I must change my plans. I must abandon all hope of staying here and unravelling the mystery surrounding my sister's death. And at the back of my mind was the thought that somewhere—probably near here—her child was living. I could never be at peace until I knew what had become of that little boy ... and yet, how could I stay here? My position with Freya had become untenable.

I was still sitting there in my lapis lazuli dress when there was a knock on my door and it was abruptly opened before I had time to give permission for whoever was there to enter.

As I expected, it was Freya. Her face was flushed, her eyes dancing and she looked very pretty in her Chabris dress.

"Anne," she cried. "You ran away. I looked for you. I sent Gunther to look for you and we couldn't find you anywhere."

I shivered inwardly, wondering what would have happened if she had come upon her betrothed in my bedroom.

"I should never have been at the ball," I said quietly.

"What happened?"

"Well... I came away."

"I mean something happened. You look ..." She was eyeing me suspiciously.

I said quickly—too quickly, "What do you mean? How do I look?"

"Strange ... exalted ... shining in a way. Did you meet Prince Charming?"

"Really Freya," I said rather primly.

"Well, we did say you were like Cinderella. She did meet Prince Charming, didn't she, and she ran away and dropped her slipper."

She looked down at my feet and in spite of everything I could not help smiling at her childishness.

"I can assure you I retained both my slippers. I did not have to leave on the stroke of twelve, and there was no Prince Charming for me. He ... was for you."

"What did you think of Sigmund? He spoke to you, didn't he?"

"Yes," I answered.

"I hope you liked him. Did you? Did you? Why don't you answer?"

"It is difficult for me to answer that."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, Anne, you are funny. You are going to say that you don't make decisions about people on a slight acquaintance. I am not asking for an assessment of your conclusions on his character."

"That is wise of you, for you won't get it."

"I just meant did he make a favourable impression?"

"Why yes, of course."

"And you think he'll be a good husband?"

"That is for you to discover in due course."

"Oh, cautious, cautious! He is handsome, is he not?"

"Yes, I think he would be called that."

"He has such an air. He is a man of the world. That is what you would call him, wouldn't you?"

"I have told you that I ..."

"I know you only spoke to him once in line. Gunther danced with you, didn't he? I saw him. I told him to, you know."

"I know you did. It was sweet of you, but you need not have done so. I didn't expect it. However, he did his duty nobly."

"He is rather nice, Gunther, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh, you can be definite enough about him. Of course, he's not really so devastatingly attractive as Sigmund is. I'm a bit in awe of Sigmund. He seems well ... too worldly. Is that the right word?"

"I think it may well be exactly the right word."

"I am sure he has had a host of mistresses. He's the sort of man who would. They all do ... particularly the Fuchses. They are very much like that, you know ... lusty and amorous."

"Freya," I said solemnly, "do you want to marry this man?"

She was thoughtful for a moment. Then she said, "I want to be the Grand Duchess."

I said then that it was time we went to bed and I was ready if she was not.

"Good night then, Anne ... dear Anne. When I'm married I shan't want you to go. You can stay and comfort me when Sigmund is unfaithful with all his mistresses."

"If you feel so sure of his future infidelities, you should not marry him."

She jumped up and gave a mock salute. "Bruxenstein," she cried. "For Kollenitz! Good night, Anne," she went on. "At least it is all rather exciting, isn't it?"

I admitted that, at least, it was.

I rose early next morning. I looked in on Freya, who was fast asleep. I was glad. It would give me a chance to get out. I drank a cup of coffee and managed to eat one of the bread rolls spattered with caraway seeds which I had enjoyed since I had arrived in Bruxenstein. I did not taste it on this morning. Then I went into the stables and saddled a horse.

In less than half an hour I was at the hunting lodge. He was already there, impatiently waiting. He had tethered his horse by the mounting block and helped me to dismount. He held out his arms as I did so and I slid into them. He held me tightly, kissing me.

I said, "It is no use."

"You're wrong," he contradicted. "Let's walk and talk. I have lots to say to you."

He put an arm about me and we walked into the forest, away from the lodge.

"I have been thinking about us all night," he said. "You're here and you are going to stay. I am in this position—thrust into it by an accident of birth—but I am not one to accept a fate which is thrust on me and give up what I could never live without. I have to go through with this marriage. I have to do my duty to my country and my family ... but at the same time I am determined to live my own life. It is not an unusual situation. It has happened to so many of us. It is the only way in which we can do what we have to. My family life ... the life I want and am determined to have ... and the path of duty. I can manage them both."

"As Rudolph did?"

"He and your sister could have been happy. Rudolph was careless. He always was. He was killed because someone ... some members of a party, were determined that he should not rule. It was purely a political murder. Unfortunately for your sister, she was with him."

"It could happen to you," I said, and I wondered whether he noticed the tremor of fear in my voice.

"How do any of us know what will happen to us from one moment to another? Death can come unexpectedly to the most lowly peasant. I know that Rudolph would not have been a popular successor to his father. He was too weak, too pleasure-loving. There were factions working against him."

"And you?"

"I was not concerned in it. The last thing I wanted was to be where I am today."

"You could refuse to accept your position, could you not?"

"There is no one to take my place. There would be chaos in the country; our enemies would step in. Our country needs a ruler. My uncle has been a strong one. I hope to God he will go on living, for while he does we have security. I have to preserve that security."

"And you can?"

"I know I can ... providing our allies support us."

"Such as Kollenitz?"

He nodded. He went on: "I was betrothed to the child, Freya, as soon as Rudolph died. This special betrothal commitment is tantamount to marriage in all but the consummation. On her sixteenth birthday there will be an official marriage ceremony. Then we must produce an heir. Therein lies my duty, my inescapable duty. But I have my own life to lead. This is my public life; but I shall have my private one."

"Which you plan to share with me?"

"Which I am going to share with you. I could not live without it. One cannot be a puppet all one's life, moving in the way which is ordained. No! I will not do that. I wish I could give it all up and go off quietly with you ... and live in peace somewhere. But what would happen if I did? Chaos. War. I don't know where it would end."

"You must do your duty," I said.

"And you and I—"

"I shall go back to England. I can see that it is impossible to live the life you suggest."

"Why?"

"Because it would not work. I should be an encumbrance."

"The most adored and loved encumbrance that ever was."

"An encumbrance nevertheless. I sometimes think that Rudolph's involvement with my sister may have been the cause of his death. It might be that I should be the cause of yours."

"I'd be prepared to risk that."

"And children?" I said. "What of children?"

"They should have everything a child could desire."

"My sister had a child. I wonder where that child is now? Imagine it. A little boy. I know it was a boy because she told me. What happened to him? Where did he go when they killed his father and his mother? You talk of our being together, having children. In secret, I suppose. And Freya, what about her part in this?"

"Freya would understand. She knows ours is an arranged marriage. I should make her understand."

"I know her very well. I doubt she would understand ...and that I should be the one ... that would be insupportable. I can see the impossibility of it all and that I must get away quickly."

"No," he cried. "No! Promise me this: You will not run away and hide yourself. You will tell me before you do anything."

He had stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. I wished that he would not look at me in that way, because it was harder when I faced him and I felt all my resolutions melting away.

"Of course I will tell you when I am going," I said.

He smiled confidently. "In time I will make you see. Tell me ... what did you feel when you saw me?"

"I thought I was dreaming."

"I too. I have dreamed of it often ... coming face to face with you ... finding you suddenly. I always knew I should find you. I intended to. And to think that I might still be in England ... searching ..."

"What did you do? Whom did you ask?"

"I went to the stonemason's place. I knew that you were friendly. He was no longer there. The vicar was away. There was someone doing his duties in his absence. He told me that your aunt and her husband had moved away, but he did not know where. There was no-one at Greystone Manor except servants."

"Surely my cousin was there."

"They said he was away on his honeymoon."

"Honeymoon! Oh no. That could not be."

"That's what I was told. It was like a conspiracy against me. I did hear of your grandfather's death."

"What did you hear about that?"

"That he had died in a fire."

"Did you hear anything about ... my connection with that?"

He frowned. "There was some innuendo. I didn't understand what it meant. It was oblique comments. I stayed at the inn. They didn't seem to want to talk very much."

I said, "On the night my grandfather died I quarrelled with him. People in the house heard it because he was shouting at me. He was insisting that I marry my Cousin Arthur and he threatened to turn me out if I didn't."

"How I wish I had been there!"

"That night he died. His room and the one next to it were burned out. The fire was confined to those two rooms. My grandfather was dead when they brought him out ... but it was not asphyxiation. He had had a blow on the head. They thought he might have fallen ... but on the other hand he might not."

"You mean they thought it was foul play."

"They were unsure. The verdict at the inquest was 'Accidental Death.' But several people had heard the quarrel between us."

"Good God! My poor Pippa. If I had been there ..."

"If only you had! I had my Aunt Grace. She was good to me and Cousin Arthur was kind ... and my grandmother left me money which enabled me to get away ... to come here."

He held me tightly against him. "My dearest Pippa," he said. "I shall look after you from now on."

For a moment I lay against him, letting him believe it could be possible—and perhaps deluding myself.

He said: "That's all over now. It must have been a nightmare. I should have been there. I hesitated on that platform. I was coming back to get you and then I thought How can I if she does not want to come?"

"I did want to come. I did. I did."

"Dear, dear Pippa, if only you had!"

"Where to? To this hideaway you are planning? A hunting lodge in the forest. It is like a pattern repeating itself. Francine and myself. We were always close ... like one person. Sometimes I think I am reliving her life. We were always together until she loved so unwisely ... and now it seems I have done the same."

He was looking at me earnestly. "It is going to be the wisest thing you ever did—to love me."

I shook my head. "I wish you were an ordinary person— an equerry perhaps, as I first thought you to be. I wish you were anything but what you are ... with those commitments ... and particularly Freya."