First, she had to find the right spot to dig. The thick rope she would use to determine the distance from the tree to the treasure ought to be the correct length, since Grayson said he had measured and cut it in advance.
With the base of the tree as her starting point, Eleanor lay down the rope upon the ground. As the puzzle instructed, she made a beeline through the spot where the weight dropped, and onward for precisely fifty feet.
She, and the rope, ended up in a clearing, obviously thanks to Grayson’s forethought. Not under a bush or in the middle of a tree.
Lightning flashed again, so bright, it was as though a hundred oil lamps had been lit around her, and then the thunder shook the ground beneath her feet.
“Mercy!” she exclaimed, then ran back for the lantern and the shovel. Feeling, yet ignoring, the growing discomfort at her ankle, she was glad of the rope path, for she nearly lost her way.
As she begun to dig, she heard Bess whinnying in the distance. Poor horse, probably afraid of the storm.
When the next jagged streak of lightning hit the forest floor very close to her, she shrieked and would vow the hair on the back of her neck rose up.
Was it dangerous?She was relieved not to be high in the tree anymore, thinking that might have been the very next place the lightning struck. She barely had time to note the strong, earthy aroma of the storm before the heavens seemed to open up and pour upon her.
Drats!She ought to give up and go back to the fishing shelter. Except she simply could not. Giving up when so close was not a valid choice.
Grayson had done a good job of making the earth appear undisturbed. She had to use force to dig, the spade slicing into the packed dirt. However, he obviously hadn’t wanted it to be too arduous, even though he would have been the one digging if they had found the treasure together.
Unlike the bad luck of the fortune hunters inThe Gold Bug, who had marked the ground under the right eye socket instead of the left and, thus, dug for hours before realizing their mistake, she had done it correctly the first time. In a very few minutes, the tip of her shovel connected with something.
“Success!” Eleanor yelled aloud. She removed another few spadesful of dirt and then ruined her gloves completely scrabbling to extricate the treasure from the muddy ground. It felt like a jar, a simple kitchen jar which might hold practically anything.
Hm!
She could barely see for the rain in her eyes and then—crack!—she was momentarily blinded by lightning so close she could smell it.
Shrieking with terror—a terrible, delightful, exciting fear—she had to remind herself she wasn’t safely tucked in her bed reading Mrs. Radcliffe. She was actually living it!
After the next thunderhead rumbled past, Eleanor considered whether she needed to recover the wagon or any of the supplies in it. She decided to leave it all except the lantern and the sealed jar, which she gripped tightly.
Beginning to make her way back to the shelter, she was glad the lightning had moved off to the west, already lighting up the sky in the distance. Under the deluge of rain, however, she started to limp, and the pain, which she had ignored in her excitement, seemed to increase in her left ankle with every step. She would be relieved to mount Bess and head back to Turvey House.
Holding the oil lamp out before her, she thought she had gotten herself turned around by mistake. She started off in the other direction, but it was an impassable clump of briar bushes.
Frustrated, her leg throbbing, she spun about again, realizing she’d lost her way almost at once.
“Eleanor!” she admonished herself. “This is no time to be silly.”
If there hadn’t been thick black cloud cover, she could have seen the stars to guide herself, as she was adept at navigating by the stars. While looking up, hoping to determine her north from her south, she came abruptly to the edge of the riverbank.
As the bushes gave way to the dank, pungent aroma of the river, she couldn’t contain a shriek of alarm. To her horror, she was teetering on the edge of a slippery muddy slope, lantern in one hand shining a glow upon the dark, raging waters and the precious glass jar in the other.
She couldn’t even wave her arms to regain her balance for fear of losing either one of the prized items. Her boots were sliding forward. In a moment, she would be engulfed by the chilly blackness of the River Great Ouse, and no one would ever know what befell her.
And on her birthday, too!
Chapter Eighteen
Gray saw Eleanorin front of him and his hair stood on end. She was falling, slowly, into the river, the toes of her boots were already in the water. But he was quicker. He had to be! If she perished, his life would also be over.
Swiftly setting down his lantern as he ran toward her, he grabbed for the back of her skirts, desperately fearful of knocking her farther down the shallow grade of the slope. Unfortunately, she dropped her lantern, and, with a splash, it disappeared beneath the rapids, all light extinguished.
At the same time, she screamed, a terrified, shrill sound, making him think they were both plunging to their deaths, until he realized they were still standing on the bank. Moreover, she was strugglingagainsthim.
“Eleanor! It is I.”
“Gray?” She relaxed instantly, and he yanked her back and into his arms. “How can you be here?” she wondered.
