Part II
"Catch me, Lucy... come catch me!"
Coltish giggles, dancing wet curls, and the unusual agility of a half-naked two-year-old were running wild in Grace Isabella Knightley's room. Sprightliness and songlike teasing romped through the chamber's nooks and niches by the blithe child's footprints.
"Miss Grace, pray... let me put your dress on..." begged Lucy the young maid, who had just given her master and mistress's daughter a bath, scrubbing clean the dirt crusted child after an excursion in the garden and a wrestle with the garden frog, scarcely had enough time to dry her young mistress before the slippery child slipped away from her hands.
"Come get me, Lucy... I am here..."
Dashing from behind the curtains and under the four-post bed the little girl went. Frantically, Lucy dropped every piece of the child's garments on top of the pillows, sinking onto the floor to crawl under the bed. Unfortunately, the maid was far too slow for the cunning child, and the two-year-old was far too frisky for the maid to snatch, poor Lucy was stuck half way under the bed when the little rapscallion had come out from the other side and ran to the window.
"Come, Lucy... I am over here..."
Laughter of the animated child was bounding wall to wall, but the sound of the door handle turning did not escape the sharp hearing of the ebullient child. For one silent moment the two-year-old stilled herself to a sudden halt, and when through the opened door a graceful figure entering in, the stilled child turned into a blazing rocket and flew all the way to the door.
"Papa!" with one practiced leap, the shrieking child was in her father's arms.
"You are home, Papa! You are home!" The little rocket could not be stopped, "I missed you, Papa! I missed you!" and she scattered numerous kisses on her father's lips, his temples, and his cheeks.
"I missed you too, Grace!" pressing many sound kisses on his daughter's cheeks, her father, the esteemed Mr George Knightley, the Master of Donwell, was chuckling joyously by the abundance of his daughter's affection.
"But what was all the noise that I heard at the foot of the stairs?" the father was still chuckling when he pulled his child a little away to ask, "And why are you undressed?"
As the father had fully anticipated, there was an impish wide grin on his daughter's face.
"Lucy couldn't catch me, Papa!" the two-year-old answered, and the father shook his head with great amusement as he watched the wide grin on his child grew even wider.
"I am sorry, Sir!" Red-faced Lucy had at last freed herself from under the bed; she quickly grabbed a small blanket and hurried to her master's side.
"It is quite all right, Lucy," Mr Knightley smiled, "I dare say had there been two of you, it still would have been impossible to dress my child."
Though the master had said it out of kindness to ease the embarrassment in the maid, every word he had just spoken was true – for his dearly loved daughter bore a great resemblance to his darling wife, not only in the brilliance of his wife's true hazel eyes and the angelic features of her beautiful face, every trace of the liveliness and mischievousness in his wife he could see clearly in their firstborn child. And much like her mother when she was at the same tender age, at two and a half years of age, little Grace had yet to willingly place herself under submission to anyone except her mother. And what was more, even when their daughter was still in her mother's womb, this father had already given his heart to their unborn child in its entirety, just like he had completely surrendered his heart to his wife long before he realised that he was hopelessly in love with her.
An incomprehensible contentment was overwhelming this most fortunate man. Mr Knightley quietly reached for the blanket in Lucy's hand and wrapped it round the bundle of blessings in his arms.
The father turned to look into his daughter's gleaming eyes, hardly able to suppress the indulging quirks on his lips, "You would not be hiding from Lucy had your mother been here, would you?" he gave her small nose an affectionate squeeze.
As soon as her father's gentle pinch eased, Grace crinkled her little nose and rubbed it until it was red. She smiled her milk-toothy smile at her father, "But Mama is suckling William, Papa! Mama cannot come when William is hungry. And William is always hungry!" and she gave him a wink with her bright round eyes and long lashes.
The father rolled his twinkling eyes, "Just like the way you were always hungry when you were an infant!" he teased.
"Surely not, Papa!" the child protested with a blatant grin, now it was her turn to squeeze her father's nose.
"Surely yes, Grace Isabella Knightley!" the father stood his teasing ground, rubbing his red nose against his daughter's much smaller one until she giggled.
"No, no, no! I was not!" the giggling child insisted in her faux innocence.
Determined to make an honest child out of his mischievous tot, the father decided to employ his most potent artillery...
Tickles!
It was another endearing trait that his daughter had taken after his wife. At the slightest of a titillating touch, both child and mother would come surrendering to the father and the husband.
"Oh, you certainly were!" the father countered with a wicked grin and began drumming tingling fingers on the small protruding belly of his daughter, instantly bringing convulsive writhes to the wriggling tot.
"Pa... Pa...pa! It... tic...tickles..." Giggles of the little one soon turned hysterical, "S... stop... Pa...pa... s... stop..." she begged.
"Not until you admit the truth!" the father was laughing unrestrainedly as well. The small blanket round the child had fallen to the floor, clamping his squirming-like-mad daughter tightly to keep her from slipping off his arms, "Were you or were not you always hungry like William?" he demanded.
"No...no..." flopping to and fro, left and right, "I... was... not..." the guffawing child still would not concede.
Such continual denial had rendered the father little choice but to intensify his attack.
At the rapid strokes of his crawly fingers on the tot's protruding belly, "Pa...pa... s...s...stop... s... stop..." the stubborn two-year-old seemed ready to give in.
"Tell me the truth then!" the laughing father pressed again, "Were you or were not you always hungry like William?"
Still giggling uncontrollably, "I... was... Papa... I was... al-always... hungry... like... like... William..." the floundering child finally confessed.
And the attack ceased.
Trails of boisterous giggles were still pulsating in the chamber, both father and daughter were breathing hard to catch their breaths; happy tears were dripping from the two-year-old, even the eyes of the gentleman father were dampened from his fervent laughter.
And when their racing hearts resumed reasonable pace, the father dabbed his daughter's wet rosy cheeks with his thumb and asked, "Are you off to see Grandpapa soon?"
"Hum, hum," Grace nodded, cupping her father's face in her small hands. "Mama and I are going to see Grandpapa very soon!"
"You had better get dressed, Grace!" said the father, and with remarkable twinkling eyes and a knowing look he added, "You know what Grandpapa would say if he saw your state of undress?"
The eyes of the little rapscallion twinkled just like her father's, she twisted her adorable face into a frown composed of a mixture of kindness, indulgence, grace, and old age (or simply, the picture of her grandfather in her callow mind), lowered her childish voice to imitate someone thirty folds her age and replied, "You shall catch cold in so little dress!"
And once again, both father and daughter burst into more merry laughter!
A/N: Thank you for your reviews in the last chapter! And thank you for reading! :) Next chapter... Emma and Mr Knightley...