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"I was a man of twenty-four. I might have insisted. I might have gone to her door."

"You might have," Elizabeth said gently. "And you might have been told a different lie. Please do not turn every possibility into a punishment."

He looked at her, and for a moment she saw only the young man who had lost his brother and believed his sister dead. The years of responsibility at Falkenried had not protected him from that grief. They had merely taught him how to carry it without letting others see.

Saye explained the limits of what Frau Lenz could prove. Richard, who had scarcely spoken, asked whether Minna had named Adelheid in her first account to the older woman.

"She did," the Earl said. "The statement records the name clearly."

Albrecht stood. "Then I must speak to my wife."

The Earl rose with him. "You must not do so in anger, and not before you have considered what the magistrate's inquiry may require."

"Do you suppose I intend to strike her?" Albrecht asked. His voice was quiet enough to make Richard look up sharply.

"No," the Earl answered. "I suppose you intend to ask the woman you love whether she murdered your brother. A man may be wounded more dangerously by the answer than by the question. I would not have you face it without thought."

Albrecht lowered himself again into the chair. "I scarcely know how to ask it."

Elizabeth knelt beside him before Lady Matlock could object to her shoulder. She did not embrace him awkwardly or demand that he compose himself. She simply took his hand and waited.

"I remember my father," she said, "telling me that a ship at sea may be obliged to alter its course, but the captain must still decide where to steer. He cannot command the wind. Only the vessel."

Albrecht looked at her with a faint, pained smile. "Henry sounds like a wise man."

"He sometimes made dreadful jokes," she replied. "I thought it only fair to tell you that as well."

"Minna must have loved him very much."

"She did. I think she knew that if he had learned the truth, he would have tried to help her face it. But she had forgotten how to tell him what she feared."

Later, Darcy and Saye went with the solicitor to the magistrate. The English authorities were already examining the merchant account and Adelheid's communications with Vogel. A letter dated after Elizabeth's accident had been found among Vogel's private papers, instructing him to leave London and warning him not to turn upon its sender. The handwriting and means of delivery required verification; a hired messenger was being sought. Its language might implicate Adelheid in the present attack, but it was not a signed confession to twenty-three-year-old murder.

The magistrate took an interest in the implications and made arrangements to obtain formal testimony from the witnesses he could lawfully summon. He did not promise immediate arrest of a visiting foreign princess upon accusations concerning events beyond his jurisdiction. He did, however, consider the attempt on Elizabeth grave enough to proceed with care and urgency.

Darcy left the office with a heavy heart. He had wished to spare Elizabeth further pain, but he now understood that concealment in the name of affection was part of what had destroyed Minna's life. Whatever Adelheid had done, the truth must be allowed to reach the people whom it concerned.

Saye found Richard alone in the library after the letters had been prepared. His brother was staring at the hearth with the unusual expression of a man who had forgotten to look for anything amusing.

"You have not insulted me for half an hour," Saye observed. "Are you ill?"

Richard did not smile. "I keep thinking of Minna. I should have liked her. And I find myself wondering whether Albrecht was as much of a fool as I have been, and whether Friedrich spent his days preventing the consequences."

"You have not been a fool in this matter."

"I spent years assuming that all I need do was put myself between Elizabeth and whatever distressed her. One cannot put oneself between a sister and something that happened before she was born."

Saye drew a chair near the fire. "One cannot do most of the things one promises in youth. I have promised to ensure you did not break your neck, bankrupt yourself, or disgrace the regiment. I have managed none of those accomplishments by authority alone."

"I have not disgraced the regiment."

"I stand corrected."

Richard looked at him. "You have always been there when something mattered. I should like to do as well by her."

"You have. You noticed when she was lonely, and you gave her permission to laugh. I could offer security. Father could offer a home. But Elizabeth needed a brother who could persuade her that life was not merely a series of debts and disappointments."

For a moment Richard seemed very young. Then he leaned back. "And she needed a second brother to convince her that your rules were made to be questioned."