“Do you live here alone, Mrs. Cornwall?” Maddy asked.
“This is m’ granddaughter’s house. She cares for me, and I care for the little ’uns. Two. You passed them in the front garden.”
Maddy leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Are they the two little ones I see studying us from the door?”
The old woman chuckled. “Come make your bows to the duchess, wee ’uns. Have a biscuit and get you gone to play.” They did as she bade them, their eyes taking in every detail of Maddy and Brynn.They will tell tales of this event for weeks, Maddy suspected.
Brynn said nothing. He sat stoically as if bracing for another blow.
After the tea was poured and the mouthwatering biscuits applauded, Maddy launched an assault. “Did you know Mary Carew well, Mrs. Cornwall?” She reached over and took Brynn’s hand once more as if to anchor him in place while her hostess described each of the Carew children and Mary’s well-loved place in the village.
“Pity about Jem and their boys. Youngest in the mine that day was five.”
Maddy heard a growl deep in Brynn’s chest. She feared he would bolt before he heard it all.
“I don’t see any so young at Morgan One today,” Maddy said.
“No, Your Grace. Mr. Rhys, he won’t let any younger ’n ten. Some folks left after that. Need all the wages they can get, don’t they? But he’s a good man, Mr. Rhys.”
“Was Mary left without children?”
“Goodness, no. The two died with their da, but the oldest boy, two girls, and youngest boy remained.” It quickly became clear there was nothing wrong with this woman’s memory. She did like an audience, however. Rebecca Cornwall kept talking. “Ewan, the oldest, went on to school in Cardiff. Last I heard he was in some solicitor’s office.”
Brynn jerked upright. “School? That’s expensive.” Maddy recalled his words.“Every penny I acquire belongs to Mary Carew.”
The old woman nodded. “Did well fer herself, Mary.”
“Does she live with her son?” Maddy asked, acutely aware of the rising tension in the man next to her.
“Goodness, no. She lived in that cottage over by Merthyr Tydfil, the one old Mr. Morgan bought her after Jem died, until she remarried. Her daughter lives there now,” Becca explained.
Brynn glared. “My father wouldn’t do that. After the explosion, he said, ‘Accidents are part of mining. The miners have to accept the risk.’ He didn’t care.”
The old woman laughed again. “Liked to talk tough, old Mr. Morgan. Dint want anyone raising expectations. Underneath? Soft as they come. Helped Mary move on. Said bad memories drove people away.”
Bad memories had driven his son away. Maddy knew that for certain. Brynn sank back into his chair, absorbing this information.
“Haven’t been as many accidents in recent years,” Becca continued, “but Mr. Rhys makes sure injured men find work. He sent two other fatherless boys to school like he done Ewan Carew.”
“My brother sent Ewan Carew to school?” Brynn’s astonishment might have amused Maddy if she hadn’t known how deep the hurt went. His baffled expression worried her.
They left soon after, walking in companionable silence. Still lost in thought, he appeared less burdened. Maddy hoped that wasn’t her imagination.
Between the village and the colliery, he finally spoke. “We need to stay a few more days, Maddy. I have something I need to do.”
“Speak with Rhys?”
“That, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You’re a damnedfool!” Rhys’s shouted words took root in Brynn’s heart, truth from which he couldn’t hide. His father’s and Rhys’s letters, fast and frequent at first but gradually fewer and fewer, would have relieved some of the burdens he’d carried if he hadn’t been too pigheaded to open them.
The confrontation with Rhys at Morgan One had quickly become loud. Thanks to a merciful God, Rhys locked them in the office, away from curious onlookers, before he fired yet more revelations at his brother.
“Repeat that. Ewan Carew is what?” Brynn demanded.
“He’s no damned clerk. The strutting peacock is a junior partner to a solicitor.”
