“Whatever you have that is warm and filling, good lady. Please prepare that,” he said politely.
“Well! My lord! We’ve nothing but dumplings and stew. I can hardly serve such humble fare to persons of your station...” she stammered, looking away.
“Please, prepare that,” Papa repeated gently. “We would be most pleased with a hot meal.”
“Of course, my lord. Of course.”
Rosalyn leaned back and tried to focus on the snow. It was falling heavily outside the window, big, heavy flakes fluttering down. She listened to the conversation around the tablesporadically. Sebastian was trying to keep up cheerful banter with Georgina, who was becoming positively poetic about the stew and dumplings. If guilt about Georgina’s hunger had not been one more weight of pain on Rosalyn’s shoulders, she would have laughed.
She watched the snow and tried to ignore everything else around her.
“Rosalyn? Rosalyn?” Isabel nudged her gently on the shoulder.
“Mm?” Rosalyn asked softly.
“Papa says that we shall have to stop here the night and depart tomorrow—mayhap only by the afternoon. He says that he will not attempt to go forward while it still snows so heavily.”
“Mm. Good,” Rosalyn replied distantly. Nothing seemed to make sense. Nothing touched her. Besides the fear that they would all freeze in the snow, no emotion seemed to get close to her, as if she was surrounded by an invisible wall that turned away joy and anger alike.
“Look, Georgie!” Papa declared as the food arrived. “Now, isn’t that fine?”
Georgina nodded, and even through the strange, cold wall around her, Rosalyn couldn’t help but smile at the joy on her sister’s face as a steaming plate of dumplings and meat stew was placed before her. The innkeeper’s wife blushed.
“Bless my stars! To think that fine gentlefolk like yourselves would be eating the humble fare I prepare.” She grinned.
“You have done a good thing this night,” Papa said warmly. “We all thank you.”
“I thought I would starve!” Georgina said dramatically. Even the innkeeper’s wife laughed.
Rosalyn focused on her food and tried not to think about anything.
As she retired to bed in the big room that she shared with her sisters, Rosalyn tried to forget that it was Christmas Eve. Her sisters chatted to one another and Rosalyn tried to shut out their banter.
“...and we should do something special for tomorrow!” Georgina said with a smile.
“I cannot help but wish we were spending Christmas Day at home,” Isabel said softly, her voice tinged with longing.
“Let’s make it special anyway!” Georgina said playfully, her good humour restored with the warm food.
Rosalyn looked away as her sisters continued to talk about the holiday plans. The reminder of home was too painful, and the pathos of the conversation deepened her grief. She rolled over in bed and tried to sleep.
The next morning, Rosalyn awoke to sounds of arguing coming from the inn yard. She blinked, opening her eyes. It was daylight. She had slept much longer than usual. Church bells were ringing loudly. Her sisters shot upright at the sound of the bells and the raised voices.
“What is...” Georgina began.
“Who are...” Isabel asked.
Rosalyn held up a hand and they fell silent. They all listened to the words that drifted up from the yard. They were loud enough to hear in the crisp, clear air now that the bells had stopped ringing.
“...and the cheek!” The innkeeper’s wife was saying.
“It’s all well, Judy. Don’t go fretting about it. It’s Christmas.” That was a male voice and Rosalyn guessed it must belong to the innkeeper.
“I’m not fretting, Albert. I just cannot abide rudeness,” she said, sounding put out.
“It’s not rude to stable your horse, dear,” the innkeeper said gently.
“I know, Albert. But it was still rudely done. When there’s barely enough room, too! And them upstairs are such fine gentlefolk. Not a rude bone in their bodies, that lot.”
