“But—but surely we can find some way to—”

“To what?”

“Before you leave,” she says. “Before you return to England.”

The top drawer’s empty, the contents stacked on the bed. Shirt collars and linens. Wilfred opens the second drawer. The wood’s swollen with heat, and he has to jiggle the box carefully to extract it from the frame. He gives this task his full attention.

“Besides,” Elfriede continues desperately, “she’ll be gone before long. Once she sees it’s no use.”

“What’s no use?”

“Forcing me back to Germany before I’m ready.”

“My dear love,” he says, “I don’t mean to contradict you, but your sister-in-law strikes me as the sort of woman who doesn’t give up until she’s got what she wants. Unless you forcibly evict her, she’s won’t depart the premises without you and the little baron on each arm.”

“I can’t evict her. She’s Gerhard’s sister.”

“Yes. Quite.” Wilfred drops a pile of starched shirts on the bed. “Well, there’s one silver lining in all this.”

“What’s that?”

“At least she didn’t arrive a month earlier. She’d have spoiled our little interlude altogether.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say it like that. Don’t call it an interlude.”

“But what else is it, dearest? What future do you see for us?”

“I don’t know!”

“Bring me home to Germany with you, perhaps?”

Down the corridor, Charlotte’s getting the children dressed. Elfriede can hear their piping voices, their little shrieks as bathing costumes are dragged over small heads and shoes emptied of sand. Johann’s old enough to dress himself, which he does in a methodical fashion in his own room. If Elfriede closes her eyes, she can picture his solemn look of concentration over buttons and laces. But she can’t close her eyes. They’re fixed painfully on Wilfred’s face. His grave blue gaze.

“Stop,” she whispers.

Wilfred steps toward her and puts his hand gently on the back of her head, near her neck, that little hollow he likes to kiss. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, my love,” he says. “The choice is yours.”

“What choice? There’s no choice. I’ve never had any choice.”

“Only if you think you don’t, Elfriede. That’s all.” His hand falls away. He turns back to the bed and starts to gather up his shirts and collars and things. “Lend a hand, perhaps?”