Читать книгу The Captain's Christmas Family - Deborah Hale - Страница 13

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.

Yet Gideon found himself strangely pleased to see her all the same. “Very well, Miss Murray. I was just about to sample Mrs. Wheaton’s plum duff. Would you care to join me?”

His request seemed to throw her into confusion. “I couldn’t…that is, I already had some when I gave the girls their supper. It was very good. I have no doubt you’ll enjoy it.”

“Surely you could manage a little more.” Gideon was not certain what made him so eager to have her join him. Perhaps because it would be awkward to converse with her standing there while he tried to eat.

Sensing she was about to protest more strenuously, he decided to try another tack. “I’d be grateful if you would oblige me, Miss Murray. It can be tiresome to dine night after night with only my own company.”

His appeal seemed to catch her as much by surprise as his original invitation. She glanced from him to the footman and back again. “Very well then, Captain, if that is what you wish.”

At a nod from Gideon, the footman pulled out a chair for Miss Murray, to the right of his place at the head of the table.

“Only a very small helping for me, please,” she murmured as she slipped into the chair.

Acknowledging her request with a mute nod, the footman headed off to the kitchen.

“Now then,” said Gideon. “What was this matter you wished to discuss with me?”

Miss Murray inhaled a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Well, sir, tomorrow is Sunday, and I hoped you might accompany the girls and me to church in the village.”

Gideon’s eyebrows rose. “In light of what you know about my attitudes toward children and religion, that strikes me as a rather improbable hope, Miss Murray. I doubt the Creator of the Universe cares whether or not I attend services.”

“That is not why I go to church!” The words burst out of her. “I go for my own sake, to…nourish…my soul.”

She pushed back her chair and started to rise. “I suppose you think that is all rubbish, too.”

Before Gideon had time to consider what he was doing, his hand seemed to move of its own accord and come to rest upon one of hers. “On the contrary, Miss Murray. Just because our beliefs differ does not mean I scoff at yours. I hope you will accord mine the same respect.”

Her hand felt cool and delicate beneath his, calling forth feelings of warmth and protectiveness Gideon hadn’t realized he possessed. But once discretion caught up with him, he knew he must not prolong such contact between them. The sound of the young footman’s returning steps spurred him to withdraw his hand, leaving Miss Murray free to go or stay as she wished.

To his surprise, she stayed, dropping back into her chair and pulling her hands off the table to rest upon her lap. Gideon wondered if it was only the footman’s return that had kept her from rushing away.

An awkward silence fell between them as the servant entered and placed a saucer of pudding in front of Miss Murray.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” he asked.

Gideon shook his head. “That will be all, thank you. You may go.”

He didn’t care to have his views on spiritual matters aired before the servants to fuel more gossip about him.

As the young footman withdrew, Miss Murray took a spoonful of custard from the dainty china bowl between them and dribbled it over her plum duff. In perfect unison, she and Gideon each took a bite.

“A sailor’s pudding is that,” he observed. “Though Mrs. Wheaton’s is far superior to any I ever tasted while at sea.”

If he’d hoped to draw Miss Murray into a conversation about food that would make her forget her original request, he was soon disappointed. “Let me assure you, Captain, I did not ask you to accompany us to church as a means of…converting you, but for the children’s sake.”

Gideon took another bite of pudding and chewed on it thoughtfully. What on earth did it matter to his young cousins how, or if, he observed the Sabbath?

Miss Murray seemed to sense his unasked question. “For Dolly’s sake, actually. She has begun to balk at going to church. I know it can be a long while for a child her age to sit still, but I believe it is important for children to be raised in faith. Otherwise they’re like ships without anchors.”

The nautical comparison appealed to Gideon. “I agree. If nothing else, it is a sound foundation for their moral development. But what does that have to do with me?”

Miss Murray sighed. “Dolly says it isn’t fair that she must to go to church when you do not. I didn’t know what to tell her, Captain.”

It was a valid point, Gideon reluctantly acknowledged. He was not certain how he would respond to the child’s argument. “The matter of my beliefs aside, I cannot say I am eager to venture out in public. I know very well the sort of gossip that must be circulating about me. I have no desire to be gawked at and whispered about.”

Miss Murray worried down another mouthful of pudding as if it were as tough as whale hide rather than a rich, moist confection that fairly melted on the tongue. “I understand your reluctance. But surely church is one place where you are less apt to be judged unfairly.”

“It should be.” Gideon placed skeptical emphasis on that middle word. “But can you assure me this particular church will be?”

She could not disguise her doubt. “I wish I could promise that, sir. But how can I expect others to behave more charitably toward you than I have? All I can say with confidence is that I believe once the local people meet you for themselves, they will be far less disposed to believe any false rumors about you.”

It was hardly a ringing endorsement, but Gideon appreciated her honesty. Though accompanying his young cousins to church went against his original bargain with their governess, he found it difficult to resist her appealing gaze.

Miss Murray seemed to sense his indecision. “If people see you going about your business openly, they’ll realize you have nothing to hide.”

That was true, Gideon had to admit. He wondered if his reclusiveness had fostered any mistrust the local people might have had of him. He could not let that continue. Besides, he felt responsible to set a good example for the children. At least that was one of their needs he was capable of meeting.

Having consumed the last morsel of pudding, he set down his spoon and carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Very well, Miss Murray, I accept your invitation. You may tell Miss Dolly she will not be able to use me as an excuse to shirk attendance at church.”

Gideon hoped this was not another decision he would come to regret.

“Thank you, Captain!” The governess surged out of her chair and dropped a curtsy. “I am very grateful for your assistance.”

The smile that illuminated her features lent them an air of unexpected beauty. It sent a rush of happiness through Gideon unlike any he’d felt in a great while.

“There you go, Dolly.” Marian smiled to herself as she tied on the child’s bonnet the next morning. “Now please try not to get mussed up before church.”

Since last evening, she had been more indulgent than usual with her headstrong little pupil. After all, it had been Dolly’s complaints about going to church that had inspired her to invite Captain Radcliffe to join them. Stumbling upon such a fine way to bring him and the girls together had given her hope that God might endorse her plan to have the captain seek guardianship of Cissy and Dolly.

Now if only she could get her pupils to play their parts properly.

“I trust you will be polite to the captain this morning.” She looked Cissy over and gave a nod of approval at her appearance. The ribbons on her straw bonnet matched the green velvet spencer she wore over her white muslin dress. The color looked well with her rich brown hair. “Remember, it is not his fault we were confined to the nursery this past while. It was mine for misunderstanding and rushing to judgment.”

“I promise I will remember my manners, Miss Marian,” the child replied demurely. Yet a subtle stiffness in her bearing suggested her behavior would be correct but not cordial.

Perhaps when Cissy got to know Captain Radcliffe a little better, that coolness would thaw. Marian hoped so.

“And you, Dolly.” She heaved an exasperated sigh when she turned to find the younger girl kneeling on the floor to recover her sixpence offering that had somehow rolled under the bed. “Please try not to be too forward. Otherwise, Captain Radcliffe may not want to come to church with us again.”

Clutching the tiny silver coin between her fingers, Dolly scrambled to her feet. “Why not?”

“Because…” Marian bent down to brush off a bit of dirt the child’s skirt had picked up from the floor. “Captain Radcliffe has lived on his ship for a very long time. He isn’t accustomed to the company of…young ladies.”

“Why can girls not sail ships?” Dolly demanded. “I like rowing on the pond in the summertime.”

Marian, too, had fond memories of their excursions to the little island in the middle of the ornamental lake. If her plan succeeded, it would mean she and the girls would still be at Knightley Park next summer to enjoy more of the same.

A glance at the mantel clock made her start with dismay. “We’ll talk about that later. Now, we mustn’t keep the captain waiting. Come along, girls.”

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.