by Jody Hedlund
But four hundred pounds a year as an inheritance? Surely his uncle hadn’t been a man of quite that means.
Mayhap the captain was misinformed on the exact amount. Mayhap he’d inherited two hundred pounds a year. Even that would be more than enough to go home with pride, to hold his head high, and to be able to finally propose to Polly without anyone having cause to object.
“So what say you, young man?” Captain Swanwick asked. “Will you be ready to leave on the morrow?”
Newton searched the captain’s face. The captain seemed a man of integrity, much like his father. He certainly wouldn’t have cause to lie.
Across the yard, a flash of movement caught Newton’s attention. Devon was dragging a young African woman away from the area of the slave hut and toward the house. Even though the shadows of the evening had lengthened, it was still light enough to see that the woman was naked and dripping wet.
Newton glanced away in sudden embarrassment, hoping the captain hadn’t seen the woman. He knew Devon was only doing what they always did when they had special visitors. He’d washed the slave girl up and would give her to their company to use as they saw fit during the night. The first mate and the sailors who’d come ashore could take their turns with her. After the deprivation of shipboard life, the sailors would be indebted to him and Devon for such an offer.
But the captain was clearly a righteous man. Surely he wouldn’t approve, and he wouldn’t take kindly to him leading his officer and sailors astray. Newton certainly didn’t want the captain to tell tales of his hedonistic lifestyle once they returned to England.
Newton stood, his mind made up. “I’m ready to go tonight, sir. Right now as a matter of fact.”
September 1747
Polly hugged her mother tightly.
“It’s so good to have you home, my love,” her mother murmured against her ear.
Polly pulled back with a smile. “I’m glad to be home.”
“You look so fancy and grown up,” cried Eliza, who ran to her and threw her arms around her.
“I haven’t changed all that much since I saw you in the spring,” Polly replied with a laugh. The autumn sunshine was warm and bathed her childhood home in a soft glow as if to welcome her back.
“I hope you’re home for good,” Eliza said, linking arms and strolling with her up the walkway to the door.
After finishing at Mrs. Overing’s in the spring, Polly had spent the summer traveling with school friends, first to Bath, then to visit Jack at Oxford, and then finally to one of her friend’s country estates in Elsfield. While the summer had been delightful, full of parties and introductions to more men than she could keep count, she was relieved to have the quiet of home again.
“I’m not going anywhere soon,” Polly spoke playfully with her sister. “Unless of course you refuse to listen to all my new songs and praise them highly.”
Eliza giggled. “I will be your greatest fan and demand that you play them over and over.”
“Then I think I shall have to stay forever.” Polly leaned into her sister for a half hug.
Her mother linked her other arm, and they strolled together. “You needn’t do anything but just enjoy being home,” Mother said, her eyes sparkling with a gladness that made Polly realize how much she’d missed everyone. Seeing them on school breaks had never been long enough.
But even as her mother’s gracious words flowed over Polly, she wasn’t naive enough to believe them. She had work to do—the work of finding a husband. No one would say those words to her. But at twenty years of age, she knew it well enough. It was her primary job now. She was polished and perfected, the prime marriageable candidate. Now she needed to choose before the eligible men were snatched up.
The front door opened and her father stepped out. He was as tall and thin as he’d always been. Except for more gray hairs mingled with the brown, he was virtually unchanged. His warm eyes met hers, and his smile radiated true joy at seeing her.
She broke away from her sister and Mother and ran to him. With a laugh of delight, she found herself wrapped into his arms. “Welcome home, Polly.” He kissed the top of her head before releasing her. “I can’t tell you how much we’ve all been looking forward to this day.”
He searched her face for a moment as though silently assessing how she really fared. He’d always been able to see deeper inside her, past her facades, past her smiles, to the truth. She knew he was attempting to gauge how she was feeling about John Newton, whether she still cared for him or if she’d been able to forget about him and move on.
She gave him a genuine smile hoping he could see that she was finally free. Yes, she’d struggled in the few weeks after Captain Newton’s visit to Susanna’s London residence last December. Yes, his visit had awakened emotions she hadn’t wanted to feel again. Yes, she’d ached with a need for John she couldn’t deny.
But that was all gone again. She’d had even more time in the ensuing months to cut her ties with him. After all, Captain Newton’s visit had confirmed that John was all but dead anyway. There was little hope that he’d survived his captivity in Africa. Even if he had, that didn’t matter to her. She made clear to Captain Newton that she didn’t want to have anything more to do with John. Either way, John was dead to her. Just as he should be. Just as her father had hoped for.
Her father brushed her cheek before returning her smile. “You grow more lovely every time I see you.”
Before she could respond, her younger siblings surrounded her, clamoring for hugs and talking all at once. As her trunks and boxes were unloaded, she updated her family on news of Jack at the university and shared some of the experiences she had during the summer.
They’d only just finished eating dinner when a knock sounded on the front door. Eliza smiled dreamily when the servant announced that Billy Baldock had come calling.
Her father was the first to approach Billy, who was standing in the front hallway.
“Good evening, sir,” Billy said with a slight bow. He was wearing a crisp navy-blue customs officer’s uniform, a long frock coat with gleaming silver buttons down the front over a long waistcoat. He’d already removed his hat to reveal his wig.
His attention shifted to her standing in the dining-room doorway, and in one sweeping glance he took in her stylish garments, the elegantly embroidered and beaded stomacher decorating the burgundy-colored bodice and matching skirt. The dark red contrasted with her pale skin and fair hair. It was one of her least fancy garments, one she often wore for traveling. But nevertheless, it was a flattering outfit, and she couldn’t prevent the small measure of satisfaction at Billy’s reaction.
His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple rose and then fell before he finally tore his attention away from her and back to her father. “I heard Miss Catlett had returned from her travels, and I hoped I might be allowed to invite her and one of her sisters for a brief stroll since it’s such a fine autumn evening.”
Her father studied Billy for a moment. “She’s spent a long day traveling and is weary from the ride.”
Billy bowed his head in acquiescence. “I understand completely, sir. May I have the privilege to come calling on Miss Catlett tomorrow evening?”
Father glanced at her with a raised brow. She couldn’t help noticing the concern in his eyes and wondered at it.
She gave Billy what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “It would be lovely to visit with you, Billy.”
Billy broke into a grin, highlighting his dashing good looks. Surely he had caught the eye of some local girl? Next to Polly, Eliza gave a soft sigh and gazed at Billy with undisguised admiration. Polly had to force back a chuckle. At the very least, he’d captured Eliza’s attention.
Billy put his hat back on and gave her a nod. “I’ll look forward to tomorrow evening and hearing about your time away at school.”
“I’ll walk you out to the front gate,” Polly offered.
His eyes lit up, but he looked at Father for permission. Father nodded and took a st
ep back. He appeared as though he might say something more to caution her, but then he smiled and waved her forward.
As she stepped outside in the fading evening light, she glanced overhead and saw the first star of the coming night. The air was cooler than when she’d arrived, but still pleasant enough.
“It’s good to see you again,” Billy whispered, with a glance over his shoulder at the open door behind them where several of her siblings stood watching.
“I’m glad to see you too.”
“Do you mean it?” He slowed his steps to almost a crawl.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” She smiled up at him.
His expression turned suddenly serious. “I’ve been waiting for the day of your return, Polly. I’ve nearly worried myself sick that you may have met quite a number of men while you’ve been away.”
“I did.”
“And…” His feet came to almost a standstill. “Did any of them capture your heart?”
She didn’t want to admit that only one man had ever captured her heart and that man had been John Newton. But that was in her past, a past she wanted to forget. Instead, she focused on the present, on the important task of picking a husband from among the good men available to her. “I’ve given permission to a couple of gentlemen to call on me now that I’m home.”
“You have?” Billy’s voice rose with dismay.
“Surely you wouldn’t have me become an old spinster?” she tried to tease, but remembered that Billy was a much more serious man than John.
“You won’t become a spinster,” Billy said, as gravely as she expected.
She glanced to the window next door where the figure of a woman half-hidden in the draperies of a second-floor room watched them. It was Miss Donovan, and she was holding her dog. At the sight of Polly peering her way, she fell away from the window.
“I’d like permission to come calling on you too.” His words tripped over themselves awkwardly, but that didn’t stop him. “And not just as a friend.”
They’d reached the front iron gate, and he stopped and faced her. She had the feeling that if her younger sisters hadn’t been giggling in the doorway, Billy might have even reached for her hand. She searched his eyes, seeing in them a sincerity and kindness that reminded her of Father. She supposed she would inevitably compare every man to her father. She couldn’t help it. She wanted a man with the same character, the same solid integrity, the same abiding faith, and the same love of family.
“I’ve been promoted to a riding officer,” he said earnestly. “And I’ve been saving everything I make. By spring, I should have enough to buy a house.”
“I’m glad to hear you’ve done well for yourself—”
“For us,” he interrupted. “For you.”
His face was darkly handsome, and she tried to conjure an attraction to him, something, anything. She willed her stomach to flip, for warmth to pulse through her veins, for her fingers to crave the touch of his skin.
He paused as if waiting for her reaction, but then he rushed forward again as though he needed to prove his worthiness even more. “I’m doing well, Polly. I’ll be able to give you everything you need or want. I promise.”
Her stomach finally gave a small flip—more like a tiny ripple. But it was something, maybe the sign that she ought to consider Billy as a suitor. He was prepared to take care of her.
“Will you give me a chance?”
This time when his gaze caressed her face, her heart pattered forward with an unexpected thump.
What reason did she have to refuse him? She knew Billy better than any of the men she’d met in London. He would make some woman a good husband. She just wasn’t sure that woman was her. But it wouldn’t hurt to spend time over the winter and spring discovering if they truly were compatible enough for marriage.
“Very well,” she said, feeling suddenly shy with him. “You may come calling on me. And not just as a friend.”
His grin warmed her heart. After he took his leave, she ambled back down the path to the open door. For a moment she thought she was alone and hugged her arms to her chest, trying to make sense of what she’d just promised Billy.
“Billy’s a nice young man,” came her father’s voice as he stepped into the doorway.
A flush of heat moved into Polly’s cheeks, and she wondered if they were as red as they felt. “He’s always been a good friend.”
“I can see that he’s no longer satisfied with friendship.”
“He’s asked to call on me.”
Her father leaned against the doorjamb. “I figured he might.”
A note in his voice stopped her. “You don’t approve?”
“I like Billy,” Father replied slowly. “But you know already that I don’t approve of dishonest gain.”
“He said he’s become a riding officer.”
“Yes, he’s done well for himself in that regard. But I’m sad to say that he’s fallen prey to his uncle’s bribing. It’s partly how he was granted the position in the first place. Charlie wanted a riding officer who was on his side.”
“He’s likely doing no more or less than anyone else,” she said, wanting to defend Billy.
“That’s true. But just because everyone is cheating and stealing doesn’t make the sin right in God’s eyes.”
Now she understood the concern she’d seen in her father’s eyes when Billy had come calling. He didn’t like the fact that Billy was accepting bribes from smugglers like so many of the other officers.
But should that really stop her from considering him as a suitor? Besides, maybe her father was being too particular about her suitors. He hadn’t liked John, hadn’t considered his character to be strong enough, hadn’t believed he was worthy enough for her. That was understandable. After all, John was lacking in many areas.
But how could he disapprove of Billy? Billy was everything he should want in a son-in-law. Obviously he wasn’t flawless. But there were no perfect men. If she waited for someone perfect, she’d most definitely end up as a spinster like Miss Donovan next door.
“You have high standards for my suitors,” she said cautiously, not wishing to be disrespectful of her father but also knowing she was old enough to make up her own mind now.
“I only have God’s standards in mind for you, Polly” he replied in a tender voice, as though he sensed all her thoughts. “And if you lower those standards, you may find yourself content in the short term but unhappy long term.”
“But if I’m too choosy, I may end up with no one.”
“If you’re not choosy enough, you could end up with the wrong person.”
Her mind flashed to Susanna, to her miserable marriage. Susanna had started with such high hopes, had thought Daniel was someone who could love her. But perhaps Susanna had put too much stock in the lifestyle Daniel could give her and not enough in the things that mattered most, like his character.
“If we hold true to God’s Word and walk according to his way—no matter how tempting it is to take the easy path—he’ll bring us to green pastures eventually.”
She wanted to believe her father, wanted to trust that he was right. After all, he was the kind of man she aspired to marry. Billy was close enough. Wasn’t he?
Her father smiled warmly and beckoned her inside. “There’s no rush. You can take your time discovering if Billy is truly the man God has for you.”
She returned his smile and walked into his embrace.
“In the meantime,” he said, draping an arm around her, “I shall enjoy seeing you every day while I still can.”
March 1748
Newton sat at the table in Captain Swanwick’s cabin and stared at the open pages of Euclide’s Elements in front of him. He’d sat often at this table over the past year of traveling on the Greyhound. The round port window afforded little light, especially in the dismally rainy spring evening. The lantern hanging above him cast swinging flickers. But even with the poor conditions, he’d done nothing but read since the Greyhound s
ailed away from Newfoundland eight days ago.
They’d caught a strong westerly wind, which was blowing them rapidly back across the Atlantic. With each passing day, his mood had considerably sobered. He wasn’t exactly sure why, except that perhaps the realization he was heading for home had finally hit him. In a month’s time, he very well could be standing in Chatham proposing marriage to Polly.
His sights shifted to the other book lying on the table, the book he hadn’t wanted to read but had been drawn to again and again over the past week.
With a sigh he shut the well-worn copy of Isaac Barrow’s textbook of mathematics. The geometrical designs, diagrams, and calculations had set his wits a-woolgathering many days during the months on board the ship. He realized he had a natural turn for mathematics and enjoyed the study. Perhaps if he’d continued with schooling, he may have even become a mathematician.
But during the past few days, Euclide hadn’t held his attention. Instead, he kept opening the only other book—besides the Bible—in the captain’s cabin, which was a copy of The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. The four volumes had originally been written in Latin, but fortunately the edition was rendered in English, having been compiled by George Stanhope. Stanhope had added a commentary with many explanations of passages.
Newton had only picked up the book to pass the time. He was bored and had nothing better to do. He’d begun reading it with the same indifference he would a novel.
But once he started, he wasn’t able to stop. And no matter how hard he partied with the ship’s crew late into the night, no matter how much he tried to use rum to drown out the thoughts the book was awakening, he invariably came back to it. Every day.
As if his fingers had a will of their own, he cracked open the book again. The pages fell open to a familiar spot, and the words jumped out at him: “True peace of heart, then, is found in resisting passions, not in satisfying them.”
