Free Shades of Milk and Honey by Mary Robinette Kowal Page B

she found Mr. Dunkirk staring at her. For a brief moment his face was unguarded, but Jane hardly knew how to read what she saw there before it vanished. He had already turned away and begun a conversation with Miss FitzCameron before Jane could be certain that she had seen anything at all.
    Then her attention was taken by Miss Dunkirk, who wanted to know all of the particulars of how the disappearance had worked. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of simple pleasures as they enjoyed the meal set out for them by the servants. Mr. Vincent appeared only once more, quite suddenly, as he released the ties on the folds masking them. He had donned his coat and packed his box of paints and his easel.
    “Oh, Mr. Vincent, you are not leaving us, are you?” Lady FitzCameron said from her place on the blankets. “I had hoped you would join us.”
    He hesitated. Some of the tension came back into his shoulders as his patroness made claims upon his attention. “Of course, Lady FitzCameron.”
    “Oh, good.” She smiled, well aware of her power. “What I should like most to complete this enchanting afternoon is a
tableau vivant
.”
    Mrs. Marchand looked up from her strawberries. “What a marvelous idea, Lady FitzCameron.”
    Mr. Ellsworth said to Captain Livingston, as if they were discussing a horse and how well it trotted, “Jane is uncommonly good at
tableaux vivant
s.”
    “I do remember that, and can only imagine that her talents have improved with the passage of time.”
    From where she was sitting, between Captain Livingston and Mr. Ellsworth, Melody said, “Oh! They should do a
tableau vivant
together.”
    Caught by the words of her family and neighbours, Janetried to find a way to politely refuse. Her every interaction with the man had only angered him. She was certain that only the desire to avoid being paired in
tableaux vivant
s united them. “I would only hamper Mr. Vincent’s efforts.”
    “Nonsense.” Mr. Vincent bowed to Melody. To Jane’s deep astonishment, he said, “I think your sister has hit upon a splendid plan.”

Seven
Nymph on the Hill

    Trying to mask her dismay and astonishment, Jane rose and went to where Mr. Vincent stood by his paints. So quickly that she could not see him do it, he raised and thinned a fold of glamour. She was at first uncertain as to what he had done because she could still see the party, but it became apparent from their actions that they could not see her. Then he cast another fold around them and the sounds of the party vanished. Both tricks were astounding enough in themselves, but the speed and ease with which he did them was more so. Even if Jane could understand how he had quieted the world around them, she could never match his speed.
    “My apologies, Mr. Vincent, I—”
    “They cannot hear us, Miss Ellsworth.” He shrugged, rolling his shoulders under his coat. “You need not be civil to me.”
    Stunned, Jane stopped speaking and stared at him. “I do not understand your meaning.”
    His jaw clenched and he seemed about to say something, but the moment passed and his anger subsided. “What
tableau vivant
shall we do?”
    “No. No, you may not start such a conversation and pretend that you did not. Tell me my offense so that I might apologize.” Even as she said this, Jane remembered her brusque conversation with him on the lawn at Robinsford Abbey. “I am sorry that I did not take the time to view your painting when we last saw one another.”
    He snorted and shook his head. “I was grateful that you did not, but your behaviour today shows that is not your usual wont.”
    “My behaviour!”
    “I am a glamourist, Miss Ellsworth. I create illusions in an effort to transport my viewers to another place. So I do not like it when people expose how my illusions work. Each person who looks at what I do takes my work away from me.”
    “But you are teaching Miss Dunkirk. How can you complain about others knowing your secrets if you are teaching