Jane clapped her hands with understanding. ‘Just so. Yes, you see the difficulty. Embroidery is the closest one can come to describing creating a detailed glamour such my anemones, and yet one cannot embroider at a distance.’

‘Why can not people invent words for glamour instead of borrowing from other things?’ Miss Cornell screwed up her face.

‘Some words are specific to glamour, but you will not find those until you have practised further.’

Vincent had retreated a few steps away, the relief at having escaped obvious in the set of his shoulders. Not minding the girls’ inquiries, Jane spent some time with them, explaining a few simple things about glamour that language sufficed to deliver until their parents called them away. Before going, the Misses Cornell pressed Jane to sign their pamphlet and swore their eternal devotion to her as well.

As soon as she was certain they would not see, Jane smiled and joined Vincent at the rail of the ship. ‘Oh, my dear. I have never seen the like of that.’

He grunted. ‘This is why my father did not want me to use his surname. The spectacle.’

Laying her hand on his, Jane rubbed her thumb against the fine hairs across its back. ‘Is it . . . is this normal for you?’

‘Well . . . they were younger and more conspicuous in their enthusiasm, but yes, the part of a glamourist is often to be a curiosity. People assume that because my art is on display, I myself must also be an exhibit for their attention.’

Jane remembered well their first meeting, and how he had given her his shoulder when she approached him. ‘I am sorry.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I did the same when we met.’

‘Ah, Jane.’ He lay his other hand over hers, holding it with both hands. ‘I regret every moment I kept you at a distance.’ Leaning down, Vincent kissed her. Jane, in sight of the entire ship, returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

FIVE

Travel and a Little Napoleon

The prevailing winds were against their ship, and so the trip across the Channel took a full two days. Jane found that not even the rough weather could dampen her joy in their transit. The Prince Regent’s favour had extended to arranging a private cabin for them. Though it was no larger than the linen closet at Long Parkmead, with Vincent’s company the cabin seemed cosy rather than cramped.

Even so, she was glad to disembark in Calais and get her first taste of life on the Continent, but the port was quite filled with English travellers, so many of them that there were few places where she did not hear the accents of home. Jane consoled herself that once they left the city behind, she would find a more authentic experience of France en route to Belgium.