“No, Charles, I did not.” She peered up the hill, and her brow furrowed. “I do not see them on the hill. They must be somewhere else.”

“Clearly they are somewhere else, if they are not here. The question is where.”

Mr. Dunkirk said, “Perhaps they are on the other side of the hill?”

“Ah. An excellent thought. I will check on just that. Meanwhile, I urge you all to avail yourself of the strawberries.” Mr. Ellsworth started up the hill while the rest of the company fell to the strawberries with a will.

The conversations were simple and inconsequential, as all were distracted by the sweet succulent berries. It seemed that Lady FitzCameron had spoken with her nephew about his conduct at the ball, for Captain Livingston paid all the ladies equal attention, even going so far as to compliment Mrs. Ellsworth’s parasol. Without the monopoly on Captain Livingston’s attentions that she had no doubt expected after the ball, Melody turned to Mr. Dunkirk, and soon had him carrying her basket for her as she plucked strawberries from the mounds.

Mrs. Marchand was quite taken with the strawberries. She kept exclaiming over each one she found as if it were the largest she had ever seen—“Never have I seen the like!”—then devoured the berry before anyone else could ascertain the veracity of her claims. Her husband joked, “I declare, I wonder if you are even touching them, or if you are eating them straight from the plant.”

Mrs. Marchand laughed at that, and colored prettily, but her husband’s comment did not slow her enthusiasm for the strawberries.

In short order, Mr. Ellsworth returned, face as red as a strawberry from his climb up the hill and back down. He was laughing, his eyes wrinkled small with merriment. “You would not believe what clever Mr. Vincent has done.”

Jane looked up the hill, but Mr. Vincent was not there. “Has he finished his painting so soon?”

Mr. Ellsworth chuckled and shook his head. “He is still painting, I daresay. Shall I tell you, or shall you guess?”

Captain Livingston said, “He has received an appointment to the King.”

“No. Nor the Prince.” Mr. Ellsworth placed his hands on his waistcoat. “He made the servants and himself disappear, because they marred the view.”

“What?” “Did he?” “How clever!” The crowd quite forgot the berries. Each stared up the hill, declaring that they could see this sign or that of the servants’ location. Jane studied the hill, stunned both that he could have created such a complex and large fold of glamour in so short a time and that the folds themselves could be invisible, even with her vision attuned to the ether. Of course, many great halls used glamour folds to mask musicians at a ball, but they required constant attention, and were enormously detailed to create an exact duplicate of the room as it would have appeared were it empty. Mr. Ellsworth shook his head, laughing. “Not a one of you is looking in the right place. Come, I will shew you.”