“Stop! Stop!” Hugh shouted, his voice echoing through the crevasse in eerie fashion.
I grimaced and looked down at him. “I think we’re in a predicament,” I said, trying to add some levity.
Hugh just stared at me and then swore under his breath. “We need another rope!” he screamed.
Fifteen feet above us, Lillian repeated his words, fear in every syllable.
“You can’t wiggle it free?” Vivian asked, apparently conscious again.
“No,” I said. “It’s really lodged.” Even now, I could feel my toes going numb, the circulation cut off. Dimly, I thought about the burned heretic Severtus and how he’d discovered pulmonary circulation.
“What’s wrong?” Felix called, from twenty feet away, already moving as they hauled him toward safety, his boots against the ice as if this were simply a mountaineering pleasure excursion.
“Cora…she’s stuck,” Hugh said, gasping for breath, the rope probably digging into his diaphragm.
“Hang on!” Felix called. “I’ll tell them what’s happening and we’ll get to you in a minute.”
None of us answered, each just trying to stay calm and concentrate on breathing. Could it be? That I’d come so far, experienced so much, just to die here? Stuck in the clutches of a glacier’s fingers? I laughed under my breath. Never had I thought I might share my last moments with Hugh Morgan, of all people. Felix was shouting for a rope. I thought I heard Will translating.
A moment later, another rope slapped my right shoulder. Hugh grabbed hold of it. “Thank God,” he muttered. I turned my head and watched him fashion a seat out of it and slip it around his legs. He yanked on the second rope, testing the tension. “All right!” he shouted. “Hold on to me! I’m going to move to the second rope and release the tension on Cora!”
He moved, trying his best to not pull at me, but some tugging was inevitable. I squeezed my eyes shut and sucked in my breath as my leg wrenched again. But then there was sweet relief. No more pulling. I tried moving my leg, hoping that now that I was free of Hugh’s weight, I could escape the trap, but to no avail.
“Take me up five feet!” Hugh shouted.
He was immediately beside me, his knees against the ledge that held me captive. “Well, I confess when I’d dreamed of a moment alone with you, it wasn’t here.”
I laughed, knowing he was trying to make me smile. And I welcomed it, even if it was Hugh. “How did you know how to do that with the rope?”
“We Morgan boys have done our share of mountaineering,” he said, as if surprised that I didn’t know such things. “Last summer we trekked fifty miles of the Continental Divide in Montana.”
“Really?”
“I need a third rope!” Hugh called upward, ignoring my question, concentrating on the task at hand. “And an ice pick!” He looked back at me, his eyes deadly serious. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him like that, so in charge. Yet so compassionate. “We need to cut Vivian and the girls loose, so that we’re only dealing with your weight. Then we can get you free.”
I nodded, trying to gather enough saliva to swallow. He watched me and then reached for a canteen on his belt. “Here. Drink.”
I took it from him, unscrewed the lid, and did as he asked, grateful for the cold water that slid down my throat. I could hear Lil and Nell crying above me.
“Your leg,” Vivian said from above me, twisting to look at me but unable to stay in one position for more than a moment. “Is it broken?”
“I…I don’t think so. I think it’s simply stuck. But really stuck.”
The third rope arrived. Hugh slipped his canteen into his belt loop and fashioned another loop out of it. “Here. Slip it around your shoulders and under your arms.” I did as he asked, and once it was in place, he yanked on it. “Rope three is secure around Cora!” he called.
He pulled his knife back out and looked at me. “I’m going to cut the girls loose.”
I nodded and watched as he sawed at the taut rope, the wisps of each strand fraying and catching the sunlight from above. Finally, he got through it, and the girls cried a little as they shifted left with me no longer tethering them. “Take them up!” Hugh called.
They immediately began separating from me, and I felt a new shaft of despair, a peculiar sense of loneliness that made me glad that Hugh was with me. For the first time on this entire tour, I’m glad I’m with Hugh Morgan. It made me laugh, within. God had an odd sense of humor. It couldn’t have been Will, Father? That would’ve been far more agreeable.…
But despite my whiny prayer, I had to grudgingly admire Hugh and his sure, strong movements. As the girls disappeared above us, one of the younger guides repelled down to us, ice pick in hand. He paused beside Hugh, then grabbed hold of the ledge and yanked.
“Yeah, I tried that,” Hugh said in English, but the young man was already moving on, examining the placement of my leg in the small gap, measuring with his hand how deep I was lodged within it.
Without another word, he pushed Hugh to the left, right by my head and out of his way, then pulled the pick from his belt. He dug the toes of his nail-tipped boots into the ice, bounced on them a bit to make certain he was secure, then pulled back the pick in order to strike.
I gasped and closed my eyes. Hugh shouted and grabbed hold of my shoulder. But then I felt the impact, directly below my calf. I opened my eyes to see him lifting for a second swing and quickly shut them again, unable to watch as he rammed down again, into the ice, as deadly certain as if he’d done it a thousand times. Perhaps he has, I thought, turning to stare into the blue cliff at my left, rather than see him lift that pick again. I didn’t want to remember the strike that ultimately led to that fearsome metal nose piercing my leg.…
After fifteen more strikes, I felt the ice give way, and I cried out as I swung left, directly toward Hugh.
Our guide shouted something upward in German.
But I was wrapping my arms around Hugh, clinging to his jacket with my fingers, terrified we’d fall again.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” he soothed. He smiled at me, waiting for me to look up and into his eyes. “Now this is more like it,” he said, the cavalier, roguish glint back in his tone. “Cora Diehl Kensington, at last in the right man’s arms.”
I gasped for breath, wanting to laugh and cry and scream at the same time. He was only teasing me, slipping back into his rogue act. But I’d seen it—that glimpse of humanity. And I knew that I couldn’t distrust him any longer. Not after what had just transpired.
“How’s the leg?” he asked.
I gingerly turned my ankle and wriggled my toes. “Numb…but I think it’s all right.” I shook my head in wonder.
“Good,” he said, smiling. “Take her up,” he called, lifting his face.
The guide beside us repeated his order in German, and I was immediately moving. But my eyes stayed on Hugh. “Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
I reached the top, and the girls immediately surrounded me, hugging me and all talking at once in excited and relieved chatter. I limped a couple of steps, and Will was there, then, beside me, bending to look into my eyes, one hand out to catch me if I fell. “Are you all right?”
I looked up into his eyes and saw that he looked pale. I nodded. “I think it’s just numb from getting lodged. It feels dead, like a lump of flesh rather than a foot.”
He nodded and, without asking, swept me up into his arms.
“Will, really, I think I can walk. I just need a few minutes.”
He turned, and I saw Andrew examining Vivian’s bleeding head. And then Hugh, emerging from the circle of glad embraces. “Typical,” he said, waving toward us. “I save the girl, but who ends up with her in his arms? William McCabe.”
The others turned to smile at us, but their eyes went back and forth between me and Will, as if seeing us for the first time as Hugh had always seen us.…
Together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
W
illiam
“Put me down, Will,” Cora whispered urgently as the rest of the group watched them. But at that moment, he didn’t care who saw them. He wanted her in his arms, to kiss her and touch her, to reassure himself that she was here. Whole. Well.
He carried her to a boulder that emerged from the ice and set her upon it. He kneeled by Cora’s feet and carefully lifted her boot in one hand, watching her face. She winced, and he immediately paused. “That hurts?”
“Only because it’s starting to get some feeling back. In the form of a thousand needles.”
“But you don’t think it’s seriously injured? Not even a sprain?”
“No. I don’t believe so.”
Will gently set it down. “I almost lost you today,” he said quietly, so only she could hear, touching her knee and casually lifting her foot again as if continuing to test it. “And I don’t ever intend to do that again.” He looked up at her. “Having you down there…so far from me…” He turned his head and gave it a little shake, fighting an embarrassing tear.
“Will,” Cora said, gesturing toward her foot as if they were discussing it, rather than something else. The rest of their group did not need any more cause to guess that something was happening between the two of them. “I sent Pierre that letter.”
Will looked over his shoulder at the group and then back to her. “And he received it?”
“No. There hadn’t been time. But I told him, Will. Told him I didn’t think we belonged together.”
“And he said?”
She sighed. “He thinks he can convince me to reconsider. He’s already spoken to my father about his intentions. And Will…I’m afraid. For you. That if we try to pursue this thing between us…”
The others were making their way to them now, so Will hurriedly searched her face. “Cora, listen. I was a fool for walking away from you the other night in the gazebo. A fool for not telling Richelieu that you are mine.” He squeezed her hand, but she only looked alarmed.
“It would’ve been unwise,” she whispered. “For some mad reason my father’s decided to hear Pierre’s request to court me. I think it might be a means to secure a deal. But Will, if you get in the way of that, my father will likely blame us and do everything he can to stand between us….”
With the others upon them, Will rose to his feet, and she tentatively did the same. She grimaced, still feeling some pain, even as the guides wrapped a new rope around her waist, then Will’s. They were singing, clearly rejoicing that they were bringing all seven of their clients back to the inn.
“I assume residual pain is good,” Will said. “It must mean the circulation is returning.”
“Which is far better than the alternative,” she said. “Even if it is a form of torture.”
“Would you like me to carry you this time?” Hugh asked, stepping up beside her.
“No,” Will said. “I shall see to her. I think you’ve done enough.” He offered him his hand. “If it wasn’t for your skills with the ropes, we might not all be standing here. I’m grateful, Hugh.”
“Yes, well,” Hugh returned, “if our guide hadn’t been as talented as he was with the pick, some of us would likely still be down there.”
Will turned to shake the guide’s hand, and then the others, thanking each of them. The group circled together.
“Are you all right, Vivian?” he asked.
“Fine, fine,” she said, characteristically brusque and strong. “Head wounds always bleed a lot, as I understand it.”
“Impressive, Miss Vivian,” Art said, finding her in his Kodak and taking a photograph.
“Arthur Stapleton!” she said, touching her disheveled head in alarm.
“Rest assured,” Will said, “this is, by far, our most adventurous outing. After this, your greatest risk shall be avoiding a dirty motorcar or an unsavory partner on the dance floor.”
“I hope you jest,” Felix said, bending to frame his own photograph of a pointed mountain peak above them. “This has been the most grand day of the trip, in my book! What an adventure!”
“Well, I can look into some other touring options,” Will said to him. “For you. Without endangering the women.”
Felix smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
“So the women are to be held in an ivory tower?” Cora asked as they fell into line again, trudging back toward the inn. “While the men venture out? That sounds rather dull.”
“Really, Cora?” Vivian huffed. “After what we’ve just been through?”
“I didn’t come all the way to Europe to sit in my room. I came for just this sort of experience.” She bit her lip. “I would not choose our harrowing fall again, of course. But coming here? To see all of this?” She glanced outward. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”
Cora
Two days later, we arrived in Vienna via the blue Danube River, steaming past quaint villages that climbed the hillsides and castles that once controlled trade upon the waters. I paced for hours along the wooden deck, anxious about what was ahead of me from both Pierre and my father. And try as we might, Will and I could never seem to steal a moment to ourselves. When I was alone, someone was with him. And when he was alone, I was invariably accompanied. It was enough to drive me mad, looking for an opportunity around every corner.
I had to see through what was ahead of me without further word from him, I decided, watching as the paddlewheel turned, water churning down below as the sun set to the west of us. It sent golden shafts of light through the mountain passes, which made the water a deeper shade of blue, the hills a richer shade of green. I heard a footstep behind me, and my heart quickened. I hoped it was Will, at last.
I looked up and over my shoulder, then away, not wanting him to see my swift disappointment. Hugh. Not Will. Hugh.
“So I take it, given that cold reaction, you were expecting someone else,” he said, leaning his elbows on the rail. He raked his fingers through his brown hair, pushing it from his eyes.
“Not at all,” I said, forcing cheer to my voice as I stared at the rotating wheel. “Have you fully recovered from our mountain adventure?”
“I have. And you, my Lady of the Crevasse? I would’ve been sorely dismayed, had we lost you.”
“Oh?” I mused. “In some ways, I think you all would be far better off without me here. I simply make things more complex.”
“Which is exactly why we need you. Who else will entertain us? Make us wonder whom you shall choose—young Will, The Penniless, or young Pierre, The Prince. Of course, there’s always a third option. Moi.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and sighed. “Really, Hugh. Don’t you grow tired of trying to bait me?” I gestured about us. “Is this not enough to keep you entertained? The luxury? The excursions? The new people, new lands? Why must you come after me?”
He shrugged again. “You’re close at hand.” He turned partway to me, leaning his side against the rail and sweeping his hair from his eyes again. “Your cross to bear, and all that—having to cope with me. I simply find it entertaining. The rags-to-riches girl, suddenly drawing the attention of every rich bachelor we pass, as well as our junior bear, still in rags. Before you give your heart to him, you ought to think long and hard.”
I hesitated, shocked at how plainly he spoke. “Why? Do you hope that I might cast you a new glance?” I couldn’t believe my audacity, my forward manner. But I had to know what drove him. And how to stop it.
He shook his head, and in that moment, there was such sorrow in his movement, such hopelessness in the cavalier tilt of his shoulders, my heart lurched. “Me? No,” he scoffed. “You and I would clearly be a mismatch. And I’m naught but the second son, a playboy, a misfit. My father looks down his nose at me. Why should you not do the same?”
I frowned a little at the pain that shadowed his tone. “Hugh, I…I don’t look down my nose at you. But you…you’ve hardly invited respect from me. Yes, you saved me in that crevasse—for that I’ll be eternally grateful—but you have not been a fri
end to me. Not truly.”
“I know,” he said, turning to face the water wheel, both forearms on the railing now. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at me from the side. “I’m a creature of impulse, I fear.”
“Impulses can be curbed, controlled,” I said.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Maybe if I had a drink…”
I shot him a quick look of dismay, and he smiled. “I’m joking! Goodness, Cora, perhaps it’s you who needs a drink.”
“Hugh…”
He stood up and lifted his hands in surrender. “I understand. I’ve pushed too far. Anyway…friends? Might we be friends?” He offered a hand, as if to shake mine as men did.
I straightened and faced him too. “No more manipulation? Taunting?”
“No more,” he said earnestly.
And so I shook his hand. “Friends,” I said, but even as I said it, I wondered if it would ever be true.
William
Will felt as if he were crawling the walls of the river steamer. He’d been unable to find a moment to speak to Cora, and he was desperate for a word from her, to find out what she was thinking, feeling, before they reached her father. And Pierre de Richelieu again.
But now it was too late. He’d walked the decks and even considered knocking on her cabin door—but he could not come up with any plausible reason for disturbing her, especially if Vivian answered. They’d reach the docks within the hour. He paced back and forth in his small cabin, squeezing his hands together. What was done was done.
A knock sounded on his door, and he opened it.
Antonio looked at him in surprise, probably due to how quickly he’d opened it. “Will? We’ll gather for the lecture on Vienna’s history, up on deck?”
“Of course,” he said, pretending that he’d remembered all along that was the plan. “Let me finish my packing and get my coat.”
“Good. I shall go and collect the others.”
Will forced a smile and nodded, closing the door and leaning his head against it. How could he keep up the facade? Even if it all didn’t come to a head here in Vienna? How could he pretend he felt anything less than he did for Cora?
Grave Consequences (Grand Tour Series #2) Page 20
