Chapter 2 Sebastian #3
I gave a slight nod, though part of me still wondered if God could truly forgive the likes of me.
Beads of sweat gathered along my forehead as I fidgeted with the silver spoon nestled beside my empty teacup. “Even if members within the Company trade in opium, my grandfather would crush such insubordination. The Company is his only legacy.”
Mr. Carey leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s easy to overlook what we don’t wish to see. The Company’s reach is vast, and not all of its dealings are aboveboard. Many good men have become involved in things they never would have supported if they had opened their eyes.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I swallowed a hot retort that would skewer the mild-mannered man sitting in front of me.
My grandfather, a distinguished military hero, was renowned for his exploits at the siege of Seringapatam in 1799. He was ruthless but not depraved.
Duty above all. It was more than a maxim. It was the Sinclair creed, carried like a battle standard through every negotiation, every command. My grandfather wore it like armor. I wore it like a chain. But duty to whom? To the Company? To England? To God? To myself?
No, Grandfather would not be pleased if outside actors mired the Company’s reputation and threatened its income.
“I will look into it,” I assured Mr. Carey when an attendant poured tea into my cup.
“If men are taking matters into their own hands and selling illegal goods, the board will not tolerate it. I am to speak with William Wilberforce, and I will assure him that we will discipline anyone caught upending Company rules.”
Then I took a deep breath. “I will not be returning so quickly. I am also to marry Colonel Grenville’s granddaughter.”
Mr. Carey frowned at the news. “You do not look pleased.”
I shrugged, doing my best to appear nonchalant even though I chafed at the command. “I scarcely know her, and our last meeting as children proved most unpleasant. Truthfully, I would prefer to choose my wife when I am ready, but of course, my family won’t allow it after my grand tour . . .”
I winced at a sudden onslaught of memories.
Mr. Carey’s expression softened. He knew those stories. All of them. The opera star. The drunken nights.
Forgiveness changes us, he had told me once. A repentant man is no longer defined by his sins. I still struggled to forgive myself.
“What else can I do?” I added quietly. “My brother passed without leaving a son. Now the weight of the Sinclair name rests on me.”
“I know the burden you carry, Sebastian.” He paused, waiting until I met his eyes.
“But you do have a choice. You don’t have to walk the path that’s been set before you.
God’s will often runs counter to man’s ambitions.
You could return with me once you’ve met with Mr. Wilberforce and translate the Scriptures.
You have a rare gift for languages. I’ve need of men like you by my side. ”
True enough. I also had a gift for placating shareholders when Hugh or Grandfather offended with their blunt speech.
But language had always captivated me. I found joy in unfamiliar syntax, the challenge of deciphering nuance.
Countless hours spent at the docks and wandering through Calcutta had given me a rare insight.
My jaw clenched. “Everything—my future, my place in the family, the Company—it all depends on me doing what he says. You know how we’ve clashed in the past. I must show him that I’ve truly changed.”
Besides, a man like myself would not be good enough to work by Mr. Carey’s side. Nay, I was the furthest from qualified for any ministry.
Of course, I might meet with Miss Grenville and discover that she wanted nothing to do with me.
Regardless of what awaited in London, I needed to provide answers regarding the rumored underbelly of the British East India Company, and I needed to know if I could rely on Wilberforce’s colleagues to be allies with my grandfather.
Mr. Carey picked up his teacup. “The world and Lord Sinclair may tell you that power and wealth make a man. But God asks us to walk a different road. One of justice, mercy, and humility.” He sat back, folding his hands on the table.
“You can choose to serve God’s will, even if it means losing everything.
I suppose I always viewed you as a fellow worker in sharing the gospel, not as a Company man. ”
The weight of his words hung between us, and the sweetened tea suddenly tasted bitter. There were far better men than I to take up the mantle of preaching.
Could I really walk away from everything my family had built?
I admired Mr. Carey for working in an indigo plantation while operating a printing press with the Serampore mission.
However, I could hardly ask a bride to live in a sweltering flat while I translated Scriptures. What wife would consent to such a life?
“My plans lie in the direction of England for now.”
Mr. Carey offered a sympathetic smile as if reading my tumultuous thoughts. “Of course. But remember, God’s path may be harder, but it is always the right one.”