the woodland walk, at last into the open, and were faced with the grotto entrance a few feet away, set into towering rocks, which formed part of the bank before them. It was fashioned like a Grecian temple; the ivy covered door stood invitingly open.
“May we explore?” Lydia begged. The full-length windows of the porch entrance gave a tantalising foretaste of what lay within, and she longed to take a look.
“There are lanterns, candles, and a tinder box kept in a recess in the porch if anyone is brave enough to explore further,” said the Colonel, “but do take care; there have been tales of sheep losing their way along the passages, only to be found later . . . a pile of bones.” He laughed, enjoying the effect his commentary was having upon an avid audience, and then added, “I’ll give a bottle of my best wine to the first person to find the name in shells.”
The Colonel, Denny, Pratt, and Chamberlayne entered first, leaving Lydia, Harriet, Miss Westlake, and Mr Wickham to bring up the rear. Lydia tried to engage Mr Wickham in conversation and was in mid sentence before she realised that he was not listening to a single word she was saying. As soon as he could release himself, he was off at Miss Westlake’s side, and by the time Lydia had sorted out a lantern with all the trouble of lighting it, he and the rest of the party had disappeared. She began to feel very cross again with George Wickham, who it seemed only enjoyed her company when it suited him.
The porch entrance was very beautiful, the walls being inlaid with hundreds of pieces of shell, flint, and glass, all put there by many hours of work, a labour of love indeed. There were three passages, one directly in front and two side passages, leading to various chambers and tunnels.
“Which way did Henry go, Lydia? I cannot see him anywhere. So intent is he on being the intrepid explorer, he and all those other so-called gentleman have left us quite behind.”
“Well, they are not far away,” Lydia answered, leading Harriet to the right, down a dark passageway where they found themselves in a large round chamber with stone seats set back into the walls. They searched as well as they could in the dim light but could not find anything that looked like a name amongst the shells. Harriet admitted that she had begun to find the whole idea rather tiresome when Lydia persuaded her to venture into the connecting passage, suggesting that they might find Henry. “I think I hear them, don’t you?” Lydia declared, cupping her hand to her ear and striding on ahead.
“No, I think you are mistaken,” Harriet cried in response. “Wait for me, Lydia, you are going too fast!” Harriet was becoming increasingly anxious, and her companion was starting to feel she was rather spoiling her fun.
Lydia ignored her and hurried along, the lantern lighting up the narrow tunnel, which ran along in a straight line. The air was thinner, the walls slimy to the touch, and there was a pervading smell of damp.
“Ooh, I don’t like it, Lydia. Where have they got to?” Harriet ran to catch up, trying to cling onto her friend’s arm for reassurance; unfortunately, Lydia was becoming quite out of patience.
“There is nothing to worry about, Harriet. We have a lantern, we can always retrace our steps, and I am sure I heard Henry’s voice just now,” she lied.
They had entered a smaller chamber, exquisitely decorated, where the walls were pierced with mother-of-pearl and pieces of silvered glass that twinkled, displaying a thousand reflections that illuminated their lanterns’ candle flames.
“We have discovered a treasure cave,” Lydia cried. “Just look, Harriet. Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”
“It is beautiful,” Harriet exclaimed, “but where is everyone? I should have thought we must meet someone by now. I confess this place is starting to unnerve me a little.”
“Nonsense, Harriet,” Lydia cried. “They must have all taken the left fork, that’s all. We
“May we explore?” Lydia begged. The full-length windows of the porch entrance gave a tantalising foretaste of what lay within, and she longed to take a look.
“There are lanterns, candles, and a tinder box kept in a recess in the porch if anyone is brave enough to explore further,” said the Colonel, “but do take care; there have been tales of sheep losing their way along the passages, only to be found later . . . a pile of bones.” He laughed, enjoying the effect his commentary was having upon an avid audience, and then added, “I’ll give a bottle of my best wine to the first person to find the name in shells.”
The Colonel, Denny, Pratt, and Chamberlayne entered first, leaving Lydia, Harriet, Miss Westlake, and Mr Wickham to bring up the rear. Lydia tried to engage Mr Wickham in conversation and was in mid sentence before she realised that he was not listening to a single word she was saying. As soon as he could release himself, he was off at Miss Westlake’s side, and by the time Lydia had sorted out a lantern with all the trouble of lighting it, he and the rest of the party had disappeared. She began to feel very cross again with George Wickham, who it seemed only enjoyed her company when it suited him.
The porch entrance was very beautiful, the walls being inlaid with hundreds of pieces of shell, flint, and glass, all put there by many hours of work, a labour of love indeed. There were three passages, one directly in front and two side passages, leading to various chambers and tunnels.
“Which way did Henry go, Lydia? I cannot see him anywhere. So intent is he on being the intrepid explorer, he and all those other so-called gentleman have left us quite behind.”
“Well, they are not far away,” Lydia answered, leading Harriet to the right, down a dark passageway where they found themselves in a large round chamber with stone seats set back into the walls. They searched as well as they could in the dim light but could not find anything that looked like a name amongst the shells. Harriet admitted that she had begun to find the whole idea rather tiresome when Lydia persuaded her to venture into the connecting passage, suggesting that they might find Henry. “I think I hear them, don’t you?” Lydia declared, cupping her hand to her ear and striding on ahead.
“No, I think you are mistaken,” Harriet cried in response. “Wait for me, Lydia, you are going too fast!” Harriet was becoming increasingly anxious, and her companion was starting to feel she was rather spoiling her fun.
Lydia ignored her and hurried along, the lantern lighting up the narrow tunnel, which ran along in a straight line. The air was thinner, the walls slimy to the touch, and there was a pervading smell of damp.
“Ooh, I don’t like it, Lydia. Where have they got to?” Harriet ran to catch up, trying to cling onto her friend’s arm for reassurance; unfortunately, Lydia was becoming quite out of patience.
“There is nothing to worry about, Harriet. We have a lantern, we can always retrace our steps, and I am sure I heard Henry’s voice just now,” she lied.
They had entered a smaller chamber, exquisitely decorated, where the walls were pierced with mother-of-pearl and pieces of silvered glass that twinkled, displaying a thousand reflections that illuminated their lanterns’ candle flames.
“We have discovered a treasure cave,” Lydia cried. “Just look, Harriet. Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”
“It is beautiful,” Harriet exclaimed, “but where is everyone? I should have thought we must meet someone by now. I confess this place is starting to unnerve me a little.”
“Nonsense, Harriet,” Lydia cried. “They must have all taken the left fork, that’s all. We
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