Jane and the Wandering Eye by Stephanie Barron Read Free Book Online

in short.”
    “As all such matters must be.”
    “Of that, my lord, I am hardly convinced. Duelling is murder, as you must be aware.”
    “In cases where one of the opponents is killed, perhaps,” the Marquis replied dismissively.
    “Are you so certain of your aim, my lord, as to intend to miss? Or so contemptuous of Mr. Portal’s?”
    Lord Kinsfell did not reply, but the colour mounted to his cheeks. “It is of no account whatsoever what I intended, for Portal is dead, and by an unknown hand.”
    “Is he, indeed? And why, may I ask Your Grace,” the magistrate continued, with a glare from under his eyebrows at the Duchess, “was Mr. Portal
not
conveyed to the street?”
    “Whatever my grandson’s feelings, I deemed it necessary to comport myself as befits a hostess,” Eugenie replied with dignity. “It seemed to me more suitable to allow Mr. Portal an interval of rest and quiet, until some member of the company should be able to escort him home.”
    “Yes, I see.” The magistrate’s beady black eyes, so reminiscent of two currants sunk in a Christmas pudding, moved from the Marquis to the Dowager and back again. “And so you entered this room, Lord Kinsfell, in the very midst of Mr. Conyngham’s declamation?”
    “I did.”
    “And to what purpose?”
    “I meant to pass through it to the back hall, and proceed thence to my rooms. I was utterly fagged, if you must know, and desperate for quiet.”
    Mr. Elliot glanced around. “Pass to the hallway
where
, my lord? For I observe no other door than the one by which you entered.”
    Lord Kinsfell strode impatiently to the far side of the fireplace, and pressed against a panel of the wall. With a creak, it swung inwards—a barely discernible door. “It is intended for the ease of the servants, but it makes a useful passage when the main door to the hall is blocked.”
    “As it would have been during Mr. Conyngham’s recital.”
    “Obviously. The door from the drawing-room to the back hall stands to the right of where Mr. Conyngham was positioned. I should have had to force my way through the greater part of the company to attain it. And that I did not wish to do.”
    “Commendable, I am sure. Mr. Conyngham must certainly regard it thus,” Mr. Elliot said slowly, and reached a well-fed hand to the silently swinging door. “Very cunning, indeed. May I request a taper, Your Grace?”
    The taper was duly brought from the fire, and held aloft in Mr. Elliot’s hand; the magistrate leaned into the passage, and snorted with regret. “How very disappointing, to be sure. Not a cask of gold, nor an abducted princess can I find—nothing but a cleanly-swept hall of perhaps a dozen yards, such as one might see in any well-regulated household. You are plainly no friend to intrigue and romance, Your Grace. For of what use is a passage, if it be not dank and cobwebbed, and descending precipitately to a subterranean cell?”
    Not even Maria Conyngham found strength to protest at this; but her looks were hardly easy. She followed Mr. Elliot’s every move, as he closed the passage and threw his taper into the fire. To Lord Kinsfell he turned at last, and enquired, “And who among Her Grace’s household is familiar with this passage, my lord?”
    “Everyone, I must suppose,” replied the Marquis.
    “Very good, my lord—you will please to sit down. Mr. Conyngham!”
    “Mr. Elliot?”
    “Were you long intending to declaim your passage from
Macbeth
—or spurred to the act by the whim of the moment?”
    “I was requested to perform by the Dowager Duchess, when first the invitation to Laura Place was extended.”
    “So it was a scheme of some weeks’ preparation, I apprehend?”
    “To recite a part of which I am so much the master, must require a very little preparation, sir,” the actor replied stiffly.
    “Quite, quite—but you do not take my meaning, Mr. Conyngham. The interval of the speech was intended as a piece of the evening’s entertainment—in