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Back Glamour in Glass
Chapters (30)
  1. Cover
  2. Glamour in
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. Author’s Afterword
  29. Glamour Glossary
  30. Reading Group Guide

‘Mr. Vincent. I can anticipate what you are about to say. Allow me to stop you from a conflict neither one of us wishes. Your technique has won the war for us. I have no wish to quarrel with you about my desire to keep it a military secret. I trust you can see the importance of keeping this ability quiet.’

‘Yes, sir. However, I should let you know that I taught it to M. Chastain and some of his students while in Binché. None of them are Bonapartists, but this particular fold of glamour is out of the box.’

Wellington narrowed his eyes and Jane could see him adding that information to his calculations. ‘Well. Let us hope that Napoleon does not find that out.’

The mention of the Ogre’s name recalled to Jane’s mind what Lieutenant Segal had said to Anne-Marie. ‘There is one thing more to relate, and I am sorry not to have told you sooner. I heard Lieutenant Segal say that Napoleon will be here tomorrow.’

Startled exclamations sprang from the lips of every man in the tent. Wellington clapped his hands for silence. ‘Are you certain?’ When Jane asserted that she was, and recounted spying the first troops on the road, he scowled and narrowed his eyes into an expression of fixed determination. ‘Then, if you will excuse me, this changes my preparation significantly. One of my aides-de-camp will see you back to Brussels.’

The Vincents rose. Jane could not stifle a groan as she did so, and another cramp wracked her stomach. Wellington exclaimed, staring in astonishment at the seat from which she had just risen. ‘Madam! Why did you not tell us you were wounded?’

Her cushion was covered in blood.

TWENTY-FIVE

Glamour and Rue

You must not imagine the horror which engulfed Jane as she stared at the seat she had so recently vacated, and at the blood which stained it, and as she became aware of how her trousers clung to her skin with more of that same blood. Nor should you imagine the guilt that overcame her sensibilities, or the heartbreak as Jane recognised that she had lost her child.

The activity around her buried these sensations in a whirl of confusion that left Jane all too aware of her own culpability. It overwhelmed her senses to the point of numbness. She could not look to Vincent. He was at once the source and the victim of her guilt.