Before The Snow Falls | Holiday Novella

The New Yorker

New York City, New York

1867

Nora had been sitting at the small writing desk in her room for the past hour or so, trying to pen a response to Felix's unexpected letter. She hadn't gotten more than two words written. They consisted of the following:

Dear Felix

The rest of the words were decidedly not coming to her.

But what was she supposed to say? The one thing that Felix wanted to know was the one thing she could never tell him. Nora knew she had to think of a reason why she had left England early, but everything that came to mind seemed...lacking. Unrealistic.

Nora knew that Felix would see right through it if she didn't say the right thing.

"Ugh!" She slammed her fist down on the rickety desk, causing the contents of it to wobble perilously. Nora's brown and white cocker spaniel jerked his head up to look at her, startled from his slumber. He had been lounging peacefully on the woven rug by the fireplace.

Nora sighed and apologized to her canine companion, but the dog merely continued to stare at her. "Don't look at me like that, Cooper. What am I supposed to do?"

The dog simply tilted his head sideways in response.

"I don't see you coming up with any great ideas, Coop. You know, you might as well start pulling your weight around here," she accused. "I've snuck you biscuits for years, I might remind you."

Cooper took that moment to shake his head as if there was a fly or something buzzing around it, and he was trying to get rid of the pesky thing. That was how Nora felt about this situation with Felix. She wanted it gone.

Throwing her hands into the air, Nora went to sit on the rug next to her dog. "If you must know, Cooper, here is the truth of it. When I went to England this summer to stay with Aunt Lily and Uncle Lewis, something...happened between Felix and me."

Cooper laid his head down on his paws again, his eyelids already drooping in response to her lackluster story-telling. Or maybe it was just because, well, he was a nine-year-old dog.

"Fine, you're right. Nothing really happened."

Nothing had really happened, and yet everything was different.

Nora threw herself down on the rug so that she was staring up at the plain, white ceiling and hoped that her mother didn't enter just now to see her lying about on the floor. The dear woman would likely have a fit. Nora's silk taffeta gown was surely being wrinkled beyond repair.

See, this was precisely the reason that she couldn't tell Felix the truth. Nora was the type of girl that lay about on bedchamber floors and talked to dogs about her problems. She wasn't the type of girl that married handsome aristocrats from England—especially not handsome aristocrats who were related to the Queen.

Not to mention that Felix was a rake. The damn man was a wealthy, attractive, intelligent, well-connected rake. He'd always been that way; Nora heard countless retellings of his debauchery at Eton and Cambridge over the years. It was just that he'd never acted that way toward Nora before.

She'd always likened their relationship to that of a brother and sister. Nora didn't have any siblings, and ever since she was eight-years-old, she had looked forward to going to Hertford in the summer to stay with her aunt and uncle. And to see the boy who lived next door to them.

Nora rolled back over and gathered herself, trying to ignore the way her corset was constricting her ribcage. Her heart was sure to burst from the pressure. Wrestling herself upward, Nora stood and crossed the small room to sit at her writing desk once more. Picking up the letter that Felix had sent, she frowned.