A long walk brought them to a broad river, the fancifully named Styx. Ferrying across the river in tiny boats that required the passenger to lie flat was the only way to reach the next chamber. Darcy had taken the trip once before, during his sojourn with Mr. Logan and his Cambridge friends, so he knew it to be safe if mildly scary. He hesitated, glancing to Lizzy to gauge her opinion. That she was nervous was obvious, but she was not to be deterred.

“I have come this far, William, and I won’t turn back.” Her voice quavered slightly, but she lifted her chin and bravely stepped into the boat. Darcy chuckled, his heart swelling with pride at her tenacity.

The chamber across the river was larger and far more interesting. Here the walls and ceiling were impossible to see, the breadth of the cave known to be over two hundred feet although one only had the impression of vast space. They cautiously explored, holding tightly to their lights and, in the case of Darcy and Lizzy, tightly to each other. Their feet veered instinctively toward the extremity of the vacuity where the echoing splash of water hinted strongly to what they would see.

Another underground stream, this one shallow, flowed and was fed by an incessant rain of droplets from crevices in the rock high above. It was this natural aperture from whence the cavern’s name derived: Roger Rain’s House. The combination of moisture in the air, damp rock, nonexistent sunlight, and still air created an environment that was bordering on cold.

Traversing the remaining rock hollows accessible meant crossing the running rivulet numerous times, but the water was shallow. The deeper caves descended gradually as they bored into the earth and were smaller. They were filled with stalactites in all sizes, some enormous and reaching completely to the ground to form natural pillars. Most were intact but many were broken or dislocated from their original placement on the ceiling. There were other oddities such as a huge pile of sand carried in and deposited by the river, the marine exuviae embedded into the strata of the limestone walls, and the three arches so perfectly carved into one rock wall that they appeared hand hewn.

But the crescendo was the spontaneous chorus that broke out. Disembodied voices burst forth from the unseen upper heights of the chasm, lifted in a song that reverberated against the walls. It was beautiful and creepy, pleasurable and astonishing. The mystery was quickly solved once the voices faded, a group of singers descending down a makeshift stairway to stand visible on a sort of chancel where they accepted applause and praise.

Returning to the surface was a relief, even though the enterprise had been thrilling. Both Lizzy and Darcy blinked in the sun that seemed far brighter than it had an hour previously and sucked in huge lungfuls of air.

Lizzy’s mien was the common one of impish enthusiasm that Darcy knew meant she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. He had as well, his expression controlled but the wide smile and shimmering eyes revealed his delight in the escapade. Still, Lizzy’s first words upon crossing the arched portal echoed his sentiments, “I do not believe I have ever been so happy to see the sun.”

They paused on the threshold, gazing back into the abyss. Mrs. Hanford saw them and rose with a still sleeping Alexander in her arms, walking to join them.

Darcy nodded. “I know what you mean. I love adventure, but cave exploration is definitely not on my list of possible hobbies. That takes a special breed of man. But now I have a greater appreciation for the rapidly increasing number of men who are embracing the activity.”

“Think how amazing it must be to happen upon a subterranean wonder, knowing that you are the first human eyes to ever behold it. That would be quite exhilarating.”

Darcy laughed softly, nudging her hand with his. “You are too busy as a wife and mother to dash off and discover caves, my dear.”

She laughed, turning to take Alexander into her arms. “Have no fear. I am abundantly content to care for my husband and son. That is plenty of adventure for me.” She kissed the infant’s forehead, curly locks tickling her nose, and looked up at her husband with a teasing grin. She opened her mouth to speak, most likely planning a humorous jibe, but the words were never uttered.

A loud cracking sound pierced the air, echoing through the ravine.

Everyone froze, reflexively gazing upward to where the noise originated. A chunk of rock protruding from the face of limestone near the edge of the towering cliff was suddenly and inexplicably breaking away. The clap of severing stone mixed with the high-pitched scrape of rock upon rock and the crunch of crumbling gravel. Time seemed to stop as they stared transfixed at the five-foot boulder directly above their heads that, with a final reverberating boom, disengaged. It started sliding down the flat face, the motion painfully slow in the paralyzed time, but gained speed quickly. The rock’s weight and rain of dirt, plants, and gravel caused it to twist in the air, toppling over as the jagged projectile plummeted down the three hundred foot escarpment.

Voices lifted in shouts and screams. People scattered in all directions. Lizzy stood open-mouthed, immobile in stupefied terror, staring at the calamity heading straight for her. Darcy, thankfully, reacted with brisk efficiency. At the second plangent crack, he pivoted, grabbing his wife and child in a crushing embrace, lifting bodily until Lizzy’s feet were off the ground, and lunged up the trail away from where the avalanche was destined to land. He whipped his head toward Mrs. Hanford, who also stood rooted to the spot, yelling in a snapping command, “Mrs. Hanford! Move!”

She jolted, but his penetrating order did the trick, she too twirling about. Watson grasped onto her upper arm, hauling hard as they all dashed to safety. Yet, everything was happening so fast. The debris of tiny rocks and dirt showered their shoulders seconds before the rock crashed into the hard-packed ground, sundering down the middle with shards splintering from the edges and flying through the air.

Darcy’s wide strides carried them ten feet from the place of impact, almost precisely where they had been standing moments before. Watson and Mrs. Hanford ducked to the left, behind a large tree mere milliseconds before a sharp limestone sliver forcefully speared the trunk inches above Watson’s head. Darcy did not look back, plunging headlong with his body curled around his family and his back to the danger. He faltered only once, grunting hoarsely as his step momentarily tottering to the right, but he adroitly recovered and ran until so winded he could barely breathe. Then he ran more, placing a good distance between them and the cavern portal before halting.

The abrupt silence, or relative silence in comparison to the smashing and ripping sounds that still echoed within the cavern recesses, was proof that the immediate danger was past. Nevertheless, he looked behind, making absolutely sure that nothing menacing remained before loosening the bruising grip around Lizzy and settling her to the ground.

She was trembling violently, her eyes wide and pupils dilated. Alexander was awake and equally alarmed, sucking vigorously on a thumb while the other hand was painfully clenched in his mother’s hair. Darcy studied them closely, gazing with penetrating intensity into their eyes, and bent to cup Lizzy’s cheek.

“Are you hurt? In any way?”

She shook her head, swallowing past the desert in her throat before able to speak. “I’m fine. We are fine.”

He scanned over their bodies to verify her claim, and then nodded curtly. His face was grim as he turned to look for Mrs. Hanford and survey the damage.

“William! Oh my God! You are hurt!” She lifted shaking fingertips to the two-inch gash along the underside of his left jawline, the oozing blood that had already soaked into his cravat and collar coating her fingers.

He did not even look at her, shaking his head shortly. “It is nothing. Ah, there is Mrs. Hanford and Watson. They appear uninjured. Stay here,” he commanded, glancing at her then as he started to step away. The expression of severe dismay and teary eyes blinking furiously as she tried to remain calm halted him. He sighed, gently clasping her face and bending for a tender, brief kiss. “I am fine, Elizabeth. A scratch only that will easily mend.” He wiped the spilled tears from her cheeks. “Now that I know you and Alexander are safe, I must check if anyone needs assistance. Stay here, promise me. I will instruct Watson to take you to the carriage. I will return swiftly.” He kissed her again, smiling into her troubled eyes.

She nodded. “Yes. Of course. As you wish. But then we are finding a physician to look at your wound.” She spoke firmly, once again in control and exerting her authority, meeting his eyes with a challenge.

He chuckled. “As you wish, Mrs. Darcy.” Then he pivoted and strode briskly back to the cave.

Miraculously, no one was severely injured. There were a number of scrapes and abrasion from falling debris or stumbling while running away. Three people suffered cuts similar to Darcy’s from launched shards. One man was impaled through the upper arm from a larger piece of rock, a wound messy and extremely painful but not fatal. Another man miscalculated his footing, slipping on a terrace edge, and tumbling down the slope to land in the river gorge. He hit his head hard enough to swoon and develop a huge knot, but aside from a massive headache and the pain from dozens of scrapes, he recovered without defect.

A boy was sent to Castleton to fetch the surgeon. He was a disreputable looking character, but he tended the wounds efficiently enough, so Darcy allowed him to examine his laceration. The wound was not deep, the bleeding clotted long before the surgeon touched it. He cleaned it well, declared that it did not require stitching—not that Darcy would have permitted the scruffy fellow to pierce his skin with a needle—and slathered the slice with an herbal poultice and resin ointment to adhere the skin edges.

The troglodytes rallied together admirably. Moments after the boulder landed, while the sound of impact still shook the air, they were soberly and resourcefully organizing. No one person appeared to be in charge, and few orders were given, but before Darcy or any of the visitors returned to the scene, the cave dwellers had triaged the injured to the main hut and were in the process of rescuing the poor man lying in the riverbed. Children were picking up the smaller rocks and women were sweeping the debris. Several burly men were staring intently at the heavy pieces of stone, clinically discussing where best to discard it, while others were examining the precious ropes and equipment for any damage.

Of all the sights seen that strange morning, in some respects the cool practicality of these hardy people who lived roughly among rock, darkness, and the elements was the oddest.

There was little for any of the gentlemen to do, so the Darcys were finally able to leave the Devil’s Arse with relief. The blood-soaked cravat was stowed in a pocket, and Darcy had washed his grimy hands and brushed the dirt off his jacket and out of his hair. The mundane tasks had served to restore his calm for the most part, and he rounded the corner beyond which the carriage waited with his emotions largely under control.

Lizzy, unfortunately, had not been so lucky in finding an outlet for her worry. Alexander had nursed, more for the need to be cuddled than for nourishment, promptly falling back to sleep. This left Lizzy with nothing to do but pace for what felt like hours. She envied the infant’s ability to pacify, as she was a bundle of nerves ready to explode! The trauma coupled with visions of her husband bleeding, even though she knew the injury minor, threatened to undo her. When Darcy finally reappeared, walking briskly but composedly, her frayed regulation ripped apart. Tears spilled and she flew across the short distance, barely halting before slamming bodily into him.

As abruptly as the tears fell, she flared irritably. The release of her fear brought on a case of serious pique and she grasped hard onto his upper arm while the other hand lifted his chin so she could examine the dressing.

“He did an adequate job, I suppose,” she declared. “I saw him arrive and his appearance did not engender confidence. George would sooner kiss Lady Catherine than dress so disheveled and dirty. Tell me he washed his hands before slathering your face with this?”

Darcy was smiling. “He did, sort of. Do not fear, love. I have sufficient knowledge of how to treat abrasions and lacerations. I have had a few others in my lifetime,” he said dryly, Lizzy snorting while she continued to blink her eyes furiously and fuss roughly. “I will send a servant to the apothecary for the necessary ingredients. I doubt it will leave a scar.”