Work Text:
Henry Dashwood was as excited by the snowstorm as any of his daughters.
“Snow for Christmas!” he exclaimed. “How marvelous!”
Mrs. Dashwood was less pleased. “It will make the journey to church a more difficult one,” she said, eyeing the yard with distaste.
“Nonsense,” said her husband. “We will walk! It is an easy distance and the exercise will keep us warm.”
She looked even less pleased by that.
But Elinor, Marianne, and little Margaret all had countenances glowing with delight, and Mrs. Dashwood could not but be cheered when faced with so happy a family. She bundled the girls up tightly, making sure hands and throats were well covered, and donned her own warmest pelisse. She took charge of her two youngest daughters, but Elinor held hands with her father as they headed out.
“How pretty it looks, Papa!” she said, cheeks already pink, admiring the snowflakes swirling in the wind.
“Not half as pretty as you are,” he said; Elinor giggled and clutched his hand more tightly.
The family slowly made their way to the church, no one but Mrs. Dashwood minding the snow.
***
They were a subdued party that Christmas, their first without Mr. Dashwood and their first at Barton Cottage. But it was not just grief for their lost patriarch that made their mood so somber: Marianne was thinking of Willoughby, Elinor was thinking of Edward and Lucy, and they were all feeling rather down as they trudged to church that morning.
But why should they be solemn and grave on a day such as this one? thought Elinor, trying to rally her own spirits. It had stormed overnight but the sun was shining now, glistening brightly on the snow and making everything look sparkly and cheerful. She missed her father and she was nursing her own secret heartache, but the world was still beautiful and there was much to be grateful for. One should not wallow in one’s grief; one should not indulge one’s own melancholy.
Mrs. Dashwood was walking arm-in-arm with Marianne, their heads together, their expressions sorrowful. Elinor heard snatches of their conversation, how they mourned over her father and wondered about Willoughby. But Marianne had reasons for joy, too– she should concentrate on their upcoming journey to London with Mrs. Jennings, anticipating what delights might be in store for her there. And Mrs. Dashwood, though enduring her first Christmas as a widow, had a comfortable home and good friends around her. Her situation was not an entirely bleak one.
Elinor walked with Margaret, whose natural chattiness had been suppressed by Marianne and Mrs. Dashwood’s low spirits. Her youngest sister was easily influenced by her company; she was quiet and gloomy now, but Elinor could easily build her up, if she put in the effort.
“Do you know, Margaret,” she said heartily, “I am feeling a bit cold. I think I may need to skip a little, to warm my feet.”
Elinor picked up her pace, bounding lightly along the path, dragging her sister with her. Margaret laughed, her expression brightening as she hurried to keep up.
***
Elinor was grateful that Delaford Parsonage was not far from the church, for Edward was suffering from a mild cold this Christmas and she herself did not fancy a longer journey in the snow.
“The colonel and Marianne have offered us use of their carriage,” she said, tying Ellie’s bonnet and adjusting little Ned’s cap.
“I do not mind the walk,” said Edward.
“But think of your cold , dearest.”
Edward looked out of the window. “It would be a shame to deny the children their time in the snow.”
The grounds looked delightful, blanketed in white, and the Mansion-house seemed like something out of a fairy story. Ellie had run excitedly to the door that morning, begging to be allowed to go outside and play.
“They can have all the time they want, after church.”
Elinor suspected that Edward wanted to play, too, but she hadn’t forgotten the sound of his sniffles in her ear when they were getting out of bed. Still, there would be time for snowy games later, before they left for dinner with the Brandons. Elinor smiled as both Edward and Ellie sighed wistfully when the carriage arrived and they all piled inside of it. She looked fondly at her family and at a beautiful wintry scene viewed comfortably from their seats, grateful for all of them, and for the snow, and for the pleasant Christmas day before them.