She pulled herself up stiffly, and he realized he’d made a grievous error, insulting her pride. He was trying to be a gentleman, damn it all! “I only mean—”
“Thank you,” she cut him off. “Your concern for my state of mind is considerate. I believe I see Mrs. Cabot approaching.”
Tristan fell back, allowing her time to nurse her wounded pride. This was not a good first day. He was tasked with getting them up a mountain. He couldn’t manage to get Miss Piper past the largest oak tree on the property.
*
This was notthe sort of day Eleanor would write down in a diary, if she’d kept one. She’d made a fool of herself on more than one occasion, and half expected to be shipped back home to London. If she couldn’t manage a single morning run, she certainly wouldn’t be allowed to go to Scotland. And suddenly, she very much wanted to prove she could at least make it up Ben Nevis.
Servants had made a fire in a ring of stones and cooked an extremely delicious meal of sausages and root vegetables in a single large pan over it. Eleanor had never seen such an endeavor, but now that she had, she was more impressed than ever with the treats that emerged from anyone’s kitchen, let alone what came from this open fire!
Eleanor’s lungs hurt with a scratching cold that kept her coughing. She’d been such a ninny to wear a corset. Even Lady Rascomb had advised against it. But Eleanor wasn’t as slender as the other girls, and well, not having support for herself seemed unwise as well as improper. Lady Rascomb had gifted her some extra undergarments—they were more like old-fashioned jumps, rather than corsets. Meant for support, not confinement. There was another run tomorrow, in which she’d have to prove herself.
“It’s that tenacity that you’ll need up on the mountain,” Lady Rascomb advised after Tristan had told her how adamant Eleanor had been about her corset. “Some believe that it is all physical to climb a mountain.” Lady Rascomb jabbed a finger at Eleanor’s heart.
“Isn’t it?” Eleanor asked.
“Your body will always want to give up,” Lady Rascomb said. “Climbing a mountain, birthing a baby, washing a bathtub. It doesn’t matter. Bodies are weak.” Then she poked herself in the heart. “It is thewillto keep at it. To persevere, despite the pain, despite the boredom.”
Eleanor thanked her and changed into the new clothes. Prudence walked with her, cutting through the woods so that they might join up with the others by the end. Tristan had taken off running on the original path, his easy speed making Eleanor envious. She wanted her body to do that. Why couldn’t her stride lengthen that way? The rhythmic breath that sustained him never made him overheat and vomit.
She’d been coddled her whole life. Who was she to believe she could add anything to a climbing expedition?
Now, seated around a fire, night having fallen, Eleanor was inexplicably tired. At home, she would have stayed up for hours longer, but now, she could barely follow conversation.
“Are there any concerns for the expedition before we turn in for the night?” Ophelia asked. They’d already talked through tomorrow’s schedule—more physical conditioning, an overview of equipment, some mock climbing if they had time.
To Eleanor’s surprise, Tristan cleared his throat. “I have one, but I’d prefer if my lady mother advises on this as well.”
“Once you make your concern known, of course. I’d never hide my opinion from you.” Lady Rascomb, lit by the campfire, looked younger suddenly. She could see how Lord Rascomb would be instantly enamored with her. She was so capable, soresilient. Two things Eleanor was not. Unless it had to with a piece of rope, and she was finding out how very little the world cared about a bit of twine.
“I am, of course, a supporter of propriety and its dictums.”
“Are you?” Justine challenged. “I seem to remember—”
“—I said I am a supporter.” Tristan glared across the fire at Justine. If Eleanor had ever wondered if there was something between the two of them, that glare put it to rest. “However, I am concerned about propriety getting in the way of our ultimate success.”
“Which aspects of propriety concern you?” Lady Rascomb asked. “And don’t say it, Justine, I know you have a snide remark in there.”
“I’m very clever,” Justine protested. “I usually have at least three things to say at Tristan’s expense.”
“Why must you pick atme?” Tristan snapped.
“Because it’s so very easy,” Justine said with absolute sincerity and no remorse.
“Children,” Lord Rascomb rumbled. “I believe we were talking about the expedition.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Ophelia said.
“I imagine you’re speaking of corsets?” Lady Rascomb asked.
“That is one, yes.”
“Miss Piper and I have solved that particular problem,” Lady Rascomb said. “What is the other concern you have?”
“Miss Piper informed me that the ladies have taken to using each other’s given names. I thought this was very clever.”
“It was Ophelia’s idea,” Justine said.
