The day of the winter ball was bustling. It was busier than it had ever been. Later in the evening, an hour or so before the ball would begin, Rosalie was seated in a chair by a window in a dressing room, looking down at the forecourtyard. Every five minutes or so, a horse-driven carriage would enter the gates, stop by the entrance where there were a few male servants standing and ready to welcome the guests.
The servants were well-dressed for the occasion and the guests were impressed when they opened the door and bowed at the side, allowing the guests to step down. They reached out a hand to the women who would step off and would guide them through the snow to the entrance. Rosalie was also impressed. There was no doubt that they were told they needed to impress not only the guests but
