The ponies left behind found themselves in a vacuum, none willing to be the first to speak. Rarity eventually gathered herself, then stepped around the kitchen island and methodically poured herself a snifter of brandy from a half-empty bottle on the counter. She drained her glass before speaking. “A warm welcome to the family, Darling. And a Happy Hearth’s Warming this is turning into. If only I could go back to Ponyville and uninvite you...”
“I recall I invited myself, and bein' customarily insistent about it." Applejack frowned. "Look, I can tell your Aunt Glory is hurtin’ way deep down inside, but it’s no excuse for what she said. You just let me know if you think anypony needs their good sense knocked back in ‘em. I could feel good ol’ Kicks McGee gettin’ restless the more she went on.”
Rarity managed a smile. “Thank you. I’ll consider it. Of course I won’t be staying here tonight. We can find out tomorrow morning when flights will be resuming.”
“Are you sure?” Rarity’s father asked. “I mean, I can’t say I blame you wanting to leave. I knew it might be bad, but I didn’t think it would be that bad.”
“You don’t have to go,” Cookie said. “She can’t really kick you out in the snow, you know. Anyway, if I know Glory, my sister will be hiding under her covers til tomorrow afternoon. We can still set up the rooms like we planned."
“No, Mother. I refuse to be an unwelcome houseguest,” Rarity said. "We will find someplace else for us to stay."
"If you really insist on leaving, there might be room at the bed-and-breakfast where Pepper is staying, or in one of the inns on Lake Street. But it won’t be easy to find enough empty beds for all of us on Little Hearth’s Warming Eve," said Cookie.
“I mean, ‘us,’ as in the two of us,” Rarity said. “You and Dad and Sweetie Belle should stay here. She doesn’t get to see her cousins nearly as often as she should, and nopony has asked you to leave—not yet anyway. And Glory was right about one thing: at the moment, it appears I own a perfectly fine house practically around the corner.”
Cookie audibly gasped, and looked completely taken aback. “Oh, no! You don’t want to stay in that drafty old place. And that's not to mention that, you know, Aunt Silver just passed away in her own bed, right there in that house. You really can't stay there!"
Rarity raised an eyebrow. “You surely aren’t suggesting that the house is haunted by Aunt Silver's ghost, are you Mother? At any rate, Applejack and I have faced far worse than specters. Isn’t that right, Darling?”
“Well,” Applejack mused. “Huh. We beat ol’ Sombra, and he was kind of a spook or somethin’, at least by the time we met him. What was worse than him? I mean, there was that time you led an army of horrible moon monsters into Ponyville on a crusade to extinguish all the light from the entire world. That was pretty bad. It was probably—”
“How about Tirek?” Rarity quickly prompted. “Let’s go with Tirek, shall we?” Applejack shrugged and nodded before Rarity continued. “At any rate, Mother, we will be fine. I love you dearly, and Father, and you, Sweetie Belle, but I think I would like to have a quiet evening, away from all of this. I know the way to Aunt Silver’s house. It can’t be more than a quarter league. We won’t freeze. We're going.” Rarity watched her parents share a glance before turning back toward her with that same startled deer look she had observed during the sleigh ride.
“It’s just not a good idea, Kiddo,” her father said, shaking his head.
“And I don’t think you should be out traipsing about in this weather,” Cookie added. “What if it gets dark? The days are so short now.”
“It’s barely afternoon, and we would be traipsing through the same snow if we decided to go into town. It isn’t as if I propose to trek through the wilderness, or across the frozen lake. As I recall one merely turns right onto Whinnywend, right at Edgewater, and right again on Westonka Point Road. I distinctly recall that one can clearly see the house across the inlet from the backyard here. Go out and look, and if we haven’t gotten the lamps lit in two hours, then you can summon rescuers.”
“I’m sure there must be some room available in town,” Rarity’s father grumbled. “If you want, I could even trot on over to Lake Street and find something for you. Maybe rent a sleigh while I’m at it.”
“No, thank you. I’ve made up my mind,” Rarity declared. “Applejack and I are going to Aunt Silver’s for the night, and we will reconvene here tomorrow morning.” A sudden realization struck her that she had forgot to vet her scheme, and she turned to Applejack. “That is of course, if you want to go, Darling.”
“I’m game for a walk and a little fresh air,” Applejack said. “Besides, like I already told you, I go where you go. You can follow my lead next trip.”
“Then it’s decided,” Rarity stated.
“But—”
Cookie raised a forehoof to her husband’s lips, then physically turned him to look into her eyes. “We’ve said all we can say, Hon. It’s her decision in the end. It’ll be okay.” Then she turned back to Rarity. “I’ve still got a key to Aunt Silver's house in my bag.” Rarity’s father sighed dejectedly.
The idea of relocating to Silver Belle's house seemed more appealing to Rarity the more she thought about it, and there was also the matter of getting there before dark; they were ready to leave within minutes. Conveniently, all of their belongings were still packed, and it only required donning their outerwear again for Rarity and Applejack to be prepared for the journey. The suitcase full of Hearth's Warming Gifts was left inside the door, given they might not be returning. Perhaps it was adding insult to injury, but Rarity felt only moderate guilt about pilfering a dinner's worth of bread and cheese from the pantry, along with what was left in the bottle of brandy. Applejack, of course, had mostly filled her single traveling case with apples. Hugs were exchanged. Sweetie Belle was nuzzled again. On her way out, Rarity was surprised to find Mist waiting outside the front door, harnessed to a large wooden toboggan.
“Mom’s been upset for weeks,” he said. “I guess she just reached her breaking point, but she’ll get over it. I hope you’re not mad at the rest of us. I brought my sled so I could help move your stuff.”
“Thank you, Mist,” Rarity said, offering him a smile. “But I think you should stay here and look after your family. I have a knack for the sort of magic that keeps things floating around me in an organized fashion. I'll manage just fine on my own.”
“Actually, I’ll borrow that sled if you don’t mind,” Applejack said. “I reckon she'd appreciate a little bit of rest, and that she’ll be mighty grateful to you for it.” She gave an exaggerated wink.
“You really think so?” Mist asked, brightening. “Okay, here you go! Thanks!”
Once Mist had disappeared back into the house, Rarity turned on her most reproachful look.
“What?” Applejack asked innocently. “It’s cute that he likes you. I mean, I like you. Everypony likes you! It’s only natural that your cousin likes you. You’re a likeable sort of gal.”
Rarity sighed elaborately. “Oh, be quiet and pull the bags.”
“Hello there, ladies!” a new voice said, causing Rarity and Applejack to look up as a rangy Pegasus stallion descended and alit on the snowy lawn in front of them. His wings continued to beat slowly even on the ground, while his nostrils puffed clouds of steam into the air. Rainbow Dash had explained that while Pegasi did not feel the cold in the same way other ponies did, it was still important to keep the blood circulating and the flight feathers ice-free. “I have a message for a Rarity Unicorn at this address,” the stallion said. “Is she inside?”
“No, she is right here,” Rarity said, surprised. “You managed to catch me on my way out.”
“My lucky day,” the Pegasus said. “Here you go.” He looked critically at Applejack. “You wouldn’t be Glory Dwells, would you? I’ve got another one for this address in here.”
“Hardly!” Rarity exclaimed. “You’ll find her inside.” As the Pegasus trotted up to knock on the front door, she examined the card he had pulled from his satchel. “It’s from Silver Belle’s lawyer,” she said. “He 'humbly requests' a meeting in his office tomorrow. Hm. In the moment I had forgotten all about the official side of things, but I suppose I should meet with him before we think about leaving for home.”
“Must be pretty important business for a lawyer to be workin’ on Hearth’s Warming Eve,” Applejack said.
“I suppose it must,” Rarity admitted.
The trek to Silver Belle’s house was accomplished with little difficulty and in near total silence. The temperature had climbed, and now hovered at a basically-tolerable mark somewhere just below freezing. The snow on the roads had, by and large, been dealt with through a combination of plowing, packing, and grooming. It took no more than twenty minutes for the white clapboard house to come into view, two compact square stories huddled beneath a steep roof, looking every inch the same as it always had in Rarity’s memory. It rested precariously at the tip of the thin spit of land called Westonka Point, and was prone to flooding whenever fierce storms whipped the lake into a frenzy. Outside, the snow was covered in preserved hoofprints, and criss-crossed by deep runner tracks from one or more large sleighs. One set of tracks would have been a sleigh from the mortuary, come to take Aunt Silver’s body away. With her gone, the house seemed dead, too.
The mares left the sled with their bags in the yard for the moment, and Rarity proceeded to open the front door with the key Cookie had provided. They stepped inside into darkness. Thick brocade draperies had been drawn closed over every window, and all the lamps were off. The air was heavy, still, and cold. Rarity had braced herself for some terrible smell of sickness in the closed-in space, but she could detect nothing beyond a faint hint of old potpourri.
“Brrr!” Applejack exclaimed. “It ain’t hardly warmer in here than outside. Why don’t you stay put whilst I go turn on the gas and get the furnace goin’. Just need to throw open some of these curtains so I can see what I’m doin’.”
“Nonsense,” said Rarity. “I’ve got a working horn, and the basement windows must be completely covered by snow. At least let me go with you.” She attempted to ignite her illumination spell, but the resultant glow was no brighter than the dim light sneaking in through the open door. She was more fatigued than she had thought.
“You need to take it easy, Rare,” Applejack said, moving quickly through the space, seemingly searching for something. “That exchange would have taken it out of me. I can admit it. Here, there are some chairs in this next room, and … Aha! Candles and matches.”
Rarity sighed. “Thank you, Darling. I hope we can both get some rest here. The first door in the hallway to your left leads downstairs.”
"Thanks. Now, rest! Y'hear?"
"I do!" Rarity called back. She, however, had no intention of heeding Applejack’s exhortation. Instead, as soon as the glow of the candle disappeared down the stairs, she began working her way through the first floor, exercising her magic to open the draperies and let in the waning winter sun. This trip had been disastrous, and yet she could not help but find something exciting about finally being in this place, as if some force of destiny had meant for her to be here, to embrace and try to understand all the buried emotions and fragments of memories that had been welling up inside her. Even the meager telekinesis required to fasten the draperies to their tiebacks was taxing at the moment, but she hungrily took in everything the light revealed.
She remembered the gorgeous oil portrait of Silver Belle in her glamorous heyday hanging over the fireplace mantel. Other paintings in ornate frames depicted various scenes from the ballet, and some of these, too, clearly showed a young Aunt Silver leaping, stretching, being caught in the embrace of a strong young stallion. There were framed playbills, too, for shows all across Equestria, and some beyond. Such was the life Silver Belle had sacrificed forever when she moved to Ponyville.
Rarity moved through the hallway and opened the door at the end, leading into the spare bedroom that Silver Belle had converted years ago into her craft project and sewing room. Inside, she was surprised to find that some large and heavy piece of furniture had been moved to block the only window, and the room was too dark to make out anything clearly. She took a few steps toward the dark outline of the furniture, intending to try to move it by hoof, then bumped into something which clattered loudly to the floor. With effort, she mustered her magic just enough to see what it was. A wooden easel had collapsed on impact, spilling a large canvas and a number of brushes. Apparently Silver Belle had taken up painting. Rarity considered that her aunt might have mentioned it in one of her letters.
The painting on the floor was unfinished, but complete enough to be recognizable. A landscape. The sea. A sandy beach with crashing surf. Rarity felt her heart clench. It seemed an impossible coincidence.
“Gas is on!” Applejack shouted from somewhere below.
In a state of near panic, Rarity raced to turn the knobs on the wall sconce lamps, then stood trembling as each lamp catalyzed and ignited in turn, flooding the project room with light. Rarity’s eyes flicked back and forth, unable to focus on one thing. The walls were completely covered in paintings. Some were framed, but most not. All hung haphazardly, crowded too close together, some overlapping, most crooked. What plaster was still visible on the walls was cracked and chipped from too much hammering and too many nails. Every painting depicted the seaside. Rarity realized she was hyperventilating a moment before she swooned and collapsed unconscious onto the cold floor.