He held the lantern ahead of him and took small steps. She followed him, all but blind, shuffling her feet across the uneven terrain.
Serena told herself not to become overexcited. It was possible Gareth had come here and moved along. Although it was only a hunch, she just didn’t think Etienne had ever left the property. As for co-conspirators, she couldn’t imagine who he had left that he hadn’t double-crossed or used so badly they were after him, too. He would be out of money and there was no inn or hostelry where he could take a struggling child. And Oliver would know enough never to follow him off the property. No, he was here, on the estate, and this was the best possible hiding place for a man with no other options but to kidnap his own son.
Low whines and snuffles snapped her from her daze and McElroy came to a halt. She peered around him and saw nine leaping dogs and a large opening in the rock face.
“Oh my God.” She pushed around him and then realized she couldn’t see without the lantern. “Quick, the light—right here.”
He lifted the light over her shoulder as he followed behind her.
They stopped at the opening to the cave. “He must have gone in there.” She began to lift her foot over the remaining wooden barrier, but his big hand on her shoulder stopped her.
She swung around, furious. “My son is in there!”
“We don’t know that yet. And what are you planning to do?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Let us investigate this calmly.”
Serena glared up into his face, prepared to fight him tooth and claw, but the worry she saw on his rugged face gave her pause.
“Very well, what do you suggest?”
“I will go in first and then open the lantern. Then I will look around, and then I will help you inside once I’ve determined it’s safe.”
She gave an abrupt nod, her stomach in knots as he disappeared inside and a few precious seconds passed before he opened the shutter, illuminating a surprisingly large cave.
“It’s enormous.” He turned to her. “You say this was an old chalk mine?”
“Yes, but not for hundreds of years.” She looked over his shoulder. “What is that? Over there in the corner?”
The light moved to the far side of the cavern.
“It is a shaft of some sort,” his voice was an eerie echo and she watched him bend down. “It looks to go straight down to some other level.” He stood and came back toward her, his expression grim. “That shaft is the only other way out of here. The dogs wouldn’t have been waiting outside the cave if Gareth hadn’t gone down it. And that dark hole is Gareth’s worst nightmare.”
***
Gareth had been mistaken when he’d believed the shaft was his worst nightmare.
This was his worst nightmare.
The ceiling had already been coming down when he entered the biggest of the two corridors that led off the shaft, but the low, keening moan had convinced him he was heading in the correct direction. He stepped gingerly, as if that might keep the roof over his head. But he knew that was foolish conceit.
Fine dust obscured the tunnel ahead of him and worked its way into his nostrils and throat, until he had to pull his shirt up over his nose and hold it there in order to breathe.
He walked for less than a minute when he came to the source of the dust. A section of wall and ceiling had come down and closed off all but a small sliver of cave. A human hand lay beneath a large rock, the fingers not moving.
“Hello? Is somebody there?” a terrified, boyish voice called.
A wave of relief hit him so hard it left him woozy. “Oliver,” he said softly. “It is Mr. Lockheart.”
He heard a choked sob and his eyes followed the direction it seemed to be emanating from—above the slide of rock. He needed to keep the boy calm.
“Are you hurt, Oliver?”
Several loud sniffs and then, “A rock landed on my arm, but I don’t think it’s broken. But Mr. Bardot got caught beneath it. I told him we should go back when we saw the broken timber but he wouldn’t listen. He became quite angry and shoved me over the rubble and before he could climb over it himself it came down on him. I tried to dig him out, but more of the wall kept—”
A sickening crack and then an oddly hushed roar cut off whatever he’d been about to say. Gareth jammed himself tighter against the cavern wall, as if that would save him as the ceiling came down with all the force of a huge foot, covering the place where Gareth had just been standing.
“Mr. Lockheart!” The boy’s choked scream cut through the dust.
Gareth’s throat was too filled with pulverized rock or chalk to speak but he lifted the light higher, scrambling up the rocks to get closer to the hole while he cleared his nose and mouth.
“Get away from the collapse, Oliver,” he ordered hoarsely just as another section of ceiling and wall fell.
Something heavy and sharp landed on his right boot and he gave a muffled grunt of pain. It took a great deal of effort to free his foot from the detritus that poured in between the bigger rocks, much like the sand in an hourglass eventually filled the gap.
His eyes burned with grit, tearing and weeping as he blinked and tried to see. Not that he needed to make any difficult decisions, there was only one, get through the gap to the other side without bringing it all down on the boy.
“Oliver?” he croaked.
“I’m here.”
Gareth closed his eyes at the sheer force of his relief. He cleared his throat several times, the lamplight illuminating the still shifting rocks and pebbles as they tumbled down the most recent slide.
“Don’t touch the wall anymore or try to shift the rocks, Oliver, do you understand?” Gareth spoke as calmly as ever, not wanting to alarm the boy, but the words themselves sent a grim message.
“You think more will collapse, don’t you, sir?”
Gareth ignored the question. “I’m going to pass the lantern up through the crack. I want you to take it.” Gareth’s teeth had begun chattering the moment the thought of parting with the lantern even entered his mind and he had to use every ounce of strength to force the words out. “You should be able to take it by the metal frame without burning yourself. When you have it, I want you to very carefully examine the rest of the corridor. I’ve noticed old square beams—look to see if any are fallen before you go forward. If so, stop and go no further. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I will not go forward if I see any signs of instability.”
Gareth smiled to himself. “Very good. I will wait here.” In the pitch dark. He shifted as carefully as he could, but any movement seemed to send more rocks cascading. When he got as close to the top as he dared, he lifted the lamp and waited until he felt a light tug and then he released it, plunging himself into darkness as the light receded.
He swallowed and prepared himself for whatever came next, forcing down the taunting voice that accompanied the darkness. He concentrated on regulated his breathing, trying not to move or touch anything that might bring the rest of the ceiling down on his head. The blackness became blacker, solidifying into something cold, clammy, and alive. He fought the compulsion to make himself smaller, to disappear, to hide.
Oliver and Serena. He mined the words from beneath the fear and repeated them in his head, Oliver and Serena. The cold receded and he pictured their faces; he was here because of them. Because he loved them.
The thought was like an ember at first, glowing brighter as he held the image. He pictured what Serena had looked like when she said she loved him, or what Oliver looked like when he glanced up from some piece of work he’d done particularly well, seeking Gareth’s approval, his eyes trusting.
A hundred years passed before Oliver’s voice floated through the crack.
“The tunnel branches some distance ahead. One corridor is level but the other looks like it leads to a shaft.”
The boy’s voice woke him from his reverie and Gareth realized one thing immediately: he was no longer
shaking.
“Do you judge it to be stable, Oliver?” He sounded calm and confident, like the kind of man a boy could trust.
“The wooden beams are still in place, although one is sagging. There are no piles of dirt and the air is cleaner where the corridors split.”
Gareth was once again impressed by the boy’s intelligence. “Do you think it is fresh air?”
“I think so, sir. I keep trying to remember where this part of the cave is . . . and I think it might be directly below the section you closed off.”
Gareth had been thinking the same thing. This part of the corridor was doomed, it was only a matter of time. As if hearing him, a massive chunk sheared away somewhere close by and hit the cave floor with a giant whumph!
Thick, cloying chalk dust filled his shrinking grave.
“Are you all right, sir? Mr. Lockheart?” For the first time, the boy’s voice held an edge of hysteria.
Gareth lowered his shirt, which he had pulled up over his mouth. “Oliver?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m going to try and widen the gap and come through.” He stopped and coughed, choking on the fine dust before he could speak again. “I want you to take the lantern and go stand at the far end, near the fork.” He hesitated, not wanting to scare the boy, but it needed to be said. “If something happens to me, do not come near this cave in. Mr. McElroy knows we are down here—or he will soon. Someone will come.”
The answer took a long time coming. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now go to the fork.”
He counted to one hundred after his little prison had gone completely dark and then he reached into the blackness, in the direction of the hole.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The tunnel is blocked by a cave in, and I could hear chunks still falling.” McElroy’s face was streaked with sweat and dust, his skin gray and white striped.
“Did you see—”
“I saw nothing other than rocks. The air is choked with a very fine dust. Chalk, I suppose.”
Serena’s mind skittered and shied away from the unthinkable. Instead, she nodded and clasped her hands together, as if that might keep her from flying apart.
“We must unseal the other entrance, the one we passed on our way here.”
McElroy nodded. “I agree. However, we don’t know if Bardot is down there, or even if Oliver is down there. The only thing we know for sure, thanks to the presence of the dogs, is that Gareth is down there. We need to handle this with secrecy or we risk alerting anyone Bardot might have set watching.”
“Yes, of course. But what—”
He dug his watch out of his filthy coat. “It is almost four. We have been gone from the house three hours. I need to get back and be ready to go to London as planned.”
Serena could see by his expression that leaving at a time like this was almost tearing him apart. She laid a hand on his arm and he gave her a grim, knowing smile.
“We will go back to the house and take the two biggest footmen. The opening has been closed with stone blocks, but two strong men will be able to move enough of them to get inside. Or to get out.”
“That is a sensible plan. Except for one thing, I will wait by the entrance of the cave. An extra set of hands will not go unwanted.” She smiled up at him. “And I know my way around stone.”
***
Gareth felt as though he had eaten a pound of dirt and rock. He looked at the boy, who sat against the cavern wall, his small body tense as he watched him come awake.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Gareth could only lift his eyebrows, but it was enough.
“For disobeying you and coming back.”
A gritty laugh forced its way out of his throat. “I’m glad you did.”
Gareth had made it through the hole, but just as he was about to climb down to the floor of the cave a rock had clipped the back of his head and knocked him out. He’d woken up to find small hands wrapped around his, pulling him hard enough to yank his shoulder from the socket, but moving him inch by inch.
He pushed himself up, grimacing at the pain in his right foot and wiggling his toes. They hurt, but he didn’t think his foot was broken. Every bone in his body creaked and ached as he lurched to his feet.
Oliver stood beside him. “You can lean on me if you need to, sir. I’m stronger than I look.” He grinned up at Gareth, his teeth a startling white in his dirty face.
Yes, Gareth thought, you certainly are. Just like your mother.
They hobbled together toward the fork in the corridor. Gareth was astonished by how sound and clear the rest of the corridor appeared. The beams and their cross-pieces were old—ancient, he would guess. Numbers and letters were carved into them, leading him to believe they were part of some long-lost system. These caves often went for miles, like those at Chiselhurst, which were still being mined. They could wander for a very long time, but he believed Oliver’s supposition was correct: they were somewhere below the opening he had sealed.
“Do you need to rest?”
Gareth realized his breath was coming in loud, sawing rasps and shook his head. “Just swallowed lots of dust, and perhaps even a rock or two.” His lips twitched into a smile, which made the boy’s narrow shoulders sag with relief. “Let’s have a rest when we get to the bottom of that shaft.”
“Is my mama angry?” Oliver asked, cutting Gareth a nervous look.
“Angry?”
“Doesn’t she know I came into the cave with Monsieur Bardot?”
Oh, that. “No, we did not know where you had gone.”
His answer seemed to make Oliver even more miserable.
“What is it?” Gareth asked.
“She is going to be very angry when she finds out I was in here.”
Somehow Gareth thought she would forgive him. “She will be relieved you are safe.”
“Yes, she will. But then she will be angry.”
“Ah, is that how mothers operate?”
They came to a small semi-round room, just like the one at the base of the other shaft, and Gareth lowered himself to the ground, more grateful than he would have liked to sit for a moment.
The boy sat cross-legged beside him, close enough that one knee rested against Gareth’s thigh. He understood the impulse to touch another person in a time of stress, but he was surprised he did not feel the revulsion that usually accompanied such human contact.
“I remember you grew up in an orphanage. Did your mama and papa die? My papa died fighting in the War. He was a hero.” Pride tinged with regret colored his voice.
Gareth thought of the boy’s real father—a blackmailing thief who would kidnap and ransom his own son—and suddenly understood why Serena was so reluctant to tell Oliver the truth about his parentage.
“Why did you and Mr. Bardot come down into the caves?”
“He told me he’d found something astonishing, and that it would make a nice surprise for my mama when she came back home.” He shot Gareth a nervous glance. “When I told him I wasn’t allowed in the caves he said it would be all right if he was with me.” He chewed his lip, a gesture just like his mother’s. “I don’t think there was really anything down here. Do you?”
Gareth wondered what answer would make the boy feel least anxious or foolish. He finally shrugged. “I daresay there could be any number of interesting things down here. Unfortunately, they will stay buried; I expect it will never be safe to explore these caves.”
Oliver nodded. “Still, it is rather a shame, isn’t it?”
Gareth looked around at the small cave they were in and realized, with a shock, that he agreed with the boy. He couldn’t have said when, exactly, he’d ceased to be terrorized by the darkness, confinement, and brooding pressure above his head, but he did know it had been banished. He hoped it was gone for good but was grateful it was gone for now.
***
Serena was in a half-dream, half-awake stage. The night was stil
l velvety black, although it could not be much longer until dawn. She sat against the entrance to the cave, as if mere proximity to the stones would bring her closer to the man she knew was trapped below. She vacillated between wanting her son to be with him, and not wanting him to be facing such danger. Still, being with Gareth would be better than being with Etienne.
It was a struggle not to scream with frustration and pound her fists on the neatly stacked blocks behind her while she waited for the promised footmen to arrive. She told herself McElroy’s caution was wise. To be rash and attract attention would jeopardize Oliver. But to wait? Every moment Gareth was inside these caves would be an hour for him.
She closed her eyes against the horror of her thoughts but that just created new, more insidious images: Oliver, trapped and alone; Gareth in the dark, his eyes burning with unspeakable despair. The thought that he’d gone into his very worst nightmare for her son made her love him even more—which she hadn’t thought possible.
Serena bowed her head and prayed. Oh, God, please don’t let anything happen to either—
“Oww!” A not insubstantial rock bounced off her dark bonnet and landed beside her.
“Hello?”
For a moment she thought the rock had jarred her son’s voice loose in her head. And then she spun around and onto her knees, pressing her forehead against the cool, rough stone.
“Oliver?” She sounded utterly unlike herself.
“Mama!”
She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear landed on her clenched fist. She gulped in air. “Is—” her voice cracked and she tried again, “Is Mr. Lockheart there?”
A muffled but precise voice came through the tiny gap in the stone. “I’m here, Serena. All is well, except for your cousin, Mr. Bardot, who I’m afraid was caught in the collapse.”
Tears flowed freely now. “Oh, thank God! Thank God!”
***
Squeezing one’s voice through a gap is one thing. Squeezing a boy and full-sized man through was quite another.
The two footmen arrived and began to remove the carefully placed rocks. Some of them, like the one Gareth and Oliver had managed to displace, were quite small. But many were more than even two big men could lift.
A Figure of Love Page 29