‘Bertie Carey. That’s why I needed to tell you in private, ma’am. Trimble don’t know and I don’t want him to find out. I promised Sal on her deathbed that I’d do me best for Tommy, but I’d never ask Bertie’s family for help. I’ve failed so far because I couldn’t stop Trimble selling him to the sweep. I don’t want to make things worse.’ Emmie seized a dainty table napkin and went down on her knees to scrub at the spreading tea stain.

‘Get up, please, Mrs Trimble. You really don’t have to do this.’

‘I only married Trimble to put a roof over me head. I thought it would be best for Tommy, but I was wrong.’ Emmie resumed her seat.

‘You said your sister died – I’m so sorry to hear that.’

‘She caught a fever. Tommy was only two. Trimble thinks he’s my kid and I want it to stay that way. If he knew the truth he’d be demanding money from your family and he’d come back again and again. I got two little ones now and another on the way. If Ezra ends up in prison it will be the workhouse for me and the children.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Trimble, but are you sure it was my brother who fathered Tommy? I don’t think Bertie would have kept his relationship with your sister a secret.’

‘His grandfather knew about it. Bertie wanted to marry Sal, but Sir Lucius put a stop to it. He gave Sal money on condition that she moved to another town, which is how we ended up in Exeter. You’d never have known about Tommy if he hadn’t run away from the sweep.’

Rosalind rose to her feet and went to stand by the window. She wanted to believe Emmie, but it could all be a ruse instigated by Trimble to blackmail the family into buying his silence. She turned slowly to face Emmie, who was stuffing biscuits into her mouth, barely giving herself time to swallow.

‘Mrs Trimble, I want to believe you, but I would need proof. Is there a birth certificate for Tommy?’

Emmie shook her head. ‘No, ma’am. We was struggling to survive day by day. It didn’t seem important at the time.’

‘Was he baptised?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Sally was very particular about that. She didn’t want him to be taken by the devil, should he fall sick and die.’

‘Then there must be a record in the church register. Can you remember where the baptism took place?’

Emmie frowned. ‘I think it was St Pancras Church, if I remember rightly.’

‘What was your sister’s maiden name? I’ll need to know.’