Lambdon had his eye on Mrs. Grayling. No question of that; he was a heavy flirt, and rather a vulgar one. Curtis would have objected in Grayling’s shoes, but the silly fellow was fascinated by Lady Armstrong. James Armstrong and Holt were still in friendly competition for Miss Carruth’s attention. She divided her favours with a pleasant smile for both, but no sign that she felt any inclination towards either. A good dissembler, or simply not attracted to a pair of young men who were coming to strike Curtis as rather ill-mannered? Da Silva was charming the pallid Mrs. Lambdon, God alone knew why. Curtis did his best not to watch him. He couldn’t help feeling his mouth looked a trifle bruised.
The rain stopped as they ate, and after coffee and cigars, Lady Armstrong assembled her walking party to the caves. Curtis, by now desperate for a bit of physical exertion, was among them; da Silva, he was unsurprised to note, was not. He was doubtless up to something. Curtis had found the dark lantern and his discarded pullover in his wardrobe before luncheon. He had no idea when da Silva had retrieved them or sneaked them in to his room, but it was a rather pleasing reminder of his competence. Curtis had forgotten all about them both.
Holt and Armstrong cut Miss Carruth out of the main group with a practised pincer movement, so Curtis walked most of the way with Miss Merton. It was no chore. She was, it turned out, not just a companion: she was the Patricia Merton who had taken gold at the Ladies’ All England shooting competition for three years running, and the two-mile walk became as pleasant an interlude as almost any Curtis had spent since his return from South Africa.
As they paced through the open countryside, bare and bleak, with the hills ranging away up to the looming Pennine peaks, they spoke of target and game shooting, compared notes on gun models and cartridge manufacturers, argued the merits of pigeons and pheasants. Miss Merton animated proved to be a very likeable woman, not pretty, but handsome, with fine eyes and a decided, practical way about her, and she was remarkably easy to talk to. In fact, she was just the sort of woman he’d imagined he might marry, at some unspecified point in the future, although even by the end of that very enjoyable walk, he didn’t feel any urge to bring that point closer.
Miss Merton showed no more inclination to cast lingering looks than Curtis felt. She discussed guns like a sensible woman, and kept half an eye on Miss Carruth, and after all, a new friendship was a much more appealing prospect than a mere country-house flirtation.
Lady Armstrong stopped them at the base of a rocky slope. “We go up here to the cave mouth. I hope everyone is ready for a little scramble, and nobody is afraid of the dark?” There was a ripple of laughter from everyone except Mrs. Lambdon, who gave a whinny of distress. Lady Armstrong smiled. “Perhaps the gentlemen could assist the ladies?”
Holt deftly swooped on Miss Carruth. Lady Armstrong gave her stepson a pitying smile and said, “James, support your mamma.” Mr. Lambdon took Mrs. Grayling’s arm with an intimate murmur that won him a giggle, leaving Mr. Grayling to offer his arm to Mrs. Lambdon. Curtis looked round at Miss Merton.
“Don’t you dare,” she told him.
“I shouldn’t dream of it. You may need to help me if the going’s too rough.”
In fact the path was very manageable, and his leg not too bad at all. The cave entrance had been opened wide, and lamps hung there for the visitors’ use. James and Lady Armstrong set off first. She almost slipped on a smooth stone, and he caught her with a protective arm round her waist and a cry of “Watch out, mater!” At the same moment, Curtis almost lost his footing, as a drip from the ceiling splashed onto his head.
“All very treacherous, isn’t it?” murmured Miss Merton. “Any idea what we’re in for?”
“Well, it’s a limestone cave, which is to say, the rainwater soaks through the ground and leaches out the stone. So we should see some rather good rock formations, I think.”
They moved down through the first tunnel, which was steep and unpleasantly slippery, despite crude steps that had been cut underfoot. It was damp and cold and airless, and the walls seemed to bulge like ripples of flesh with a wet shine to their yellow-brown surface.
“Like being in the gullet of a dragon,” Miss Carruth called back, voice echoing oddly off the wet walls. She was just behind the Armstrongs, followed by Grayling and Mrs. Lambdon, with Curtis and Miss Merton after them. “Oh!”
“What? Fen?” Miss Merton called. “Fen!”
Mrs. Lambdon ahead of them stopped dead, with a squeak of amazement.
“Do move, will you,” said Miss Merton. “Oh. Oh, goodness me. Look at that.”
It was one of the better caves Curtis had seen. Great spikes of stone came down from the roof like teeth, or sprouted up from the floor, looking like huge dribbled candles. The Armstrongs, familiar with the sight, had moved their lanterns to the best points to cast light. Shadows jumped and flickered. Mrs. Lambdon made a wailing noise and clutched Mr. Grayling’s arm.
“Well, this is something.” Miss Merton looked around. “Can we explore?”