Entering the drawing room, Jane was at once greeted by Beth, and after paying her respects to the Marchands, spent the remainder of the time until dinner was called in conversation with her. They both shared a deep fascination and curiosity about the finished state of Mr. Vincent’s glamural.

“You know, he was working on it night and day for the last week. He still came to ours for lessons, but he fell asleep as soon as he sat down. I let him, of course, and he said almost nothing upon waking up. I let him think that he had closed his eyes for only a few moments, but I think he was asleep for a good half an hour at the least. Did you know that he snores? It’s such a tiny, such a sweet snore as one might imagine a small cat making.”

“I cannot imagine a cat snoring,” said Jane.

“Oh, indeed. I had a kitten which always slept with his head tucked upside down between its paws. Mr. Vincent snores just like it. It’s such a wee sound to be coming out of a great bear of a man like Mr. Vincent that it is quite droll.” As she spoke, her eyes darted about the room in the manner of one whose attention was engaged by another. It never rested for long on any one person, but Jane began to think that Beth was watching Captain Livingston. Since he stood with Mr. Dunkirk, it was possible that she had merely a nervous concern as to her brother’s presence. Though Beth was at ease with Jane, she often suffered from an excess of nervous energy when in a crowd. That the people present at Lady FitzCameron’s were all known to her did not allow her much peace.

As they stood talking, Mr. Vincent, whose appearance betrayed his fatigue, entered the room and was graciously received by his hostess. His cheeks were sunken and his hair wild; the ruddy glow of health had fled his complexion. Jane could not altogether hide her shock at his change in appearance, and she was not alone in that respect. He affected not to notice, and must have been used to such startled looks as Jane bestowed upon him, for he bowed low to Lady FitzCameron and said, “At your pleasure, my lady.”

By this, Jane realized that he had been working up until the moment when he walked into the room. She wondered at Lady FitzCameron’s composure and nerve in scheduling a dinner party without knowing if the glamural would be finished. Betraying none of this, Lady FitzCameron assigned each gentleman to escort in a lady. Mr. Marchand came to take charge of Beth, nearly frightening the poor girl with his old-fashioned gallantry. And then, before Jane could stand too long alone, Lady FitzCameron had introduced her to Mr. Buffington, a friend of Captain Livingston’s, who was to escort her into dinner.

Mr. Buffington was shorter, with the florid expression of one given to pleasure, but graceful when he bowed his head upon greeting Jane. He was charmed; he was delighted to meet her, having heard so much from Captain Livingston about her. Jane could not help but wonder if he had heard about her, or about Melody. Nonetheless, she accepted his arm graciously and followed him to the dining room.