The noise of the surf was muffled. As it was in mid-winter, during— Oh, dear heavens. Her eyes flew open and she threw back the covers, leaving her slippers beneath the bed in her hurry to gain the bedroom window. It could not be. It was. The stable was only half-visible through the heavy flakes, her garden buried beneath what looked like a good foot of snow. And there were tracks, already, extending from the kitchen door. She heard the kitchen door slam. “Mum! Mum!” Maddie burst into the room, her hair dusted in white. She was nearly jumping up and down in her excitement. “It snowed! It snowed!” “I see that,” said Fiona, brushing hair wet with the melting flakes back from Madelaine’s face. “It’s a real tempest!” Fiona smiled as her daughter ran back outside to make snow angels. Maddie’s vocabulary had always been large for her age, thanks to Dee—and now, Lord Ashdown, who still did lessons with the girl each morning, as he had for the past several weeks. It had become her daughter's favorite part of the day, thought Fiona, a bit sadly, as she brushed her own hair out and pinned the heavy curls somewhat haphazardly into order.
