They settled in with the blanket bags piled around them and Lady Rascomb plying them with the Highlanders’ oatcakes and cheese.
“They’ll be here with a wagon soon,” Lady Rascomb said, consulting her watch which dangled from a ribbon at her waist. “Everyone agreed on an eight o’clock rendezvous.”
“Then why are you here?” Tristan asked. Eleanor recognized that pointed look he gave his mother, the one that cut beyond assumptions and niceties. The expression he gave to those he loved and wanted to take care of.
“I stayed the night out here. I wasn’t going to abandon my child.” Lady Rascomb looked at him with utter calm.
“Alone?” Tristan went into a sputter. “An English lady stayed alone in a barn in the Highlands? Have you gone mad?”
Her smile was serene, and Eleanor thought about how she would like to learn how to do that—to be calm in the face of someone else’s panic.
“Your father was with me. He left at dawn to walk back and gather the others.”
“Still. It’s irresponsible.” Tristan shook his head.
The Highland clearances in the decades before had done what was once thought unthinkable—it made the Scots hate the English even more. Eleanor would not have wanted to stay anywhere on her own. Lady Rascomb was either very brave or very foolish. Eleanor preferred thinking it was bravery.
In short order, they heard the wheels of a wagon and the clop of horse hooves outside. They rose to meet their rescuers, Lady Rascomb offering one of Lord Rascomb’s walking poles to help. Tristan rounded exited the barn first, receiving whoops of praise and hollers. Lady Rascomb pushed Eleanor in front of her, and the others whooped even louder at her appearance.
Prudence was the first to crush her into a hug. The slender woman went so far as to pick her off her feet, something that Eleanor was shocked could happen. As soon as her foot was back on the grass, Justine jumped on her, hugging her short arms around Eleanor’s neck.
Behind her was Ophelia, and then they were just a knot of women tangled around Eleanor.
“Oh, my Lord, it was terrifying,” Justine said in one ear.
“We did it, Eleanor. We did it,” Ophelia whispered in the other.
“Come, come,” Lord Rascomb boomed from the driver’s perch. “Let’s get all packed up, make Eleanor comfortable and get them back to the inn. I bet they would be delighted to have a full breakfast.”
The women dispersed, and while Tristan used the blanket bags to make her a fine nest on the floor of the wagon, her ankle propped up to reduce the swelling, the other women gathered the rest of the gear left in the barn. Lord Rascomb himself dealt with the heavy climbing rope, winding it ’round with the amount of respect it deserved, considering how much Eleanor had relied on it to save her.
They were on the way back to the inn, the other women chattering while Eleanor’s head lolled with lack of sleep.
“What do you want more?” Justine asked. “A cup of tea, a hot bath, or never seeing Tristan’s ugly face again?”
Though the question was meant in jest, it jolted Eleanor. She looked at him, and his face revealed the same naked panic. They were entering the real world again, where they had families and obligations, where one couldn’t just cozy up to a man for a kiss. There was so much more to do for Eleanor.
“Cup of tea,” Eleanor said, giving Tristan a hopeful smile.
“Oh God, no,” Justine said glancing between them. Ophelia gave a shy smile, which relieved Eleanor. Even Prudence glanced away, and she was an American. Justine flung herself backwards onto the rest of the blanket bags. “And I liked you and everything.”
Back at the inn, Tristan carried her up to her room but had to leave her there. It felt strange to be parted from him, after. A maid brought a breakfast tray, and another set about getting a bath prepared. They hadn’t the latest innovations of running water, and thus it still required girls running downstairs to gather up more boiling water.
Eleanor nibbled on the toast, smeared with the best butter she’d ever eaten. Having eaten her fill of the oatcakes at the barn, she focused on drinking down the tea that was still hot. It warmed her from the inside out, but she still didn’t like being without Tristan. And there wasn’t much of a way to tell him. A note, perhaps?
When the bath was ready and her tea was done, Eleanor hobbled over to settle in. There were aches in her arms and her back that she hadn’t even noticed until the other pain was soothed away. She balanced her head on the back of the tub and closed her eyes. She was safe. She had climbed the mountain.Her eyes flew open. But she’d have to tell her mother that she was ruined.
She smiled.
Chapter Fifteen
Tristan paced. Hehadn’t had any time alone with Eleanor, and it grated. What kind of tortuous world would keep them apart? It was obvious they cared for each other, so why was it so miserably difficult to speak to her in private?
He wanted to assure her of his continued affections. She needed to know that he intended to go straight to her father as soon as they were back in London. But what with the few days of recovery at the inn, the letters and papers he was obliged to pen to raise money for their Matterhorn attempt, and then the separate carriages and train cars back to Edinburgh, there was absolutely no chance to see her.
The most he’d dared was a scrap of paper with the wordamorscribbled on it, which he’d slipped into her hand as he’d handed her up to board the carriage. It was ridiculous. They were affianced, at least, in their own minds, and aside from which, he’d had carnal relations—twice—with a respectable lady. That was enough, wasn’t it?
They boarded the train to London bright and early. Once again, separate cars. A stop for a meal in York, where he might steal a glance and a smile. He wanted to beat his head against the very train itself. Why must everything be so difficult?
