The Secret of Bell Cottage

Chapter Eleven - Sheila

After their light luncheon, Sheila sent Kitty to the sitting room with several garments to mend. It was a quiet task to keep mind and hands busy but still restful enough not to overtask the young maid. Kitty was more than happy to undertake the sewing that Sheila detested. She was no expert with a needle but she was much better at it than her mistress. When Sheila forced herself to ply needle and thread, she usually made a mess of it. Kitty's seams were always straight and strong. And while she was busy with that task, Sheila could return to her exploring.

She couldn't stop wondering about her newest discovery. What was the purpose of that cave-like room behind the butler pantry? She had always been a slave to her curiosity. Grandmother had often called her a curious cat. The memory brought a smile to her lips. Many of the little adventures she had as a child, exploring new places and solving riddles, had wound up as part of the stories she wrote. And now she was anxious to begin a new adventure. She quickly lit the lantern and returned to the pantry.

As soon as she stepped through the door, she was surrounded by inky darkness. The dim daylight filtering into the butler's pantry barely penetrated past the doorway and the small pool of light offered by the flickering lantern hardly helped. Instead of reflecting off the hard surface, the light seemed to be absorbed by the dark rock. There were scrapes and marks on the walls to show the cavern had been chiseled out by hand, probably centuries ago. Sheila moved deeper into the darkness, leaving the door ajar.

The cave was currently being used by Kitty as a cold storage, but the shelves she noticed along the wall only extended a short way inside and then stopped at a nook in the stone. Here, on the rough plank shelves were kept the food-stuffs that required the cooler air to extend their shelf life. The cream pitcher and the brick of cheese. Preserve jars filled with various pickles, sauces and jellies put up last year and brought with them during the move. Underneath the shelving, in burlap sacks there were the root vegetables.

Sniffing gently, she could detect no musty odour. Only a rich, earthy aroma, like the fresh turned soil of a spring-tilled garden. There had to be some kind of ventilation but she could see no light seeping in to indicate where the air was coming from. Indeed, she heard no sound, other than her own breathing and the sighing hiss of the burning wick which echoed slightly in the confines of the little room.

Many people might find such a dark, enclosed space frightening, even intimidating, but Sheila was intrigued. She had long ago conquered the childhood fear of darkness and had never been afraid of small spaces. Surprising really, considering her wild imagination.

She lifted the lantern a bit higher as she turned and was surprised to see a brick wall at the back of the little room. The masonry looked old. She could only guess how long the wall had been in place. Obviously, it wasn't part of the original cavern. As she drew near though, she saw that the mortar had failed and many of the blocks had tumbled to the floor. The door-like opening in the wall was narrow, barely big enough for her to slide through. She lifted the lantern as she squeezed through the gap and was surprised to see what appeared to be a tunnel. The walls seemed to extend far beyond the pool of light. Her curiousity was peaked. Where could it possibly lead to?

This would make a perfect addition to the dark, dingy castle in her latest Gothic tale. Her imagination could keep happily churning out endless story possibilities for ages with a tunnel like this in the mix. She could write whole chapters of material on it alone. Curious to see how far the shaft would lead, she started up the path.

Something brushed softly over her face and she realized it must be a cobweb as she reached up to rub it away. Of course, she should have expected spiders to make their home here. She wasn't all that fond of the eight-legged creatures, but they did not deter her. No doubt there would be mice and maybe even a rat or two. With a shudder of revulsion at that thought, she lowered the lantern to examine the floor for traces of the horrid pests. There didn't seem to be any sign of droppings or trails along the walls. There was a clean path through the layers of dust in the center of the floor, as if someone had used the tunnel recently and often. Now that was surprising.