Marion slipped an arm around Caroline’s middle and whispered in her ear. “Tickle take, Caroline. I think it is just the thing.”
Caroline giggled. “Like the daughter in your stories,” she whispered with childlike glee.
“Precisely.”
“What are you two plotting?” Mr. Jonquil asked warily. One look at his face, and Marion knew he was playing along. Marion’s heart soared. She would make a family of these two if it was the last thing she did.
Caroline clasped her hand over her mouth and giggled. Marion wiggled her fingers at Caroline. In the next moment, Caroline launched herself at Mr. Jonquil, her tiny fingers wriggling against his waistcoat, attempting to tickle him. He laughed heartily, though Marion was certain Caroline’s little fingers weren’t nearly strong enough to have any affect through several layers of clothing. Caroline’s giggles grew to full-lunged laughs.
Mr. Jonquil held his cake plate aloft and grabbed for Caroline, who managed to skirt away, all the while continuing her attempts to tickle him into submission. Marion swooped in and took the plate from her employer’s hand. The game would last if she had anything to say about it! They needed this. She needed this.
“We have it, Caroline!” Marion called out, dancing around with the cake plate, hoping she wasn’t making too much of a spectacle of herself.
“Huzzah!” Caroline shouted then turned back to her father and said with a great deal of pride, “Stanby taught me that word.”
Mr. Jonquil’s smile widened. Marion froze on the spot. His smile was magical, transforming his face, his entire countenance. She’d always thought her employer handsome, but when he smiled like that, the man was devastating.
Marion felt Caroline tug on her skirts and forced herself back into their little game. She dropped the plate onto the table and knelt in front of it. She and Caroline tore into the slice of cake with all the dignity of a pair of London street sweeps. Crumbs of cake flew in all directions. Caroline laughed so hard she could hardly catch her breath. Marion couldn’t help laughing herself. Somewhere beyond the veil of flying cake, she thought she heard deep-voiced laughter joining in.
“I found it!” Caroline giggled, holding a chocolate-smeared gold coin high above her head.
Mr. Jonquil laughed and swung Caroline into the air. Marion grinned. That was how a father and daughter ought to look, ought to behave. She thought of her own father swinging her through the air when she was a mere wisp of a thing like Caroline.
Considering Caroline’s initial reticence when Marion had arrived and the complete lack of playfulness on Mr. Jonquil’s part, Marion felt she had witnessed the start of a miracle. For a split second, she pictured herself posing for a painting, hands clasped reverently, eyes cast heavenward, perhaps a halo glowing behind her head. The thought made her laugh even harder.
“That coin is mine, you little absconder,” Mr. Jonquil said as he kissed Caroline loudly on the cheek.
“Upsmonder?” Caroline asked. “Is that like a deuced bother?”
Marion sputtered. Where in heaven’s name had Caroline heard that? That phrase was not one uttered by gently bred young ladies, most especially in the company of others. “I did not teach her that!” She held her hands out in a show of innocence, praying Mr. Jonquil would believe her. She said furuncle and double dungers on occasion but nothing stronger.
“Where did you hear that, Caroline?” Mr. Jonquil asked.
Marion winced at his tone. It wasn’t particularly harsh but was still such a stark contrast to the playful, loving tone he’d employed only moments before. Caroline, at times, had an overabundance of sensibility. The change would upset her.
Caroline’s lip began to quiver then jutted out. Furuncle! She was going to cry. So much progress only to end like this.
“That’s what Flip said!” Caroline wailed then buried her face in Mr. Jonquil’s neckcloth.
“Your Uncle Flip sometimes says things he shouldn’t,” Mr. Jonquil said after smothering a quick grin. Marion had a feeling Mr. Jonquil was fighting the urge to laugh, and suddenly Marion wanted to meet Flip. Anyone who could make this usually long-faced man laugh spontaneously would be a good ally in her ongoing efforts to bring joy to Farland Meadows.
“Are you angry, Papa?” Caroline’s muffled voice quivered.
“Of course not, poppet,” Mr. Jonquil said gently. While Mr. Jonquil was not playful, he was always tender toward his daughter. “You certainly didn’t know it wasn’t something a young lady should say.”
Marion moved closer, laying her hand on Caroline’s back just above Mr. Jonquil’s hand. Caroline needed to come out of this unscathed. “And perhaps you could tell your Uncle Flip to watch his language,” she said.