“Indeed.” He pursed his lips and stepped back to view the snow village they had created. “We have built quite a menagerie of snow people, but they are lacking something.”
“They don’t have any clothes,” Sophia said.
“Or eyes,” Lydia added. “Or a nose or mouth.”
Madeline nodded in an exaggerated seriousness. “This is a critical time. I wonder what we are to do. I have an idea.”
She pulled the bag of treats she had gathered from the kitchen earlier and set the bundle on the ground. Sophia and Lydia gathered around as Madeline opened the bundle. Inside were walnuts, carrots, hazelnuts, raisins and cranberries.
“Faces!” Lydia shouted. “Look, Miss O’Brian. We can make faces!”
Sophia and Lydia jumped for joy and leapt into Madeline’s arms, toppling her over. Laughing, Madeline regained her balance, and dusted snow from her coat as the two girls gathered handfuls of the assorted items and ran to decorate the snow people.
Mr. Oswyn helped Madeline to her feet. “Brilliant.”
“Yes, Miss Mercer,” Miss O’Brian said. “You have made the girls so happy.”
A snowball whooshed past Madeline.
Sophia and Lydia giggled and threw another snowball toward Madeline, then threw snowballs toward Mr. Oswyn, and Miss. O’Brian.
The adults ducked, but not fast enough. Soon they were covered in snow.
Madeline laughed and scooped up snow and packed it, then threw it over the children’s heads. She did not want to hit the girls. The snowball landed against a window on one of the castle’s upper floors.
Sophia grew very still. “Now you are in trouble.”
“Why am I in trouble?” Madeline said. “Those windows are leaded glass, made with thick glass and reinforced with lead. They won’t break.”
Mr. Oswyn came up beside her, nodding. “Those are the duke’s quarters. The noise might wake my brother.”
Madeline nodded, staring up at the windows. “Children, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Lydia gazed up at the window, tilting her head back so far her bonnet slid off. She grabbed it, setting it back in place as a smile exposed her dimples. “I think my brother needs to wake up.”
****
Robert heard something thumping against his window.
It was a muffled sound like a bird would make when it flew into a window. As a boy, the plight of those birds had bothered him, and as a result he had requested his windows always be left open when he slept, even in the winter months. The air in his room now smelled stale and sour, which meant the windows had been closed tight. Had he really been gone so long that this longstanding command had been forgotten? For as long as he could remember he’d wished the windows in his rooms to remain open and allow in the fresh air. Or were his wishes ignored?
He rose to investigate and winced as his feet hit the cold floor. He felt groggy and disoriented, and his shoulder where he had been shot hurt like the devil. No doubt about it, he had been in bed too long.
Robert opened the window, inhaling the fresh, crisp air, grateful snowballs had hit the windowpanes and not a bird.
Below, in the gardens, three adults and two children were engaged in a snowball fight. He recognized his brother right away, and his sisters. His brother was off to the side with a woman Robert presumed was his sisters’ governess. It saddened him how much Sophia and Lydia had grown while he was away. He had missed so much of their young lives.
Feeling unsteady on his feet, he leaned against the windowsill as snow fell gently over the frozen ground and the people chased each other below. Flakes, each one delicate and unique, drifted in a gentle breeze and swirled around him like a promise.
In the thick of the snowball fight with his sisters were two women, one with blonde hair and the other with fire-light red hair. He recognized Miss Mercer immediately, not only from the color of her hair but the curve of her face and the way she tilted her head when she smiled. Even from this distance he noted the fire in her eyes. She had spirit. She had not been a dream. She was real. And he was attracted to her.
He drew nearer to the sill, hoping to hear her laugh. He smiled, imagining the sound, both musical and magical, would help him forget the guilt of the past, if only for a moment. His sisters chased her, throwing snowballs in her direction. Laughing, she waved her arms, and staggered back, pretending to fall so they could catch her. His heart warmed at the sight of his sisters rushing over to give her hugs. She knew how to play with children and appeared to enjoy their company and their games.
Suddenly interrupting his thoughts, a voice he recognized said, “Glad you are on your feet, old friend. Long past time to be out and about.”
“Hello, Jeremy.” Robert didn’t turn, his gaze still following the play outside as his sisters took off running to a nearby snowbank. “I need to leave this room or I will go mad.”
“Are you well enough?”
