as much time as I have at sea and not come to believe in a powerful force that created the universe.”

Scarcely realizing what she was doing, Marian exhaled a faint breath of relief. Why in the world should it matter to her what the man believed? “But you just said…”

“It is not so much a contradiction as you suppose.” The corner of his straight, firm mouth arched ever so slightly. Yet that one small alteration quite transformed his face, warming and softening its stern, rugged contours. “What I cannot imagine is that such a being knows or cares about my trivial concerns any more than the vast ocean cares for one insignificant ship that floats upon it.”

No wonder the captain seemed so profoundly solitary, Marian reflected, if he did not believe anyone cared about him…not even his Maker.

“Your concerns are not trivial,” she insisted. “You want to see justice done and your reputation restored so you can continue to defend this land. Even I can sympathize with them, and I could not begin to know your heart as deeply as the Lord does.”

“You sound very sincere and certain, Miss Murray.” He did not seem to think less of her for it, as Marian had feared he might. “Why is that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She was not in the habit of discussing her beliefs, especially with a man she scarcely knew and hadn’t much liked at first. Yet there was a kind of openness in the way he regarded her that assured Marian of his honest desire to understand.

“Cannot a God who is infinitely large also be infinitely small and infinitely close?” she ventured, trying to put complex, profound ideas into words that seemed inadequate to the task. “Just as the salt water that makes up the great ocean is not so different from our sweat and tears?”

This whole conversation was becoming altogether too intimate for her comfort. And yet she felt compelled to disclose one final confidence. “Perhaps that sounds foolish to you, but I have felt the loving closeness of God in my life. Never so powerfully as when I needed His presence the most.”

What had made her tell him such a thing? Marian regretted it the moment the words were out of her mouth. She had never liked talking about her past, particularly that part of it. In all the time she’d known Cissy and Dolly’s father, she had hardly told him anything about herself. Yet here she was blurting out all this to Captain Radcliffe, whom she’d met only a fortnight ago.

A spark of curiosity glinted in the depths of his granite-gray eyes. If she did not cut this conversation short and make her escape, she feared the captain might ask her how she’d come to be so alone and in need of Divine comfort. If he did, she was very much afraid the whole painful story might come pouring out. That was the last thing she wanted.

“I really must go now.” Lowering her gaze, she bobbed the captain a hasty curtsy. “Cissy will be worried what’s become of me and Dolly will be driving poor Martha to distraction with her mischief.”

Before Captain Radcliffe could say anything that might detain her a moment longer, she rushed off to seek sanctuary in the music room. Only when she was quite certain the captain had gone elsewhere did she venture out and fly back up the servants’ stairs to the nursery. Yet even as she took care to avoid him, an idea concerning Captain Radcliffe began to take shape in her mind.

Though the captain denied the power of prayer, Marian wondered if he might not be the answer to hers. A man like him would make an ideal guardian for Cissy and Dolly—far better than their profligate aunt. Once that inquiry was over and he returned to his ship, she would be left to care for the girls in familiar surroundings.

All day she mulled the notion over as she and the children relished their renewed liberty in the house and gardens. The more she considered her idea, the more certain she became that it would be an ideal solution.

That night when she knelt by her bed, Marian prayed fervently. “Lord, forgive me for misjudging Captain Radcliffe. I see now that he is a good man. Please let him be absolved of all the charges against him and permitted to return to active duty on his ship…but not before I can persuade him to challenge Lady Villiers for guardianship of Cissy and Dolly.”

How exactly was she going to persuade him of that, Marian asked herself as she climbed into bed, when the captain did not want to have anything to do with the girls? Perhaps she could pray for him to come up with the idea on his own, but this was too important a task to leave up to the power of prayer alone.

Chapter Four

What had Miss Murray meant about having been alone with no one to whom she could turn to but God?

While Gideon ate his solitary dinner that Saturday evening, he reflected on his last conversation with her and the unexpected turn it had taken. How had his thanks for her defense of him led to an examination of his spiritual beliefs? Never before had he confided in another person his doubts about the value of prayer.

As captain of his ship, he had often been required to lead his crew in Sunday worship. Though he’d read many prayers aloud, and knew the Our Father by heart as well as any man, he had not uttered those sacred words with any particular expectation that his Creator was listening. The last time he’d truly prayed from his heart, he’d been a child imploring the Almighty to spare the life of his beloved, ailing mother. Of course his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

Uncomforted by the words of the funeral liturgy, he’d watched them bury her poor, wasted body. Then he’d been wrenched away from everyone and everything familiar and sent to sea. The harsh conditions and the gnawing ache of loneliness had been almost more than he could bear. But somehow he had borne them, and the experience had made a man of him. Gradually he’d come to know and love the sea. In the end he’d dedicated his life to it and to the defense of his country. Those things had helped to fill the emptiness in his heart and give him a sense of purpose.

Was it possible that had been an answer to his unspoken prayer? Gideon dismissed the thought.

“What’s for pudding, then?” he asked the young footman who collected his empty dinner plate.

“Plum duff, Captain. It’s one of Mrs. Wheaton’s specialties.”

“And one of my favorites,” Gideon replied.

Since the lecture they’d received from Miss Murray, the two footmen seemed a good deal less sullen. What she’d said must have made an impression. Could it have been gratitude for her unexpected defense of him that had made him let down his guard with her? Or had he somehow sensed a connection between them based on a common experience of loss?

As the footman set a generous serving of pudding in front of Gideon, a series of soft but determined taps sounded on the dining room door.

“Come through,” he called as if he were back in the great cabin aboard HMS Integrity.

In response to his summons, the door swung open, and Miss Murray entered. “Pardon me for disturbing your dinner, Captain, but I wanted a word with you concerning the girls, if I might.”

He did not care for the sound of that. She was supposed to be tending to the children’s needs, not pestering him with them.