Chapter Fifteen
Markus had beena godsend. Fueled by his rewarmed coffee, a slice of bread, and some very delicious chocolate, Julian was right as rain by noon. True to his word, Markus arranged a carriage as far as Bern, a horse as far as the mountains, and then a donkey into Zermatt.
Each transfer had been easy and swift, each of them expecting him. Whatever magic Markus wrought, he was second to none. Before night fell, Julian was in Zermatt, and the view did not disappoint.
The white-capped mountains surrounded the bowl of the village with breathtaking clarity. He left his donkey with a Swiss man who seemed to know all about Julian, though he didn’t speak a word of English. Instead, the man motioned over to the Mount Rosa hotel, where men of all ages lined the exterior wall, lounging while enjoying coffee and tea, wine and beer, cordials and liquors. They were all in Zermatt for climbing, as evidenced by their ruched gaiters over their calves, sunburnt chins, and wind-chapped cheeks.
The name of the hotel didn’t ring a bell in his memory, but Julian approached to chat with the array of adventurers. He had Ophelia’s instruction letter in his pack, stowed away carefully. He would have to unpack the whole thing to get them out.
They greeted him and he waved his hand in greeting as well, asking if anyone spoke English, Spanish, or French. The answer was a robust yes from all of them, but the oldest man there spoke French the best, so Julian’s Spanish-accented French was how they conversed.
It turned out that two English ladies were enough of an anomaly that every gentleman knew where they were staying, which was at the inn up the hill. Many of them eyed him with distrust after the inquiry, clearly protective of her and her privacy.
“I’m her climbing partner,” he insisted. That earned him some modicum of respect, but it didn’t matter. Ophelia would have to vouch for him in person before they would trust him. Which was oddly heartwarming.
None of them offered him a seat next to them, so Julian didn’t have to navigate international decorum in declining. He set off for the inn at the edge of town.
Instead of enjoying the quaint shops, the adorable flower boxes, and tidy houses, Julian’s sweaty hands betrayed his nerves. By the time he arrived at the small inn, which sat nestled into the hillside, smelling of fresh hay and fresh-cut lumber, he was nearly shaking from nerves.
Steady breaths while he thought through the topics he wished to bring up to Ophelia, namely his inability to share his inner person, helped calm him. He’d never been this nervous over anything. Not being caught on a peak in a lightning storm, nor having to talk down an angry Spaniard intent on impaling him, nor even a close encounter with an anaconda (which was why he chose to explore the mountains of South America and not its waterways).
But as he was collecting himself, someone called his name. Julian looked up, relieved to see the amiable broad form of Karl Vogel walking towards him. “A messenger came to tell me you were wandering about Zermatt looking for us.”
“Mr. Vogel,” Julian said with utter gratitude. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you.”
“Call me Karl, please. It is simpler. And I am surprised to see you. Does Ophelia know you are coming?” The German man folded his forearms in front of him, likely out of comfort, but it was a powerful display of strength, nonetheless. It reminded Julian of the animals that intentionally made themselves bigger when a rival male entered their territory.
“I don’t believe so, no.” Julian cheeks heated despite the Alpine breeze.
Karl clicked his tongue. “I do not wish to meddle.”
“Good.”
“—But.”
Julian winced and waited.
“She is very upset with you.” Karl looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You have some very big apologies to make.”
“I know I do,” Julian said. “And I am more than prepared to make them. I’ve traveled a long way thinking about nothing but that.”
“Probably you will need to do some begging.”
“No doubt about that,” Julian agreed.
“Also, are you going up the Matterhorn with us?” Karl asked.
It took a moment for Julian to change gears from thinking of Ophelia and his shame to thinking about the ambitious trek. He hoped any residual fitness he had wasn’t completely shorn away by his London months. “Ah, yes. I am planning on that, actually. As part of my begging for forgiveness.”
Karl grinned and clapped him on the bicep. “Excellent. Four is better than three, in my opinion.”
“Any update on when that climb might take place?” Julian asked, wondering how much time he had to make amends enough that Ophelia might put her life in his hands, and his in hers.
The man’s gaze shifted to the mountain tops, as if he could evaluate the snow from where he stood. “Soon, I think. Perhaps five days? The weather seems to be shifting already. It is early for the season, but I think if we wait too long, we will miss our window.”
So Julian had only a few days to put things right. Hopefully all he would need was an afternoon, but he had a feeling it would take much more than that. “I don’t suppose you know if there is a room vacant here?”
Karl grinned. “If you don’t mind sleeping with the goats.”
