“It’s the only term I can think of that’s appropriate. We stayed close to our budget for the Ben Nevis climb. That’s good. We want that information, as it helps our projections for this next bigger adventure.”
“Speaking of which,” Ophelia said, “we will be needing a hefty sum from the fundraising ball. They just increased ticket prices for the French-Swiss railway line. We could try another, but it saves us weeks of overland travel. It’s the most direct route.”
“Anything could go wrong trying to go south through the Alps.” Eleanor would know about things going wrong. Out of all of them on the Ben Nevis excursion, she was the only one who was hurt. She and Tristan, Ophelia’s brother, fell through a snowcornice and ended up spending the night on the mountain. The rest of them had been sick with worry, but knew they would be of no help if they hurt themselves too. They’d hurried down the mountain and alerted local guides to help mount a search, but it was too late. A storm came through and everyone hunkered down until the next day.
Prudence had listened to the Scottish wind howl across the windows of their small inn, worried that Eleanor and Tristan would be frozen solid when they recovered them the next morning. But in a miracle, they found their way down the mountain on their own the next morning, finding Tristan’s mother camped at the base of the mountain, waiting. Prudence wasn’t surprised when a wedding was announced a few months later. Their mutual longing glances had not gone wholly unnoticed by the rest of the Society.
Still, if anyone would be cautious about accidents, that was Eleanor. And she had a point: the longer they traveled, the more chances there were to be derailed from their goal. Getting to Zermatt and the mountain was already difficult enough.
“How much are we short?” Prudence asked. A firm number would help her figure out exactly what they required.
Ophelia stared at the ground as she jogged. All of them looked at her, their leader, their instigator, their organizer, their friend. “Two thousand pounds.”
Prudence stopped short, feeling like she’d been punched in the chest. She braced her hands on her knees. “You must be joking.”
“How could we be so wildly short?” Eleanor asked. “I thought we were close.”
“We were close,” Ophelia said, circling back to where Prudence hunched over. “But our guides have been up on a failed climb on the Matterhorn recently, and have increased their rates due to the dangers they saw and experienced.”
“By that much?” Prudence asked.
“Well, that, and they insisted we have cash set aside in reserve in case of emergency. If they need to transport one of us out of Zermatt because of injury. And they have been seeing what happened to the guide for Lord Douglas.”
“The court cases?” Eleanor asked.
Justine stepped up at this. “Are they still blaming him? It wasn’t his fault that the ropes failed.”
“But that won’t alleviate his lawyers’ fees.” Prudence stood up. Now she understood. It wasn’t really that they needed the money to get to the Matterhorn, it was that they needed it to ensure they had knowledgeable guides to help them get to the top. Extra hands that knew the terrain. Which meant there was some wiggle room with that number. Money that they could ask to be fronted by investors, if need be. “Let’s keep going.”
The women started their slow introductory jog in silence. Prudence didn’t know what the others thought about, but her mind was churning over the budget for the fundraising ball. What would give them the most return? What would make it seem luxurious while not being all that expensive?
“Justine, what animals were you thinking needed to be at the ball?” Prudence asked.
Justine shrugged, not out of breath at all. She was a machine. “I don’t know. But every party that gets written down has some kind of exotic animal sodding about.”
Prudence wasn’t sure what “sodding” meant, but she was fairly certain it was a rude way to say “wandering.” “What if we cut that part of the budget in half, and use it for something like peacock feathers, or something equally showy?”
Justine gave her a disappointed look but rolled her eyes in acquiescence. “Peacock feathers inside are bad luck, don’t you know that? Means we will all be spinsters for life.”
“Too late,” Eleanor said with a smile.
“So no peacocks at all, then. Ophelia, do you have any more solid ideas for the ice theme?” Prudence asked.
“The only thing I’ve come up with is ice sculptures and sugar sculptures.” Ophelia answered.
“Ice sculptures are not too practical even at the end of summer,” Eleanor pointed out. “We could serve several courses of ices instead?”
“I like your thinking, Eleanor,” Justine said. Her sweet tooth was notorious and exceeded the capacity of anyone Prudence had ever known, including small children.
“So we have a dinner with ice cream between every course?” Prudence asked.
“Ices,” Ophelia corrected. “In England, they are ices.”
“Of course,” Prudence said. “My mistake.”
“Time to pick up the pace!” Justine said, as they rounded the large oak tree in the spacious gardens of Rascomb house. The four of them all sped up, with Justine in the lead. For being so short, the woman could really run.
It was a start. Sugar paste sculptures and ices served between every course at dinner. That was becoming downright affordable. But what would be the meal? She wasn’t a party planner, and did not possess the eye for this sort of extravagance.
