Drops of Gold(68)

Corbin didn’t put up any resistance.

“So have you actually met a lady, or were you speaking purely hypothetically?” Layton asked as he mounted Theron.

Corbin immediately turned several shades of red.

Layton laughed out loud. “Tell me about her.”

“I . . . I haven’t actually . . . spoken to her,” Corbin admitted, still red and stumbling over his words more than usual.

“But you’ve seen her at least?”

Corbin nodded.

“Is she pretty?”

Corbin’s eyes opened wider, and he nodded rather emphatically. Layton couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real conversation with Corbin. How long had it been since he’d overlooked his own difficulties and just been a member of his own family?

“Find someone to introduce you,” Layton suggested.

“But . . . what . . . what if she thinks I’m . . . an idiot or something?” Corbin said uncomfortably.

“You’re a Jonquil. Of course she’ll think you’re an idiot.”

Corbin laughed, and so did Layton.

“You just have to convince her you’re not.” Layton chuckled, nudging Theron on.

“How do I do that?” Corbin looked doubtful, but he was still smiling.

Layton thought of Marion and what she must think of him. “When I figure that out, Corbin, I’ll let you know.”

* * *

The first person Layton came across upon returning to Lampton Park from the churchyard was Caroline, who was taking enthusiastic marching instructions from Stanley on the back lawns. She smiled and waved at Layton before taking up her practice once more.

He’d never taken her to her mother’s graveside. The thought had only entered his mind on a few occasions, and he’d always dismissed it under the weight of a great many arguments. He told himself she was too young, that she hadn’t the understanding of death and its finality to grasp what she would see there. He argued that her thoughts of her mother should be of a vibrant young woman, not a cold, inanimate slab of stone.

Had he been wise in that decision? His thoughts flew back to a conversation with Marion very early in her time at Farland Meadows. She hadn’t been certain Caroline even knew her mother was dead.

What else did Caroline not know?

Caroline skipped to his side, wearing her angelic, broad smile. “Did you see me marching, Papa?”

“I did. You looked just like a soldier.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Little girls aren’t soldiers, silly.”

He brushed a hand over her sweet, golden curls. “Will you walk with your silly papa?”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Caroline slipped her tiny hand in his. She waved to Stanley, who locked eyes with Layton. Layton recognized the unspoken question. He nodded, assuring his brother that he needn’t look after Caroline any longer.

“If you’d been here, Papa, you could have marched with us. Stanby would have taught you how to ‘do the thing properly.’” She lowered her voice on the last phrase, obviously doing her utmost to mimic her uncle’s description. “Where did you go?”

Here was the opportunity to introduce the topic he’d avoided all of Caroline’s life. “I went to the churchyard.” He watched her closely, but the mention of the graveyard didn’t have any noticeable effect. His next breath came out tense and shaky. “Your—” Another quick breath. “Your mother is buried there.”

Tears didn’t pool in the small girl’s eyes. Shock didn’t pull at her features. She simply nodded and continued walking, swinging their arms. “Your papa is buried there too,” she said. “And Mama’s mama, and Grammy said her parents are there. It sounds very crowded. Is it crowded, Papa?”

Relief and sadness warred for possession of his mind. Caroline knew her mother was buried. She, in fact, had a more extensive understanding of the passing of her family members than he ever would have guessed. But he could hardly take credit for her ease with the topic. Mater had, it seemed, walked her through that difficult topic.

“Crowded?” He forced his tone to remain light. “Not terribly. There’s room for everyone.” There had even been room for a woman so broken by illness of the brain that she’d ended her own existence. There had been room for Bridget. The thought was comforting. “Did Grammy tell you anything else about your mama?”

Caroline skipped a little ahead of him, pulling his arm along with her. “She said Mama was pretty. Mary said so too, but she said she didn’t know her. Did Mary know Mama?”

“No, dear. No, she didn’t.” His thoughts hovered on Marion for a moment. He wanted to talk to her but didn’t know what he would say.