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"Your expression suggested three."

The Earl smiled despite himself. "Mr. Hale has arranged for an experienced jeweller to attend us tomorrow. Until then, we shall not risk a treasure your mother kept through so much hardship."

Elizabeth took the locket back. A trace of childish anger stirred in her. She had carried it when she possessed no other thing that had belonged to Minna. Now a succession of learned men intended to inspect it as though it were a deed to be measured and priced.

Darcy noticed the tightening of her fingers. When the others turned to the papers, he drew her aside, though they remained within sight of Lady Matlock.

"You need not surrender it to anyone," he said.

"I wish them to examine it. Only I had not expected to mind."

"It has been yours longer than you have known any of us. That makes it more than an ornament."

"My mother wore it while she held me. When I was little I believed that if I clasped it hard enough I should remember the sound of her voice."

Darcy was silent for a moment. "Would you like me to speak to your uncle? We can delay the examination."

"No. But thank you for knowing why I might."

He offered his hand, and she let her fingers rest in it. Love, she thought, was sometimes no more mysterious than being understood without an explanation.

That afternoon, while the jeweller’s examination was still being arranged, Elizabeth accompanied Saye to call upon Mr. Hale. The older gentleman had requested that she inspect an inventory of Henry Bennet's property before he placed another copy among the Earl's records. She had anticipated a tiresome list and discovered instead a surprising account of her father's life: books brought home from various ports, a small sum set aside for his daughter, and a clock sent to Thomas Bennet after Henry's marriage.

"I remember the clock," Elizabeth said. "It stood upon Uncle Bennet's mantelpiece. Lydia was convinced that if she wound it often enough, it would make Christmas come sooner."

Saye smiled. "Did anyone ever explain the error?"

"I doubt it. My uncle was too delighted by the opportunity to see what she would try next."

Mr. Hale cleared his throat. "Miss Bennet, there is a more delicate question. If your mother was the Princess Wilhelmine, her father's family may have endowed her with property on certain conditions. The existence of such a settlement would not necessarily alter the validity of your father's marriage, or confer any dynastic position upon you. But it could produce claims that foreign lawyers would have to consider."

"And if there is no property?" Elizabeth asked.

"Then the correspondence may prove your family history and nothing further."

"That will be enough," she answered. "I confess that the thought of being examined like a valuable object does not appeal to me."

Saye looked toward Hale. "I want this understood by everyone who handles the inquiry. We seek the truth of Elizabeth's mother's identity. We are not inviting speculation about Elizabeth's value in the marriage market. That question is already settled."

"Of course, my lord," Hale replied.

On the way home Saye asked whether she resented the suggestion of a fortune. Elizabeth admitted that she resented strangers deciding the fortune ought to matter more than the person.

"I suppose that is ungrateful," she said. "Money might have saved Aunt Bennet many anxious hours."

"It might," Saye replied. "But money is an answer to a particular difficulty, not a measure of a human being. Father did not ask whether you had any when he offered you a home."

"No. Nor did you."

"I was more concerned whether you intended to make war upon my brother at every meal."

"He declared it first."

"That is why I have always suspected you would win."

Elizabeth laughed. As their carriage approached Matlock House, she thought how different this journey was from the one she had made at sixteen. Then every mile away from Longbourn had seemed uncertain. Now the windows ahead promised a home in which difficult questions could be asked without endangering love.

The next day, the jeweller brought a small lens, delicate instruments, and the diffident manners of a man summoned to investigate an object of far greater personal value than its materials. Under Elizabeth's watchful gaze he eased the miniature from its mounting. Inside the rim was an engraved dedication in German, obscured by generations of polish and wear.