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.
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