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believing. The Society is looking into the possibility that electricity is involved in some manner,” she added vaguely. “Sometimes we must just accept what we cannot understand. A ‘willing suspension of disbelief,’ as our romantic poets describe it.”
    “That is fine—for fiction, ma’am. I prefer good solid facts. I will suspend my disbelief when Mr. Wainwright shows me hard evidence of a ghost. Meanwhile, I shall look into the more likely explanation that someone is frightening Mama.”
    “That is your privilege,” she agreed blandly. “Have you any idea why anyone would do such a thing? Does she have enemies?”
    “None in the world, so far as I know. She lives a retired life here in the country. The mischief must be executed by someone within the house. Yet the servants like her ...”
    “Her reaction to Papa’s mention of a young woman suggests to me that the root of her problem lies deep in the past. You should ask her about that.”
    “If she has held her secret for thirty-odd years, it is not likely she will tell me about it now, is it?”
    “No, for it must be something she is ashamed of.” Merton gave her a gimlet glance at this suggestion. “No one has led a totally blameless life,” she added. “Whether she is haunted by a ghost or only a feeling of guilt for some past transgression, her cure lies in righting that past wrong. Perhaps she will tell me. I am an outsider; I mean nothing to her. People will sometimes tell their secrets to a stranger when they will not tell their nearest and dearest.”
    “I wish you would try to ingratiate yourself,” he said eagerly. “If she could be weaned from Miss Monteith, that alone would be a step in the right direction.” His frown lightened and a small incipient smile moved his lips. “She might very well talk to you, Miss Wainwright. I had no intention of opening my budget to you, and here I am, burdening you with our family problems—to say nothing of arguing with a guest. It was farouche of me.”
    “Oh, I always enjoy a good argument with a non-believer. I would be happy to help,” she replied. “I sometimes feel de trop on these visits of Papa’s. He has his ghost hunting; I am left at loose ends, with only a little note-taking to occupy my time.”
    Merton studied her closely and liked what he saw. He was not a man to amuse himself with idle flirtations. He was known to have had a few mistresses in his time, and he kept an eye cocked for a suitable wife, but a conversable lady who was a friend was something new to him. He felt Miss Wainwright would be a comfortable friend. She did not flirt or behave in any manner that suggested a personal interest in him or his title or estate. She was quick to contradict him and argue; he liked that independence of spirit.
    “As time hangs heavy on your hands, perhaps you would help me look into the non-ghostly possibilities?” he said.
    Charity recognized it as a bid for friendship and was happy to agree.
    “We shall begin investigating the attic above Mama’s room tomorrow morning. And have a look at the clothespress as well. But I must not abuse you with an excess of labor, as you are a guest, ma’am. We have an excellent stable at Reefer Hall.”
    “I did not bring my riding habit.” Was it possible Papa had made a mistake?
    “I recall now that Lewis already mentioned it.” He gave her a laughing look. “Pity. I shan’t suggest you wear Mama’s, but could you not send home for your own?”
    Charity thought about it for a moment, then said, “I could, if you think we will not have worn out our welcome within two days. It would take a day to get the message to London and another day for the habit to arrive. I had the distinct impression you wished us at Jericho, milord.”
    “Then I have been a very poor host. I pray you will forgive me. Like yourself, I have a sad tendency to say what I mean—which no doubt accounts for my lackluster performance in the Upper House. I will not say