Leah strained her neck to look over Jonas toward the view out the window. “Perhaps I will go and see if the carriage has been loaded. I may still be able to make it.” She turned and headed toward the door.
“You are going to become stuck,” Jonas yelled after her.
Better to try and fail than to not try at all.
“Leah,” a young voice whined as she entered the hall.
She kept moving, not wanting to lose a moment. “Yes, Rose?”
Her youngest sister trailed behind as Leah hastened, Rose’s little feet shuffling to keep up. “Did you see Miranda with my watercolors? She said she did not use them, but I know for a fact that she did. And now she has lost them!”
Leah shook her head. “I’m sorry, Rose, truly I am. But I cannot take the time to question Miranda about her bad habits of taking things that are not hers and not returning them.” A habit which Leah had been victim to numerous times herself.
“But, Leah,” Rose whined.
“Another time!” Leah turned and ran up the staircase, hurrying to her room where she found her maid closing the lid of the trunk.
“Oh, wonderful.” Leah sighed. “You have finished. Could you have Mr. Ashley come and retrieve the trunk to be loaded as soon as possible?”
Rebecca cast a quick glance at the snow before addressing her. “Are you sure you wish to make the trip? The weather does not look pleasant in the least.”
“I would like to try.”
Rebecca nodded, her mouth scowling, then quickly scurried out of the room.
Rebecca’s exit was quickly followed by the entrance of another of Leah’s sisters. “You know, if I wasn’t so excited about seeing Owen again, I would consider going with you to Amelia’s. I haven’t seen her in weeks.” Cecily leaned against the wooden frame. Her golden hair was pinned neatly with a few tight curls about her face as her eyes roamed about Leah’s things.
“I find I do not enjoy sharing my friends with you,” Leah said, teasing. Being only two years younger than herself, Leah and Cecily’s friends often ran in the same circles. “I shall count it a blessing you do not join me this time. You may see Amelia again very soon. And since I do not wish to see Owen, or rather, Mr. Turner, I shall happily be on my way.”
Cecily sighed. “Very well. I suppose I can pester Graham for a time.”
“There. How very fortunate for him as I am sure he has been missing you.”
The girls shared a glance before they both erupted into a laugh. Graham, smack dab in the middle of all six siblings, often preferred seclusion to social settings.
Leah finally strode toward the door, giving Cecily’s arm a quick squeeze before making her way to the stairs.
After a few short minutes, Mr. Ashley and another servant loaded Leah’s trunk onto the carriage. The wind was biting, even through her cloak and muff, but she straightened her spine, refusing to show her growing doubt that they would make it. Perhaps that was one of her greatest faults in life. A strong streak of stubbornness that refused to be proven wrong. That—and the fingernails.
“Miss Thompson?”
Leah turned to see their coachman holding out his hand to help her up into the carriage. “Do you think the roads will be passable?” She grabbed his hand, ducking her head as she stepped into the relative protection inside.
When she was seated, the coachman gave her a nervous smile. “I suppose we will find out.”
Chapter 2
Owen. Morning of the first day.
Owenstaredoutthewindow, his temperament freezing over just as the rest of the world outside. He did not wish to spend his Christmas stuck at an inn. All of his plans— playing silly games, eating delicious food, putting on extravagant and ridiculous plays—began to drift away. Spending Christmas with the Thompsons was supposed to be the highlight of the winter, but now it looked as if he would be spending the holiday alone in a dark and slightly smelly inn.
How long would the storm last? If it was only one day then he could manage. But what if it continued on for numerous days? He would have to return to work at the end of it all, whether his time was spent at the inn or the cheerful Stonehill. Father was understanding, but business did not run itself, and Owen would be expected back in a timely manner. And business was the very reason Owen was at the inn in the first place. He had worked the entirety of the day yesterday, making his arrival in Carterton too late to be polite. Thus, he decided to stay one night at the local inn and arrive the following day.
He strode from the room, making his way down the narrow and creaking staircase to the front desk where a heavy, middle-aged man sat, scratching himself at his leisure.
“Excuse me,” Owen asked. He tried to ignore the man’s itching skin, but had to withhold a cringe as he heard the rough scraping of nails against dry skin. “Are there any places I could rent a horse?” Owen spared a glance at the man’s hand, running along his forearm, before refocusing on his own task. A carriage would certainly not make it in this weather, but a horse should be able to make the short jaunt with ease. Owen would only have to spare his trunks for a day or two until they could be delivered. Surely Jonas would have things that he could borrow.
“Aye.” The man sat up, pulling his shirt down and transferring his scratching to his neck. “But can you not wait a day? It looks mighty awful out there.”
