Free Jane and the Wandering Eye by Stephanie Barron Page B

Let us stroll about the room with as unconscious an air as possible.”
    “We may attempt the stroll, Jane, but should abandon the unconscious air at the outset. You are not equal to it, darling girl. You have not the necessary schooling in deception.”
    “Fiddlesticks,” I whispered viciously. “Speak to me of something diverting.”
    “I have
heard”
Eliza attempted immediately, “that though the Earl of Swithin’s title is of ancient pedigree, his considerable fortune has been amassed through trade.”
    “You shall not horrify
me
, my dear. I am no respecter of snobbish distinction. He retains the claims of a gentleman.”
    “But perhaps the nature of his trading may surprise you. The Earl is given to running opium, no less, out of Bengal to China, and using private ships to do it. He learned the habit of his father, and since that gentleman’s demise has greatly increased the activity. Henry heard the tale only last week, while lunching at Boodle’s.” 1
    “The Earl? An opium trader? I may hardly credit it!”
    Eliza’s dark eyes glinted deliciously. “Do not sound so astonished, my dearest Jane. You must know that the Honourable Company has long employed opium as an antidote to tea. 2 We import so very much of that leaf, and can sell little to advantage in China; our debt in trade—or its imbalance, as Henry might put it—for many years bid fair to sink us; the kingdom bled bullion as from an open wound; but matters of late have righted themselves, and all on account of the Chinese taste for opium. Such men as the Earl must receive our thanks, however much the Government officially abhors their activity. And so the world turns round—
we
import tea from China; China imports opium from India; and India imports woolens from Manchester! Admirable, is it not, how the yearnings and vices of the multitude provide Lord Swithin with a dashing carriage and four?”
    “Admirable or otherwise, it cannot be very agreeable to claim the opium trade as occupation,” I observed. “I wonder whether His Grace the Duke of Wilborough is cognizant of the Earl’s activity?”
    We had progressed very nearly to a position opposite the Visitors’ Book, where the Earl and the actor were as yet engrossed. I halted in our promenade, and turned my back upon the pair. Their voices drifted very faintly to my ears—a word or two only. “Continue conversing, Eliza, I beg—but speak of lace, or the price of muslin, in as audible a tone as you may manage.”
    Of all things required, my sister was equal to
this
; and she prated on happily about the number of flounces sonecessary to a fashionable gown for evening, and the appearance of epaulettes, in deference to the heightened military style inevitable in such a climate, while I endeavoured to overlisten our neighbours’ conversation. It was the Earl’s voice, acute and low, I first discerned.
    “… must have the letters.”
    “I tell you they are not …” (indistinguishable words) “… and … is most disagreeable at present. I cannot assure your lordship … influence with her.”
    “Then I must see her myself.”
    “That would … unwise. I cannot answer …”
    “… is due to me! I have wasted … a hands-breadth to the gallows!”
    “… time.”
    “I have had enough of your
time!
Time has brought me only grief and vexation, sir!” This last was very nearly shouted, so that the enraged Earl was rewarded with the shocked glance of several in the Pump Room; and after an exasperated sigh, he lowered his voice once more. The next words were almost inaudible.
    “… expect you to … method of securing my …”
    Had I truly heard it aright? Securing
what
—the Earl’s freedom? His reputation? His interest?
    His letters?
    “… well. Good day, my lord.”
    “Good day.” All private business concluded, the Earl achieved a more civil tone. “And remember me to your sister, Conyngham. I shall be in attendance at Orchard Street tomorrow.”
    The actor bowed;