Newton and Polly

by Jody Hedlund

  “Nay, ’tis only the cat’s handiwork.” He glanced inside his shirt at his chest to assess the damage. Deep red scratches crisscrossed his skin, only surface deep, but stinging nonetheless.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered. “I should have warned you that Pete is easily frightened.”

  “ ’Tis not your fault. I should have known when I saw so ferocious a creature that I was in for a terrible battle.”

  His attempt to ease her guilt was rewarded with a smile. “He was a fierce enemy, wasn’t he?”

  “The fiercest.”

  “Consider them your battle wounds. And I shall knight you for your heroic rescue.”

  “Sir John Newton.” He pretended to mull over the title. “I like the sound of it.”

  Her smile widened. “You’re now a noble hero.”

  “Will you write a song about me so that my brave deeds will be lauded through all generations?”

  Her eyes took on a merry twinkle. “I shall do my best to come up with something worthy of you.”

  “Something epic, mayhap very similar to Beowulf ?”

  She laughed and the sound melted his heart into a puddle of tallow.

  The nearby yap of a dog startled him at the same moment it did her. She quickly scrambled away from him and up to her feet.

  “How do you do, Miss Donovan?” Polly said, smoothing her hands over her skirt as though she didn’t know what to do with them.

  A tall woman stood in the yard on the opposite side of the wrought-iron fence. With raven black hair and equally dark eyebrows, the woman at first appeared to be scowling at them, but her darting eyes spoke more of nervousness than rebuke. She held a curly-haired white dog in her arms, and her gloved fingers were rapidly stroking the dog’s fur.

  “This is my cousin, Mr. John Newton,” Polly spoke again, motioning at him. “And Mr. Newton, this is one of our neighbors, Miss Donovan.”

  He scrambled to his feet, trying not to wince at the pain in his tailbone or the throbbing in his chest and arm. “Good day to you, Miss Donovan.” He bowed with a flourish.

  “I was just examining Mr. Newton’s condition,” Polly said quickly. “He fell from the tree and he’s bleeding and we were discussing the nature of his injuries…” Her voice trailed off, and her cheeks flushed a deeper pink.

  Still Miss Donovan didn’t say anything. Her fingers only moved faster in the dog’s hair. Red seemed to steal into her thin cheeks as well, and she merely nodded before finally turning away from them and gliding toward the house that stood a short distance from the Catletts’.

  When she disappeared inside, Polly pressed her fingers first against one flushed cheek and then the other. All the while she glanced everywhere but at him—at the spruce tree, at the large front windows, at the dirt road that led to a small stable behind the house.

  “You have such friendly neighbors,” he offered, wanting to put her at ease.

  She shifted her attention to the imposing brick house Miss Donovan had entered. A large tapestry in one of the side windows fluttered back into place hiding whoever had been peering out at them. “Miss Donovan moved here only last year and lives with her younger brother and his family.”

  “Then she’s a spinster?”

  “Unfortunately.” Polly rubbed her mittened hands together. “And unfortunately, Mr. Donovan, her brother, isn’t very kind to her. He treats her as though she’s an imposition to his family.”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t have the means to take care of her?” Judging from the home, he suspected Mr. Donovan was likely of the middling sort, the same as the Catletts, and had more than enough to live comfortably.

  Polly shook her head. “No one wants to take care of a spinster sister, even if they have the means.”

  “Means or no, a man ought to do his duty by his family.” His father’s wife, Thomasina, had given birth to three children over the years—two boys and a girl. Newton had never considered them his siblings, and he’d been away on voyages too often to get to know them. And yet, if anything ever happened to his father or Thomasina, he’d find a way to help his stepbrothers and stepsister.

  “We should get you inside,” Polly said. “And have Mother dress your wounds.”

  He didn’t need anyone to take care of a few little scratches. Besides, in spite of his banter with Polly, he wasn’t looking forward to admitting to everyone else that he’d been wounded by a kitten. That wasn’t exactly something a man boasted about. Nevertheless, if it gained him Polly’s further doting…“I’m sure your mother will be much too busy to worry about me. Mayhap you could take care of me.”

  She started back to the door with rapid steps, but not before he caught a glimpse of the pretty pink coloring her cheeks again.

  He chuckled and then jogged after her.

  “Polly?” The call from down the lane stopped them both. A horse cantered toward them carrying a man in a customs uniform—the same young man they’d met yesterday down at the river front.

  “Good day, Billy.” Polly’s greeting was as warm as her smile, and she veered toward the front gate.

  John had an overwhelming and completely irrational urge to grab her arm and steer her into the house so that she couldn’t talk to Billy Baldock. It had been clear from the very first moment Billy had rushed to see Polly that the man was infatuated with her. Although she claimed they were only friends, he could see that Polly liked Billy too. Mayhap she didn’t like him as a suitor. But with Billy’s ardor, he’d win her soon enough.

  A strange urgency prodded John to follow closely on Polly’s heel. As she stepped out of the gate to the side of the road, he joined her.

  Billy reined his horse next to Polly and beamed down at her, ignoring John altogether. “You look lovely today.” He flashed a grin that revealed perfectly white and straight teeth. In his finely tailored coat, with his dark hair and blue eyes, the man was too handsome. He looked like a real knight on his steed.

  “I was in the area delivering a message for Father,” Billy said. “And Felicity asked me to bring you this invitation.” He leaned down and handed Polly a crisply folded note.

  “That was kind of you.” Polly smiled her thanks. It was the sort of guileless smile that said she always saw the best in people, that she genuinely cared about those around her, and that Billy was no different from him in that regard.

  In fact, she’d known Billy a lot longer than she had known him, and who was he to think he could waltz into Chatham and in two days’ time make her fall in love with him? Because that’s what he wanted to do, wasn’t it? Because that’s exactly what had happened to him, hadn’t it?

  Billy hadn’t taken his attention off Polly’s face. “Felicity is hosting a party next week, and she wanted to make sure you and Susanna will be there.”

  Polly finished reading the invitation but hesitated. Newton hoped she’d say no. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted to keep her all to himself, although that was unrealistic considering there would likely be many parties and activities during the twelve days of Christmas.

  “I’d like to attend.” Polly started folding the note. “However…”

  Newton couldn’t stop himself from lifting a hand and grazing her elbow. He wasn’t sure why he did it, except that perhaps it was his way of laying claim to Polly, of telling Billy that she was his now and that Billy would do well to stay clear of her.

  Billy didn’t miss the message. His mouth thinned, and everything in the taut flexing muscles of his face shouted at Newton to back away and take his hands off Polly.

  Newton was tempted to slide his arm around Polly’s waist and draw her into the crook of his body. But she’d bolt away from him like a frightened doe if he made such a bold move. Instead he circled his fingers about her elbow more possessively. He didn’t look away from Billy’s stare but returned it with a half grin, hoping to irritate the man.

  Polly glanced between them and, seeing the growing tension upon Billy’s face, spoke quickly. “I’d like to attend Felicity’s party
, but only if Cousin John can come along too. That way the two of you will have the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

  Newton almost snorted. He’d rather drink the foul bilge water that sat beneath the floorboards of a hull than become friends with Billy.

  “I’m sure Felicity would like to meet John as well,” Polly added.

  “It’s only a small party,” Billy replied.

  “Please, Billy?” Her plea, her big eyes, her beauty—combined, they were simply too hard to resist for even the strongest man. “I wouldn’t feel right abandoning my cousin during the festivities.”

  For the briefest moment, guilt churned in Newton’s gut like a rancid meal. His father’s voice at the back of his mind demanded that he leave today for Liverpool. He had a decent job waiting for him in Jamaica, a job his father had negotiated on his behalf. The rational part of him urged him to go, to do the responsible thing, to follow through on his commitment.

  But then just as rapidly, he tossed the guilt overboard and let it sink far, far out of sight. There was no way he could leave now, not in light of the party next week. He couldn’t allow Polly to go without him. Not with Billy Baldock following her around like a besotted puppy dog.

  Besides, he promised Mrs. Catlett he would build her a new shelving unit. He’d offered his help, and he couldn’t withdraw it now.

  Nay, he couldn’t go. Not yet. He’d at least stay through next week. The job in Jamaica could wait. He would devise an excuse to give his father and Joseph Manesty for why he was late. And at some point he’d find another ship leaving for the West Indies.

  Billy finally nodded at Polly reluctantly. “I’m sure Felicity would much rather have you come to the party with your cousin in tow than be absent altogether.” Billy cast Newton a quick sharp glance that told him the truth: that Felicity didn’t care a farthing who came to the party, that Billy would rather see Newton dead than anywhere near Polly, but that he’d do anything to make Polly happy.

  “Thank you, Billy.” Her face radiated her pleasure. “You’re a dear.”

  At her words of endearment, the young man’s features softened.

  Newton stiffened. The matter was settled. He was staying. And he was going to the party.

  Polly tried not to gape in envy as a footman led her into the Baldocks’ drawing room. Every time she visited the Baldocks, she imagined that she was stepping into one of the rooms of the king’s palace at Hampton Court. Maybe it was the oval moulding of the decorated plaster ceiling that gave the room its elegance. Or perhaps the intricate cornice and frieze that contrasted with the deep burgundy color of the walls that made her feel as though she were stepping into the royal household. With the Christmas evergreen and holly draped about the room as accents, it was more beautiful than usual.

  Whatever the reason, she always lifted her shoulders just a tad higher when she entered the room. Its enormous gilt-framed pictures and polished dark mahogany tables and chairs gleamed under the glow of the oil lamps. Even the carpet, with its design of birds and foliage, was thick and plush, making her feel like a wealthy gentlewoman, although she most certainly was not.

  “I dare say, it’s about time for your arrival,” Felicity said, rising from the settee where she had perched as she visited with several other guests.

  Polly smiled at her childhood friend, but Felicity was staring directly at John, who had entered the room behind her. Earlier as they prepared for the party, Susanna had insisted on outfitting John in one of Father’s suits. Although John was about the same height as Father, he was decidedly broader and more muscular, and therefore the waistcoat stretched at the seams. Susanna wasn’t able to button any of the wrist buttons of the coat, leaving more of the shirt ruffles on display. He refused to wear one of Father’s wigs but gave in to Susanna’s prodding to allow her to tie a cravat at the high collar of the waistcoat.

  “So this is the handsome cousin I’ve heard so much about.” Felicity approached them, all the while studying John with open curiosity as one might a foreigner. Though Polly had questioned Susanna’s efforts at dressing John up, she was glad now that Susanna had enough foresight to save John the embarrassment of feeling ill at ease and out of place at the Baldocks’.

  Polly made all the proper introductions. Fortunately, John wasn’t easily embarrassed, and he responded with warm charm to Felicity, who tossed her thick auburn curls over her shoulders and gave John full view of the womanly curves that her bodice and overskirt emphasized to perfection. Polly had to suppress a momentary pang of jealousy at the newest mantua Felicity was wearing. The open robe was buckled at her waist with a girdle and revealed a flowered petticoat in a lovely violet that contrasted with the gold skirt.

  Polly swallowed the familiar envy she experienced whenever she was with Felicity and other friends whose fathers could afford to buy new garments. She pushed aside the thought that her father could be doing the same and reminded herself that he was a man of principle and integrity and she loved him for it.

  “You’re jealous,” John whispered as he took a place on the settee next to her.

  Polly buried her fingers in the layers of her silky skirt and rebuked herself for her discontentment. How had he noticed? And had anyone else noticed her vanity? She glanced around the room. Susanna had accompanied them to the Baldock home, but she’d already disappeared. Billy was nowhere in sight either, and he was usually one of the first to greet her.

  “Envy is indeed one of my faults,” she whispered.

  He grinned and puffed out his chest. “You don’t have to be jealous.”

  “I’ll try not to be the rest of the evening.” She would have to refrain from looking at what all the other young ladies were wearing, and she’d have to stop admiring the decor of the drawing room and comparing it to theirs. After all, while their home might not be quite as lavish, it wasn’t as though they were beggars living in a poorhouse.

  “Miss Baldock is a lovely woman.” John leaned closer so that she caught his scent, one that was a mixture of sea and wind.

  “Yes, she’s a dear friend.” Felicity had taken up a conversation with several other young ladies near the fireplace. Her voice, her laughter, her expression were vivacious and irresistible. She was already making plans to leave for boarding school in the spring, and Polly was trying not to envy her for that either.

  “Aye, you don’t have anything to worry about,” John continued. “As lovely as she is, I could tell right away that she’s not the type for me.”

  Polly shifted so that she gave John her full attention. Did he think she was jealous of Felicity’s wiles and ability to attract his attention away from her? Did he believe she was worried that he’d like Felicity better than her?

  His grin told her that was exactly what he thought.

  “I’m not concerned in the least that you’ll become smitten with Felicity or she with you.”

  “Good that. Apparently you know you already have my heart to the fullest.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help herself.

  “I’m glad I easily amuse you.”

  “You do know how to make me laugh.” She was more delighted than amused, but she didn’t want to encourage his insinuations of affection, since he was already lavish enough with them.

  The past week of his visit had been one of the merriest weeks of her life. Even though he spent the bulk of his time with a hammer and nails in the breakfast room constructing a wall of shelves, they’d still spent hours together. He helped her with chores, began to teach her Latin, listened to her practice the pianoforte, and read to her and her siblings with such animation that they clamored for his stories every evening. Best of all, he spent Christmas Day with her. They went to church and then returned for a goose dinner and the lighting of the yule log. He teased and bantered with her about their relationship from time to time, but overall, he interacted with her in the same friendly manner that he did with her brothers and sisters. She felt safe with him. And that made his teasing about liking him ev
en more delightful when it happened.

  “Aye, then. I’m good for something.” A glint of hurt passed through his eyes. It was there one second and gone the next. If she hadn’t been paying attention, she might have missed it altogether.

  Her humor faded. She loved his jesting, the easy way he could make people smile, his ability to laugh at himself and not take life so seriously. But there had been times, like now, when she sensed deeper pains.

  She shifted on the settee so that she was facing him. “I haven’t known you long. But it hasn’t taken much for me to realize that you’re a good man.”

  “I am rather good at rescuing kittens stuck in trees, aren’t I?”

  “I’m serious. You’re one of the kindest men I’ve met. And one of the most helpful.” He was always jumping in and assisting others with no thought to himself.

  “Then you clearly haven’t met many men.”

  “John.” Her tone rebuked him, but she couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “Polly.” He smiled back, and it was the kind of genuine smile that made her really like him, much more than she should.

  At that moment Susanna bustled into the room, her dark eyes flashing and her face tight with an urgency that told Polly her aunt was conspiring once again. As Susanna crossed the room, Polly braced herself. What was Susanna planning this time? Another abolitionist rescue perhaps?

  When Susanna reached her, she bent over the scalloped edge of the settee and whispered, “I must temporarily excuse myself from the party.”

  “Why?” Polly demanded, wanting Susanna to know that she wouldn’t be so gullible this time. Susanna may have fooled her once, but she wouldn’t again.

  “I need to return home at once.” Susanna splayed her fingers over her gown. “I’ve spilled mead on my bodice. I must change and have the servants treat the spot before it stains.”

  The crimson blotch of honey wine on the silvery satin glared at Polly. “Of course.”

  Susanna nodded and began to leave. “I won’t be long. I promise.”