The Captain's Christmas Family

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Seizing them by the hands, she hurried out of the nursery and down the main staircase.

They found Captain Radcliffe waiting in the entry hall, looking rather severe. At first Marian feared he was vexed with them for being tardy. But a second look made her wonder if he might only be nervous. Recalling what he’d said about not wanting to be stared at and whispered about, she hoped the people at church would treat the captain with more Christian charity than she’d first shown him.

“Good morning, sir.” She offered him an encouraging smile and was gratified when his expression relaxed a little. “The girls and I are very pleased to have you join us this morning.”

“Indeed.” He glanced from solemn-faced Cissy to her grinning little sister with a flicker of mild alarm in his gray eyes. “The carriage is waiting.”

Opening the great front door, he held it for Marian to usher her pupils outside.

The grounds of Knightley Park glittered with frost on this crisp, sunny November morning as the girls climbed into the carriage. When Marian followed them, her stomach sank abruptly.

She found Cissy and Dolly perched side by side in the carriage box, leaving the opposite seat empty. If Marian sat there, Captain Radcliffe would be obliged to sit beside her. The thought of being so close to him set her insides aflutter.

“Girls, budge up, please.” She tried to squeeze in beside them.

“You’re squashing me!” Dolly protested. “Why can’t you sit over there?”

“Hush!” Marian whispered. “Cissy, will you kindly move to the other seat?”

The child’s eyes widened. She shook her head.

“Then, I will,” said Dolly.

Before Marian could prevent her, the child wriggled out from between her and Cissy and bounced over to the opposite seat just as Captain Radcliffe climbed into the carriage. “It’s better than being squashed.”

The captain settled next to Dolly, with an air of reluctance similar to the one Cissy had displayed when asked to sit beside him.

One of the footmen closed the door behind them. Then, with a rattle, a lurch and the clatter of horses’ hooves, they were on their way.

Silence settled inside of the carriage box, as brittle as the thin sheet of ice on the surface of Knightley Park’s ornamental lake. Marian searched for something to say that might thaw it.

Before she could think of a suitable topic of conversation, Dolly turned toward the captain. “How do you go to church when you’re on your ship?”

“Dolly…” Marian addressed the child in a warning tone. Though Captain Radcliffe might not be the sort of seagoing tyrant she had mistakenly believed him, he probably expected the younger members of his crew to speak only when spoken to.

At first he appeared taken aback by the child’s forthright curiosity. But after a moment’s consideration he seemed to decide he might do worse than answer her question. “At sea it is not possible to go to a church building, as we are doing now. But most ships in the Royal Navy have chaplains who conduct Sunday services on deck when the weather permits or in the wardroom when it does not.”

“What’s a wardroom?”

A sterner warning rose to Marian’s lips, but before she could utter it, the captain replied, “That is what we call the officers’ mess on a ship, a sort of dining room and drawing room combined.”

Dolly digested all this new information with a look of intense concentration that Marian wished she would apply to her studies. “Your ship must be a great deal bigger than the boat we row on the lake. How many rooms does it have?”

By now Marian thought better of trying to restrain the child, for Dolly had clearly discovered one subject certain to set the captain at ease. To his credit, he did not seem to mind being bombarded with questions about all matters nautical. Marian was also favorably impressed with his answers, which were couched in simple enough terms for the children to understand without insulting their intelligence.

His discourse proved so informative that Marian found herself listening with rapt attention. It was not only what he said that engaged her interest, but the mellow resonance of his voice that made it a pleasure to listen to.

Almost before she realized it, the carriage came to a halt in front of the village church.

In the middle of an intriguing explanation of sails and rigging, the captain grew suddenly quiet again. “I can tell you more about it on the ride home, if you like.”

His features and bearing tensed as he gazed toward the other parishioners making their way into the church.

A qualm of doubt rippled through Marian’s stomach as she speculated what sort of reception awaited them. She hoped the villagers would not be as quick to misjudge Captain Radcliffe as she’d been. Otherwise, he might refuse to accompany them to church again. That would be a great calamity because she could not conceive of any other way to bring the captain and his young cousins together without deliberately disobeying his orders.

As the footman pulled open the carriage door, Captain Radcliffe seemed to steel himself for the ordeal ahead. Once the steps had been unfolded, he climbed out. Dolly bounded after him, eagerly seizing the hand he offered to help her.

Marian nodded to Cissy, who followed her sister with a reluctant air. When Marian emerged a moment later, Captain Radcliffe assisted her with thoughtful courtesy. For the fleeting instant his gloved hand clasped hers, she could not suppress a sensation of warmth that quivered up her arm. It reminded her of the previous evening when he had grasped her hand to keep her from rushing away. For hours afterward, she could not stop thinking about that brief contact between them.

“Come, girls.” Marian chided herself for succumbing to such a foolish distraction at that moment. She needed to keep her wits about her to divert the captain, if necessary, from any unpleasant reception he might receive.

She cast a swift glance around the churchyard, troubled to see a few people staring rudely in their direction. But others offered welcoming smiles.

Dolly ignored Marian’s summons. Instead she seized the captain’s hand and announced, “I’ll show you the way to our pew.”

Cissy shook her head and frowned at her governess as if to ask why she wasn’t scolding Dolly for her forwardness. But Marian had no intention of doing any such thing. Instinctively, Dolly had managed to provide the captain with the diversion he required.

Perhaps he recognized it, too, for he showed no offense at the child’s behavior. Indeed, her impudent grin provoked an answering flicker of a smile. “I appreciate your assistance. I have attended services at this church, but not for a very long time. I could not have been much older than you are now.”

“My gracious,” Dolly replied with her accustomed bluntness, “that was a long time ago!”

Marian was aghast. “Dorothy Ann Radcliffe, mind your manners!”

But the captain greeted the child’s tactless remark with an indulgent chuckle. “Do not fret, Miss Murray. I find my young cousin’s honesty refreshing. When I was her age, I remember thinking any person above five-and-twenty was hopelessly ancient.”

The man had a sense of humor, Marian noted with approval, wishing she’d perceived it earlier. It was a most desirable trait in a person responsible for bringing up children.

“Please don’t encourage her, Captain,” she murmured as they entered the vestibule. “Or I fear she may take advantage of your good nature.”

“Hush, Miss Marian.” The child raised her forefinger to her lips. “You always tell me not to make noise in church.”

Marian exchanged a glance with Captain Radcliffe that communicated exasperation on her part and barely suppressed amusement on his. Somehow that look made her feel as if she had accidentally wandered into a cozy room with a cheery fire blazing in the hearth.

They made their way into the sanctuary of golden-brown stone, bathed in the glow of sunshine filtered through the stained glass windows. Dolly led the captain up the aisle to the Radcliffe family pew, where he stood back to let “the ladies” enter first. Cissy scooted in at once and Marian followed. Dolly hung back, no doubt to claim her place beside the captain.

Later in the service, when it came time for prayers of thanksgiving, Marian offered a silent one to the Lord for answering her earlier plea.

His reluctant attendance at church had not turned out to be the ordeal he’d feared. Gideon reflected on it the following evening as he consumed his solitary dinner.

He’d been aware of a few hard looks, but most of the parishioners were more welcoming. That reception gave him greater hope that he might be able to get a fair hearing at the inquiry after all. During the service itself, a curious sense of peace had stolen over him as he’d listened to the familiar readings and joined in the hymns and prayers. It had scarcely seemed to matter whether or not God was listening. Surely, there was something worthwhile in a person expressing gratitude for his good fortune and identifying what he wanted in life for himself and others.

For himself, Gideon had only one wish—to have his reputation restored so he would be permitted to resume command of his ship. Had he been guilty of taking the blessings of an honorable reputation and a fulfilling career for granted in the past? If so, then his present difficulties might yield a worthwhile outcome, after all—by reminding him to appreciate all he had achieved.

When the pudding was served, Gideon cast an expectant glance toward the dining room door, half hoping Miss Murray might appear to discuss some matter about the children. He could not stifle an unaccountable pang of disappointment when she did not.

Though he had not been pleased by the governess’s sudden appearance on Saturday evening, he’d soon found himself enjoying her company. At first he’d been reluctant to grant her request to accompany her and the girls to church, but now he was grateful she’d persuaded him.

He’d discovered his young cousins were not quiet the alien beings he’d dreaded, but two small people, each with her own feelings and personality. He could not help but be drawn to the younger one, any more than he could resist a frolicsome kitten that rubbed its head against his hand, hungry for attention.

The elder girl was a good deal more reserved and appeared every bit as wary of him as he was of her. Gideon could hardly fault the child for that since it showed her to be similar to him in temperament.

“Can I get you anything more, Captain?” asked the footman as he removed Gideon’s plate. “Another helping of pudding? More tea?”

Gideon shook his head. “I have had my fill, thank you. More than is good for me I daresay. If I keep on at this rate, my girth may soon rival the Prince Regent’s.”

The young footman strove to suppress a grin but failed. “You won’t be in any danger of that for quite a while, sir. When you first arrived, Mrs. Wheaton said you needed filling out. I reckon she’s made that her mission.”

Though he knew such an exchange between master and servant was more familiar than it should be, Gideon could not bring himself to discourage it. He had opened the door, after all, with his quip about the Regent. Besides, he preferred a little cordial familiarity to the hostile silence with which he’d been treated upon his arrival at Knightley Park.

“When I return to sea, I shall have to send my ship’s cook to Knightley Park so Mrs. Wheaton can train him properly.” Gideon pushed away from the table. “I have no doubt my crew would thank me for it.”

In search of something to occupy him until bedtime, he headed off to the library. He had recently finished the books he’d brought with him, and he was confident he would find some suitable replacement on the well stocked shelves.

Uncertain whether he would find the room lit, Gideon took a candle from the hall table as he passed by. But when he pushed open the library door, he glimpsed the soft glow of firelight from the hearth and the flicker of another candle. It danced wildly as the person holding it gave a violent start when he entered.

Not expecting to find the room occupied, Gideon started, too. A quiver of exhilaration accompanied his surprise when he recognized his young cousins’ governess.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Miss Murray.” He explained his quest for fresh reading material.

Clearly the young woman did not share his welcome of their unexpected encounter. Her eyes widened in fright and one hand flew to her chest, as if to still her racing heart.

When she answered, her voice emerged high-pitched and breathless. “It is I who should beg your pardon, Captain, for making free with your library.”

She offered a halting explanation of how his late cousin had permitted her the use of it.

“Then, by all means, you must continue,” Gideon assured her. It troubled him that she had feared he would be unwilling to extend her the same courtesy as Cousin Daniel had. “Though I enjoy the pleasures of a good book more than your late master, I have never had the knack of reading more than one at a time, let alone all of the hundreds collected by my family over the years. Having so many books for one person to read strikes me as a singularly inefficient arrangement. I would appreciate your assistance in making better use of this library.”

Miss Murray did not appear to grasp his attempt at levity.

“That is very kind of you, sir.” She bobbed a hasty curtsy. “But I still should not have presumed without asking your permission. If you will excuse me, I shall return at another time when my presence will not disturb you.”

Her eyes darted as if seeking the quickest route to the exit that would give him the widest possible berth. Did she really find him so alarming still?

“You are not disturbing me in the least, Miss Murray,” Gideon insisted, though he knew it was not altogether true. Her presence did affect him, though not in an unpleasant way. “Besides, if one of us must withdraw, it should be me. You were here first, after all, and I believe you have far more claims upon your time than I. If you were to go away now, I doubt you would easily find another opportunity to return.”

“Not very easily perhaps, but—”

“I will hear no buts, Miss Murray. I should feel like the worst kind of tyrant if you left this library empty-handed on my account. Surely you would not want that?”

“Of course not, Captain.”

“Good. Then we are agreed you must stay long enough to choose a book at the very least.”

“If you insist, sir.” Miss Murray reached toward the nearest shelf and pulled out the first book she touched, without even looking at the title. It might have been in Latin, for all she knew, or a sixteenth century treatise on agriculture.

It was clear she wanted to make her escape as quickly as possible. A few days ago Gideon would have wanted the same thing. But having dined with Miss Murray and escorted her and the children to church, he’d discovered he preferred her company to his accustomed solitude.

Was there any way he might detain her there and keep her talking?

Perhaps…

“Before you go, Miss Murray, I hope you will not mind informing me how your pupils are getting on. Is Dolly still as determined to resist going to church? She seemed in fine spirits on Sunday and quite attentive to the service for a child her age.”

His words had the most amazing effect on Miss Murray. All trace of diffidence fell away, and a winsome smile lit up her features. Clearly he had discovered the key to engaging her interest.

That accomplishment brought him an unexpected glimmer of satisfaction.

Chapter Five

Captain Radcliffe’s inquiries about the girls banished any thought of leaving the library from Marian’s mind. However uncomfortable she might feel in the captain’s presence after the way she had imposed upon him, she could not neglect such a golden opportunity to further her plans. She fancied she could feel the warm hand of Providence resting on her shoulder, approving her efforts and helping to move them forward.

“The girls are quite well, thank you, Captain,” she assured him, encouraged by his sudden concern for their welfare.

When he’d first entered the library to find her there, Marian had feared her presumption might cost her beloved pupils dearly. All she’d wanted was to apologize and make her escape as quickly as possible so the captain might forget she’d ever been there. To her surprise he seemed anxious for her to stay and not at all offended that she had made use of the library without his permission. Such generosity only made her more ashamed for sneaking around and assuming he would refuse her if she had asked.

“As for Dolly,” Marian continued, “she has not uttered a single word of complaint about church, though she has asked a great many questions about ships and the sea. I believe you sparked her interest in those subjects. I hope to make use of that enthusiasm to engage her more fully in her studies.”

The captain’s brow furrowed. “And how do you propose to do that, pray?”