Day 3: Snow Sorry itâs late.
âDo you have any siblings Mr. Snow?â
âNo, it was only ever my mother and me,â he replied, smiling fondly.
âDoes she live in town?â Sansa asked with honest enthusiasm, she thought she might like to know Mrs. Snow. When his smile faded, she began to fret. Oh dear, had she said something she ought not? She shouldnât have pried into his personal life.
âNo unfortunately, she passed away a few years ago.â
She looked at him with such genuine sympathy in her sweet blue eyes. He felt as though his heart was caught in a vice.
âThank you Miss Stark, I ââ he paused here, a little overcome by his emotions. âShe does not come up often.â
âDoes it pain you? To speak of her?â She closed her eyes in mortification and chastised herself internally. What was wrong with her? Why did she persist in asking him such invasive questions?
âNo,â he paused as if unsure how to proceed. âTruthfully, no one has ever asked about her until now.â
Her heart broke for him in that moment.
âI would like to hear anything youâd be willing to tell me about your mother,â she said solemnly.
He had never met anyone so kind as the Starks, but Sansa, well she truly was a wonder.
She learned from Jon that Lyanna Snow had dark hair and grey eyes and looked remarkably like her son (or rather he looked remarkably like her). She was brave and fiercely loyal â opinionated, proud, and sometimes a little stubborn, but she was a woman of strong moral convictions. She had loved poetry and songs. She adored her son, and worked tirelessly to provide for their little family. She was unfailingly kind to everyone she met, and would do everything within her power to help someone in need. Sansa concluded that she would have liked Jonâs mother, very much.
âShe sounds like Arya.â
âActually, you remind me of her more,â Mr. Snow replied and Sansa flushed with pride at the comparison.
They stood speaking at the gate between Winterfell and Stormâs End until their teeth chattered and their fingers and toes began to feel numb. Sansa remembered with a start why she had gone out in the first place. She had forgotten all about the house full of cross children! She thanked Mr. Snow for his company and his kind advice and scampered away towards Winterfell. He watched her run off, dumbstruck.
The glove! Heâd forgotten to give it to her. He moved to deposit it into the post office as heâd originally planned but he stopped short and considered the delicate white lace held between his clumsy fingers. He grew sentimental as he was reminded of its wearer and the way her little hand felt pressed in his as he helped her in and out of the carriage, or wrapped around his bicep as she leaned heavily against his arm, fearful of slipping on the ice.
âJon Snow!â Greeted Davos, the groundskeeper as he emerged from the glass gardens with an overburdened wheelbarrow and Jon quickly shoved the glove back into his coat pocket. Davos Seaworth and his wife Maraya, who was the cook, were live in staff. âWhat brings you to Stormâs End?" He lifted one sly eyebrow, "On a Sunday?â
âI just felt like a walk,â he replied with a shrug. The older man grinned at him when he noticed the retreating figure of Miss Stark. Jon turned back to look at her just in time to catch her wave from the kitchen door.
âLet me help you with that,â Jon said, before Davos could tease him any further. And he took hold of the heavy wheelbarrow. Davos clapped him on the back, he was rather fond of the tutor, and the boy could hardly find a sweeter girl to dote on than Miss Stark. Wonât Maraya be delighted by this story, he thought with a chuckle.
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Charles Edward Chambers, Couple Parting on Porch in Snow (c.1915)
