Helga’s face is already pink from the heat, so there’s no telling just how deeply this suggestion moves her. Her eyes widen and then narrow. “What an impertinent thing to say,” she sputters.

Elfriede shrugs and turns away. “No more impertinent than what you’ve just said to me. It’s been over a year since my husband died, Helga. I’m simply raising my children as I see fit.”

“Children! You have one child, Elfriede, and your duty—your only duty—belongs to him.”

“But Gerhard has four children, and he’s left me responsible for them all. He wouldn’t want his daughters to be raised under the shadow of your disapproval. I’m only honoring his wishes.”

“His wishes! What do you know of his wishes?”

“My God. A great deal more than you do. I was, after all, his wife.”

“His wife. If you’d been a better wife, we wouldn’t find ourselves in this disgraceful situation.”

That’s the other thing about moral authority: there’s never any use in arguing with someone who wants it so badly. Elfriede stares at the flowers in the basket, at the long, thick, sharp gardening shears in her hand. She says softly, “What a pity you never found someone to marry, Helga.”

Upstairs, Wilfred’s emptying the drawers of his bureau.

“You’re not leaving!” Elfriede exclaims.

“Not at present, no. I’m merely giving way to Fraulein von Kleist. The little room at the end of the corridor is more than sufficient for my needs.”

“Oh, of course. That’s kind of you.”

He places a stack of shirt collars on the bed. “I can’t claim all the credit. The lady herself offered the hint a short while ago, when she returned from the garden.”

“Ha. That sounds like Helga.”

“She’s not lacking for nerve. She also asked me to confirm whether I was or was not engaging in carnal relations with my hostess.”

Elfriede’s palm falls away from the doorknob. “What did you tell her?”

“What did I tell her?” He turns to face Elfriede. “I denied it, of course. I lied to her face. What else is a gentleman supposed to do, to protect his lady’s honor?”

“Thank you.”

“Then you don’t mean to tell her the truth?”

“I—I don’t see any purpose in it. It will only give her one more reason to force us back to Germany. One more arrow in her quiver.”

“Back to Germany? Is that the idea, then?”

“Of course it is. Not yet, of course. But eventually I must. Because of Johann’s inheritance, you know.”

“Yes, of course.” Wilfred turns back to the bureau. “Then I suppose we’ll have to observe the proprieties, from now on.”

“What?”

“We can’t have the floorboards creaking at dawn. The bedsprings squeaking, God forbid. She’ll cotton on to us in no time.”