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Miss Corrigan eyed the food, licking her lips. ‘Well, now, sir. That’s powerful good of Lady Carey. Won’t you come in?’ She stood aside and ushered them into the small front parlour.
Mrs Corrigan was propped up in a saggy old armchair by the fire with a knitted blanket wrapped around her legs. It seemed as if she was asleep, but her eyes opened at the sound of their footsteps.
‘Who is it? I can’t see too well these days.’
Nancy went down on her knees by the chair. ‘Mrs Corrigan, it’s Nancy Sunday and Master Thomas from the castle. We’ve brought you some calf’s foot jelly, jam and cake, which Lady Carey thought you might enjoy.’
‘Cake?’ Mrs Corrigan’s faded blue eyes brightened. ‘I got hardly any teeth left so cake is what I likes best to eat.’
Tommy pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Lady Carey told us that you were housekeeper at Greystone Park for many years, ma’am. That must have been very interesting.’
‘I don’t know about that, young man. It were hard work. No rest for any of us when Sir Oliver was present.’
‘Of course not,’ Nancy said hurriedly. ‘Was Lady Greystone easier to deal with?’
‘Poor soul, she had hardly a word to say for herself. Not that I speak ill of my employers, but she had a sad end.’
Nancy laid her hand on Mrs Corrigan’s gnarled fingers as they plucked nervously at the blanket. ‘We heard about that, ma’am. It’s a pity she had no children to comfort her.’
Tommy winked and nodded. ‘Nicely said,’ he whispered.
‘She suffered through all the disgrace her husband brought upon them. It’s no wonder she miscarried so badly.’
‘She bore a child?’ Nancy held her breath.
‘She went eight months but the shock of Sir Oliver being called out by a jealous husband sent her into labour.’
‘What happened to the baby?’ Tommy leaned forward to slip his arm around Nancy’s shoulders.
‘Stillborn. So people said.’ Mrs Corrigan held out her hand. ‘You said there was cake?’
‘I’ll cut you a slice, Ma.’ Miss Corrigan placed the basket on the table. She put the cake on a chipped plate and cut a slice, which she handed to her mother. ‘It’s fruit cake, Ma. It’s your favourite.’
Mrs Corrigan broke the slice into pieces and stuffed them into her mouth, rendering herself speechless. Nancy and Tommy rose to their feet at the same moment.
‘Thank you, Mrs Corrigan,’ Nancy said gently. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’
‘I’ll show you out.’ Miss Corrigan went to open the front door. ‘Don’t pay no mind to everything Ma says. Sometimes her memory wanders and she gets things in a bit of a muddle. I did hear that Lady Greystone gave birth to a child, but it was said she took it to a watery grave. However, I am not one to gossip.’
Nancy hesitated on the threshold. ‘Is there anyone who would know for certain?’
‘Mrs Betts, the midwife, might remember. How long ago was it, miss?’
‘Almost nineteen years. If what your mother says is true, it was covered up very well.’
‘Likely it would have been, miss.’
‘Where can we find Mrs Betts?’ Tommy asked eagerly.
‘She lives two doors along, Master Thomas. I dare say she’ll be at home now, providing there’s no one gone into labour recently. I saw her go past an hour or so ago.’
‘Thank you.’ Nancy stepped out into the street. ‘I’ll make sure we bring a basket to you every week or so, Miss Corrigan. You’ve been most helpful.’
Tommy grabbed Nancy by the hand. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can get Mrs Betts to confirm or deny the story.’
‘Even if it’s true, it doesn’t mean I was that baby. It was Gervase who put the idea into my head. Although he is convinced that he is Sir Oliver’s son, so I don’t think he’s a reliable source.’
‘He says what he wants to believe, Nancy. Let’s speak to Mrs Betts, if she’s still at home.’
