Her blood pounded in her ears from the noise. There was no way she’d ever sleep again. “Nonsense. You hate sleep.”
She pulled off Ophelia’s blanket. Ophelia grumbled but gamely sat up.
Justine waved out the window at Herr and Frau Brunner outside, with Frau Erhart the healer, the young maid, and a few others she didn’t recognize. They cheered her and laughed and, according to Ophelia, told her to meet them downstairs.
After they dressed and descended, Frau Brunner greeted them with fresh rolls and a pot of tea. Through Ophelia’s halting translation, they told Justine what to expect for the day.
“Apparently they decided to forego the kidnapping,” Ophelia said.
“Pardon? Kidnapping?” Justine swallowed a scalding sip of tea.
“It is a grandiose tradition here, from what I gather. I think it has something to do with how well your husband can protect you? By finding you? I’m not sure. My language skills are not perfect.” Ophelia frowned as Frau Brunner again started talking at speed.
When it was time to dress for the ceremony later that day, her mother tsked over the fact that they hadn’t time to get something new.
“Something from Paris,” her mother said with a sigh. “My only daughter, and this is what she wears.”
It was the most appropriate dress she had—her nicest pale frock, the one with the red buttons and satin sash. The very one Karl had peeled off of her. At least there had been time to get new buttons covered in a cream silk and change the ribbon sash to cream, so it could seem more like a wedding dress. Even as they were altering it, her mother noted a slight tear in the skirt.
“It’s a good thing we are working on this today,” she’d said. “You must be more careful with your things.”
There was a knock at her door as her mother’s lady’s maid yanked and pulled and twisted her hair into place.
Frau Brunner entered holding a length of lace over her forearm and a coin in her hand.
“Schuhe,” the woman said, gesturing with the coin.
Justine looked at her mother, hoping she understood, but apparently Swiss matrimonial customs were outside of her scope of knowledge. Frau Brunner mimed putting the coin in her own shoe.
“You want me to put it in my shoe?” Justine asked. Frau Brunner nodded. She looked to her mother, who looked as baffled as she was.
Justine took the coin—a pfennig—and placed it under her arch inside the slipper. Frau Brunner said more, explaining the custom perhaps? But no one understood. Then Frau Brunner presented her with the lace. Again, Justine wasn’t clear what to do with it. So she draped it around her shoulders, thinking it was meant to be like a shawl. Frau Brunner shook her head fiercely.
The innkeeper took the lace and draped it over her head, covering her face.
“Can you please fetch Ophelia?” Justine said to her mother’s lady’s maid. “I believe we need a translator. I can’t see a thing.”
Once Ophelia arrived, she listened intently to Frau Brunner’s lecture. She gave thoughtful nods, and Justine wanted to shake her.
It was Justine’sweddingday, and she couldn’t see, and apparently would have to hobble everywhere she went due to a coin in her shoe. Top it all, she was tired from being woken up at the crack of dawn by gunfire, and she hadn’t even seen Karl, whom she supposedly was going to be marrying later.
But it didn’t bother her that she was technically being forced into marriage, since she had decided to marry Karl anyway, that night they’d spent sweating, curled up in her narrow bed. She could be angry about not knowing where she’d live next year, or even where she would tomorrow. Would she sleep on a pallet in front of the fire here at the inn as well? She had no idea.
But it made the whole thing exciting. Who knew what was coming next? The one thing she could bet on was more mountains. More hikes in the woods. That which made her happier than anything else. And she was going to be walking with Karl, who was her second-favorite person. Because really, who could be better than Ophelia?
It was a backwards way to get to happiness, but Justine was fairly certain she was stepping into it in her own way.
“I think I understand now,” Ophelia said, her eyes still on Frau Brunner as she turned to Justine. “The coin in your shoe is to give you good fortune in your married life.”
Justine’s mother harrumphed, no doubt disturbed that no one who spoke English knew about Karl’s family except Karl, and he was pleasantly evasive about his financial prospects.
“And the veil is so that no evil spirits recognize you and carry you away before the wedding.” Ophelia said it slowly, glancing back to Frau Brunner, asking something in German, and received a confirmation.
“They seem awfully concerned about brides being stolen away here,” Justine said. “I’m not sure what that says about Switzerland.”
“The lace is very becoming,” Justine’s mother said, holding the lace up. “Very fine craftsmanship.”
“Mine,” Frau Brunner said, tapping her chest with her hand.
