The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
But within minutes she heard a small scuffling sound, and to her great relief she saw the top of Edwin’s fair head. She moved away from the opening so that he could squeeze out. His shirt and trousers were covered with dirt and his face was smudged with grime. He straightened up, grinning broadly. ‘What’s in there?’ she asked, with mounting curiosity.
‘A cave, Emma! A fantastic cave!’ he cried, his light eyes shining. ‘You see, I was right after all. Come on, I’ll show you. And we don’t need the rope. The tunnel is fairly straight and leads right into the cave.’
‘A real cave. Fancy that!’ Emma said, and then she smiled a little shamefacedly. ‘I’m sorry I was doubting yer, Edwin.’
He laughed. ‘That doesn’t matter. If you hadn’t doubted me I might not have felt obliged to prove myself right. Come on. Let’s go.’ He collected additional candles, and continued, ‘You follow me. Keep your head down at first. The tunnel is very low at the outset.’
Edwin entered the hole and Emma wriggled in behind him, blinking her eyes as she adjusted to the darkness after the bright sunlight. They crawled along at first, but the deeper they went the higher and wider the tunnel became and they were able to walk in a crouching fashion the rest of the way. Soon Emma could see the faint flickering of the candle Edwin had left in the cave, and a few seconds later he was helping her to her feet in the cave itself.
Edwin began to light the extra candles and arrange them neatly in a line along a narrow ledge near the entrance. Whilst he was engaged in this task, Emma looked around with enormous interest. As the candles flared and illuminated the darkness, she saw that the cave was indeed fantastic, as Edwin had said. It was a large cavern with a ceiling that soared up into a weird conical shape. There were flat little ledges extending out from some of the rocky walls, while other portions had great indentations juxtaposed next to flat areas that were so perfectly smooth they looked as if they had been polished by a giant hand. There was a breathtaking grandeur about this ancient and spectacular interior, which was as old as time itself perhaps. It was cool and dry and absolutely silent. Emma felt a sense of awe.
Edwin handed her a candle and took one himself. ‘Let’s investigate,’ he announced. He moved ahead and his foot struck something on the floor of the cave. He looked down, lowering the candle so that he could see better. ‘Emma, look at this! It’s the remnants of a fire!’ He kicked the blackened and charred wood, which instantly crumbled. ‘For heaven’s sake, somebody discovered the cave before we did.’
‘Yer right,’ Emma asserted, staring at the charred wood. Then she caught a glimpse of what looked like a heap of sacks in the far corner. ‘Over there, Edwin. Sacks, I thinks.’
He followed the direction of her pointing finger and strode rapidly across the cave. ‘They are, indeed. And on this ledge above them there is an old piece of tallow candle. Oh, come on! Let’s see what else we can find. You go around that side, and I’ll poke about here,’ he finished, his voice vibrating with eagerness.
Emma walked slowly, holding the candle out in front of her. She looked from side to side alertly as she moved, glancing down at the hard earth floor, scanning the high-flung walls. To her immense disappointment the far side of the cavern appeared to be quite empty. She was about to turn back and rejoin Edwin when the frail light from the candle illuminated a patch of smooth wall. She was certain she could make out faint markings on the wall, like writing scratched on to the surface. She ran over and held the candle close to it. It was writing. How interesting.
And then Emma sucked in her breath in amazement, for the first word she read was Elizabeth. She moved the candle. Written underneath was Elizabetta. And below, Isabella. Slowly, Emma’s eyes followed the column running down the wall of the cave. Lilibeth, Beth. Betty, Bess. Eliza. Liza. Lisa. Next to this column was one single word, carved in giant capital letters. ADAM. She swallowed. Under the name was a small heart with an arrow piercing it, and inside the heart were the simple initials A E.
Emma’s eyes were pinned to the wall and those initials. A coldness settled over her, as she remembered the locket she had found in her mother’s wooden box. Not me mam and him!
‘Emma! Emma! Where are you? Cooee! Cooee!’
She pulled herself together as Edwin’s footsteps drew closer, echoing on the hard ground. She opened her mouth and closed it at once, for a moment not trusting herself to speak coherently. Finally she called, ‘Over here.’
‘What did you find?’ Edwin asked, rushing to her side. She pointed to the writing on the wall mutely. Edwin’s eyes lighted on his father’s name at once. ‘Adam!’ he read wonderingly, staring at the giant letters. ‘Why, my father must have found this cave years ago!’ He sounded jubilant. ‘And look, here’s every derivation of the name Elizabeth, even in Italian and Spanish. This is very intriguing, indeed. Who do you think Elizabeth was, or is?’
Emma was silent. Edwin appeared not to notice her lack of response, or her utter stillness, for she was as rigid as stone standing next to him. ‘Well, I don’t suppose I can very well ask Father. However, let’s search around a bit more.’ Edwin was buoyed up with enthusiasm. He left Emma standing in front of the scratchings on the wall, still staggered at their dreadful implications.
‘Come here, Emma. I’ve found something else,’ Edwin shouted after a few seconds had elapsed. Emma stifled the desire to run out of the cavern and it was with considerable reluctance that she joined him in the corner where the sacks were stacked. Edwin was holding a flat oval pebble, about three inches long and two inches wide. He handed it to her and held the candle over it. ‘Do you see, Emma? The pebble has been painted on. It’s a miniature, in oils, of a woman. See! I think it’s Aunt Olivia. Yes, I’m positive it’s her.’
Emma said nothing, but thought grimly: No, it’s not. It’s me mam.
‘Don’t you think it’s Aunt Olivia?’
‘Yes,’ Emma responded dully.
Edwin put the stone in his pocket. ‘I think I shall keep this,’ he said.
Emma shivered and the candle wavered about in her hand. Edwin did not fail to notice this. ‘Emma, you’re cold.’ He clucked sympathetically, and put his arm around her. Emma tried hard not to shrink away from him.
‘Yes, I am. Let’s get out of here. It’s warmer in the sun.’ Without waiting for him to reply, she extracted herself and ran to the opening of the cave. She blew out the candle and placed it on the ledge, and crouching, and then crawling, she moved with incredible speed along the tunnel until she was out in the fresh air. She heaved a sigh of relief. She would never go back in there. Never.
Edwin emerged a few moments later. His eyes sought out Emma. She stood under the shadow of Ramsden Crags, shaking her dress free of the dirt and dust, her hair blowing about her in the wind, her face inscrutable. As he continued to gaze at her he recognized that the strange coldness which sometimes invaded her face had crept back on it. Sensitive as he was by nature, and especially to Emma, he at once detected a change in her mood, and a change that was radical. It distressed him.
He walked over to her and took her arm. ‘Emma, is something wrong?’ She did not answer, and averted her face. ‘Is something wrong?’ he said again, more loudly.
She shook his hand off. ‘No, nowt’s wrong.’
‘But you look peculiar. And you fled like a frightened rabbit out of the cave.’
‘No, I didn’t. I was cold, that’s all.’
Edwin turned away, realizing he would not make any headway with her at this moment. He brushed the dirt off his trousers, and began to busy himself collecting the tools. He felt suddenly deflated. Emma had seated herself on the flat rock where she always sat. He watched her as she lifted her long hair and moved it back over her shoulders gracefully. Then she folded her hands in her lap and sat staring ahead, looking out across the moors, and to the valley far beyond. He smiled to himself. She looked so prim and curiously dignified. No, regal, he told himself;