Into the Breach With You (The Ladies Alpine Society #3)

Chapter Thirteen

At the inn, the dining room was converted into a makeshift hospital. Prudence and Eleanor were ushered in. There was an older woman, round and wrinkled, with an apron tied so far up her stomach the strings were practically tucked under her pendulous breasts. Justine watched as the woman assessed Prudence and Eleanor as they entered the dining room.

A bed identical to the guest beds upstairs was in the room, where Lord Rascomb was ensconced. Tristan and Ophelia looked awful, but they remained at his bedside. Lady Rascomb looked as stylish and alert as ever, sitting beside Lord Rascomb, holding his hand.

For a moment, Justine wondered why Lady Rascomb hadn’t followed the donkey cart out to Schwarzsee. Why did she not look as much of a wreck as Tristan and Ophelia?

There was a small knot in her stomach she didn’t want to acknowledge that wondered why Francis hadn’t come in that donkey cart either. Yes, she knew he was fetching a doctor. And he had not yet returned with said doctor from Zurich either. But still. Wasn’t anyone worried for her? Didn’t anyone need to check on her? Prudence had Mr. Moon, and Eleanor was part of the cluster with Tristan and Ophelia. Karl was out being Karl. And she was just . . . here. But she pushed all those thoughts down. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have an injury. Her family was fine in faraway England. She was being selfish and ridiculous. Better to focus on what needed to be done.

The older woman, a healer? A midwife? gestured to Prudence to sit down. Frau Brunner tried to push Tristan out of the room, but he refused to budge from his father’s bedside. Then she tried to push Mr. Moon out, but he likewise refused. Karl and Herr Brunner were still outside, dealing with the cart. The two older women conversed and then shrugged.

Gently, the older woman had Prudence take off the sling. Ophelia stepped over closer, frowning as she listened. But then she started translating for Prudence, which surprised Justine. When had Ophelia learned picked up this language so fluently?

“She is going to check your shoulder, Prudence.”

Prudence frowned up at Ophelia, clearly thinking the same thing as Justine. “When did you—ow!”

Prudence sucked in a sudden breath and turned deathly pale as the healer woman manipulated her arm.

The older woman gestured at Justine, and then spoke to Ophelia.

“Come over here, Justine. To catch? I think?”

Ophelia shook her head. “I think she is afraid Prudence might faint.”

“I’m not going to faint,”

Prudence said.

Mr. Moon strode over. “I’ll catch her.”

The older woman spoke again.

“No,”

Ophelia said, “Mr. Moon, you are to stand in front of her and hold her hand.”

The older woman continued, and Ophelia blushed. “She says you are to tell her, er, tell her that you love her. You are to distract her with love words.”

Justine grinned. “That’s not really what she said, is it?”

“More or less,”

Ophelia said. “My German isn’t perfect.”

“I’m surprised you have any at all.”

Justine let Frau Brunner push her hard flush against Prudence, bracing her body against Prudence’s back.

“We’ve been here for months, Justine. What was I supposed to do? Knit a hat?”

Ophelia frowned.

They argued and then Prudence screamed as a wet sucking sound shut them all up. Justine stared at the older woman. Everyone in the room was still, staring at Prudence. No one had heard a noise like that in their lives.

“Oh my,”

Prudence said, regaining her composure. “I do feel much better.”

The healer spoke to Ophelia, and Ophelia asked some questions back, before she said to the room, “Prudence’s shoulder was out of place. But it is now back in. She will be sore, but will recover fully.”

Mr. Moon dropped his face, kissing Prudence’s hands.

“I hope they are all that easy to fix,”

Justine said. Ophelia shot her a warning glance to keep quiet. Right. Lord Rascomb was clearly not that easy to fix.

Prudence stood, and Ophelia caught her. “She wants you to have syrup of Althea. There’s some in my room. Justine?”

“I’ll bring it to your room,”

Justine said, noting the dark circles under both their eyes.

“Eleanor?”

Ophelia asked, gesturing.

Eleanor glanced at the healer woman, clearly wary. Tristan helped her over. Justine glanced out the window. It looked like late afternoon, which meant it was even later. She calculated in her head how long it would take to get to Zurich, find a doctor, and return. Francis would be here soon.

She followed Prudence and Mr. Moon out of the dining room and up the steps. She peered out the front window of the inn, seeing movement at the donkey carts. Karl was outside tending them, no doubt. As she climbed the steps, her feet heavy, she tried to remember to not be selfish. To help and not wish someone would come to check on her. To be thankful that she was fine. Everything was fine.

**

Karl felt as if he were already sleeping while he worked, his body screaming out for rest, but the day was far from over. He stowed the carts in the barns, and penned the donkeys, brushing them and giving them extra food for working so hard. With the dining room taken over as the hospital, Onkel Peter told him he was allowed to take a guest room. A real bed for the first time in months. It sounded like heaven.

And then Mr. Brewer showed up with a Zurich physician. More donkeys to care for. He’d have to find a room for the physician, and attend those needs. He was hungry enough that his stomach felt turned inside out, despite the feast he’d had back at the church. The rest of them had gone to sleep, so Karl had managed to eat the rest of the soup, half of the cheese, and three apples. He left the bread for the morning. No one had complained about their rations.

Still, he had to attend that task which fell in front of him, and then whatever awaited him inside the inn. Fresh linens, or fetching more food from the village. Did they have the medications they needed? The apothecary in town had things for basic needs, but not all that might be required for someone in Lord Rascomb’s position. Was Kara still on staff? If she could run those errands, perhaps he could sleep.

He wondered if Frau Erhart was capable of dealing with Frau Moon and Frau Bridewell. She had healed mountaineering injuries he’d had in the past—but those had all been some form of bone setting. He’d heard the moan of agony earlier, which he’d assumed was from Frau Moon. Despite the sling, her arm had not hung correctly. He would check on them before he rested. But not until after the donkeys were seen to.

Onkel Peter clapped him on the back. “I will take care of the guests and their mounts. Get some sleep. Greta will bring you a tray. We’ll need you at full strength tomorrow.”

He’d never been so grateful.

Onkel Peter shooed him away with his hand. “Go rest. You’ve been brave and strong. Be proud of what you accomplished. You brought everyone home.”

He may have brought everyone back, but one was still more than halfway to death, and two were injured. He’d set out with six clients, and half were worse off than when they started. It wasn’t a good ratio.

Despite his Onkel’s bidding, he peeked into the dining room to see how things were going, and to see if a translator was needed.

Frau Erhart was tending to Frau Bridewell. The Zurich doctor was peering over Lord Rascomb. Ophelia and Lady Rascomb looked at him with heartbreaking hope in their faces. Tristan stood with his hand on his wife’s shoulder, but stared back at the bed where his father lay. His allegiance torn.

Karl raised his eyebrows at Tante Greta, whose serious expression morphed, and she mouthed the words apple cake at him, in case he was hungry. Yes he was, and he could eat an entire apple cake on his own, probably two. Instead, he shook his head. Tante Greta needed to focus on the guests there, keeping them fed and warm.

But as he looked around, he didn’t see Justine. Nor Herr and Frau Moon. Even if she hadn’t wished for his honorable attention, he wanted to lay eyes on Justine to make sure she was well. After all, as a guide, it was his responsibility to check on his client. And perhaps she would tell him how the climb had felt from her perspective. How the ascent felt, what she saw, the downclimb, and how the rest of the way from Hornli to Schwarzsee had been.

He backed out of the dining room and picked out the key to room number four from behind the desk. It was upstairs, and there was a bathing room down the hall. It only had cold water and a drain, but it was enough for him. That was all he wanted before he allowed himself to fall into oblivion. The last image in his mind was Justine’s face as they hauled Frau Moon up and over the ridge. Her expression set in absolute belief of their abilities. Of his.

**

Justine awoke, heart pounding. She’d been falling down into a bergschrund—the gap between the rock of a mountain and a glacier. There was a knocking at the door. Perhaps that had woken her, and not the fear of hitting the icy ground and dying a miserable cold death, all alone.

The bed next to hers—Ophelia’s—was empty. The bed was still made up from before they’d left for the Matterhorn. It had only been three days, but it felt like a lifetime. Justine staggered to her feet and threw on her dressing gown. When she opened the door, the young maid stood there, holding a breakfast tray.

“Good morning?”

Justine croaked out, blinking hard to adjust to being awake.

“Guete Morge,”

the girl said, making a gesture with her head that took Justine a moment to realize she was asking to be let into Justine’s room. She lifted the tray. “Z’Morge?”

Belatedly, Justine moved aside to let the girl pass. But no further attempts of conversation were made as she placed the tray on Justine’s bed and left. Justine looked at the time—already nine in the morning. She’d slept over twelve hours. Her stomach growled, as if to protest the time she’d wasted sleeping instead of eating. There hadn’t even been dinner last night—at least, she didn’t think there had been. She’d cleaned herself up, and then gone straight to bed after delivering the syrup of Althea to Prudence.

After she ate breakfast in her room and dressed alone, she wandered downstairs. The sun was bright and cheerful. Peering outside, she saw the crisp green grass, the endless blue sky and the mountains, standing guard as they’d always done. A murmur of voices came from the dining room.

Cots had been laid out on either side of the bed that housed Lord Rascomb. He looked peaceful now. Smaller, sunken, though his color was looking better. Ophelia sat on one side of the bed in a chair. She had cleaned up and was wearing a fresh dress. So at least she’d taken care of herself in some ways. Lady Rascomb sat in the chair next to her, her portable writing desk on the table. The viscountess had a stack of sealed envelopes and was penning yet another.

Tristan napped against the wall, and Eleanor sat beside him, sipping at a cup of tea. At a table farther away were the remnants of their breakfasts, empty plates and silverware, stacked up and ready to be whisked into the kitchen.

They were quite the scene. She assumed Prudence was upstairs in her room with Mr. Moon. Frau Brunner bustled out with a pot of tea on a tray, complete with cake, ready to be sliced. She set it on the table, gesturing and saying a halting, “Please.”

She picked up the stack of dirty dishes and hurried back into the kitchen. The young girl came in, carrying a stack of trays from upstairs. Justine felt very much in the way. So after greeting everyone, she slipped outdoors.

The air made her feel better, and the sun on her skin even more so. She wasn’t made for a sickbed vigil. But she wondered about Francis, and where he was. Karl was likely around here some place. Probably just as busy as the maid and Frau Brunner. She swallowed hard, once again ignoring the lump in her throat when she thought about how easily ignored she was.

It was a silly thing to feel anyway. Because out of everyone, she was fine. Absolutely fine. And she would figure out something to do to occupy herself. Somehow.

Later in the afternoon, after a short walk around the village, she returned to the inn and tried to offer to help Frau Brunner. It didn’t work. She was waved away. Visiting Prudence wasn’t any fun, as Mr. Moon refused to leave her side and frowned at Justine the entire time, as if she were somehow leaching all the healing energy from the room.

The dining room was awful, and no one spoke. So she ate dinner in her room alone. The next day was the same, but this time, she found Francis outside the front door of the inn, smoking. He said nothing other than awkward inquiries into her general health. Justine suggested he join her on a walk in town. As they meandered, he told her about running around Zurich trying to find the doctor. Justine gave him a halting story of their time on the Matterhorn, but when she got to the part of how Lord Rascomb got injured, he shuddered and stopped her, saying he couldn’t stand the idea of it.

But as days passed, her dreams replayed that moment of Lord Rascomb’s head hitting the rock, the sound turning her stomach every time, and also the sound of Eleanor’s feet scrambling as she slowly slipped off the ridge, pulling Prudence with her. Sometimes, the dreams made up new versions of the experiences she’d had. That the rock fall that had hurt Tristan’s arm was a boulder and knocked him down the mountain, tumbling head over feet. Sometimes, she was hauling Karl up on the rope, but just as he got to the ledge, he let go on purpose, falling deep into an unending chasm.

Every morning, she awoke gasping in fear, wanting to scream, but not wanting to alarm anyone. Her feet were back to normal size, and she no longer felt the lingering fatigue of their attempt. She hadn’t seen Karl anywhere, but she also hadn’t dared search for him in the barns or along the fence line. She didn’t know where he would be.

It was lonely. She sat with Ophelia and tried to comfort her, but all the Bridewells had walled themselves up together, all grim and stoic and strong, never moving from Lord Rascomb’s side. Even Francis had a purpose that did not include her. He travelled between the inn and Zurich, the messenger and go-between. He took letters, conducted business via telegraph, returning with new concoctions and advice from other doctors.

So Justine wandered in the hills around Zermatt. She tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. She visited with Prudence and Eleanor, taking afternoon tea with them, and trying to join an impromptu sketching class taught by Mr. Moon, who, it turned out, was a gifted artist.

They were returning to the inn from an out of doors session when Prudence stopped her. Mr. Moon carried all their sketchbooks and pencils.

“We are making plans to travel,”

Prudence said. It had been a week since the healer-woman had made Prudence’s shoulder make that wet, sucking pop noise.

“Travel?”

Justine asked.

“Return to England,”

Mr. Moon clarified. “There’s no use for us to stay here. We’d be happy to have you along, if you like.”

Justine frowned. “But Lord Rascomb—”

“Doesn’t need us,”

Prudence said, putting her hand on Justine’s arm. “Ophelia doesn’t need us. She has her family, and they are more than capable.”

“But—”

They had a point. But while Justine prioritized independence, she didn’t relish the idea of travelling alone. Her shorter stature made her all the more attractive to uncouth gentlemen. She stared at the walls of the inn, as if she could see inside the dining room that still functioned as a sick room. The building didn’t have another room that could accommodate all of the bedside caregivers. “Shouldn’t we have an expedition team meeting? Or at least a Ladies’ Alpine Society meeting first?”

Prudence’s frown was full of sympathy. “Normally I would say yes, but Ophelia is overwhelmed with grief and guilt.”

Justine felt the criticism as if Prudence were saying it about herself. “That is to be very much expected—”

Prudence’s hands lifted in a defensive gesture. “It isn’t harshly meant. I only mean to say that Ophelia cannot manage a meeting. And Eleanor is consumed by comforting all of them. Which is fine. Reasonable. But you and I have no reason to stay. We do not add, and we cannot help.”

Justine’s head dropped. Prudence had a point. But she wasn’t ready to leave Ophelia. Or Zermatt. Or anything. She wanted to stay in this chrysalis of time, where the world didn’t know of their failure, and hope for the best was still a viable ember. “May I think about it?”

Prudence gave a tight smile. “Of course. We plan to make arrangements in the morning. Perhaps you can come by our room directly after breakfast and tell us what you’d like to do?”

Justine nodded and let them head back in. She wasn’t ready to be inside quite yet. She wasn’t ready for anything other than staying here in Zermatt. She didn’t want to return to England where she would go back to her structured dresses and lady’s maid. The indoor life of a well-bred woman was awaiting her, and it sounded terrible.

It was then that she finally saw Karl. After a week without seeing even a wisp of him, she was happy to at least catch a glimpse. He was behind the inn, once again with his hatchet. She ran between the inn and the animal pens, reaching him as he turned to see what the noise was.

“You’re here,”

she said in between breaths. Thank goodness he smiled at her. She would have broken if he had been upset with her.

“Yes, of course. Where else would I be?”

“I haven’t seen you all week.”

He nodded and gestured for her to walk with him as he continued on the goat path. But his eyes were on the ground. “It has been a very busy week.”

She swallowed hard. For everyone else. For people who had a purpose or a person. “Yes, a very busy week.”

“Are you well?”

He scrutinized her face as he asked, and it made her think this was not polite banter, but rather a guide checking in with his client.

“My scratches and bruises have been healing up nicely.”

That part was true. She’d had impressive purple marks on her thighs from where she hit the ground as Prudence and Eleanor had gone over the edge. Prudence and Eleanor both sported impressive cuts and bruises on their faces, shoulders, arms, and hands, as they’d both swung against the jagged wall of the Hornli Ridge. “Nothing like Mrs. Moon or Mrs. Bridewell’s injuries.”

“Good,”

he grunted.

“And you?”

she asked. He carried a hatchet and was dressed in his usual work attire. He seemed extremely hale. The straight lines of his jaw and the bright flower-blue of his eyes once again sang their siren song. She wanted him. It made her think she had been the most ridiculous person in the world. Here was a man who promised not to cage her. Who had led her into the most dangerous mountain in the world. Of course he would not try to stifle her. And at the most basic levels, everyone else here had someone to care for and care for them in return. It was Justine who had pushed everyone away, who had insisted that she could care for herself in every way possible, who was lonely.

He looked at her strangely and then looked down at himself. “All is well,”

he said, echoing what they said on the mountain.

“Of course,”

she said, feeling very stupid, but still glad to be with him. It was her turn to stare at the trail unfurling in front of them. “Where are you going?”

“Another fence is down. A cow knocked it over.”

“May I come with you?”

Justine asked, looking across the valley. How was she supposed to return to England when this existed in the world?

“If you like.”

She did. She missed the company of another person. They just could exist together. Talk about nothing or something. They found the broken fence, and Justine sat in the grass and chatted aimlessly about her week: the sketches—terrible—Lord Rascomb’s prognosis—not good—eating alone in her room—it had its moments.

She picked at the grass and the clover buds that studded the ground.

Karl hauled over the log he was about to split for the rail. “Justine,”

he said, his voice airy as he caught his breath. He put his hands on his hips, showcasing those wide, capable shoulders. “What do you want?”

She looked up at him, all brawny and strong. She bet he was warm. Her skin had taken on the chill that ran underneath the sunny afternoon. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you out here? With me?”

Her brows knitted together, and if she could have torn every blade of grass to shreds she would have. Instead of forcing her to answer, he turned to hacking at the log, splitting it. The crack of the metal hitting wood gave her time to think. He finished, and then looked at her expectantly.

What she didn’t want to admit came flying out of her mouth. “We went through something terrible, and no one will talk about it. We almost died, Karl. And we still didn’t get up that damn mountain. Everything we wanted has evaporated, and Lord Rascomb still hasn’t woken up, and Prudence and Mr. Moon want to leave, and nothing feels right!”

Karl put his hatchet axe-head down and leaned on the handle. “I cannot fix any of those things.”

All those things piled up over and over, taller and taller, and made her head feel hot, like she would explode skyward. “I know that!”

A coy smile played across his lips. It made her want to kiss him and slap him all at once.

“So you’ve come to be with me because you like my company?”

“No!”

she insisted. “I mean, yes. I mean—”

She let out a frustrated burst of air.

Suddenly, he gripped her hand. “Justine, I—”

“Herr Vogel!”

cried a man’s voice from below.

Justine snatched her hand back. She didn’t want to make small talk with someone she couldn’t even speak the same language as. Before she could change her mind, she whispered, “Come to my room tonight?”

He nodded, his expression grave. And she fled.

**