As if giving way before their determination, the rain trailed off during the early hours before dawn, and the following day was overcast but not wet. The Rowntree party arrived at the Abbey immediately after breakfast, finding Jonathan Erland awaiting them there.
“The young men from Oxford will be along in a bit,” he told them. “I sent a note round.”
Mr. Rowntree waved this aside. “We cannot wait. Come along, come along.”
The grounds were very muddy, and there was water standing here and there in the ruins, several patches near where they would work. The two younger men looked at them unenthusiastically.
“What did you do about Valiant?” Frederick asked Erland in a subdued voice.
“The stableboy wrapped him up well. I am waiting to ask Carstairs what he would like,” replied the man quietly.
Frederick nodded.
“Here we are,” said Mr. Rowntree. “To work.” He knelt beside the paving stone they had been loosening and began to tap at the mortar ineffectually. Gerald got a chisel and joined him, while Erland looked for a larger tool.
Joanna glanced about in hopes of finding a dry place to sit, but there was none. With a sigh, she spread her cloak on a wet rock and sank down there. She felt rather useless today. She could not dig, and there would be no sketching, at least not until the stone was raised. And she was also annoyed. Frederick was so smug after his “talk” with Jonathan Erland, that he would not tell her what they had said or decided or any more about the passageway he had discovered. Watching Erland and Gerald bend over the rock, she grimaced. It really did not seem fair that she should be excluded now.
As she morosely watched the men gouge out mortar, a movement off to the side caught her eye. Frederick was making his way off across the ruins, in the direction of the house. Hurriedly, Joanna got up to follow him.
“Frederick!” she called commandingly.
The boy started and turned as she came up with him. “What is it?”
“Where are you going?”
“I shall be back in a while. I must see about something.”
“In the house? What is it? Your passage?”
“Oh, Joanna, do let be. I’ll be back in…”
Joanna set her jaw. “I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t!”
“Oh, can’t I? Why not? There’s nothing for me to do here; I’m perfectly free to help you. Are you going to clear out the passage?”
Her brother glowered. “Never mind what I am going to do. I don’t want you.”
“Well, perhaps I shall go and tell the others all about it then. I’m sure Father would like to see what you have found.”
Frederick sighed. “Do just as you please. I don’t care. But Mr. Erland will be mad as fire if you spoil everything now.”
“Does he know where you are going?” asked the girl, dismayed.
“He knows all about it.”
As if to confirm this, Jonathan Erland called to her at that moment. “Miss Rowntree, could you help us for a moment?”
Slowly and reluctantly, she went to him. He wanted nothing more than that she hold one of their tools briefly, but when she turned back, Frederick was gone.
Frowning, Joanna looked back at Erland. He seemed oblivious, but she was certain he had intentionally kept her from Frederick to allow him to get away. So. They thought to leave her out of the most exciting part of the treasure hunt? Joanna’s chin came up. She would see about that!
The work that day was actually quite dull. Gerald and Erland chipped and chipped at the mortar around the paving block, occasionally aided by Mr. Rowntree. At about eleven, Carstairs and Templeton arrived, and there was a pause while Valiant was mourned and his final resting place decided. By then, it was time for luncheon, and since Mr. Rowntree resolutely refused to go home, Erland gave them cold meat and fruit in the Abbey dining room. There was barely enough for the seven of them, particularly with Frederick making his usual inroads on the meal.
They went back to the ruins at two—all but Frederick, who managed to slip away in spite of Joanna’s watchfulness. The ground was beginning to dry a bit, and Carstairs joined the other two at the chiseling. Joanna began to hope that they really would finish that day. Indeed, by late afternoon, the mortar was out, and they all stood around looking at the great paving block, now denuded.
“It is large,” said Joanna doubtfully, and it was: at least six feet long and nearly three wide.
“It’s the depth that worries me,” said Erland. “It goes down eighteen inches, if not more. It must weigh hundreds of pounds.”
“How shall we raise it?” asked Templeton eagerly. “It is just like Stonehenge.”
Erland grimaced. “A rope, I suppose…and braces. We’d best go looking for some.”
“Let us search your cellars,” offered Joanna sweetly. “I’m certain I saw a great deal of lumber there.”
Erland glanced sharply at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I think the tool shed will do,” he replied. “It’s nearer.”
“I don’t mind walking to the house,” responded Joanna.
“Thank you, but there is no need.”
“Come along, then,” put in Mr. Rowntree. “Let us go to the tool shed and look.”
They all joined the hunt. What Erland called the tool shed was more like a small barn, and they picked through piles of trash and broken furniture, calling back and forth to one another as they came across likely pieces of wood or rope. It took nearly an hour to assemble the necessary equipment, and by then they were all covered with dust and heartily sick of the paving stone and all its history. All but Mr. Rowntree and Templeton, that is. They reveled in the castoffs and dust, standing back and directing the others in their search. And they urged them back into the field as soon as the things were bundled together.
When they emerged at half past four, Joanna was tired and longed for a good wash and a cup of tea, but she followed the others determinedly across the lawn. As they reached the pavement again, they were all surprised to see someone standing there. The man was bent over, examining their work, but he straightened quickly when he heard them approaching.
“You have made progress,” said Sir Rollin Denby when they arrived. “I congratulate you. I only just heard that you were back at work.”
If this were meant as a reproach, no one heeded it. Sir Rollin looked them over, amusement in the back of his eyes. And Joanna was suddenly much more conscious of her dirty gown and disheveled curls. “You are well prepared, I see,” he added. “Do you mean to raise the stone today?”
“We do,” answered Mr. Rowntree. And he bustled around to examine the paving.
Sir Rollin eyed the younger men. “It will be a great work,” he said. “I should think you might wish to leave it until tomorrow.” He smiled very slightly. “You look done up.”
Carstairs shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, but Jonathan Erland said cheerfully, “Oh no, we cannot give up now. We are so close.” And he walked over to lay a coil of rope beside Mr. Rowntree.
The latter looked up. “We must pry a little first, I think, to get some space for the rope. After that, it won’t be difficult at all.” Erland smiled.
“We’ll need something narrow but strong to get in under the stone,” agreed Gerald, coming up to them.
“There’s an iron pike here that should be just the thing,” replied Erland. “I’ll get it.”
In a moment, he returned with a metal bar nearly six feet long. “Here we are.”
“Just the thing,” said Mr. Rowntree. “Put it here.” He indicated the widest crack between the stones.
Erland inserted the bar, pushing down as far as he could. Then he and Gerald leaned on it with all their strength. The stone did not move.
Carstairs joined them, and Mr. Rowntree grasped the top of the bar. “Once again,” he cried. They all pushed: nothing.
Frederick chose this moment to return from wherever he had been. When he saw what they were doing, he pushed forward. “Let me help, too.” He inserted himself into the middle of the group and curled both hands around the lower part of the bar. “Come on.”
But even the full efforts of all five of them did not move the great paving block an inch.
Mr. Rowntree stood back. “Hmmm,” he said.
“You want a pair of oxen,” said Sir Rollin with amusement. He stood to the side, looking as fashionably immaculate as ever, smiling slightly.
“Perhaps you’d care to take a hand?” retorted Gerald sharply.
“Yes,” agreed Joanna. “Why don’t you help instead of standing about being odiously sarcastic.”
Everyone looked surprised at this. Erland glanced at her sharply.
Raising one eyebrow, and seeming amused still, Denby replied, “Alas, my young friends, I fear I am only an observer at life.”
There seemed to be nothing to answer to this.
“How about you, Templeton?” said Erland.
“Of course, of course.” Templeton came over to them and raised his hands. “How should I hold it? I was watching you all, trying to get some notion of how it is done.” He gestured ineffectually at the bar.
“Just grasp it and pull,” answered Erland.
“Yes, to be sure. But, ah, I don’t quite know…” Templeton took a gingerly grip on the pike, moved his hands up, then down, and finally pulled weakly. “Oh, I say, it really is lodged, isn’t it?” He stood back, panting.
“We need more leverage,” said Mr. Rowntree decisively. “I suggest roping up the pike and all of us pulling on the rope.”
After some discussion, this idea was adopted, and they moved to secure the pike in place and tie a stout rope to its top end, in a way so that it could not slip down. This took some time. It was well past tea time before the rope was rigged to Mr. Rowntree’s satisfaction, and Joanna was wishing more than ever for a hot cup of tea.
But at last, all was ready. Erland, Gerald, Carstairs, Mr. Rowntree, and Frederick picked up the rope and moved away until it was taut. Then, on Mr. Rowntree’s signal, they all heaved mightily. With a grinding sound, the paving block moved slightly.
“There we are,” cried Mr. Rowntree. “It moved at least an inch. Try again.”
They did so and once again the stone moved an inch, then sank back.
“Come along Templeton,” said Joanna’s father. “You will have to help us.”
Reluctantly, Templeton came. They all heaved again, and with excruciating slowness, the rock lifted, first one inch, then two, then all at once a foot or more.
“A brace,” yelled Frederick. “Joanna, a brace! Put in a brace.”
Horribly afraid of doing something wrong, or of being crushed by the precariously balanced rock, Joanna nonetheless ran forward, snatched up one of the pieces of wood they had readied, and tried to thrust it between the rock and the rest of the pavement. “It’s too long,” she cried despairingly.
“Put it in sideways, idiot,” replied her brother, “and hurry!”
Convulsively, Joanna pushed the timber sideways into the crack. With a collective sigh, the men let go of the rope, and the stone sank down on it. The wood creaked and flattened a bit under the weight, but it held, leaving a crack about five inches wide.
“Bravo,” said Sir Rollin from behind them. Frederick looked at him in disgust.
Mr. Rowntree came forward rubbing his hands together. “Splendid. The rest will be much easier. We can get a rope around it and rig a system of pulleys. Nothing could be simpler.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Jonathan Erland. But he looked around at the now lowering sun and added, “But perhaps we should wait until tomorrow for that. We are all tired out.”
“And I must get back to Oxford,” put in Carstairs. “I have an engagement.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” answered Mr. Rowntree.
“Of course we can’t stop now,” agreed Frederick, full of contempt for the faint hearts. “We are nearly done.”
“Nonetheless,” said Erland, “I say that we put off finishing until tomorrow.”
As he spoke, everyone was suddenly reminded that this was, after all, his property. Something in his tone and bearing informed them, very politely, that they were being asked to leave.
Sir Rollin Denby smiled. “A guinea on the lord of the manor,” he murmured to himself.
Mr. Rowntree was frowning at their host. “But see here, Erland, what can it matter to you? You needn’t do anything.”
The other man smiled gently. “If you’ll pardon me, sir, I think that unlikely. I shall have to find the necessary materials for rigging a pulley, and Gerald and I have done most of the heavy work so far.” Joanna’s father started to speak, but he held up a hand. “And I am very ready to go on. Tomorrow.”
“A flush hit,” murmured Sir Rollin.
“No!” cried Frederick. “I won’t give up now. We cannot leave it all open this way for any…”
“Frederick,” interrupted Erland, “I should like to speak to you.” He beckoned commandingly. Frederick frowned, looked at him, then went.
Joanna joined her father but couldn’t decide if she would have preferred to go on with the work tonight. She was dirty, tired, and hungry, but now that the stone was really being raised, the excitement about what might lie beneath it offset these things. However, clearly, they could not argue with Erland on his own land, so she said, “Mother will be wondering where we have got to today.”
Mr. Rowntree appeared to struggle with himself for a moment, then, reluctantly, gave in. Joanna looked, without much hope, to Frederick and found him transfigured. Whatever Mr. Erland had said to him had dissolved all his objections in a moment.
They all walked back to the house together, Templeton and Carstairs taking their leave, Sir Rollin following them. While the Rowntrees were waiting for their carriage to be brought around, Joanna went to speak to their host.
“What did you say to Frederick?” she asked. “I was sure he would make a great fuss over leaving.”
Erland smiled down at her. “We have an agreement, he and I.”
“But what is it?”
“Oh no, I may not tell.”
“Just as you may not tell me what he was doing all day in your house?”
“But how would I know that?”
“You know. Frederick told me you did. I must say I think it is horrid of you, both of you, to plot without me. I was in this from the beginning, and now you won’t tell me what is happening. Frederick was clearing out his secret passageway today, wasn’t he? Did he find anything?”
Erland shrugged and smiled.
Joanna’s eyes flashed. “It’s too bad of you to treat me this way!”
Seeing that she was really angry, the man said, “Miss Joanna, this could be a dangerous hunt, you know, now that we seem close to whatever my uncle left. I don’t think you should be involved.”
Joanna tossed her head. “But my young brother should? A mere boy?”
Erland smiled again, then suppressed it. “I will watch over Frederick. Believe me, I shall take care.”
She glared at him. “If it is safe for Frederick, it is for me as well.”
Erland looked uncomfortable. “Well, we also thought it best to keep our progress as close as possible. All through this affair, too many people have known…”
“You think I will tell tales then?” exploded Joanna, now thoroughly enraged. “You think I can’t keep a secret?” She nearly walked away from him then, but somehow she could not. She wanted to show him just how mistaken he was.
The man reddened. “I did not mean…”
“Have I done so before?” she continued quickly. “Am I branded as a tattlebox then?”
Erland’s brows came together. “I never said that. But…”
“But what?”
“Well, I believe you have mentioned several things to Sir Rollin Denby that we would have preferred…” He trailed off in embarrassment.
Joanna opened her mouth to confound him, and realized that he was right. In her foolish infatuation, she had told Sir Rollin nearly everything. She crimsoned. It could not matter what Denby knew, but it mattered very much indeed that Mr. Erland knew she had told him and what he thought about that fact. “I…I didn’t,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean…”
“Of course, you meant no harm,” said Erland quickly.
“No, and I…” Joanna struggled with pride and her intense desire to have this man respect her. “I didn’t understand,” she managed. “I was mistaken in him.”
“Mistaken? In Sir Rollin, you mean?”
She nodded. “I thought he was so splendid, but he is not!”
“Not?” Erland looked down at her, some emotion growing in his eyes, and in that moment, Joanna realized that she wanted more than respect from this unusual man. She wanted love. He was nothing like the figure she had set up as her ideal short months ago, but she saw now that he was everything one could desire in a partner—intelligent, brave, kind, and principled. How stupid she had been not to see this before, how silly and young and stupid. “Oh, I wish I could do something to help you,” she cried.
Erland held her eyes for a moment, then took her hand. “You help me simply by existing,” he answered, and he brought her hand up and kissed it.
“Oh, how can you say so, when I have been so foolish?”
“Never foolish, sweet Joanna, perhaps only a bit inexperienced.”
She gazed at him, too affected to reply.
“Come, Joanna,” called her father from the carriage. “If we are going, let us not dawdle.”
She started and turned. “Oh, yes, Papa.”
Erland released her hand and walked with her to the vehicle. “I shall see you tomorrow,” he said. Everyone agreed and said good night, but somehow Joanna felt that this remark had been addressed chiefly to her.