Determination had her furrowing her brow as she alternately pushed and pulled at the shelving unit until finally, she could squeeze her body between the wooden frame and the stone wall. Using her body weight, slight as it was, she managed to push the shelving a couple of feet away from the wall, allowing her to get all the way behind the shelves.
Sliding against the wall, her plan was to use the wall to brace her back and hands against it while she used her feet to push the shelving further away. Gently, though. She didn’t want to topple it over. If that happened, she would never be able to lift it up and set it to rights. However, as she slid, using her hands to guide her, her fingers slid over wood.
Brows creased, Moira backed out of the space and tried to see what she had touched. It was too dark to see anything. She grabbed the torch from the wall and careful, so as not to touch any of the items and set them ablaze, she shone the light in the space.
With a gasp, she saw a small door. With a simple handle and black iron hinges, it measured mayhap two feet tall and a foot wide.
Whyever would there be a door hidden behind the shelves, she wondered. For her answer she would need to create more space.
And get a lantern. It would be much safer in the small area.
Did she dare risk going upstairs to grab one? Surely her mother would see her. She’d be on the lookout for Moira since undoubtedly Eilidh told her where she was.
Lillias Hart, their mother, would never venture down here. She didn’t like the space and continuously warned Moira about spending too much time in the cold, dark tunnel and room. Her mother worried that she would catch her death.
It was all silly, really. It was colder outside than here, but hermother always said at least outside, the air was fresh. It wasn’t the stagnant, stale air of centuries that was trapped in the rooms below, harboring unknown diseases.
Crossing her arms, she thrummed her fingers against her upper arm.
“What to do, what to do?” she asked the empty room.
She went out into the tunnel and the steps to the upper floors, but instead of climbing them, she turned to her left and walked down the long corridor. There were more storerooms on this side, along with the dungeon, which she steered clear from, even though no one was being held there. Nobody had for a very long time.
In one of the storage rooms, she found an unlit lantern and snatched it to bring back to the archive room.
Dragging a small table from the corner, Moira set it against the wall near the shelving unit and lit it. The dark space behind the shelves lit up in a warm glow, the lantern’s reflection dancing off the iron hinges of the door.
It looked ancient. The wood worn smooth with time.
Moira settled herself back into the space, sliding along the wall until the door was right in front of her. There was no lock. Just a simple hook and latch that she released with a creak. The place was too cramped to open the door fully, so bracing her hands on the wall, she pushed her bottom out against the shelving, trying to budge it away and open the space up more. The unit scraped along the stone floor, echoing off the stone walls. The loud noise pierced her ears and made Moira’s head want to split.
Finally, she’d created enough space to allow her to open the door fully. She studied it for a moment, and glanced toward the hall, listening to hear if anyone was about.
It almost felt as if she was doing something forbidden.
What would she find? If anything.
She pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge. The door seemed tobe jammed. After coming this far, Moira wasn’t about to let it go. She shimmied the handle to and fro, trying to loosen it. When the door moved just a bit, she smiled. Her progress was slow, but it was working.
Concentrating, she kept working at it and, after what seemed forever, she could finally open the door fully. When she did, she held her breath as she peered inside the small space. The stone had been carved out, making a small alcove that someone had covered with the door.
Interesting.
There was only one thing inside—a small scroll.
Moira plucked it out and blew off the layer of dust that had built up over time and waved her hands through the air to clear it. She pulled on the brittle string holding it closed, the fragile material fell apart as she tugged. Whatever this was, it was old.
Ancient even.
Biting her lip, she unfurled the parchment, the edges were cracked and yellowed with age, and her breath caught at what was revealed.
In her hands she held a map. But not just any map.
It was a map that hinted to a long-lost treasure.
A Hart family treasure.
Studying the old script and drawing, her eyes rounded.
