Free Sheer Folly by Carola Dunn Page B

walls gas lamps burnt, the mantles shielded by translucent shells that diffused the light. Among the thousandsof shells encrusting the rugged walls, here and there mother-of-pearl gleamed and crystals glittered. The floor was polished limestone, five or six yards in breadth, ending at a low stone parapet beyond which the stream flowed swift and smooth, satiny black, to its drop into the pool beneath.
    One couldn’t walk into the stream unaware, Daisy thought, but it wouldn’t be difficult to fall over the low wall.
    â€œAt least it’s warmer in here,” said Lucy with a shiver.
    â€œThat’s partly the gas lights,” Howell told her, “and partly the insulating effect of the tons of rock around us.”
    â€œDon’t remind me!” With another shiver, Lucy looked up.
    The upper part of the walls sloped inwards and gradually converged on either side. Their meeting point was beyond the reach of the lights.
    â€œAre there stalactites?” Daisy asked. “And stalagmites? I can never remember which is which, but this is the right kind of rock for them, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, the same stuff that furs pipes and kettles. There are some knobs and protuberances up there that may grow into stalactites in a few centuries. My uncle considered bringing some in from elsewhere or having some manufactured, but he decided against it.”
    â€œAre the shells real?” Lucy sounded suspicious.
    â€œOh yes. Most of them were already here when Uncle Brin bought Appsworth, though many had fallen off the walls. He brought in more to fill the gaps. In fact, some are where nature put them. Limestone and chalk are made up of ancient shells, you know. There are fossils, too.”
    â€œI’d like to see those.” Julia joined them.
    â€œI’ll be happy to show you tomorrow, Miss Beaufort, if I get home in time. I’m afraid the light’s not good enough now to see them properly.”
    â€œIt’s not good enough to see anything much,” grumbled Rhino, lighting a cigarette as he appeared on the heels of his beloved. “What a waste of time!”
    Daisy had to suppress an urge to shove him backwards down the steps. Someone else was probably behind him.
    â€œRhino, darling,” came Lady Ottaline’s plaintive voice, “do get a move on. I can’t balance on this step forever.”
    â€œI’m right here, my dear,” said Sir Desmond soothingly. “You can’t possibly fall.”
    Rhino lumbered forwards. The Wandersleys entered the grotto, then Carlin, and bringing up the rear, Mr. Pritchard.
    â€œWell, here we all are,” said their host, with a sigh of relief at having safely shepherded his unruly flock to their destination. “It’s as close to the way it used to look as I could make it, but the old pictures and descriptions aren’t too clear.”
    â€œDon’t tell me the Appsworths had gas lighting put in,” Rhino said aggressively.
    â€œNo, it would have cost much too much if I wasn’t in the business. Don’t worry, you can’t see them in daylight.”
    â€œNo good for photography,” Lucy grumbled.
    â€œIt’s wonderful, but a bit spooky, isn’t it?” said Julia.
    â€œDon’t!” Lady Ottaline’s shudder combined the delicate with the theatrical.
    â€œGrottoes were originally intended to be eerie.” Daisy had done her preliminary homework. “That is,
originally
originally they were caves where hermits lived, the religious kind. But in English parks and gardens, they were supposed to be both picturesque and grotesque, and in general frightfully Gothic and romantic. The owners—”
    â€œIt’s haunted!” shrieked Lady Ottaline, pointing towards the rear of the cave.
    Everyone swung round. A cowled figure lurked in the dim depths. On silent feet, it glided to one side, started to withdraw, then suddenly vanished.

 
NINE
    â€œBy