He hugged her close. “Stay safe.”
Justine nodded, her throat closing as she remembered what Lady Rascomb said:he only wants to protect you.And she was doing something that no one could protect her from. But she was proud of that. She wanted that.
Francis walked over to Tristan and clapped him on the shoulder, and Tristan did the same in return. Then he followed Mr. Moon and Lady Rascomb. Herr and Frau Brunner stood side by side, tanned and slightly plump, smiling and waving them off. Perhaps they had the same affection for them as Justine had for the couple. She hoped so.
“Skirts?” Ophelia suggested. They all pulled at their strings to raise up their skirts far enough to allow a good stride and tied them off. Justine grinned at how they all had slightly different lengths, given their different strides. Eleanor was so clever. Justine felt a burst of pride to be amongst these brilliant people. Her friends.
Tristan, Lord Rascomb, and Karl joined their cluster. With Luc up ahead, they made eight on this two-day trail to the summit.
They couldn’t see the top from where they stood, mists obscuring their path. But Justine could almost see that red line Ophelia had slashed onto their maps, the route that she deemed their best bet. She and Karl had debated it day after day in the last months, looking at almanacs and adjusting for the temperatures and weather patterns that emerged from the weeks they’d spent in Zermatt.
Still Karl had warned them that the mountain did what it wanted and adhered to no man’s—or woman’s—wishes.
“Is everyone prepared?” Lord Rascomb asked in his commanding voice. A voice that led their family, sat in Parliament, and encouraged the dreams of his youngest daughter.
Justine scanned their group as they all looked at each other as well.
“Then off we go,” Ophelia said, taking the lead from her father.
They easily fell into their walking order, something that was second nature to them now. Karl in the lead, then Ophelia, then Justine.
With the gentle incline ahead of them, they would not need ropes or spikes or any of the other aid devices Eleanor and Tristan had dreamed up. At least, not today. Today was a rolling walk, one that kept the blood pumping, but allowed conversation. Justine didn’t feel like chatting, but she listened to Prudence and Eleanor talk about the desserts they were looking forward to when they returned. Frau Brunner had promised chocolates arriving from Zurich and an apple cake from a recipe she’d learned as a girl.
She glanced up at Karl, his broad shoulders hunched as he walked. Rarely did Karl hunch over like that. Typically when he hiked, he was so upright he could be mistaken for a weathervane. She felt a pang of guilt. This was her fault. She’d made him feel not only rejected, which was true, yes, but likely also a fool.
The part of hiking that she adored was moving her body, partly because it helped her think. Sitting still made it infinitely harder. But here she was, with the fresh air, the sun shining, on the path she had so longed for—wishing she weren’t thinking.
Instead of lingering over her own feelings, she listened to the scuff of her boots on the pebbled dirt trail. She listened to her friends’ chatter. Ophelia was too in her own head to speak, Justine knew that. Even towards the back, she could hear the low tones of Tristan speaking with his father. They all sounded happy, spirits buoyed by their imminent accomplishment, byhow beautiful the weather was, how certain that by tomorrow at this time they would be shouting out from the summit.
They skirted around Luc and the donkey, giving the animal cheerful pats as they passed. The walk became steep enough that the conversations ceased and they shuffled on over the rocky ridge in silence. Justine’s feet slipped on the piles of rock, sending pebbles down one side of the ridge, while lush, green Alpine meadows stretched out on the other. The wind was strong, and it battered their woolen skirts between their legs as they walked. Justine was grateful for the curtain-lifting ingenuity from Eleanor, as it helped keep her balance.
They reached the Hörnli peak in early afternoon. It wasn’t much to look at: a scree field with patches of snow still lingering in certain shadows, but directly in front of them loomed their goal. The massive, almost fifteen-thousand-foot-tall Matterhorn. Killer of men.
“It is majestic,” Ophelia said, breathless.
It took longer than normal for Justine’s heart to quit hammering. The winds picked up, battering them, but Ophelia didn’t seem daunted. Karl was surveying the land, no doubt looking for the ideal spot to set up camp.
Justine walked closer to the sharp descent into the saddle between their wide spot on the Hörnli Ridge and the Matterhorn. It was that line they would take to the top. That ridge would bring them success. The wind pushed her one direction, and then the next, and she stumbled.
“Careful.” A voice in her ear said, big hands closing around her shoulders. Karl stood next to her, closer than he’d been in a week. The warmth of him was startling, and she appreciated his willingness to block the wind from one side.
“It seems so daunting,” Justine said, finally saying what she never wanted to say to Ophelia. And it did. That pyramid-shaped peak was so far away. So high up in the sky. The tallestpeak in Europe. And, if one listened to any of the Zermatt locals, the highest in the world, even though she knew that wasn’t true.
“Some people say there is a city of the gods up there on the peak,” Karl said. “That to arrive there is to disturb their ruins and invite their displeasure.”
“Is there?” Justine asked, doubting every moment of the story.
“No, just more rocks.”
She nodded. “How disappointing.”
“I would not call the view disappointing. But you shall see for yourself, perhaps tomorrow.”
He left her then, going to help Ophelia set up and organize camp. His conversation made it feel like he forgave her for her meanness, her insults. She needed to make peace with herself. To ask herself if she was lying when she said she didn’t want to marry someone like Karl. All right, not someone like him, but rather him exactly. It was definitely an unknown adventure. And he knew her strengths. Knew them better than anyone.
By the time Justine tore her eyes away from the mountain, Karl and Tristan were moving what rocks they could into a wind barrier. She returned to the group. Everyone huddled down inside the short rock wall, hoping to speak and be heard over the constant wind.
“Is everyone still feeling well enough for this venture?” Ophelia asked, looking around at the group. Luc was not a part of the circle, but rather was returning the donkey back down to the lake by the church, where the creature would be more comfortable. Luc would return the next morning to maintain camp and fix them food whenever they returned from their summit.
