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a pity I had never come here with my husband. Norman should not have deprived me of that pleasure. I could not imagine why he had, nor why he disliked his home so very much. But I was here now. I would learn these little secrets, become intimate with that part of Norman’s life that was unknown to me. In that way he would seem nearer to me. I would not have to give him up just yet.
     

Chapter 3
     
    I had a few private words with Mrs. Winton in her chamber before she left the next morning. I thanked her very civilly, and heard her satisfaction with my new home. When she twice repeated how close her sister’s home was to Wyngate, and asked me to call, I took the hint and asked her to come over whenever she felt the inclination for a short trip.
    “I’ll be sure to drop in on you. By the by, did you realize Lady Blythe is slightly dotty?”
    “You must be mistaken. She is charming. I liked her very much.”
    “Yes, my dear, so did I. She is very well bred. But her condition has affected her brain, which is only to be expected.”
    “Why do you say so?”
    “The silly creature has taken the notion that you are niece to Lady Monrest, and says Norman told them so. I told her it was nonsense, of course, but I don’t think she grasped what I was saying. She has decided you are a fine lady, who does Wyngate a great honor to come to them. She certainly mistakes you for an heiress. She has elevated your papa to a colonel, and even bestowed a Victoria Cross on him. She is not completely mad. She wondered why she had not seen his name more often in the papers, and came to the conclusion it was due to his having been in India. It was the Crimean War heroes who got all the publicity. Poor thing! But she is good company for all that. Quite lucid spells she has, though she was in tears when I dropped in, and said it was because of some girl in a book. Very emotional. You must handle her carefully.”
    After Mrs. Winton left, I puzzled over what she had told me. It was not only Lady Blythe who thought my father was a colonel and a great hero. Jarvis too appeared to think I had more than a passing connection with Monrest Castle. Was it possible Norman had written a bunch of lies to his family? A worse thought soon followed. Was that why they were so kind, because they mistook me for a grand lady, and probably an heiress into the bargain? It was particularly strange that, if Norman exaggerated my worth, he had belittled his own. I had taken him for a fairly well-to-do gentleman, but certainly not the owner of such an estate as Blythe Wyngate.
    A man prone to exaggeration does not normally limit his vice to only one area. In particular it was strange that a scholar, a bookish man like Norman should care what people thought of his wife’s background. His main concern was archaeology.
    I determined to learn the truth of this mystery. Unlike Mrs. Winton, I did not consider Lady Blythe a lunatic. She was a likely starting point for my questions, and I had carte blanche to go to her whenever I wished, so I went.
    She looked a trifle peaky in the morning, before making use of her rouge pot, but the eyes were still flashing, the hair neatly combed, the same mohair shawl over her shoulders. Her welcome too was still in place.
    “Come in, come in, I need all the cheering I can get today. Dickens killed Nell, the bounder. I was so distraught I had wet eyes when your companion came to see me. She thought me a peagoose for being so sentimental, and did not hesitate to tell me so. She threatens to come and visit me. I shall be sure to be too ill to see her.”
    “Lucky you. What can I use for an excuse?”
    “Let us hope that sister of hers lives in a neighborhood of great vice, so that she will be fully occupied learning the dissipations of all her friends. Did you sleep well?”
    “Well enough. Thal, may I ask you a personal question?”
    “Of course you may, my dear. This sounds monstrously interesting. No one ever asks me personal