Lit in Snow

Caught wind

Day had broken hours prior; Henry was already awake, writing away at his desk on the side of the room. Beatrice lay awake on the side of the bed facing away from Henry, just listening to the sound of the quill striking the paper from Henry's leather book.

Charlotte knocked on the door, then swiftly opened it. She walked into the room backwards, holding folded clothes and a tray on top of her head. She had blonde hair pinned back with blue-green eyes, and she wore a long dress with an apron over top.
"I appreciate you, Beatrice, for hanging the laundry yesterday." Charlotte said.
"It 'was nothing." Beatrice replied.

Beatrice walked over to Henry's desk on the side of the room that was "his" before their beds were pushed together. She placed her head over his shoulder, looking over to see what he was writing. He quickly snapped the book shut.
"Pray, what were you writing? She looked at him and moved her hand closer to the book.
"'Tis nothing, Bea," his face flushed up as he continued to avoid eye contact with her. He gripped the closed book closer to himself, holding it pressed to his chest.

"If you insist," she said, moving back from his desk.

Charlotte called out to them while placing the folded clothes into a drawer.
"Well, breakfast is ready for you two—quickly — now. Draven has a meeting concerning yet another fire from last night." Charlotte closed the door, leaving them alone to get dressed.

Beatrice walked over to the right side of the room and opened her tall wardrobe. Many types of dresses were hanging. She took out a white coat, a blue-gray dress, and gloves. Henry went to his wardrobe on the left side of the room, past his desk, and took out a white undershirt and a brown jacket.

Beatrice wrapped a light-colored corset around herself, snapping the buttons in front and attempting to lace it from the back. Henry walked over with his unbuttoned shirt and took hold of the strings, lacing them from the back.
"I'm going to tighten it now." He said this while ever so gently pulling the strings, watching the corset tighten around her waist, and supporting her upper torso. He moved away from her while she slipped on her dress and put on her white coat. They were both fully dressed.
Henry knelt down, took her hand, pulled it up to his lips, and gently kissed her hand. She then lightly laughed and moved her other hand to ruffle his hand. He stood back up as she put on her white gloves. He took her hand as they walked out of the left wing. Before entering the dining hall, he let go of her hand so Draven wouldn't make any comments or potentially get angry with them again.
They enter with plates full of food, waiting on a large wooden table with beeswax candles lit, and a black damask tablecloth covered in a white diamond pattern. The three of them sat at the table, with Draven sitting on the chair at the other end and Beatrice sitting directly across from him. Henry sat on her left-handed side. On the table were rolls of bread, eggs, and filets of cooked fish. Draven blew out his last smoke puff, then placed his cigar in the ashtray on the corner of the table to relight later. The food was passed around, and everyone had their portion.
"I'm certain you two have caught wind of the fires that transpired last night, causing nasty damage to the chandlers'." Draven remarked while passing the food.

He held up a cup of tea, and while tapping his left foot around each second, there was no response. He levered up the cup to his mouth and took a small sip. Furthermore, he counted each tap in his head, waiting for at least one of them to respond.

"We have," Beatrice replied, looking down at her food and picking at it with a golden fork.
"I'm confident they'll stop soon with the new constable arriving." Draven exclaimed, he's lying through his teeth.

"Hopefully, this won't interfere with the cotillion."

"Ah, about that."
Out of his jacket pocket, he pulled out a sack full of brass coins. He threw them to her, and she caught them.

"Dress well; leave a good impression for the other children." He told her, trusting she would come home with something appropriate.

"To find myself a suitor?" She asked, laughing. She thought the idea of her meeting a stranger and falling in love with them was extremely absurd.
Henry looked up at the two in shock and sadness. His plans would have been soiled if this were the truth.

"No." Draven's reaction was cold; mentioning suitors or anything close to loving someone else was like stepping barefoot into a man trap.

Henry sighed in relief, slumping back down into his chair, and continued eating. The room fell dead silent, with only the sounds of knives cutting and fork movements.

"My apologies, sir." She only spoke since she wanted the loud silence to be over.

"Refrain yourself, Beatrice; it's unbecoming."
He made up an excuse for his reasoning about being cold, insulting her so she wouldn't ask any more questions, and guilting her to silence.

"Oh, Henry," Henry's head perked up. "Avoid getting yourself into mischief."

"Yes sir." Henry answered, rolling his eyes and continuing to eat.
They finished their meals. Henry and Beatrice walked out of the dining hall and headed towards the backdoor.

"Currently, it's nine forty-four am; it will take us thirteen minutes to walk down the pathway; we'll arrive in town at exactly ten seventeen." Beatrice stated this while quickening her pace.

"It's perfect as the dressmaker opens soon," Henry mentioned.

"You're going to come with me?" She questioned.

"Why not?" He shrugged his shoulders and moved his hands up.

"Henry, I know you; you don't have to." She gently laughed, cracking a small smile.

"Where am I to go then?" He smirked, moving his head closer to her and blinking softly.

"There's a stationery shop in the town square." She put their noses together for a second, then pulled away.

"Hm, very well then." He turned away for a moment, using his hand to hide his blush.

Draven walked out of the dining hall moments after the children. A man wearing a white collared shirt gently put a hand on Draven's shoulder. Draven looked to see Clarence, one of his accomplices. Clarence had feathered black hair, narrow dark eyes, and a golden monocle on his left eye.
"Aye, Clarence, speak by grace." Draven asked while walking to his study for rest again.
Clarence followed him, walking by his side. "Sir, there's been some speculation about who lit the fires last night."
"Hm, I wonder who?" He lightly chuckled while walking. He took his unfinished cigar and cut the end to relight it once more.

"Of you, sir! This is a serious matter if they find out that we were the ones who set the shop ablaze." Clarence showed serious signs of being panicked. Draven lightly patted his shoulder.
"Easy now, Clarence; they have no evidence that we were the direct causes. What could they find in those ashes?" He stopped, looking out of a frosted window to see Beatrice and Henry walking away toward the path to town. Clarence continued to stare at the tall man, then gained the courage to counteract.
"The townsfolk of Newrichmen, they're intelligent; they shall find out."

"Accompany me to the meeting then at four o'clock." Draven asked sternly, and he walked into his study. Within the study, there was a bed, shelves full of books, and a raging wooden fireplace, with the room having an almost never-ending ceiling.

"But Sir."
Draven gently patted Clarence on the back, next readjusting his monocle.

"You're so obviously overcome by exhaustion." Draven said, while smoke puffed out of his mouth and up into the tall chambers of the room.
"Draven, if I may." He was cut off sharply.
"Come now, go back home, and rest."
He sat on the bed, placing the finished cigar into an ashtray.
"Speak to me this evening, Clarence." He lay on his back, tilting his head to the side, with his whole hand pinching his nose. Clarence walked closer to the bed, trying to continue his argument. Draven sighed,