However, a bubble of excitement forced her from her bed and she threw back the covers, snatching up a shawl to throw around her shoulders as she ran to the window, eager for her first glimpse of the grounds in daylight. Her room was in the west wing, overlooking the curving drive. The house faced north and on the western side a large ornamental pond looked black against the snow-covered lawns, while to the east the lawns ran smooth and uninterrupted as far as the boundary, where a fiery red sun was rising into a clear sky. The snow had fallen heavily overnight and a driving wind had thrown up thick drifts against the house. Looking past the wrought-iron gates at the end of drive, Verity gazed at the snow-covered moors that rose steeply to the northern horizon, where a rocky granite outcrop interrupted the dazzling expanse of white. Verity hurried into her clothes, eager to explore her new home. The butler showed her to the morning room and informed her in a kindly voice that Mrs Worsthorne would join her shortly.
