"Since that night I have come to understand that sometimes the best families of all are those we create ourselves, the people we choose to be with." Silas House, Eli the Good

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Prologue

March 1796

Mrs Louisa Banes frowned fearfully out of the upstairs window in her husband's study. Down below in the courtyard of their modest, but charming country Devonshire cottage, was a small girl of about nine.

"Her name?" Mrs Banes asked, not turning to look at the solicitor who had brought the girl to her house.

"Katy Jane Fairchild," replied Mr Spencer, his voice quiet and reserved, as though he knew the position that he was putting Mr and Mrs Banes in.

"Katy," repeated Mrs Banes. It was common. Perhaps her name was Catherine. Catherine would be a more suitable name for a young lady.

Mrs Banes' eyes had not deviated from the girl, who, curiously, had not moved from her position in the twenty minutes that she had been standing there. She wore a sturdy, plain brown cloak, which concealed a no doubt sturdy, plain travelling dress. Her boots were tired, and her stockings in dire need of darning. She could see the holes in them from where she stood at the window. Her bonnet looked newer, though, with a pretty blue embroidery, and her raven black hair was left to hang loose down her back. Mrs Banes had never before seen such charcoal coloured hair. She was yet to see her face, but she was quite certain in her assumption that the girl would not be remarkable.

As to her possessions, she carried only a tired looking carpet bag in her right hand.

"Tell me, how is she a relation again?" Mrs Banes asked, this time turning to Mr Spencer. At this moment, Mr Spencer was not the husband of her friend, Mrs Spencer, but the man who was asking something very big indeed of the Baneses.

Mr Spencer was a tall, lean man, with greying black hair, and cautious blue eyes. He was dressed finely, though, and was adorned with quite a few expensive trinkets to alert any onlookers to his success.

"Miss Katy's mother is a cousin of your second cousin's husband," replied Mr Spencer carefully, as though he had been studying their family tree.

"So, in reality, she is nothing to us," she said bluntly.

"You are her nearest relation in the world, Mrs Banes," urged Mr Spencer, detailing their duty. "There is no one else. After the fever took her parents, Miss Katy is now all alone."

"Louisa," implored Mr George Banes, who had been entirely silent during this meeting until now.

Mrs Banes knew that tone. Her husband was convinced. Her husband, and his all too big heart, was ready to take in that little girl no matter the consequences. Mrs Banes knew that without her, there would be no economy in this house.

She didn't like to be the bearer of bad news. She didn't like to be the one to turn away an orphan, who really did have no one else in the world.

"I am sorry, Mr Spencer," Mrs Banes said firmly, "but we cannot afford to take the girl."

"Louisa, surely," implored Mr Banes.

Mrs Banes shot her husband a warning look. She had always been good at numbers in the school room, and she was already adding the sums. The expense of dressing her, feeding her, educating her, finishing her, and God help her if she needed a dowry in order to be married.

A child needed all those things, and a family who could provide them. Mr Banes' modest income would certainly not allow for Katy to be brought up as a daughter in this house.

"Mr Fairchild was not rich by any means, but Miss Katy is entitled to one hundred pounds per annum," continued Mr Spencer in his quest to convince the Baneses.

The poor girl would be no prospect for a gentleman with only a hundred pounds a year. Mrs Banes' eyes found her again in the courtyard, still frozen in place.

Mrs Banes did have a heart, albeit a practical one, but it did break for poor Katy Jane Fairchild. She was joined at the window by Mr Banes, who put a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. They both watched the girl down below.

"How old is she?" asked Mrs Banes.

"Just nine, Mrs Banes," he replied.

Her guess had been right.

"The same age as Eliza," murmured Mr Banes.

As if on cue, their own daughter, nine-year-old Eliza Banes stepped out into the courtyard. Mrs Banes' heart softened as she watched her sweet Eliza interact with Katy Fairchild. Eliza looked to be Katy's complete opposite, with golden hair and flushed skin. As Katy turned around, she revealed herself to be pale, but quite pretty, and not as plain as Mrs Banes had predicted.

Eliza was rarely without her infectious smile, and whatever she was giggling about, she soon had her solemn companion laughing as well. Eliza quickly took the carpet bag from Katy and placed it on the ground, before motioning for Katy to follow her.

The two girls ran off into the garden, their laughter carrying up against the stone walls of the house, and through the glass of the study window.

"It is nice to see Eliza with a playmate her own age," Mr Banes said softly.

Mrs Banes silently agreed. Poor Eliza did not have many friends in the village. Of course, there were girls, but most were either too young for Eliza, or too old for her, and were not interested in playing. Eliza often resorted to running around with the village boys after Sunday School much to Mrs Banes' chagrin.

"She is getting too old to have boys as playing companions."

Companion. There was that word again, Mrs Banes thought.

"Where will you take her if we cannot provide a home for her?" Mrs Banes asked Mr Spencer, already quite decided on what she was going to do.

"Well, I am afraid, as there are no other family ties, that I will need to take Miss Katy to an orphanage. If they will not take her, then she is old enough to start earning a wage in the workhouse."

Mrs Banes thought it a cruel trick to hold such things as workhouses over her. Of course, she could not leave a little girl to that sort of fate.

"Mr Banes and I cannot afford to take her as a daughter," Mrs Banes told Mr Spencer, "but, we may be able to house her as a companion for our own daughter." She saw the pride on her husband's face as she said the words, but Mrs Banes would not give him the satisfaction of thinking that he had convinced her.

"Oh, that is good news, Mrs Banes," commended Mr Spencer. "I know her parents are resting well now that their beloved Katy is in safe hands."

"She will, of course, eat with us, but she will be dressed plain, be educated in the village school and at Sunday School and not at home, she will not be finished as Eliza will be, and we will not be able to provide her with more than her one hundred pounds as a dowry upon her marriage." Mrs Banes, with all her talents for economy, thought that these conditions would allow them to fulfil their duty to young Katy without over extending Mr Banes' modest estate.

"Is she a sweet girl?" Mr Banes asked, and Mrs Banes thought that she ought to have asked that question earlier before agreeing to take Katy. She didn't want Eliza to have a playmate who was anything less than lovely.

"The sweetest temperament I have ever encountered, Mr Banes, and I deal with a lot of different characters."

"And her parents," continued Mrs Banes, "you knew them, Mr Spencer?" She thought it curious that a solicitor who practiced in their village would travel to far to collect an orphan.

"Only their reputation," replied Mr Spencer. "But their landlord is a client of mine, and he entrusted me with Miss Katy, claiming that the Fairchilds were good, honest people, and Miss Katy was exactly the same."

Mrs Banes sighed. Katy Fairchild would not be leaving their little village. And even though she could only be brought up as a companion, seeing the little orphan run about in the garden with Eliza told her that it was quite possible that she would grow to love her.

Spying her husband, Mrs Banes could tell that he was already enchanted.

It really was a difficult charge being the practical one in the family.