Page 101 of Sunday's Child

‘There’s no disputing Gervase’s parentage. I’m not sure what to do next,’ Nancy said as they walked back to where their horses were tethered. ‘Gervase suggested that the baby he saw Sir Oliver hand over to his father was me, but why would a man give away his own child?’

‘He was obviously planning to leave for Spain. Perhaps he wanted his sister to look after the baby until he returned.’

‘Why take it from its mother? The Greystones had money and position with servants to care for the baby if Lady Greystone was unwell.’

‘What do we know about Lady Greystone, apart from the fact that she drowned herself in the lake, if what Foster said was true?’

Nancy frowned. ‘Maybe she killed herself because her husband had taken her baby from her?’

‘Then we need to look elsewhere. The birth wasn’t registered, as the baby disappeared, but maybe Gervase was telling the truth. Perhaps North did not want to be saddled with another man’s child? Maybe it was he who took the infant and abandoned it on the orphanage steps?’

‘Gervase said he remembered his mother lying on her bed, sobbing. Perhaps she wanted to look after the child. But if the baby was newborn there would be no record of it in the parish registers.’

Tommy lifted Nancy onto the saddle as if she weighed less than nothing. ‘We need to find a servant who was employed at Greystone Park while Sir Oliver and his wife lived there.’

She looked down at him, a smile curving her lips. ‘When did you get to be so grown-up, Tommy? I am very impressed.’

He vaulted onto his mount. ‘You’ve just been so busy yourself that you didn’t notice. I’m only a few months younger than you.’

‘Not that it makes any difference now, although it did when you first came to Rockwood Castle. I remember how small and frightened you were and you had soot ingrained in your hands and feet. It took months for Rosie to clean you up.’

‘And you were a bossy little madam,’ Tommy said, smiling. ‘We’ve both changed a lot, Nancy.’

‘We virtually grew up together, Tommy. We’ll always be the best of friends.’

They rode on, exchanging childhood reminiscences and laughing at their shared memories. Nancy knew she could be herself with Tommy. There was no shadow of her past to come between them, and even when the skies darkened and they were caught in a sudden shower of rain, nothing seemed to dim their enjoyment. They were both soaked to the skin by the time they reached home and they headed for their own rooms to change. Nancy happened to meet Hester on the stairs and she had a sudden thought.

‘You’re wet through,’ Hester said suspiciously. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Tommy and I got caught in a shower.’

Hester grunted and was about to walk on when Nancy caught her by the sleeve. ‘I believe you knew Greystone Park in the days when Sir Oliver and Lady Helena lived there.’

‘Yes, I suppose so. Not that I ever went there in person, but I did meet their housekeeper sometimes in the village shop.’

‘Does she still live in the village?’

‘What is it to you?’

‘I’m just curious. Something Gervase said made me wonder, that’s all.’

‘I wouldn’t believe anything that man told you. He makes things up to suit himself.’

‘Maybe, but I would like to speak to the housekeeper.’

‘Biddy Corrigan lives with her daughter in the cottage next to the village shop. She’s house-bound, so I believe. Why do you want to speak to her?’

‘If I solve the mystery, you will be the first to know.’ Nancy ran upstairs to her room where she changed into dry clothes. She could not wait to see Tommy and tell him about the Greystones’ aged housekeeper, but she had to wait until after the family luncheon in the dining room. Despite the fact that Alex and Rosalind were still away, Hester insisted that mealtimes must be punctual and everyone was expected to attend. It kept the servants on their toes and those present had a chance to discuss matters relating to the estate or the household.

Tommy was as eager as Nancy to interview Mrs Corrigan, but they had to wait until Hester left the dining room before they made their escape. They slipped out of the house unnoticed.

Mrs Corrigan’s daughter opened the door and her eyes widened with surprise. ‘Miss Nancy, Master Thomas. What can I do for you?’

‘Would it be possible to have a few words with your mother, Miss Corrigan? We won’t keep her long.’

‘Ma ain’t too well, miss. She’s got the rheumatics very bad, poor soul.’

Tommy produced a wicker basket laden with items they had purloined from the castle larder. ‘Lady Carey sent these for your mother, Miss Corrigan,’ he lied glibly. ‘I would like to pass her best wishes on in person, if you have no objection.’