Curious now, Jane stood and ceded her place back to Miss Emily Marchand; then she slipped across the hall into the dining room. The servants had already done their duty, clearing the plates, cutlery, and linens from the table, leaving only the massive wood structure in the middle of the apparent glade.

Jane paced around the perimeter of the room, looking for a “her” among the trees and flowers of the glamural. On her second perusal, she suddenly spotted a face in the bark of a tree and understood who “she” was. The tree was a laurel, and the face, nearly obscured by the bark closed around her, was Daphne, as Jane had rendered her during their tableau vivant, or viewed another way, Mr. Vincent had rendered Melody in glamoured wood. Jane stopped, transfixed by the tree and its subtle compliment, though she could not say with any certainty if the compliment was intended for her or for her sister. She stared at the face, at the mix of relief and fear which he had captured in the features, and felt as if the nymph might open its eyes and observe her at any moment. The breeze that Mr. Vincent had placed in the room moved the tree, giving the nymph the illusion of breath. Jane watched until she became worried that she would be missed in the drawing room.

At the threshold of the drawing room, she stopped, arrested by the sound of her own name. Mr. Buffington was laughing and said, “Plain Jane? I should judge her fortunate if she were only plain!”

This provoked a round of merriment from his listeners, so near the door that it was impossible for Jane to enter without notice. Her cheeks burned and tears pressed against her eyes. If she had taken Melody’s advice and played with glamour, he would not say such things. It did not matter; she knew it did not; and yet, she could not bring herself to cross that threshold and face their attempt to conceal the conversation. Jane stumbled back, her sight dimmed by tears, and retreated to the dining room.

Twelve

Beast and Beauty

Decrying herself as a weak and vain girl, Jane struggled to restrain her emotions. It did not signify that Mr. Buffington found her less than plain. He was not a man whose attentions she wanted, and so his opinion of her did not matter.

However little she thought of Mr. Buffington’s opinion, or of his unseemly attitude in mocking her, some part of her insisted that it was true, and that he must not be the only one who held that opinion. Was it not likely that Mr. Dunkirk also thought she would be lucky to be “only plain”? Had not Jane herself indulged in vanity by using glamour to shorten her nose? Miss FitzCameron did so regularly, and it had done her no harm in the eyes of her suitors, but Jane, plain Jane, in her honesty and integrity, was mocked for an accident of birth over which she had little control.