“Look at this!” Justine said as Ophelia waved Prudence in. Justine accordioned up her overskirt as Prudence admired it. “Eleanor thought of it!”
“Phenomenal. But I feel like you all know something I don’t,” Prudence said. She was already dressed in a scarlet red gown with pink spangles sewn in with white thread. Her skirts were not as wide, but rather made up for the width by the longer train in the back.
“For when we go up the Matterhorn!” Justine said, but Prudence did not seem as impressed as she ought to be.
“Instead of holding up our skirts with our hands,” Ophelia explained. She stuck a pin into Eleanor’s hair, and then another. “We don’t have to worry about stepping on them, or getting the hems soaked and weighing us down.”
Prudence made an appreciative noise. “That is clever, Eleanor! Show me again.”
Justine pulled the ribbon at her waist that pulled up the skirt and tied it, as if she would keep it that way for a long while. She swanned about the room, the skirt remaining just as she’d left it. She stopped short in front of Prudence and untied her tiny knot at the waist, and the overskirt dropped back down.
Prudence applauded and Justine curtsied.
“Eleanor, that’s brilliant. It really is.”
“That’s what I said,” Justine added.
Eleanor blushed in the mirror, and Ophelia finished pinning her hair.
“Let’s get down to dinner.” Ophelia patted Eleanor on the shoulders, and Justine fell into step beside Ophelia.
“Maybe tomorrow we could make a first run at those for the skirts,” Justine said.
Ophelia nodded. “I was thinking after dinner, and then try them out tomorrow.”
“What if they don’t work? I don’t want to be halfway up a mountain and decide the skirts are terrible.”
The smells of the dining room wafted up the stairwell. The aroma of beef and roasted potatoes, something with honey in it, made Justine’s stomach grumble.
“Good point. Maybe we delay tomorrow’s climb in favor of working on our equipment.” Ophelia sniffed the air. “My word, that smells like home.”
Justine grinned. The best way to Ophelia’s heart was through a well-roasted, wine-soaked slab of beef. “Doesn’t it? I’m so hungry. I’m always so hungry.”
“It’s the mountains, it’s the exercise,” Ophelia listed, before stopping dead in her tracks. “I smell sticky toffee pudding.”
“What?” Justine stopped too, sniffing the air. She’d always been jealous of Ophelia’s excellent sense of smell. “Impossible.”
“I’m going to eat myself unconscious,” Ophelia said, almost giggling, which made Justine laugh.
“Race you. First one down gets extra pudding.” Justine took off down the stairs, bowling over Prudence and Eleanor, Ophelia shrieking behind her. Justine’s feet bounced down the stairs as fast as she could go. The crinoline cage of her skirtsswayed, knocking against her knees as she tore down the staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs, Karl stood with his arms folded, nodding as he was in deep conversation with Tristan.
Justine tried to slow down, tried to adjust her speed, but her feet were on a streak of their own, but she stopped as quickly as she could. And Ophelia slammed into her back, throwing her forward on the landing. But she caught herself against the banister, even as the air went out of her lungs.
“Ungh,” she managed. “You all right, Fee?”
Ophelia grunted and pushed away from her.
Both of their crinoline cages swung back into shape.
At the bottom of the stairs, the men turned to look up at the commotion. Karl wore tight black trousers that men favored this close to Eastern Europe. His coat was longer, hitting at mid-thighs, with elaborate brass buttons going down the front. He’d clearly freshly bathed and shaved. His shoulders seemed somehow bigger in that coat, and he seemed as if he could pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, and march away.
His blue eyes were magnets for hers, and she was being drawn into a whirlpool that she’d happily drown in.
“My goodness!” came the rushed gasp from Eleanor.
“Are you all right?” Prudence asked, examining both her and Ophelia.
