Work Text:
Mary Bennet had always enjoyed a good snow. She watched it fall from her seat at the window, the book on her lap forgotten. How peaceful it was to be the last Bennet sister at home, to sit here, quietly and contentedly, and simply be , no arguments to be drawn into, no noise to disrupt her thoughts.
She looked over to where her mother napped on the sofa. Mary wouldn’t be missed if she went outside for an hour or so. She bundled up warmly for a nice winter walk, alone with her own company and the gently drifting snowflakes.
***
Caroline Bingley shuddered as she entered the house in Grosvenor Street, feeling cold and wet and miserable. How she hated winter weather in general, and sleet in particular!
The gaieties of the season indeed , she thought, yanking off her gloves and untying her bonnet. She didn’t mind Christmas, with its parties and good company, but winter in London was dreadful. She would enjoy herself more in a milder climate.
She could scarcely wait to change into a new gown and warm herself in front of a fire, enjoying a dish of tea and a generous slice of cake with Louisa.
***
Well, thought Charles Bingley wryly, this was one way for the heavens to welcome them to their new home. Hailstones hammered on the roof like a storm of bullets, ricocheting off of windows and scattering the lawn.
“I hope there will not be any damage,” said Jane worriedly, glancing at the ceiling.
“I am sure all will be well,” he answered with more hope than certainty.
They stood arm in arm, watching as the grounds were covered in a blanket of ice. It would be a story to tell Little Charles when he was old enough, at the very least.
***
Charlotte Collins was not frightened by a chilly day or a winter storm; she was not some dainty, delicate little thing, hiding away from the cold and the wet. There was work to be done and charitable visits to be paid; she would not stay safely in her own house, neglecting her duties for her own personal comfort.
Her gown flapped around her in the icy wind, a few small snowflakes whipping through the air, and still she pressed on. She had good boots and warm gloves and a basket full of provisions for a needy family. She was content.
***
Elizabeth had letters to finish, but she was diverted by the view from the frost-covered windows, snow falling on the oaks and chestnuts, dusting the grounds in a layer of white. Pemberley was a beautiful place year-round, but it was especially charming in winter.
The letters could wait. She wanted to be out of doors, feeling the crisp chill of the air, the snow beneath her feet. She wanted to stroll hand in hand with Fitzwilliam, enjoying this wintry day.
He would take some convincing, for he hated the cold, but Elizabeth was certain that she could persuade him, somehow.