Chapter Twenty-SixMr Verne was civil enough when he was in company. He danced with careful deliberation and passable skill. My Superior-Inferior Heels thumped softly on the dirt floor, but when we swung past the piano the sharp heels gave a hollow tap. Patrick was right after all: there was a hidden tunnel that opened beside the room’s back wall. I resolved to discover, somehow, where it led.
I was unable to disentangle myself from Mr Verne’s well-muscled arms until the impromptu dancing was swept aside and dinner was set out. Even then, Mrs Southwell sat me beside Mr Verne, putting a pouting Grace Southwell on my other side. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to be courted by Mr Verne, or if Mrs Southwell was using me to make her daughter jealous.
Whatever she intended, that was the effect. I
