The Captain's Christmas Family (11 page)

This evening had been unusually quiet with the captain going off to Squire Bellamy’s ball. But that had
nothing
to do with her present sleeplessness, Marian told herself.

She wondered how he was managing on the dance floor. They’d had two more lessons in the past week, neither of which had been as successful as the first. Could that be because she and the captain were constantly aware of the kissing bough and taking more care to avoid it than to perform the proper steps?

She also wondered with which lady the Squire’s matchmaking wife hoped to pair him. Part of her questioned whether it might benefit the girls if Gideon Radcliffe took a wife. Marriage would give him a reason to stay at Knightley Park, even if the inquiry decided in his favor. And if it came down to a legal battle between him and Lady Villiers for guardianship of the girls, surely it would look better before a court if he were a married man.

In spite of all that, when she considered the possible matches Mrs. Bellamy might have in mind for the captain, none met with her approval. The Squire’s widowed sister was as incurably silly as a green girl half her age. Miss Hitchens was notorious in the parish for her temper and sharp tongue. Miss Piper spent money like water. Unfortunately, all three were quite handsome and much more suitable wives for Captain Radcliffe than…

Marian rolled over and pounded her pillow to relieve her feelings. It did not help nearly as much as she’d hoped. She needed some diversion to occupy and calm her thoughts. Reading would be the perfect activity, if only she had a book on hand. But she had returned
Evelina
to the library three days before Christmas, then neglected to borrow another book to replace it.

After another hour taunted by thoughts of which she wanted no part, Marian rose and fumbled her candle alight. Shivering, she pulled on her dressing gown, shawl and slippers. Then she crept out of the nursery and headed down to the library. A glance at the pedestal clock surprised her with the information that it was not much past eleven. She could have sworn she’d been lying awake for hours.

It did not take her long to select a book, for she only wanted something capable of holding her attention without being too stimulating. Once she found a promising volume, she hurried back toward the nursery as quickly as she’d come. Yet she was not quick enough.

Marian had only gone a few steps when she heard the main door open and shut, and Captain Radcliffe came striding in. “Miss Murray, what on earth are you doing up at this hour? Is one of the girls unwell?”

Her unease at being seen by the captain in her nightclothes was tempered by the evidence of his concern for Cissy and Dolly.

“Don’t fret, sir. They are both quite well and sleeping soundly. I only wish I could say the same for myself.” She held up the book. “I hoped having something to read might help me sleep.”

“A good idea.” The captain seemed to be making an
effort to ignore her state of dress. “I have read myself to sleep on a number of occasions. Warm milk is another useful remedy. Perhaps you should investigate whether there is any to be had in the kitchen.”

“Thank you for the suggestion, sir. I may try that another time. I wouldn’t want to disturb anyone tonight.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” He spoke in a low murmur, as if musing to himself. “May I ask if there is some particular difficulty that keeps you from sleeping? No problems with the children, I hope?”

“None at all, Captain.” The last thing Marian wanted was for him to guess what sort of thoughts had kept her awake. She had a guilty feeling he would unless she offered him some other reason. “I must admit I have been rather worried about a friend of mine. We met at school and have kept in contact ever since. This is the first Christmas I have not received a letter from her.”

Everything she’d said was true—Marian could not bring herself to tell him a falsehood. She
did
wonder what could have happened to prevent Rebecca from writing. A stab of guilt pierced her for having lain awake thinking about something other than her dear friend.

“You met at
that
school?” Gideon Radcliffe’s tone grew harsh. “The place you told me about? Was your friend also the orphaned daughter of a clergyman?”

She should not stand there conversing with the master of the house at this hour, in her nightclothes, Marian’s sense of propriety warned. But after imagining him dancing, dining and talking with a bevy of marriageable ladies, it felt so pleasant to have him all to herself for a few stolen moments.

“We all were. The only thing that made my years at the Pendergast School remotely bearable was the support and affection of the friends I made there. Several of us became especially close—almost like sisters. Though we have not seen each other since we left that institution, we have tried to remain in contact, scattered about as we are.”

He nodded gravely. His palpable concern enveloped Marian like a thick wool blanket on a cold winter night. “Is there any way I can assist you? Where was your friend when you last heard from her? Perhaps I could dispatch someone to make inquiries on your behalf?”

Send someone over a hundred miles to the Cotswolds, paying for food, inns and stabling for no other purpose than to set her mind at ease? His generosity touched her. Yet his caring gesture made her feel even more ashamed for making him believe her concern for Rebecca had prevented her from sleeping.

“You are too kind, Captain. I would not want to put you to so much trouble on my account. It may be that my friend’s letter is only delayed by bad roads. If I have not received word from her by Twelfth Night, I will write to one of our other friends to inquire whether they have had news of her.”

“I would consider the effort well worthwhile if it set your mind at rest.”

His assurance made Marian’s pulse quicken. But it was only a measure of his thoughtfulness…wasn’t it?

“Speaking of rest, I should retire for the night and let you do the same for the hour is late. It will soon be eighteen-hundred and fifteen.” In spite of that, part of her searched for an excuse to linger. “I am surprised
to see you home so soon from the Bellamys’. I thought you would stay at least until they rang in the New Year. Did you not enjoy yourself at the ball?”

He gave an indifferent shrug. “Squire Bellamy neglected to inform me that tonight’s entertainment would be a
hunt ball
and that I would be the principle prey.”

“I beg your pardon, Captain?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was the only bachelor in a company that included several marriageable ladies. Not merely marriageable, but rather desperately intent on securing a husband. It is not a pleasant experience to be stalked that way.”

So he had not taken a fancy to any of the ladies Mrs. Bellamy threw in his path? Marian struggled to keep from smiling.

But with her self-control concentrated on that task, she had none left over to govern her tongue. “Perhaps you ought to consider taking a wife, now that you have a good income and a settled abode.”

“
Et tu,
Miss Murray?” His upper lip curled. “Do you reckon it is my social obligation to wed, simply to furnish some spinster with a home and generous pin money?”

“Of course not!” She turned defensive, stung by his question and what it implied. “Surely you don’t suppose every woman who shows an interest in you is only after the comfortable life you can afford to give her?”

“What else?” he demanded. “That was clearly the object of those ladies at the ball tonight.”

Marian struggled to frame a reply that would not betray the kind of feelings he did not seem inclined to trust.

“Who would want a husband like me otherwise?” he continued. “I am hardly the answer to a maiden’s prayer.”

He’d been the answer to her prayer…as a responsible, caring guardian for her young pupils. As for the other, Marian had never bothered to pray for a husband. It had seemed so futile. “Not every woman is looking for Romeo or Sir Galahad. You have a great many qualities a sensible woman would look for in a husband.”

She meant that as high praise, but the captain flinched at her words. “A sensible woman—you mean the kind with bluestockings, a plain countenance and rapidly advancing years, who knows enough to settle for what she can get by way of a husband?”

Now it was her turn to flinch from his brutally accurate assessment of her. His lip had curled into a full sneer. It proclaimed his distaste for such a woman and his certainty that she would only want to wed him for mercenary reasons.

Marian’s throat tightened until she wondered how she could draw any air down into her lungs, much less force words up. What a perfect fool she’d been to worry herself sleepless about potential rivals for Gideon Radcliffe’s affections when it was clear he would never think of her in that way.

“All that aside,” he continued in a gruff tone. “Even if I were capable of making a lady attached to me, I am not cut out for marriage. I had better stick with my mistress.”

“Mistress?” The word burst from Marian’s lips like a stopper from a jug of fermented cider.

“It does sound ridiculously unlikely, doesn’t it?”

Not to her. In fact, it explained a great deal. And yet it puzzled her, too. He was such a fine, honorable man. That was why she’d never been afraid to be alone with him, apart from her concern for appearances and propriety. She’d never entertained a moment’s worry that he might take advantage of her. Even if she’d been as beautiful as her friend Grace Ellerby, Marian believed she would still be safe in Gideon Radcliffe’s company.

“I didn’t mean I was surprised you could attract a…mistress, if you wanted one. Only you seem too respectable a man to—”

“I am the one who should explain, Miss Murray. I meant, of course, that the sea is my mistress—a demanding one but not all that discriminating.”

Marian scavenged up a wan smile at his self-deprecating jest. But all the while her heart was sinking. Even if she were more attractive and eligible, even if she could persuade the captain that she cared for
him,
not his fortune and position, the sea was a rival with whom no woman could hope to compete. She must take care to remember that.

As she strove to master her voice so she could make her excuses and escape to the nursery, several clocks in the house began to chime the hour of midnight. From off in the distance came the muted sounds of church bells ringing.

“There we are,” said Captain Radcliffe after the noise had died away. “The New Year has arrived. I wonder what it will bring us?”

His use of the word
us
made Marian’s heart give a broken-winged flutter, even though she knew he only meant it in a general way to include everyone at Knightley Park. Perhaps the whole of Great Britain.

“I hope it will be a quiet one with no great events to make it memorable in the future. After so many years of war, I pray for one of peace. As for you, Captain, I wish a year of health, happiness and justice.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Murray.” He extended his hand almost gingerly, tensed to pull away if she tried to surprise him with a kiss or embrace. “A happy New Year to you. I hope God will answer all your prayers.”

She took his hand and shook it, savoring the contact between them while trying to maintain all possible restraint. “I thought you didn’t believe in prayer.”

“I’m not certain I do. But since coming to Knightley Park, I am less certain that I don’t.” Like that kiss under the mistletoe, their handshake went on longer than it should have. “Perhaps I should have said I hope all your wishes for this New Year come to pass.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Slowly, reluctantly, she disengaged her hand from his.

Would he still extend her such a hope if he knew what secret wishes she kept locked in her heart?

W
ould God answer his prayers for the New Year? It might help if he was certain what he wanted to ask for. Those thoughts lurked in the back of Gideon’s mind the next day and the next, along with an unsettling realization he’d come to on New Year’s Eve.

Attending the Bellamys’ ball had been one sour note in an otherwise happy, harmonious Christmas season. When he’d been besieged by those ladies at dinner, he’d felt like a stag set upon by a pack of she-hounds! The whole ordeal had made him see he was quite mistaken about his liking for Marian Murray.

Until then, he had tried to dismiss his feelings as the natural reaction of a man enjoying the company of
any
woman after many years at sea. Now he could not deny there was more to it than that. If anything, his lack of experience had prevented him from recognizing just how rare and fine a woman she was. A few hours spent with those friends of Mrs. Bellamy’s had made him properly value Miss Murray’s good sense, compassion and loyalty.

Like the Christmas season itself, his acquaintance with her had transformed what could easily have been a period of barren darkness into something festive…perhaps even blessed.

But that did not change their situation, he sternly reminded himself as he stared out the great bay windows of the Chinese drawing room toward the frozen lake. Like Christmas, this surprisingly agreeable interlude must soon come to an end one way or another. The girls’ aunt would return from her travels to whisk them and their governess away. Gideon hoped with all his heart that he would be acquitted of any wrongdoing by the Admiralty and returned to active duty before then. He could not bear to contemplate staying on at Knightley Park without them.

As if drawn by his thoughts, the swift patter of footsteps approached, and Dolly raced in, warmly dressed in her scarlet pelisse and matching bonnet. “Where are you taking us, Cousin Gideon? Miss Marian won’t tell me.”

“That’s because I swore her to secrecy.” The moment the child appeared, his lips relaxed into a broad smile and a sense of well-being engulfed him. “I am happy to hear she has kept her word.”

Miss Murray appeared then with Cissy. “I’m not certain you ought to take that wee scamp anywhere, Captain, after the way she ran ahead and wouldn’t come back when I called her.”

Gideon tucked his arms behind his back and strove to force his countenance into the stern stare that used to come so easily to him. It no longer did—at least not when Cissy and Dolly were around. He could scarcely
believe how much he had come to care for them in such a short time. It was as if his young cousins had woken and befriended the lonely boy he’d once been.

“I am disappointed to hear of you running in the house and failing to heed Miss Marian. Do you remember what I told you about that?”

Dolly gave a chastened nod. “You said I’m not a filly and the house is not a racecourse. You won’t leave me at home, will you, Cousin Gideon? I’m sorry I ran, but I was so excited to find out where we’re going.”

He could understand that. Perhaps her behavior was partly his fault for keeping the children in suspense. “I reckon we can still take her this time, don’t you, Miss Murray? But if she makes a habit of this sort of conduct, I fear she will miss out on future excursions.”

“I suppose,” Marian Murray said, pretending to be persuaded against her will, “provided she stays on her best behavior while we’re away from home.”

“What’s an
excursion?
”

“It’s another way of saying an
outing,
” Gideon explained. “Going somewhere a bit different and doing something rather special.”

“Going where?” Cissy piped up. “Doing what?”

“Well, since Twelfth Night is approaching—” Gideon watched the girls’ faces for their reaction to his announcement “—I thought you might like to go shopping for gifts…in Newark.”

“In town?” Dolly bounced up and down on her toes, clapping. “Oh, yes! We haven’t been there in ever so long.”

“After we’ve made our purchases,” he continued. “I
wondered if you might care to see a pantomime at the theater.”

“I would.” A subdued sparkle in Cissy’s wide blue eyes betrayed her excitement.

“What’s a pantomime?” demanded Dolly.

“Something you will enjoy, I believe,” Gideon replied. “I can tell you more about it on our drive into town. But we must be on our way soon if we want to get our shopping done and have something to eat before the curtain rises.”

The weather had turned milder, so their drive to Newark was a pleasant one. Dolly chattered away, scarcely able to contain her excitement. Even Cissy seemed more talkative than usual. Now perfectly at ease in their company, Gideon sometimes joined in the conversation and other times simply basked in the enjoyment of it. Miss Murray said little but watched him and the children with a brooding air that lent her features a glow beyond mere beauty.

Now and then their gazes met, and they exchanged brief smiles of shared affection for the girls. That’s all it was, Gideon insisted to himself. That was all it could ever be.

By and by they reached Newark, a prosperous, bustling town that straddled the Great North Road where it crossed the River Trent. They drove into the market stead, a large open square surrounded by shops, inns and public houses. The magnificent spire of the parish church loomed behind the southeastern side of the square, dwarfing all the buildings in its shadow.

“I suggest we go separate ways to make our purchases,” said Gideon as their carriage drew to a stop
in front of an inn called The Kingston Arms. “Each of us can take one of the girls. That way the presents may be a surprise when they are opened on Twelfth Night.”

“That’s a very good idea.” Dolly latched onto the sleeve of his coat.

“I’m glad you think so.” He fought back a grin. “Though it was Miss Murray’s approval I was seeking.”

“I agree with Dolly.” She took Cissy by the hand. “It is a good idea.”

When they alighted from the carriage, he drew Miss Murray aside and slipped her a sum of money. He pitched his voice low and leaned in close so the girls would not hear. “Help the child pick out a gift for her sister. And if you should see anything the girls need or might enjoy, I would be grateful if you make the purchase on my behalf. If the sum I have given you is not sufficient, kindly take note of the item and the shop so I can return for it later.”

“I shall be happy to help, Captain.” She slipped the money into her reticule. “Where and when should we meet up again?”

He nodded toward the inn. “I shall order us dinner and a private parlor where we can eat. Let us meet back here in two hours, if that will give you enough time?”

“I believe it should.” As she and Cissy headed toward a nearby shop, Miss Murray called back. “We will see you in two hours, then.”

With Dolly dancing along at his side, Gideon entered The Kingston Arms and made arrangements for their dinner. Then he and the child began walking around the cobblestoned square in the opposite direction from Cissy and their governess.

A year ago, if anyone had told him he would take pleasure in shopping with a high-spirited little girl, he would have dismissed such claims as the ramblings of a lunatic. Yet here he was, going from shop to shop, seeing everything with fresh, wondering eyes, evaluating every possible purchase in terms of the enjoyment it might bring his young cousins.

Then his gaze lit upon an item he felt certain their governess could use. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to give someone a particular gift. If only that harsh taskmaster, propriety, did not make it impossible.

Suddenly he became aware of a persistent tugging on his coat sleeve. How long had Dolly been trying to get his attention? “Forgive me, my dear. What do you want?”

“I was thinking,” Dolly pressed her forefinger to her temple. “We should buy a present for Miss Marian.”

The child’s idea was like the answer to a prayer, only better, for he had not even formed his wordless longing into a petition. Instead, it felt as if someone knew him well enough to anticipate his need and supply it.

“That is a fine idea!” He wrapped his arm around Dolly’s shoulders and pulled her close. “What’s more, I believe I know just what she might like.”

“I’m glad the Captain suggested we go our separate ways to do our shopping,” said Marian as she and Cissy skirted the perimeter of the cobbled market square, peering into shop windows. “It isn’t often you and I have a chance to be by ourselves.”

Perhaps, in future, she could persuade the captain to take Dolly now and then so she could spend more
time with Cissy. It couldn’t be easy for the child, always having to share attention with her boisterous little sister.

“Yes.” Cissy tugged her toward the confectioner’s shop, which had a mouthwatering display of Twelfth Night cakes in the window. “If Dolly came with us, she would try to peek all the time at what I was buying for her.”

Marian chuckled. “And I don’t suppose you would ever think of doing that?”

“Of course not.” Cissy seemed mildly offended. “That would spoil the surprise.”

“So it would,” Marian agreed. “See that cake decorated with all the marzipan fruit? The tiny grapes and cherries look so real.”

“I like that one best.” Cissy pointed to a cake with seven swans swimming around the edge. “Mrs. Wheaton’s Twelfth Night Cake may not look as fancy as these, but I’m sure it will taste every bit as good.”

“I have no doubt of that.” Marian nodded toward the milliner’s shop next door. “These cakes are lovely to look at, but this isn’t getting Dolly’s Christmas present bought.”

“What do you think I should get her?” asked Cissy as they entered the milliner’s and began to look over the colorful array of bonnets and hats on display. “I’m not certain she’d want any sort of clothes.”

“I suppose not.” Marian gazed with longing at a blue hat trimmed with lace and white silk flowers. She had never owned anything so pretty in her life and probably never would. But she should not be ungrateful. Her present circumstances were a vast improvement over her wretched years at school.

With Cissy’s hand firmly in hers, they emerged back onto the market square. “If you don’t want to give her clothing, that narrows down our search. We needn’t bother looking in any of the drapers’ shops.”

They passed by two of those.

“Or the shoemakers.”

“What about that place?” Cissy pointed toward a shop that sold china, glassware and cutlery.

“It looks worth a try.” Marian doubted Dolly would care for a piece of decorative china, either. But she might find something for Cissy from her cousin. “It was very kind of the captain to bring us shopping in Newark, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Cissy did not elaborate.

“Do you like him better now than when he first came to Knightley Park?”

The child nodded, though not with the degree of enthusiasm Marian had hoped for. “He isn’t very much like Papa, but he is rather nice in his way. You seem to like him a great deal more than you used to.”

Were her feelings for Gideon Radcliffe so transparent? Marian tried not to let on how much Cissy’s remark flustered her.

Fortunately, they had reached the china shop which provided plenty of distractions. It turned out the place also sold toys. Away from the fragile china and glassware were several shelves containing jacks, marbles, toy soldiers and the like.

“I should be able to find something here for Dolly.” Cissy looked carefully over the items for sale.

Marian did too, taking note of one or two that Captain Radcliffe might wish to purchase for the girls.
Though she wanted to carry out his commission, she felt uncomfortable spending his money without consulting him.

She hoped the girls would like the beaded coin purses she had made for them. How she wished she could afford to give them special shop-bought presents. But her salary was not large and she needed to save every penny to support herself when she got too old to work.

After careful deliberation, Cissy made her choices. Marian counted out from her reticule the sum they would cost so the child could pay for her purchases.

As they headed back out to the market square, Cissy clutched her parcel as if she feared someone might try to take it from her. Without any warning she asked, “When is Aunt Lavinia coming? Has there been any word from her? I hoped she would be here to spend Christmas with us.”

Marian hoped Lady Villiers would stay away from Knightley Park for at least ten years. “Your father’s solicitor has tried to contact her but no one is quite certain where she might be…Paris…Vienna…Naples.”

Cissy’s questions dismayed her even more than the too-perceptive remark about her feelings for the captain. She had been trying so hard to make him care for his young cousins. Now it seemed she should have done more to foster Cissy’s liking for him.

“The bookseller’s.” Marian headed toward a handsome stone building that occupied the south corner of the square. “Let’s see what they have, shall we? I could happily browse there for hours.”

The shop was quite crowded with prosperous-looking
people in search of gifts for friends and family. Marian inhaled the mellow pungency of ink, paper and leather as avidly as the children might sniff sweet smells coming from a bakery.

No sooner had they arrived than a friend of Cissy’s came to greet her. “Merry Christmas! Have you had a pleasant holiday? We’ve come to town to see the pantomime.”

“So have we,” Cissy announced proudly. “And to shop for Christmas presents.”

The girls wandered off, chatting together, while Marian perused the shelves that reached all the way to the high ceiling.

“May I help you find a particular title, ma’am?” A young shop assistant approached her. “
Mansfield Park,
perhaps? It is the newest work by the authoress of
Sense and Sensibility
and
Pride and Prejudice.
All the ladies are clamoring for it.”

Marian would have liked very much to purchase all three books by that lady. Her friend Rebecca had read the first two and praised them highly in her letters. Ah, well, she had the Radcliffes’ whole library at her disposal. Those books might not be the newest, but there were many good ones among the collection. “Thank you, but I am not looking to make a purchase for myself.”