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The countess smiled and turned to the evening's arrangements. A widowed German noblewoman, Countess von Altenfeld, had accepted an invitation to dine. She had spent many years among families connected to the courts of northern Germany and had lately settled in England with relations. Lady Matlock believed Elizabeth would enjoy speaking with her, particularly as the older woman loved music and possessed a formidable knowledge of German literature.

Elizabeth welcomed the prospect. She chose a gown of deep blue silk, simple enough to please her own taste while sufficiently elegant for her aunt's table. As Anne fastened the final hooks, Elizabeth opened the small jewel case upon her dressing table and took out her mother's locket.

Its gold had darkened slightly in the engraving. She polished it carefully and touched the little red stone above the hinge, remembering how Minna used to lift the locket when she sang. Beneath the portrait of the dark-haired woman, the thin backing was still a little uneven where some long-ago repair had been made.

"You wear that often, miss," Anne said.

"It was my mother's. She gave it to me before she died."

"Then I am sure she would be glad to see you wearing it."

Elizabeth smiled. "I hope so."

In the drawing room the guests gathered beneath the warm light of candles. Saye had returned from his estate for the week and was quietly discussing improvements to an embankment with Darcy. Richard stood near the fire telling Georgiana a highly embellished account of an encounter with an obstinate horse. Lady Matlock received the arrivals, and the Earl came forward to greet an elderly couple whom he had known for decades.

Countess von Altenfeld entered upon the arm of a nephew. She was a handsome woman past sixty, with silver hair arranged beneath a lace cap and eyes of a remarkably clear blue. Her manner suggested both kindness and the habit of being heard. After exchanging greetings with Lady Matlock, she turned her attention to Elizabeth.

"So this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," she said in English. "I have been told you speak German with greater ease than many people who have lived in Germany all their lives."

"I fear my aunt's affection has carried her beyond the truth," Elizabeth replied in German. "But I should be delighted to converse in my mother's language."

The countess answered readily in German. They began with a discussion of books, then moved to the pleasures and dangers of translation. Elizabeth confessed that she had once attempted to translate an English nursery rhyme into German and produced something that made Frau Adler laugh for an entire afternoon.

"Then you have discovered the difficulty of moving humour across a border," the countess said. "It never travels with all its luggage."

"And sometimes it leaves its good manners behind," Elizabeth answered.

The countess smiled. "You have a pleasant turn of phrase. Did your mother teach you as a child?"

"Yes. She insisted that if I could argue in English, I might as well learn to argue correctly in German."

"A sensible woman."

Their conversation was interrupted by a request that the countess join Lady Matlock near the pianoforte. Elizabeth stepped aside to allow her passage. As the older lady turned, her eyes fell upon the gold locket resting against Elizabeth's gown.

She stopped.

For an instant Elizabeth thought she had caught the chain upon the countess's sleeve. She looked down, then up again. The older woman's face had lost its colour.

"Forgive me," the countess said quietly in German. "May I ask where you obtained that piece?"

Elizabeth touched the locket. "It belonged to my mother."

The countess did not answer. She leaned slightly nearer, studying the ornamentation with an attention that seemed to exclude the entire room. The little red stone gleamed beneath the candlelight; the worn engraving beside it traced a bird with outspread wings.

"Would you permit me to see it more closely?" the countess asked.

Elizabeth hesitated only because the lady appeared so distressed. Then she unfastened the chain and laid the locket in the older woman's gloved palm.

The countess turned it over. Her fingers trembled. "The stone is set above the hinge," she murmured. "And the bird is worked into the gold itself. I had thought—no. It cannot be."

"Do you recognize it?" Elizabeth asked.

The countess looked at her with such intensity that Elizabeth took an involuntary step backward. Darcy, who had been speaking to Saye nearby, noticed the movement and approached.

"Is something amiss?" he asked.

"I am not certain," Elizabeth answered. "Her ladyship believes she may have seen my mother's locket before."