Laughing, he offered her his arm and led her across the deck to their cabin.
As they reached the back—aft—of the ship, Ibrahim smiled and nodded towards the horizon. Jane nodded back, to let him know that the remedy seemed to be helping. She hoped that going below deck would not cause her nausea to return, but Vincent was moving with more life to his step than she had seen since they received the news of his father’s death. A little seasickness was worth that.
The dining room was still thankfully unoccupied. The sun was overhead and a little behind the ship, casting brilliant rays across the table and into the front of the chamber. Vincent ducked into their cabin as Jane sat on one of the long benches affixed to the table. The lamps that hung over it swayed with the motion of the ship and did her nausea no good. She looked up at the sails visible through the skylight as she waited for Vincent.
He took only a few moments to reappear from their cabin. Under one arm, he carried the small chest that held two of the glass spheres they had made in Murano the previous summer. They had decided to pack the rest and ship them back to Long Parkmead, Jane’s family home in England, rather than bring them all to the West Indies.
Vincent set the chest on the table by Jane. “I am glad you thought to bring these, Muse. It would not have occurred to me until we were on the ship, and then I would have cursed their absence.”
“You were distracted, with good cause.”
He grimaced. “Yes, well.” Fishing the key out of his pocket, Vincent undid the lock on the little chest and opened it. Inside, wrapped in a length of black velvet, lay two of the smaller spheres they had made. So long as they were in shadow, the effect would not take hold.
Jane said, “If you stand back some feet from me, you will be out of the influence of the Verre. If it works, you will be able to ascertain that quickly.”
“Hm. And why do you get to be the one using the Verre?”
“Because I am already sitting.” Besides which, her stomach was still uneasy. “And I like to watch your face when the sphere works.”
“Oh?”
“You have the most charming smile.”
Chuckling, he ducked his head and gave a little bow. “As you wish.”
When he stood some feet back, Jane loosened the wrapping around the glass sphere. She threw the cloth back. Sunlight caught in the faint inclusions that twisted around the otherwise unblemished crystal. From within, she could tell no difference at all. A properly woven Sphère Obscurcie would bend the light around the glamourist at its centre, while leaving their view of the world clear. A Verre was their own invention for capturing glamour in glass, and it worked the same way. The thing in question was if removing the human element would allow glamour to work upon a moving ship. A quick look into the ether showed that the sunlight at least seemed to be acting upon the glass in the same manner as it had upon the land.
Jane lifted her gaze from the Verre to where Vincent stood with his hands upon his hips. He really did have the most charming smile. Throwing his head back, he laughed.
“May I take it that we have success?”
Vincent fairly skipped forward in response, slipping into the Verre’s influence. “Oh, Muse, it is as steady as if we were on land.”
“Therefore, the only thing that prevents glamour from working at sea is human error.” She studied the sphere, paying particular attention to where the glamour departed the glass. It did billow a little, although clearly not enough to spoil the image. She shifted her vision back from the ether to address Vincent. “Do you think—what?”
He took a step closer, careful, so that his shadow did not cross the Sphere. His smile was still present, but had become smaller and more intimate. “I think … I think that I am a very fortunate man.”
“And why is that?” Jane’s heart sped in a way that had nothing to do with glamour.
“Because no one can see us now.”
Her breath was taken quite away.
*
Jane and Vincent discovered that two determined individuals could fit in one of the narrow bunks. After their experiments with sleeping arrangements the night prior, Vincent had retired to the upper bunk for slumber.
On their third morning at sea, his long legs hung over the side before he hopped down. For a moment, his nightshirt caught on the raised edge of the bunk and offered an appealing view of the backs of his knees. Not even that was enough to quiet Jane’s heaving stomach.
Remembering the sailor’s suggestion that a view of the horizon would help, Jane rolled upright. She would dress quickly and go out on the deck for fresh air. Surely that would—
She did not manage to do more than stand before her plans were overturned. Jane barely made it to the washbasin in time.
“Muse!” Vincent had his hand upon her back to steady her.