Page 127 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
Tarkington laughed, and the thought again struck Jocelyn that this was not the gentleman Lady Mary had described. Her fascination grew.
"Well, my lady," he said, addressing his daughter, "shall we show Miss Maybrey about our garden playground?"
Lady Anne nodded. She pushed away from her father's shoulder and squirmed. "Down. Down, please."
When she was on the ground, she trotted off on sturdy little legs to another sculpted bush and turned to wait for the adults to follow.
"You joined in the game quite readily. For my daughter's sake, I thank you."
Jocelyn glanced up at Tarkington's suddenly solemn face, surprised by his comment. "Why? I enjoyed myself. At least until Lady Anne disappeared from sight. I was afraid lest she come to harm. I haven't any experience with very young children, you see, so I do not know their capabilities, let alone what I should do or say to them. My experience has been limited to those I've seen in the London parks with their nursemaids and governesses."
Tarkington looked about to speak, but a shrill "Come on, Papa!" interrupted him.
"We're coming right now," he called out to her, then offered his arm to Jocelyn. "You surprise me, Miss Maybrey," he said as they approached Lady Anne.
"In what manner, my lord?"
"Where are your languid manners? Your ennui?"
Jocelyn laughed. "I fear it is too cold and brisk out here for that. Much more fitting for hot weather or overly warm and stuffy ballrooms. Besides, I must confess I do not have the constitution to be, nor the appearance for, a hothouse flower."
"I cannot say regarding your constitution, but I believe you do yourself a disservice regarding your appearance, Miss Maybrey," Tarkington said solemnly, then dropped her arm as thirty pounds of petticoats and little girl hurled themselves into his arms. "What's this, now?"
"You're too slow, Papa. Let's show the lady—"
"Miss Maybrey."
"Miss May-brey," Lady Anne dutifully repeated, drawing out the syllables. "Let's show her the fox and rabbit!"
"Fox and rabbit?"
Tarkington laughed. "More sculpted bushes, Miss Maybrey."
"I can see why the guidebooks say not to miss your topiary garden! What clever people you have!" she exclaimed as she walked around and examined a scene of a rabbit running for a hole in the hedge to escape the fox.
"Not me. The estate. I merely inherited them. Allow us to show you another. . . ."
The next hour was one of the most enjoyable hours Jocelyn thought she'd ever spent. She was enchanted by the garden's artistry, by Lady Anne and her childish delight, and by the marquess for his humor, sensitivity, and obvious love for his daughter. The last brought a tight lump in her throat, which she had to swallow hard to dispel, and surreptitiously she wiped away tears of happiness at seeing and appreciating their joy.
She never imagined a father and daughter could be so close. She had always considered her father loving, but never in her memory had he ever taken the time to play with her when she was very young, as Tarkington did with his daughter. What astonished her was his enjoyment of his daughter. He did not begrudge her his time or find any question she asked too trivial to be answered. He almost seemed disappointed when she yawned, and he realized it was time for her nap. Jocelyn accompanied them back to the house, found herself agreeing to a pony cart outing for the next morning, and parted with them at the staircase that led to the nursery wing. Tarkington even intended to see his daughter to bed!
Jocelyn wandered toward the front of the house, where a footman took her outdoor garments and told her where she could find Lady Tarkington and her mother.
"Ah, Jocelyn, there you are!" exclaimed Lady Maybrey. "I was told over an hour ago that you went outside. What have you been doing all this time?"
"Lady Anne and Lord Tarkington graciously gave me a personal tour of the topiary garden. I must say, Mother, it is every bit as wonderful as the guidebook said."
"It is unusual, isn't it?" Lady Tarkington said. "We have been most fortunate in Edwin, who is in charge of that garden."
"But how is Lady Mary? The maid, Emmie, said she had a poor night last night."
"Jocelyn, do not tell me you have been gossiping with servants!" Lady Maybrey exclaimed. She grimaced at her daughter and glanced in Lady Tarkington's direction.
"One may always trust a servant to know everything," Jocelyn said. "Besides, I like Emmie. She is very good."
Lady Tarkington smiled. "She is young, but she tries very hard. I hear from Mrs. Penneybacker that she desires to rise to the position of housekeeper. So refreshing to see aspirations and willingness to work. Or perhaps I am just jaded by the sullenness of my London servants. But as for Mary, I'm afraid Emmie was correct. She did not pass a good night, but she is sleeping now. Perhaps before dinner, you may visit her. I'm sorry, my dear, that you must be so at loose ends."
"That is quite all right, Lady Tarkington. I have not been bored. I was wondering, however, if I might spend some time practicing the harpsichord. I rarely have the opportunity to play it anymore."
