“Do you want to marry him?” Eleanor asked.
“I would like to have been consulted,” Justine said.
“Of course,” Ophelia said. “But that’s not the question, is it? Nor is this the whole truth.”
Justine rolled her eyes at Ophelia. She didn’t feel like laying the entire midnight conversation with Karl bare in the dining room. Even if, technically, it had happened in this very room only a few feet away from where she now sat. This room was different at night. As if they were in another world entirely, made for just the two of them, where nothing else mattered.
“I had suggested that we, er,” Justine struggled. Was she going to blush? Was this the fate of Bad News Brewer? Brought to blushing maiden status by a Bavarian mountain climber. “I suggested that we let our passions go after we climb the Matterhorn.”
“Passions?” Prudence asked with raised eyebrows.
“That seems better than before the mountain?” Eleanor squeaked.
“It’s no way to judge a time frame,” Ophelia said. “For that might be a day, a week, or never, depending on what the weather does.”
Tristan burst into the room. “Just got word from another guide coming down from Monte Rosa. The clouds have shifted. We’re climbing the Matterhorn tomorrow!”
The Ladies' Alpine Society sat in shock.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Tristan asked, clearly put out by their reaction. “I wanted to be the one who told you.”
“This is wonderful!” Prudence clapped.
“I have so much to do—” Ophelia said, a smile creeping onto her face.
“Tomorrow?” Eleanor asked.
The excitement boiled in Justine’s stomach, the joy becoming almost intolerable. She had to stand. Had to walk. Had to move.
As she stood, Prudence leaned over and whispered, “Better get your passions ready.”
The rest of the ladies heard her and they all giggled, moving to ready the hours of preparation it would take.
“What did you say?” Tristan asked. When Prudence didn’t answer, he looked to his wife. “What did she say?”
“Not to worry, love,” Eleanor said, taking his arm. “Let’s go pack.”
Ophelia was giddy with excitement as they checked the equipment. This time though, they were packing it up on donkeys. The next day, they would hike up the Matterhorn as far as the start of the Hörnli Ridge and make camp early. They would need their sleep, as they would awaken at three in the morning to start their climb. The climb that had defined their lives. That perhaps would always define their lives.
“This is it, Justine! Aren’t you excited?” Ophelia was fairly quivering. “We should be able to pack fairly quickly since we’ve been so organized,” Ophelia said, waiting on Justine to finish her task so that she could then double-check her work, as Justine would double-check hers.
“I know,” Justine said.
“It should be no problem to leave out exactly on time.”
“I’m aware.”
“Some of the others have asked to walk us to the church, which is kind of them.”
“Yes.” Justine gritted her teeth. She’d been there at breakfast when Mr. Moon and Francis had asked to accompany them. It had been a given that Lady Rascomb would accompany them, but on a donkey due to her leg injury.
They finished the equipment check, and Tristan brought in the canvas satchel that would lay over the back of the donkey, like modified saddlebags. Together, they packed the ropes and harnesses, metal pitons, and other carefully designed gadgets they may or may not use on the adventure.
“It seems as though—” Justine said, just to fill the silence, when Ophelia interrupted.
“Tristan, have you seen Mr. Vogel this morning?” Ophelia asked.
“I believe he is fetching Luc Meynet. The cheese maker has agreed to help us as far as the Hörnli ridge. But they may have returned by now. Should I tell him you are looking for him?” Tristan hefted the canvas bag and groaned under the weight.
