Work Text:
The storm blew in quickly, blanketing Highbury in a thick layer of snow, the likes of which Mr. Weston had never seen. They certainly would not be receiving guests at Randalls this year; their planning and anticipation had gone to waste.
But Mr. Weston was not made for despondency; he could not be kept down for long. If he was stuck inside, at least he was with his lovely wife and their dear little girl. He would make the most of being homebound with them.
And when the snow melted, he would venture out to see the friends he’d missed.
***
Miss Bates had been worried when the snow began to collect on the ground. If the storm was a substantial one and they were to be kept indoors for who knew how long, how were she and her mother to manage? Their food stores were rather low at the moment and they had almost no wood for the fire.
She put on a cheerful face and fretted in silence.
What a surprise, then, when Mr. Knightley showed up, before the storm got any worse, carrying provisions with him! What a blessing it was, to have such caring and faithful friends.
***
The first thing Mr. Perry felt, watching the snow flurries turn into a squall, was relief. Here was a perfect excuse to stay where he was, with his wife and children, sitting before a crackling fire, content and cozy and domestic. He wouldn’t have to venture out and alleviate Mr. Woodhouse’s myriad worries today.
He liked Mr. Woodhouse. He did. But he liked his family more, and it was a rare treat to get to spend the whole day with them like this, without a care in the world.
Let it snow, thought Mr. Perry, and let it snow abundantly.
***
Harriet realized something, as she watched the meadows of Abbey Mill Farm grow whiter and whiter: Miss Smith had never been allowed to run and jump and play in the snow as she wished, but Mrs. Martin could, if she wanted to.
And oh, how she wanted to.
Robert grinned at her as she told him her plans, hastening to put on his own warmest coat and follow her out of doors.
They wouldn’t be able to travel far for a few days, they couldn’t visit or see friends, but there was plenty to entertain themselves with here at home.
***
Philip Elton thought of a different snowy evening and an ill-considered proposal. If only the weather had been as bad then as it was now; it might have kept him away from Emma Woodhouse long enough to cool his head a little.
The memory remained mortifying, but everything had worked out as it should. Elton’s next choice had been a better one. Augusta, as she often told him, was the very model of a perfect wife.
He shook the snow off his hat and listened to her insistence that he stay inside and out of the storm, enjoying her attentions.
***
Emma Knightley watched the snow from her spot by the window. Her father was truly sick today, bedridden with flu, but she could imagine how he’d fret over this weather if he were awake, urging everyone to sit by the fire and not even look at the snow, as though the mere sight might lead to danger.
The storm would keep them inside for a while; she would ring for hot chocolate and cake; she would think better thoughts. Her husband and son waited for her in the next room. She turned from the window and went to join them.