These short months had changed her, forced her into a realization that the world around her was far bigger and stranger than she’d realized. That she was more capable than she’d believed. That she too had her role to play, and that she had some choice in it. She longed to be more outspoken like Justine. More driven, like Ophelia. More worldly, like Prudence. More elegant, like Lady Rascomb.
But she also acknowledged that she liked herself, too. That she was capable and careful, meticulous and intelligent. And all of those things were acceptable, and even desirable in a woman. In a woman like her, specifically.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about Tristan anymore. But she felt that he admired her. It still stung that he’d assumed she wouldn’t mind being kicked off the expedition, after all of those long runs around the meadow at Berringbone! She’d worked so hard to prove herself. And to have her work summarily dismissed had been painful. It was as if everything that horrid Mr. Fulk had said during that dance was also what Tristan thought, never mind her own dreams and future.
But Tristan’s apology seemed sincere. After this mountain she could take time to speak with him. Perhaps he wanted to try again, after this mountain. Her foot faltered, slipping a rock loose, leaving it to careen behind her. “Rock!” she called, not knowing if it was big enough to warrant a warning.
But what if they didn’t suit, and Tristan ceased his pursuit of her before the Matterhorn? Would she not be allowed on the expedition then? How Ophelia reacted to this mess, it seemed to Eleanor, showed that she would be welcome on the team, regardless of her status with Tristan. Because it was Ophelia’s expedition, not Tristan’s, ultimately.
The ascent grew steeper, and her breathing quickened. This portion didn’t allow her to daydream, focused as she was on her body. Her pinky toe went numb, which she thought was a poor sign. Then the plane at which they climbed levelled off slightly, and her foot regained blood once again. That was good to know about her boots, and there were adjustments she could make before they climbed another mountain.
Fortunately, today was a one-day affair, and she could do anything for one day. Of that, she was certain. The fog had not yet descended, and Eleanor admired the grass and streams.The rocky hillside was blanketed in green, and she drank it in, hungry for nature having spent a lifetime amongst brick buildings and wrought iron fences.
“Look,” Prudence called from behind her, pointing up ahead. “Snow!” Gathering up the rope, Prudence caught up with her. “I grew up with the snow. First in Minnesota, and then when I moved to New York. But you wouldn’t believe the differences in the stuff.”
“Really? I’ve never really been in much snow,” Eleanor said. “There was a Christmas season we went a bit north to a holiday house party, and there was snow on the ground, but it was little more than a carpet that crunched beneath our feet.”
“That doesn’t count,” Prudence scoffed. “In Minnesota, the snow would come down for days at a time, piling up against houses and berms. The rivers and lakes froze over, and after we swept the snow off, we would ice skate. I’m quite good at ice skating, if I can be so bold to brag.” Eleanor smiled at her American brashness. “Please do.”
Prudence flashed another smile—larger than the ones Eleanor had seen before. This woman was glowing with happiness. “That snow wasn’t good for snowmen or anything like that. The cold froze all the moisture out of the air, and so the snow was more like a fine powder. It didn’t clump much. So it was easier on the dogs and other animals.”
Eleanor shifted her head to the side. How would not-clumping snow help a dog?
Prudence must have seen her confusion. “Dogs can get ice clumps in their paws, poor things. It bunches together, and it can be painful for them. At least until it melts.”
Eleanor nodded. That she could understand, even if she’d never had a dog. Or any pet of any kind. For a while she had thought she wanted a bird, but her mother talked her out of it.
“What are you two talking about?” Tristan stood still, gathering up the rope that dragged between him and Eleanor.
Eleanor involuntarily licked her lips at his approach, almost immediately feeling the wind chap them. She and Prudence trundled up to him and he fell into step, looping the extra rope around his shoulder.
“I’m telling Eleanor everything she never needs to know about snow,” Prudence announced.
“Sounds delightful. I’d say we’ve got another six to eight hours of walking, so please, do go on.” Tristan was so gentle and kind. That was something she enjoyed about him. He did give everyone space to be themselves. He might give them a silly nickname, and sometimes those backfired, yes, but ultimately, he didn’t mean any harm.
He even looked adorable in his stocking cap and jaunty scarf. How come the rest of them looked like anthropomorphic mushrooms, and he looked as if he were the star of some play about winter sports?
“As I was telling Eleanor, the snow in Minnesota is dry and powdery, on account of how dreadfully cold it gets there. But when I moved to New York, the snow was much better for building things by hand, like snowmen and such.”
“Fascinating. So what about all this building ice homes and what-not that I read about it exploration journals? Those come from places that are very cold indeed.”
Eleanor looked between her two friends, watching them debate snow. She was surprisingly entranced, and the current low angle of the mountain made the walk pleasurable.
“Ah, very good observation, sir!” Prudence said, her finger coming up as if she had a point to prove. “Yes! That kind of very cold snow is good for building if you have tools and access to water that allows you to freeze over certain blocks, solidifying them. But with one’s bare hands, warmer snow is preferable.”
“You little mountain goats, what are you chattering on about?” Justine called, no doubt feeling the pull of the rope as Tristan fell into step with them.
“Snow!” called Prudence. “And how much I love it.”
The morning was crisp and clear, and the sun was shining through the clouds. It did feel glorious, Eleanor had to admit. She felt more than happy, she felt pure joy. In this air, she was invincible. Everything felt right and perfect.
Justine fell back, which pulled on Ophelia, who then joined them. They all coiled the extra rope around their shoulders.
“Ugh, Ophelia. Must we remain roped together? This is too much.” Justine shifted the coils from side to side.
Ophelia laughed. “Do you not like this extra practice? The extra weight? Was it not you saying you required less comfort than any one of our party?”
Justine rolled her eyes. “I am prone to hyperbole. Everyone knows that.”
